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sombreboy · 3 years

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Expensive doll⇢jjk & pjm

[ masterlist ] Serves as an afterstory for our series Mused Obsession, but can be read on its own.

Written together with @chimoona as JM and @sombreboy as JK

Synopsis: In celebration of their one year anniversary, Jungkook dresses Jimin up in lingerie & makeup as his picture-perfect doll and ruins him in every way he desires.

⇢Explicit (18+) ⇢Pairing: Jungkook & Jimin ⇢Genre: smut, mxm ⇢Word count: 15.7k ⇢Ch.warnings: Profanity, JM dressing in lingerie and wearing makeup, messy kissing, degrading petnames and dirtytalk, breathplay, bj, praise kink, JK's fetish for crybaby JM remains intact, body worship, foot fetish JK literally slorps JM's petite little foot and it is v erotic join us feet hoes, some biting, mentions of blood(from a sharp stiletto lol dw), ok hold up and stay w me here JK rides JM but he is in no way a bottom, this is some top ridin' stuff to drive Jm mad and let me tell you it works, then JK puts little JM back in his place where he belongs stuffed with dick, rough fucking, in fact its so rough that JM can't hold his pee im not even sorry-- it was hot, idk what else if you've read any of my stuff you should just kinda know what you're up for. xo

The chime of the security alarm strikes the quiet mansion as Jungkook shuts the door behind him, kicking off his shoes in a hurry. He hugs luxury shopping bags close to his chest, trembling with excitement. He'd been holding onto the bags at work to ensure Jimin didn't see them for days, which felt like months—especially today, to finally come home to his favorite person in the entire universe and spend their first official anniversary together.

It's been an entire year since Jimin proved his love and dedication to the photographer, and life couldn't be any better than it is now. They're unstoppable, thriving as the biggest names in the industry. With a lot of fame—a lot more on Jimin's end—comes a lot of work and less time together, except for when they manage to crawl into bed at the end of the day. So, Jeon Jungkook wanted to make tonight extra special. He'd missed having Jimin truly just for himself; not just as a boyfriend, but as a model and his muse.

"Baby, I'm home." Jungkook calls out as he eyes the rooms, listening to where Jimin could be. He knows the model had the day off, so the younger man had given him a little white lie—he wouldn’t be able to make it home early. Yet here he is, giddy like a child and ready to surprise his beloved butterfly.

"Come to me~" He adds cheerfully while walking towards the stairs, searching for Jimin when he hears the small thuds of his lover's light footsteps.

"K-kookie?" Jimin calls from their bedroom, rubbing his sleepy eyes after a long nap. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard Jungkook arrive.

Thinking he had more time to get dressed and ready for their night together, he's caught, fresh from restful sleep, wearing only an oversized t-shirt and tight black briefs. The night was planned to a T...in Jimin's mind. A brand new suit hung in the walk-in closet, designed and tailored specifically for his body. He knows how the young photographer likes to ogle when the fabric of his pants hugs his plump cheeks daringly, almost too tight for a public setting.

But tonight, there will be no public outing. No distractions from the outside world, getting in the way of their time together.

As high-profile as the two men have grown over the last year, they've found it hard to take a leisurely night out on the town without being spotted by a fan of their work or an industry mate trying to cut into their fun. It's been a rollercoaster, but it's been the thrill of their lives. Even then, it's necessary to plan nights of relaxation and indulgence. So, Jimin set out candles and dipped ruby ripe strawberries in milk chocolate, planning a romantic night with just the two of them. He even chilled a bottle of overpriced champagne—a gift from Namjoon, hand-delivered for the happy couple. It was assumed that since Jungkook was working late, the ambiance of a well-kept home and a willing partner was all he wanted anyhow... Until, of course, Jimin glides down the stairs and spots his lover with armfuls of bags. Designer bags.

"Welcome h-ooome," he yawns, still finding his voice, "And happy anniversary, baby." He leans in and stands on his toes, pressing his body into the bags held at Jungkook's chest to give him a sweet kiss. "I missed you a lot...and I cleaned up too, but I guess I fell asleep at some point. I was going to get all pretty for you, so just pretend I'm dressed up right now."

“You’re gorgeous, baby.” Jungkook smiles into the kiss, returning it softly. He pulls back to drink in the fresh state Jimin is in. No makeup, barely dressed... It's like the visionary’s plans were fated to happen. “And this is perfect for what I have planned for you. A clean canvas, so to speak.” The young photographer adds as he hands over the bags to his lover. “Take off everything you’re wearing and put this on, nothing else. And bring the small bag with you to the studio.” He leans in closer to allow the hot breath of every spoken word to fan over Jimin’s cheek, whispering his next words. “I’ll be waiting for you. Okay? Now go.”

Accustomed to following the photographer's orders, Jimin doesn't waste a moment scurrying to the bathroom and peeling off his shirt on the way in. He kicks off his underwear and sits on the closed toilet seat to skim through the first bag's contents. The second he runs his hands over smooth silk ribbons and lace, his heart leaps out of his chest.

Lingerie. Women's lingerie, he notes internally as his fingers skim the fabric with a timid touch. It feels small in his hand, and he already knows it's not meant to cover much. Jungkook has always been an appreciator of visual art, and in the back of Jimin's mind, he always knew this moment would come. The female form can be voluptuous and sensual—soft to the touch and comforting when held close.

Without taking the lingerie out to inspect it closely, Jimin knows this look is made to illuminate his feminine traits—to hug the small of his waist and accentuate the curve of his hips, prominently displaying some of his lover's favorite parts with exaggerated flair.

As a former full-time model, Jimin doesn't think twice about indulging this new request from Jungkook. He's been half-naked in front of strangers in very scandalous clothing, it's only right he indulges his partner with the same courtesy, under his exact specifications.

He sets the smaller bag aside and removes the clothing, gasping at the bright red shade the younger man had chosen. It looks like fresh blood as he tugs it onto his small body—ribbons drip down his legs to capture the matching set of pure red stockings. When he slips them over his legs, they stop at the feet, hugging them tight and showing the delicate curve of his arches.

A slender garter belt cinches high around his waist and rests low on his hips, made of a thin weave of lace that opens up at the belly button to show off the cute dip of his tummy. Not even fully dressed, he feels pretty...desirable. With each new addition, he feels his confidence grow, matching the opulent fit his love has chosen for their special occasion. Jimin grasps the silk ties that dangle off the belt and loop them into the stockings, holding them tight against his body and matching the two pieces as one. He takes his time to billow the ties into eye-catching bows, adding more of a feminine flair to his long slender legs.

He opens another bag and clasps his hand over his mouth, pulling out an accompanying bralette, so fair and petite. It's soft on his skin. Everything feels so soft and erotic, like it was crafted to draw moans from his mouth before he's even touched by warm hands. The gentle graze of the lace over his nipples makes him bite his lower lip to push back building arousal. When he crosses his legs to finish clasping the bralette behind his back, he feels the rub of new lace against his cock, only drawing his attention to the fact that women's underwear does not provide enough room to hold him fully. If he gets harder, which he's certain he will, it will be impossible not to poke out and dribble over the rouge fabric.

Once Jimin empties the bags and slips every bit of clothing onto his body, he steps back to admire the full look. Even in the dim bathroom mirror, he finds every little bit of his form jaw-dropping as it's prettily wrapped in red. But no look is complete without a matching set of kitten heels, which he slips onto his red silken feet. He immediately notices how the added height accentuates his plump cheeks, out in the open, skimmed down the center with a cheeky thong.

"Woah..." The model takes a few strides across the bathroom floor to get a feel for the new footwear. A few clumsy trips over the tile to get started, but after a couple minutes, his confidence is through the roof. He can stride effortlessly and sway his hips in a subtle yet seductive manner.

"O-okay." He psyches himself up, licking his thick lips in a quick swipe while he drinks in a final look of his fit. He grabs the smallest bag, still unopened, and exits the bathroom to find Jungkook waiting for him in his personal studio.

Meanwhile, Jungkook just finished setting up the finishing touches to his studio and waited for the most important centerpiece of the night. His favorite camera sits on a tripod next to his large armchair, which is to be his spot to admire his creation. He presses record before he forgets to, and knowing how he will soon see his lover in the new lingerie, there'd be no time to think about whether or not the camera captures it all. What he didn't expect, however, was to find the fresh chocolate dipped strawberries, paired with a bottle of champagne. He immediately noted that this wasn't something he had in his own collection, so he figured this was Jimin's preparation for the night.

"So sweet to me, always.." Jungkook sighs dreamily when placing the strawberries and the bottle on the small table next to his chair as he takes his seat. His lover always finds little ways to show his affection; always considerate of Jungkook in everything he does. It's cute, and even if the elder man's plans might not be what he initially thought, Kook is sure that this will surpass anything he had in mind.

"He should be here soon..." He leans back in his seat, still wearing the suit he'd worn all day at work. His strong, tattooed fingers wrap around his tie and tug at it to loosen the fabric a bit. He rolls up the sleeves of his white dress shirt after discarding the suit jacket to let it be thrown on the floor behind the chair. His breathing slows down when he listens intently for the powerful sound of heels coming from the bedroom, echoing in the hallway. Although he knows what to expect, he still doesn't know just how it would look-- how his Jimin would pull off the look. The thick swallow in anticipation causes his adam's apple to bob, already excited as his heart beats harder in his chest.

Jimin bottles his nerves and clicks his heels with slow steps, echoing deliberately on the hard floor until he reaches the studio doorway.

"Don't laugh, okay?" He smirks at his own words, still hidden around the corner of the doorframe, knowing there's no way on earth Jungkook could find this fit humorous. "I'm coming in..."

One step forward, and he's basked in the low light of the photographer's setup. He swallows hard at the first sight of Jungkook, even when he's dressed the same as when he left him. The loosened tie captures his attention, and he swallows again at the thought of holding it while he glides his silken legs over his lover's lap to ride him roughly. The anticipation of what Jungkook has in store for Jimin is overwhelming.

Jimin gives the photographer a moment to gather himself before he walks forward, placing one heel in front of the other and sashaying his hips with each step. The camera blinks red to indicate it's recording, and Jimin doesn't let it distract his attention for a second. He moves in a slow weave, looking up at his partner under a tempting hooded gaze--long eyelashes beckoning him closer. When he reaches the center of the studio, he stops for further instruction, standing with confidence and poise.

"You chose well, baby. I love it." He gives a slow twirl, pivoting on his slim heel to show off the back, pausing to give the younger man a good look. "...do you like it?"

“I really like it.. I knew you’d look perfect in this.” Jungkook drinks in the entirety of his lover, his heavy gaze not leaving a single inch of the model's body unseen. The lingerie is perfect, covering just enough—but doesn’t hide anything. His hungry eyes travel down the blonde model’s back; from his slender back to his plump ass, not to mention how the posture from the heels make it stand out even more. “Did you bring the small bag?” He asks, beckoning Jimin to come closer with a wave of his hand, itching to feel his delicate body beneath his fingertips.

Jimin nods yes, stepping towards his lover. "I didn't peek, I was good." He says it in an innocent tone, as if he doesn't look like a goddamn succubus in fuck-me heels. A brilliant red strap of his bralette slips down his shoulder, which he takes his time slipping back into place. Even if he feels a bit out of place in this new look, he pulls it off with grace and seduction.

Jimin hands the bag to Jungkook. "I'm sure whatever it is, it'll make this moment even better." He kneels at the photographer's feet in a natural subservient position, resting his elbows on the man's thighs and peering up at him for further instruction.

"Yes." Jungkook says softly while taking the bag in his hands, giving Jimin an approving smile. While his face remains unbothered, the strain of his half erect cock proves that he's anything but. The visuals of the elder in such sinful fabrics drives him crazy, and eager to ruin them in every way he pleases. "You're such a good boy to me. Always trusting me with your everything."

Jungkook digs into the bag, pulling out a small, high end lipstick. He puts the bag to the side, grabbing Jimin's chin with his free hand while popping the lid off the lipstick with his thumb, leaning forward in his seat to get a proper look of his lover's bare face.

"Pout." He instructs, twirling the little stick to slide the blood red lipstick from hiding, bringing it close to Jimin's plump lips. When the blonde does as told, he gently swipes the crimson color onto the delicate skin of Jimin's lower lip. His cock throbs at how effortlessly it stains his pretty mouth, and he keeps adding more; layer after layer until he's satisfied with the deep, bloody red adorning one of many favorite features of his man.

"You look like a doll already, so pretty.." Jungkook sighs, a mixture of his adoration and sexual frustration building at the sight. But he's patient, and leans back a bit to inspect his work, moving his hold on the smaller man's jaw to rub his thumb over Jimin's lips, staining the pad of his finger in the process.

A moan presses passed Jimin’s pursed pout. All he’s ever wanted since he met the mysterious man is to be everything for him—there, at his feet, living to serve his deepest desires. To give a taste of his commitment to the role, he swipes his pierced tongue over the finger in a slow motion.

“I can see how hard you’re getting, Kookie...” He takes the thumb between his stained lips and circles his tongue around it, releasing with a light pop. “...seeing me like this, dressed in the underwear you chose...” He peers down at the slick thumb and admires the prominent stain—a perfect shade to match the rest of his ensemble. “...bet you’d love to admire every inch of your creation.” Jimin circles his tongue around the digit once more and pulls it into his mouth, humming his pleasure into the photographer’s skin. He brings a hand up to palm his lover’s stiffening length through unbuttoned pants.

"Mm, you know exactly what I like." Jungkook purrs, glancing down for a moment to watch Jimin's delicate hand touch his hard length, now prominent through the fabrics keeping it hidden. His gaze travels back to the model's face. Seeing Jimin's doe eyes look up at him with such submission, admiration... love. It drives the photographer mad with desire.

"There's so much I wanna do to you." He breathes out, his sentence ending with a quiet moan as he bucks up into Jimin's small palm. When his lust takes over, slowly and steadily, his impulses grow more reckless. "Or make you do, for me.." He adds before swiping his thumb over the lipstick once more, dragging the pad of his digit further past the corner of the model's mouth. A stripe smeared in red adorns Jimin's cheek like a small chelsea smile-effect. Jungkook's hand moves back down to wrap behind Jimin's neck, covering his nape with the warmth of his palm as he leans forward to draw his lover in for a messy kiss, aiding in the destruction of the pretty lipstick he'd just applied.

A red mess is created between the two, their lips coated with splashes of the color and the taste of chemicals mixing with their saliva. But Kook doesn't care—instead, he enjoys every second of it, forcing his tongue between Jimin's parted lips to claim his mouth.

"Look at you..." Jungkook murmurs when he pulls back, the thick string of saliva connecting their tongues breaking off when he speaks, watching it fall to stick to Jimin's chin. "Your makeup got ruined, what a shame.." The faux concern in his tone is evident in contrast to the pleased fire in his eyes. He takes the lipstick, grabbing the blonde's jaw a bit harder this time to reapply, not bothering to wipe off the already smeared makeup around the lips. "Baby... Take my dick out while I fix this, I'm aching."

Jimin pants, left breathless from the younger man's kiss. "Mm--ah...okay." His hand resumes gentle strokes over the clothed length, just feeling for a moment while he distracts his mind from his own growing erection. The press of his pink swollen cock head tests the integrity of the lace, making it bulge out noticeably. When his hand slips into Jungkook's pants to pet him bare, he can't bite back the whimpers of need that brush his partner's fingers.

"Y-you really are aching." Jimin's mouth salivates, murmuring the words to avoid messing up Jungkook's artwork. "Fuck...so big, baby." The blonde model uses one hand to tug down his lover's pants and underwear while the other maintains a languid pace over his silken skin. He takes a pause to bring his messy lips close, wetting Jungkook's shaft with an audible spit that dribbles down his chin. He's never been perfect at following instructions when arousal fogs his mind. At this moment, he needs to hear the slick sounds of cock in his hand. He needs to feel the warmth of blood pulsating under his touch, stiffening and dripping for more.

"May I taste you, sir?" He reverts back to his role, asking sweetly, nipping the bottom lip and smudging the lipstick even more. "Please."

“How can I refuse when you ask so sweetly?” Jungkook looks at his creation, already seeing the blonde mess up the lipstick with his spit and nipping of his lips. It both pleased him and annoyed him, but the heavy arousal weighing on him clouds his judgement and makes him more forgiving towards Jimin’s light disobedience. It’s to be expected, and seeing his lips messy and smeared with red while sucking his cock is all the photographer could think of, for now. “If that’s what my baby wants,” he sighs, reaching out to smudge the other end of the corner of the model's mouth, finishing the joker-like smile on his cheeks.

Kook leans back in his seat again, moving his hands to rest on his thighs. Kook’s gaze is focused on Jimin, drinking in every feature, observing every little movement. He zeroes in on his messy lips, and feels a moan scratching at the back of his throat at the sight. He can’t wait to see his lover turn into a broken mess, one step at a time.

“Suck it deeply.. take all of it. No teasing.”

To test the waters, Jimin gives a light swipe along the bottom of Jungkook's shaft, drawing his pink muscle up to the tip and swirling it around the leaking slit in tight circles.

"Mm, uhm—ahh..." Jimin becomes vocal, humming around the thick length as he pops it in and out of his plump lips, watching it twitch with delight each time he strips Jungkook of his building pleasure. Jungkook said not to tease, but the pretty little blonde craves to feel each shudder of arousal. Each touch from him is live-wired to the younger man, and Jimin feels powerful by causing it to happen. Plus, as an added perk, he knows the slow and drawn-out pace will cause more trouble for him in the long-run. And...what's life without a little pain? He anticipates it. He knows, as nicely as he's dressed, his partner can easily turn him into a crying mess without any regard for the flashy fine clothing. No amount of silk and lace can conceal his inner need to be lovingly destroyed.

With a lasting swipe of his hot tongue across the ridge of Jungkook's tip, Jimin pops it into between his rouge lips, already smearing a bit of the lipstick over the smooth skin. He bobs his head to wet the throbbing cock, spilling his saliva down the length of it with little to no regard for the mess it creates. He knows, better than anyone, the messier he is, the better.

"Ah, mmh—I told you, no teasing..." Jungkook huffs with furrowed brows, focused on how well Jimin takes his girthy length all the way, dragging his tongue against the smooth skin, watching himself get covered in saliva and faint marks of the lipstick.

"Always making it difficult for me, looking so sweet and innocent..." Jungkook licks his lips at the sight of the elder's messy mouth, makeup smearing past his lips and drooling down his chin onto his length. He's sucked the photographer's cock countless times, so he knows exactly how to do it, and his gag reflex had become close to nonexistent. But, that doesn't mean it's not there, one just has to use a bit of force. "But you're anything but innocent, aren't you? Sucking me off like a cockhungry whore." The photographer bites back a moan, unable to keep his hands off of Jimin for too long before he's already weaving his fingers through his lover's blonde curls to get a good grip. He's gentle at first, just feeling the motion of Jimin's head bob up and down his length, wet sounds and whiny, muffled moans filling the room as no other sound is audible inside the isolated space.

"So be it. If you want my cock that badly, then keep sucking." Jungkook tugs at Jimin's hair, forcing his head to move harder and faster. His generous length makes space in the model's delicate throat, forcing the continuous pool of drool to seep from Jimin's mouth to add to the mess, not allowing him to get off to breathe except from his nose.

Jimin crosses his ankles and rests his bare butt on top of the heels. They clack together as he bends forward and bobs his head steadily, opening up his throat to feel Jungkook's wet tip guide the way. Inch by fleshy inch, his lover's cock fills the space within him. It causes his own cock to peek out of the slim red lace and poke Jimin's abdomen as he bends deep. The blonde swallows around Jungkook's fat cock and holds still, warming it as deep as he can possibly bear, forcing himself to wait until he feels lightheaded.

When his lungs burn for breath, he withdraws slowly, tonguing the prominent veins that bulge along his lover's shaft. "Mmf...g-ah—ack!" He chokes on the last couple inches and holds his small palms in the inner curve of Jungkook's thighs for balance. "...Mine. All mine...tastes so yummy," he emphasizes, swiping a bead of precum directly from the leaking slit. Lost in his own little world, feeling pretty yet needy for friction, he wraps a hand around the shaft and strokes it up and down quickly.

" I-I'm your whore, sir." He looks the part—plump lips and cheeks stained with red, stringing long strands of his spit to the younger's twitching head. To the outside world, he's nothing but the most well-kept, straight-laced individual. Here? He lets go entirely, making his body available for use without a care of how someone else perceives him. The only opinion that matters is the man before him.

Jimin looks down and notices a strap of his bralette had fallen down, only matching his role of sultry temptress...quickly morphing to messy slut. He purposefully lets the other strap fall, looking up at Jungkook with beckoning lashes.

"Am I doing well?"

"Mm.. Could do better." Jungkook lies, towering over Jimin's small frame on the floor. His long, raven curls fall forward, framing his sharp features. Being in this position, seeing everything from above, makes him feel so utterly powerful. And Jimin's big, glossy eyes meeting his own only adds to the fire that awakens every single hormone in his body.

In reality, Jimin is doing well. In fact, he's doing an amazing job at driving the photographer mad. His cock twitches delightfully in the model's hands, his abdomen tightening in excitement and heart fluttering beneath his heaving ribcage.

"A job well done isn't without your pretty tears, baby." Jungkook says softly, taking deep breaths to keep his voice from wavering too much in pleasure. He strokes his fingers through his lover's bright, silky curls, coaxing him to take him back into his mouth. "Choke on it, but don't make me cum... Just enough to make your eyes sparkle for me."

Jimin chokes on nothing but a quick gasp. "O-of course." He shrinks under Jungkook's commanding gaze and rubs his thighs together, wishing he had permission to adjust his now fully erect cock. To solidify his subservience, on top of his now glassy eyes, he takes another step and clasps his hands behind his back. No ties or cuffs are necessary, although he'd enjoy being bound tight and abused for being a tease—it was the plan all along.

"I love you," he whispers, swallowing down a fresh wave of emotion and looking up to let Jungkook admire the first tear roll down his cheek. The wet droplet catches the makeup and slips off his chin to seep into his bright red lingerie. Jimin holds eye contact and sticks out his tongue, showing off the pretty piece of jewelry at the center, right where Jungkook placed it nearly a year ago. He gives a couple testing kitten licks, then hovers his pout over the tip, plunging the full length down his throat without a testing suck. No more teasing, he tells himself, gagging around the fat cock.

Just as Jungkook demanded, Jimin strips himself of breath until he's crying for relief. Hands still clasped tight and out of the way, he's given himself no way of escape, showing his true resilience and commitment to the task he's given.

“Oh, my Jimin..” Jungkook sighs in pleasure, watching how his hefty length disappears into the welcoming warmth of his lover's throat. The flesh contracts around him when the model gags, squeezing tightly to draw more low moans and grunts from the photographer. “You’re doing so well now.” He praises, brushing his thumb beneath Jimin’s eye to catch a few tears. He’s convinced that although there’s a million types of makeup to make one look perfect, Jimin looks his prettiest when his skin is glowing from the shine of his tears. The way his submissive stare from below is sparkling like little stars, just for Jeon Jungkook. The way Jimin will endure anything to please.

“Nobody is prettier than you.” Jungkook bites his lower lip at the sight below, and grows impatient. He keeps a tight grip on his lover's hair, cock deeply buried in his throat while he stands up from his seat. “Nobody could ever compare to you, butterfly.” He hisses, feeling the heat of his words creep onto his cheeks while meeting the elders glossy eyes. He withdraws his hips slowly, only to thrust forward and lodge the head of his jeweled cock as deep as possible. He sighs, lip quivering at his lover's compliance. It’s too exciting, his body is practically shaking with itching, aggressive longing to destroy Jimin further. Patience, he reminds himself. It is their special night, so he wants to ensure Jimin feels like the most desired human in the universe.

The warming praise gives Jimin the courage he needs to slide his lips up the rigid length, gliding his wet ribbed tongue in gentle sweeps. His throat burns from the intrusion, yet, it's a familiar sensation and it does very little to detract him from bobbing his head and building up the photographer until he's at his brink. Slick, slobbery sucks and the occasional gag and gasp for breath becomes the playlist of their evening. Even the model becomes affected by his own desperate sounds. He wiggles his plump butt in a subtle motion to take his attention off the desire pulsing in his veins. He sucks and tongues, staring up at Jungkook until his vision blurs with a wave of new tears. Jimin rests back on his heels to catch his breath, letting the throbbing cock flop out of his mouth and into his hand, holding it firm and continuing to bring his lover close to the edge without immediate relief.

"Fuck me." The second the words leave his swollen lipstick-smeared lips is the moment he cracks, just a little. Hot tears fall down Jimin's cheeks--hand stroking the soaked length until he's trembling to be touched. "I n-need you, Kookie."

Within what seems like a split second, Jungkook dropped to his knees on the floor in front of Jimin; framing his small face in his large palms to draw him in for a messy kiss. He can taste everything-- the mixture of lipstick and saliva, sullied with the taste of his own cock lingering on the model's tongue. But the highlight of it all is the salty topping of Jimin's tears, a clear result of his effort and submission that he worked himself so hard that his body rejected it-- and yet endured to fulfill the photographer's desires.

"Haah, you need me?" Jungkook chuckles when he pulls back from the heated kiss, lingering close to softly press his lips over Jimin's damp cheeks. His own are stained with a faint red, transferred from the elder's pillowy ones.

"Sure you're not tired of this cock?" He smiles as he continues to kiss away Jimin's tears, tongue poking out to lick his cheek as his hot breath fans his face. While he does so, his hands let go of Jimin's face to smooth down his slender form, snaking behind his back until they settle on his ass, mercilessly squeezing the flesh between his fingers. "After you got a taste of Joonie, maybe I won't be enough?" Jungkook's wolfish smile doesn't falter, knowing this will tug at his lover's heartstrings. His kisses travel south, leaving red sucks and bites to blossom on the model's fair skin in it's path down to find a spot by his collarbone where he sucks harshly, certain that it'll leave a possessive mark behind.

"Joonie?" The tears on Jimin's cheeks glisten under the studio lights. His quivering bottom lip juts out in a pout as he naturally leans into the breath of Jungkook's suckles. The hot, tongued, needy markings become painful. Jimin huffs out a low moan. "Hyung was big...but he doesn't taste like you...fuck--" He takes Jungkook's face between his hands and returns the kiss, mashing their lips together messily, parting his mouth and giving him a longing taste of what he desires most. The model draws back slowly, making sure thin strands of their combined saliva string between their tongues, obvious for his lover to admire.

"You're more than enough..." Jimin whispers, letting a hand drop back to Jungkook's swollen cock, still dripping wet with his spit and precum. "I only beg for you, baby. I only want you...playing with me...fucking me...using me until I c-cry." He scoots forward and lets the length drop from his hand, then lifts his knees to straddle the photographer's lap on the floor. While the move may be a little too desperate, he doesn't have a single shred of care in his small body. He aches to feel his love's large hands tug at the lingerie, to feel the way his dripping cock strains against the material, and how it hugs his tense thighs. More than anything, he wants to rock his plump cheeks over Jungkook's shaft, until he's shaking to rip off every bit of red satin and lace from his skin. Jimin pleas in a cracked voice. "Will you make me cry, Kookie?"

"How can you say it so sweetly, as if you aren't crying already..." Jungkook admires the disheveled man before him, lips swollen and messy with smeared makeup. The loose bands of the bralette hang down Jimin's small biceps, adding to the vision in the photographer's mind. "You know how I love it when you beg like this." The younger's strained voice breaks into a low, needy growl when aggression fuels his sadistic desires to go further. Jimin knows this is just one of his ways to show his affection, this is how he's always been, and will continue to always be. Jungkook's greedy hands knead at the flesh of Jimin's ass, nails scraping the fabrics of the lingerie, tugging so harshly that it struggles to not break in his grasp. He spreads the model's ass, keeping the lingerie in the way of his tight entrance as his rigid length rubs against it.

"I don't want you to cry..." Jungkook presses Jimin's ass down, rubbing his cock between the soft cheeks of the model's ass. He looks at his face, never wavering the intense eye contact he initiates while one hand withdraws from it's hold to scavenge the floor next to him, grabbing the opened lipstick. He leans forward, one arm snaking around Jimin's small waist to keep him in place, thick length snugly pressed beneath the blonde's weight while the other hand resumes to add another layer of lipstick, fixing the mess without cleaning up what's been smeared. "I want you to scream so loud that you cannot make a single sound," He smiles, pressing the lipstick harder against his lips, adding a second layer, watching the product crumble a little. "I want you to choke on your own cries, because you can't think of anything else but me."

One last swipe, and Jungkook moves on to draw a little heart in the middle of Jimin's chest, filling it in meticulously. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek in focus, before he finishes and looks back up at the elder. "Now..." He sighs, feeling the painful aching when his cock throbs against the damp lingerie separating himself from being inside of Jimin. He nudges his chin in the direction behind him towards the armchair. "Get up."

The soft pink curve of Jungkook’s lips tempts Jimin to lean in and sully his fair skin with the clumpy lipstick. But he refrains, because he trusts the vision of his photographer—always. He looks like sin—dressed as an upscale whore, made a hot mess by the various layers of makeup applied between spit-slicked kisses and mouth fucking. He would have never chosen this look for himself, and that’s part of the thrill. It’s fresh and exciting, knowing only he can fulfill this erotic vision; being the only muse fit for the occasion, or any other.

“Yes, sir.” Jimin stands to his feet, a little wobbly as he adjusts to the height of the heels. The chair feels miles away the farther the small model steps away from his partner. Yet, the mystery of what could come next makes his heart thunder in his chest. He rubs his lips together to smooth the luxe lipstick, rubbing beyond his natural lines to make his pillowy plush pout look even fuller. Jimin sits on the chair, prim and proper with his legs crossed, pointing the tip of a slim heel in Jungkook’s direction.

“How would you like me?” He asks innocently in a sweet tone, as if he isn’t dressed in women’s lingerie, practically dripping with precum, hard cock straining against the lace.

“Like that, just like that...'' Jungkook stares up from his position on the floor, crawling forward on all fours like a predator slowly approaching it's prey. A new spark of various emotions swirl in his gaze, ranging from admiration and affection-- drowning in the crazed hunger that seeps through his blown out pupils. Having the Park Jimin looking like a hot mess made his cock stir painfully as he tucked himself back in his underwear, leaving the pants undone. It wasn't his turn yet, and as they both know-- the reward of patience will be immensely satisfying.

"Can you imagine if anybody else saw you like this? Every media source would explode, the internet would be on fire." Jungkook sighs dreamily from the mere thought of it. What makes it so good, is the fact that he remains the only person... Well, out of two, in the world to see the famous model and designer turn into a submissive plaything. "You'd lose everything... And for what? To please me?" Jungkook shakes his head, chuckling in a mocking manner as if it's unbelievable that Jimin would go such daring lengths of risking everything, time and time again, just to keep Jeon Jungkook happy.

Just to be his whore.

"And that is why I love you... You know exactly how I like you." The photographer says softly. His gaze drinks up the view above him, from Jimin's messy pout, down his clammy, heaving chest, to his crossed thighs hiding the pretty little cock that is most definitely screaming for relief.

"A needy whore. A compliant whore." Jungkook murmurs to himself when his gaze finds the heel pointing at him. His hands greedily reach out to grab Jimin's delicate ankle, kissing and biting at the stockings covering his soft skin. His free hand grabs the shoe, slowly sliding it off to place it on the floor with unexpected care. He looks up at the blonde again, his dark stare softening at the small gasps continuously pushing past Jimin's swollen lips. Kook kisses travel further down, his own breaths becoming heavy and shaky at how feminine Jimin's small foot looks, covered with the see through fabrics, holding it in his hand like it's the most precious thing he's ever seen.

"A doll." He smiles, closing his eyes when he indulges, flattening his tongue to lick a long, slow, stripe from Jimin's heel to his toe.

“S-shit...” The wet pink muscle tickles Jimin’s sensitive arch, but the pressure of it makes it more enjoyable than he anticipated. Every square inch of his body has been worshipped, marked, pleasured, pained, and all the rest of it—every sensation imaginable, Jungkook has inflicted it with purpose. Even as he pleases his own carnal impulses, he dangles new kinks in the model’s face, tempting him to grasp them tight.

“What are you—“ He knew the second he slipped on those tantalizing stilettos that there was a greater plan in store. The dagger-sharp, pointed heels could easily be used as weapons. After a year with Jungkook, he’s learned how much weaponry and danger makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Jimin moans delicately.

“Do you like my feet, puppy?” The glide of Jungkook’s tongue can be felt through the sheer fabric, seeping the moisture of his spit down to the skin. “Want to taste more?” Sitting on his makeshift throne makes him feel power and strength. He’s well aware that in a heartbeat he can be rag-dolled in any position the younger man desires, but he’s placed in a position of command with his partner at his feet. So he lifts his other foot off the floor and places the sharp point of his shoe onto Jungkook’s thigh, digging it into the muscle just a bit. “Tear the stockings, please.” Jimin’s voice shakes. “R-ruin them. Take it off, with your teeth.”

Jungkook's grasp around Jimin's ankle tightens when he feels the pointy heel dig into his thigh, drawing a low moan from deep within his chest. He gazes up at Jimin through his dark lashes, crooking an eyebrow.

"What was that?" his wicked smile is hiding behind Jimin's foot, which he kisses the sole of between his words. "I thought I heard the doll speak, I must be mad..." Jungkook purposely put Jimin in this position, knowing exactly how it'd make him feel to see the photographer on his knees. The bratty side to the model always knew how to spur-- or in this case, literally step on his nerves to get what he wants. It all serves to the buildup of a bigger purpose; the more riled up Jungkook becomes, the harder Jimin gets fucked. And he knows it too well. Just how long it'll take before he gets what he wants, is the big question.

He looks up at his hot mess of a lover again, saying nothing as he silently obeys his wish when he bites down on the fabrics, carelessly dragging his teeth against the fair skin as he does so. He pulls back, ripping the expensive material off like a kid that's too excited on Christmas to care about whether the wrapping paper is torn to shreds. He nips at the broken fabrics, slowly sliding it off from his lower leg and down to slip it off his foot, audibly spitting it out from his mouth to lunge back in. His hands withdraw to settle on the other leg, still covered and dressed with the heel that so deliciously stings into his muscular thigh. He strokes it gently, so carefully it must tickle more than anything, while wrapping his plush, lipstick stained lips around Jimin's toe, sucking and tonguing it shamelessly with low hums in satisfaction and hot breaths through his nose.

It is overwhelming to even think about the erotic visuals he's capturing on camera, so much that his cheeks flush with heat, and his thick bulge twitches with every little stroke of his tongue that snakes around and in-between the model's petite toes.

"Gah--fucking...shit--ah!" Jimin chokes on a whine as his first digit slips into Jungkook's hot mouth. Each delicate nerve ending sparks to life and ripples tingly pleasurable goosebumps up his legs. He clamps his thighs shut and adjusts the heel, scraping into the fabric of his pants, testing the limit of Jungkook's flesh. Mind over matter, the small male wriggles his butt in his seat, internally battling the conflicting tickly sensations vs his overbearing arousal. With just a single toe suckled between his favorite pair of messy lips, his mind numbs and his limbs tense to claw for leverage. Feeling this, and seeing it happen--admiring the way Jungkook's long lashes close gently as he indulges in the moment. Jimin grips the chair arms in both hands and tears his sharp nails into the upholstery. Jimin mewls, straining to keep quiet, allowing his partner to focus on his indulgence.

“Mm--ah, ah, god..." He closes his eyes and simply feels the movement of the wet muscle, licking between his toes, around them, sucking them into his mouth, until they're glistening in his saliva. "M-more--more..." he whispers, slapping a hand over his begging lips. He broke the stocking, slid it off of him with his teeth without any regard to the price or quality of the fabric. No moment of hesitation to argue against the command or counter with something more enjoyable for both of them. Spoiled, is the word Jimin thinks of...he's pampered in this position, given exactly what he needs, like a prized porcelain doll.

"M-mooore," he whines from behind his hand, biting hard into the soft skin between his pointer finger and thumb, muffling the garbled sounds and using pressure to distract. His eyes seek the recording camera before letting a tear slide down his ruddy cheek, swiping his small tongue over his rouge pout and swallowing hard. "Baby, f-feels--mmf...so good. Looks so pretty..."

With a wet pop, Jungkook withdraws his lips from Jimin's cleaned up toes. His eyes open slowly as he does so, looking up at the overwhelmed man above, shaking with his arousal and inner battle to stay still and receiving the reward. Who the reward is for remains a mystery.

"So greedy... Didn't know you loved having your filthy toes sucked so much." He hums, glancing down at the wet patch of precum staining his underwear, a clear result of just how much he enjoys it as well. "What else do you want?"

Jungkook doesn't look at Jimin while asking, but keeps his attention on the slender legs in front of him. He grabs the model's ankle, uncrossing his legs to spread them wide, scuffing closer between to where he can access and lean his cheek against Jimin's inner thigh, so close but so far away from the aching, pretty cock that's barely covered by the soft lace.

"You're really digging that heel into my leg, baby... Ouch..." He sighs, feeling his length throb with every movement that twists the heel into his flesh. He purposely chose sharp heels, feeling his mixture of bad temper, impatience and lust fill him with every hot breath pushing past his lips. He snakes a hand down between his legs, slipping past the waistband of his boxers to squeeze his cock tightly, staring up at Jimin with doe puppy eyes, rubbing his cheek against the clammy skin of the blonde's thigh. "It hurts, hmm.. Ah.." He closes his eyes again, kissing the skin softly, seemingly gentle-- until his lips curl into a small smile, parting his teeth only to bite down on Jimin's flesh, leaving a possessive mark behind.

Jimin's nails tear away from the upholstery and grasp Jungkook by the roots.

"Sss--ow, fuuck." The fresh mark lays very close to the tattoo on his thigh, still brilliantly colorful with dark shading, like he got it weeks prior. A bruise begins to bloom between the embedded dips where Jungkook's teeth sunk in. It's hot and tender and ignites the rest of his skin to an even coat of blush. Without noticing, Jimin drags his heel down gradually, brought to attention when it clacks onto the floor in front of Jungkook's knelt frame...Tempting…

"Oh, baby. It hurts, huh?" Jimin coos as his fingers naturally soothe the sensitive skin of his lover's scalp. He notices a new hole in Jungkook's pants where his heel punctured through, straight down to the skin. On the fine tip of the heel is a subtle patch of blood where he scraped a little too roughly. "Poor puppy..."

It's a rare occasion to have the photographer in such a submissive state, but he seems to enjoy it more and more once Jimin inflicts a little pain. So that's exactly what the model does, to give back the pleasure and revel in the pristine imagery of his lover on bent knees to please. "Lick it," Jimin says in a quiet voice, bringing his heel to his partner's lips. He clears his throat and states it again, louder and with confidence, wrapping his other leg over Jungkook's shoulder and pulling him closer to the sharp point. "Just like you did my toes, clean this pretty heel."

"Mm? That's what you want..." Jungkook squeezes his cock tighter, blocking the blood flow until he feels his pulse thunder through the swollen tip. He tilts his head to the side slightly, giving Jimin a good view of the way he leans in and opens his mouth wide. His tongue snakes around the sharp heel, scooping up the droplet of his own blood to coat his wet muscle in a thin layer of red. His raised eyebrows serve as a silent question of whether or not he is doing it right... And by the way Jimin's big eyes are quivering as they meet his own, he's more than certain of the answer.

Jungkook hums lowly, a deep moan caught in his throat when he tugs the waistband down to set his cock free from hiding once more, openly massaging his slick length to the way he keeps licking the heel, from the sharpness to the sole, a flattened tongue dragging up like a dog lapping up their favorite meal.

"That's g-good...so good." Any mortal man would go cross eyed from the sinful sight. Jimin is made tougher than most, strong from being with Jungkook, but he's easily bent and broken from the simplest sights. Anything from the younger man melts the model's mind to horny mush--trying on a new pair of Versace shades, or hitting a high score on Overwatch, or sloppily sipping a bananamilk until the container runs dry. This visual, however...is quite complex. The blonde sweats lightly, swallowing tight and combing his fingers through Jungkook's shaggy raven locks, getting lost in the action. He isn't even directly touched, and yet, he feels electric shock waves of pleasure from simply watching Jungkook thumb over his dripping cock head and lap the razor sharp edge of his stiletto.

"Keep touching yourself," he whimpers, gaze hungrily following the younger man's slippery pink tongue slide over the last unsullied strip of heel. "A-and...gah...don't cum." Jimin wrenches his eyes shut and moves his other hand down to touch himself too. His hand grips his needy length tight through the sheer fabric and he bucks upward to chase the friction. In the process, he jolts the heel between his love's lips and gives the plump bottom pout a swift cut. "Shit, puppy, I-I'm..."

Jungkook grunts, flinching slightly from the unexpected. He looks down, seeing as blood drips from his lip to the floor into a growing puddle, deep enough to give a burning sensation in his delicate skin. Deep enough to fuel his various emotions..

"You got too greedy." He mumbles, not bothering to wipe it off as it creates a red string of liquid running down his chin when he looks up at Jimin. His doe eyes fade into the familiar dark stare that the model knows too well. Jungkook could only hold his faux submission for so long, his generosity for the night of giving Jimin the sense of power running out quickly.

"But you just can't control yourself, can you?" Jungkook gets up on his feet, placing his hands on the armrests while towering close over Jimin, face inches away from the mess of a man. "What am I gonna do with such a slut... Getting so excited you can't even sit still in a fuckin' chair." He hisses, swiping up the blood on his lip with his tongue, mixing it with his spit. He grabs Jimin's jaw tightly, forcing his mouth open, tilting his little head back while he hovers over him. "Guess you'll just have to reap what you sow, little whore." He murmurs against Jimin's lips before he parts his own, letting the bloody mixture of his saliva drip into Jimin's lips, seeping into his mouth. He keeps a tight grip on the model, not letting him move or reject the offer the photographer gives him. Kook shimmies out of his pants while he does so, slowly climbing on top to straddle Jimin's lap, caging his small frame onto the chair.

The model nods rapidly, brushing the bloody mixture between their painted lips.

"I'll take it all." A string of Jungkook's red saliva trails between their parted mouths as Jimin arches up and steals a couple desperate kisses. "Anything you want to do t-to me." Whether he believes his own words or not is a big mystery. When he says anything, he forgets just how unpredictable and harsh his love can be when provoked. But in the moment, it feels right, especially when the heat of Jungkook's bare cock is felt so close to where he wants it most.

Jimin reaches his arms around Jungkook's torso, feels the muscles of his back tense and release while he finds his footing. He breathes in through his nose to smell the gentle cologne and musk of the photographer, and the very faint but nostalgic and calming scent of his shampoo. Jimin flicks out his tongue and tastes the rust that lingers atop the lipstick, closes his teary eyes to center himself before the pain takes hold. Perhaps there will be humiliation, or both, simultaneously.

"Anything, huh..." Jungkook looks at Jimin through mischievous eyes. His cock lays heavy against the model's clammy stomach, twitching at the new idea running through his mind. Normally, this is not something he would desire.. But this is a special occasion, and the action would fit the punishment and sate the unusual urges coaxing him to do what he does next. Jungkook leans in to kiss Jimin, keeping one palm on his lover's messy cheek. Jimin's lipstick moistens up, once again staining the photographer's mouth in their hot kiss-- a distraction from the way his other hand snakes behind him when he lifts his hips up, grabbing the elder's aching cock. He doesn't do much to prepare more than spread the slick precum along Jimin's length before guiding the swollen tip to his ass, stopping when he slowly sinks down on it until just the head slips in, drawing a hot gasp to push past his lips.

"Do not move." Jungkook whispers, kissing down the blonde's jaw to his neck, taking a few deep breaths as he sinks down further until Jimin's entire length is buried inside. Kook stays still for merely seconds, not allowing himself to adjust properly before he heaves himself up halfway, only to fall back down. The sound of his plump ass flattening against Jimin's thighs mixes in with the quiet grunts in pain and pleasure coming from him. It isn't his favorite thing to do-- preferably on the giving end, but that doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy feeling Jimin writhe beneath him in various ways. Supposedly, Jungkook remains on the giving end, whether it's his cock or his ass that is the gift.

"Mmh, 's tight... Right?" He settles his hands on Jimin's chest, tilting his head to the side as he sits up straight to watch the man below from his higher view. His hips show less mercy as he gets used to it, finding a slow rhythm, "And your cock isn't even that big..." he shakes his head, feeling the heat on his cheeks in the form of a lustful blush when he finds an angle that brushes his prostate, grinding his ass down to chase that feeling over and over. "Just shows how much of a cockwhore you are for being able to take one as big as mine, ah shit.."

Jimin's sweaty palms clamor over Jungkook's back and move down to grip him hard at the hips. His eyes roll to the back of his head as his small body is engulfed by lean muscle and a hot grip around his cock. "Kookie, you--" This is the last thing he expected to happen--watching helplessly and breathing labored breaths as Jungkook's taut rim rides him rough. The sensation is more than expected, and much more than he remembers. "I can't, baby, it's too...much--fuck--" Nails pierce slicked skin as Jimin thrusts up to chase the hot clenching hole. Each time Jungkook pulls up, he whimpers at the loss and uses his wavering strength to pull him back down with an audible smack. The weight of the photographer is much more than he can bear, but he digs his heel into the ground to hold what little balance he has left, so hard he's sure the pin-point could snap at any moment. "So tight...around my cock...hahhh." Jimin's breaths grow weaker and thinner, gradually winded from the smack, smacking against his reddened thighs. "I--I--" He bites onto Jungkook's arm to hold steady, watching the room wobble in his peripherals. "Might c-cum in--gah!"

"Hah... I t-told you not to move." Jungkook's shaky, strained voice came out as a hiss between breathy gasps every time his ass collided with Jimin's firm thighs. Jimin's series of disobedient actions didn't bother Jungkook as much as they normally would, as this is a special occasion after all-- especially when he willingly put himself in a faux submissive state just to allow Jimin to indulge in a different way for the night. "Now you'll have to deal w-with, iiit-- fuck.." He clenches Jimin's hard cock tight when the latter bites onto his arm, the rush of the pain making him fuck himself rougher on top of the model. "Now you started it, so fuck me harde-er! Don't stop.." Jungkook growls lowly, shamelessly moaning and watching his own cock rub and drool against Jimin's stomach. With one hand firmly on Jimin's chest, the other smoothes up his neck to wrap around it, applying just enough pressure to put his lover in a deeper haze, ensuring that although he's not sure whether or not he's allowed to cum inside, he will have no other choice but to do so-- Jungkook wants him to lose any self control, and fill him up with shame and fear in his eyes of doing something he wasn't permitted to.

The straps of Jimin's bralette slaps off his shoulders once again, the small cups of it sliding around his chest the more his bouncing partner rubs against it. The momentum and chafe of the fabric teases his sensitive buds and makes them stiff, red, and swollen. So he lets the rest of the fabric fall down his body until his chest is bare, dewy with sweat. "Yes--hah ahh...s-sir." His own confirmation tapers to a pathetic whine as his breath weakens. Jungkook's grasp pins him by the neck, into the chair. The only freedom he's granted is the weak thrust of his hips to fuck the younger man from below, which he does to the best of his ability, growing weaker by the second. He won't stop, even if it means he blacks out from exertion, which feels closer than he likes to admit. Jimin pants heavily and digs in his fingertips. "I'll fill up this p-pretty hole." He speaks with delirious lust lacing his tone, just the way he would want to hear it. "Is that what you want, baby? Fuck, you're so t-tight--ahh! Can't wait..."

Jungkook leans in closer, slowing down his harsh thrusts only to replace them with slow, deep grinding. He licks his bloody lower lip, nodding while staring down at Jimin's heavy, zoned out gaze. He's losing it completely, and yet he tries too hard to please and do as told, and it warms the photographer's heart-- and it makes his cock leak profusely with the immense need to cum. So, therefore, he needs Jimin to break so he can finally give back what he's been holding for what feels like hours. "Yeah, fill me up well baby. Cum in me as deep as you possibly fuckin' can." The younger says with his low, lustful tone, still keeping his hold on Jimin's throat without loosening or tightening it. He inches closer to kiss his face, hot breaths huffing to warm his lover's skin with every grunt and moan that leaves his lips when he feels Jimin's hard cock prodding at his prostate with every fluid motion of his hips. "Cum," Jungkook repeats, deliberately clenching down on Jimin's cock, licking his cheek possessively, "Claim me with your filthy cum."

"Anything you want--ah!" Jimin's eyes screw shut as he rocks his thrusts up into Jungkook's wanting hole. "Feel my cock dragging in and out? Feel how n-needy I am to spill every fucking drop inside you?" His mind truly turns to mush, like a fever dream, losing any semblance of here and now. Only indulging in the very millisecond in which his body trembles to feel everything, all at once. "It's all for you, baby." He pontificates his oath with a harsh thrust from below, scraping his nails until the tender flesh of Jungkook's sides, drawing blood in his wake. "Fuck my cock...bounce on i-it...gahh!" The model becomes a shell of himself, as if he's boneless, thrusting his release in labored spurts, into his young love. "Moan for me, Kookie. Tear at this expensive lingerie and tell me I'm the prettiest man that's ever fucked you raw."

Jimin’s sudden and harsh words takes Jungkook by surprise— he expected the elder to fall apart one way of the other when he came inside, but what he didn’t expect was the spark of dominance that laced his voice and transferred to the way he clawed at the youngers skin. “F-fuck, ah— ow, mmhm...” Jungkook bites back his moans, to no avail when his sides are tortured by the models sharp nails, unable to hold back his pathetic whines when he feels his insides become filled with filthy, thick gushes of warm cum. “God, Jimin— J-Jimin, it hurts...” He gasps, letting himself and allowing a glimpse of actual submission to shine through his shivering body. His hands don’t know where to be, so he does as told and grabs the bralette in his fist and tugs, using his strength that’s spurred by pain to rip it off his lovers chest, while the other hand keeps him steady by grasping into the backrest of the chair. “Shit, I didn’t know you could say such things... that’s so hot, baby.” Jungkook huffs when he gathers himself slowly, unmoving while Jimin’s cock pulsates inside of him. He sighs and whines from the painful stretch of taking it without preparation, overestimating himself and yet relishing in the uncomfortable feeling. Jungkook glanced down at his bloody waist when he lifts himself from Jimin’s lap to let the latters length slip out, a splurt of cum seeping out with it. He hums in both delight and disgust, not used to the feeling of being on the receiving end..

“You did well baby.” Jungkook reaches behind him, catching a generous amount of Jimin’s cum to coat two of his fingers before bringing it to his mouth, licking it clean for the elder to see. The coy mischief returns to his gaze, leaning close to press his swollen length against Jimin’s stomach to let him know playtime’s far from over. “My turn. You good?” He places a kiss on Jimin’s scorching lips. “I can fuck you harder than that. Show you how it’s done..”

The photographer's proposition snaps Jimin back into the moment--eyes wide and dark, needing to feel exactly what he's inadvertently promised. As if the mere mention of fucking his needy hole is enough to make the blonde bend in any which way necessary to prove Jungkook's point. "Prove it," Jimin goads, unaware of the power that laces his tone. "I'm tired of being your porcelain doll...make me your filthy whore." The model wriggles from underneath the photographer until he's free from his caging clutch. Once he's able to maneuver solo, he flips himself over and juts out his plump ass, resting his ruddy cheek against the upholstery of the chair.

“Huh... maybe I spoiled you too much.” Jungkook drinks in the view below, standing up on his feet to properly watch the way Jimin arches his back to offer his body willingly— or rather, demanding his body be used like a disposable toy. A shiver ran down his spine as he replayed Jimin’s words over and over. A challenge, that he knows the model is aware that he can beat without even thinking. He must be so lonely, that the mere thought of having his unused hole filled drives him mad with need, and the temporary dominance got to his head. Kook likes it, the power in Jimin’s voice that is so rare when they’re alone.. but more than present when he is working. It’s like he brought home his persona of professionalism, and now Jungkook would get to corrupt this mask as well.

“I’ll make my pretty doll into the filthiest and prettiest of whores. I’m sure of it.” He murmurs while he reaches behind him to slowly drag his fingers in and out of himself, gathering the remainder of Jimin’s release onto his digits. He spreads his lover's cheek to get a good look of his tight rim, pink and unused like a virgin anew. Kook licks his lip, feeling the hardened texture of the dried cut on the skin. He brings his slicked fingers to Jimin’s ass, giving him little to no warnings before slipping his two digits inside, knuckle deep. “I’m just giving it back. It came from your filthy, whorish body.. but you don’t mind. This is where cum really belongs.” He says, loving the sound of his own voice a bit too much. He loves the way Jimin’s hole clamps down on his fingers as he speaks, and the way his hole becomes wet and slick, coating his fingers more and more with his juices with every in and out drag. He curls the pads of his fingers slightly, finding that one spot that he knows drives Jimin mad— especially if the abuser of it is his hefty cock.

"Mm--g-god. Please, yes." The model looks over his shoulder to provoke Jungkook to give him more. This is just the way it needs to be to provoke--to find that spot again, plumping up his full lips with a whiny pout. "Put my cum where it belongs, please, baby." Jimin presses his hips back to match the thrusts, wrenching his eyes shut to chase the high, feeling even hotter knowing the reason his tender hole is stretched so easily is because of his own cum. He rides Jungkook's fingers, nipping his lip and beckoning him closer with small kisses, placed anywhere he can reach. Through it all, he makes sure his back remains arched so his glistening pink entrance is visible. He knows how his partner salivates at the clear sight of his fingers disappearing and reappearing, hugged by his tightening rim, hearing how needy his butterfly is for his touch. "Finger out every bit and put it inside." The messy tear-streaked blonde spreads his legs wider on the chair, leaving as much room as possible for Jungkook to fit. "T-then fuck me full of more."

"I would've asked you to beg for it, but you're already so good at that.. You really are perfect." Jungkook makes his point with a particularly deep thrust with his double digits, twisting and scissoring to ensure that his lover is comfortably gonna be able to take something much bigger than his mere fingers. "Looks like your cum is the perfect lubricant, just feel how easily I got your pretty ass gaping for cock." Jungkook groans audibly to show how much he likes the view when he withdraws his slick fingers, wiping them clean on Jimin's clothed thigh, staining it with cum. "Can't wait for you to see it how I see it. It's so hot, so cute." He adds, spreading Jimin's cheeks with his thumbs before tugging at his hips, bringing him closer to let his heavy cock rest between, gathering the slick. He slowly drags his length up and down, prodding tastefully at Jimin's eager entrance before finally giving in, sinking the swollen head of his cock inside, followed with a quiet gasp from the photographer.

"Shit, even after all of this, you're still so tight..." Jungkook digs his nails into Jimin's hips, grabbing a fistful of the thong into his hands to tug him down to take more of his length inside, pushing past the thickest part of his girth. He watches the way the elder's pink rim is stretched past it's limit and then some, the sweet pink slowly morphing into a blushed red. "Your body drives me mad, baby. Almost lookin' like a woman with these on." He crumples the material in his hand, tightening the fabrics so that it presses against Jimin's spent cock. He gives an experimental thrust forward, and decides to give little time to adjust before he begins to roll his hips forward, slowly but steadily. He will break his butterfly, and making him cum a second time would be the perfect reward.

Pressure builds rapidly in Jimin's abdomen, causing his muscles to twitch and spasm. His walls clench down on Jungkook as he presses in deep, practically forcing his way in, claiming the space he's worked hard to make. Jimin can still feel the phantom stretch of the photographer's fingers as it's quickly replaced with thick, vascular cock. It's almost painful, which is a new sensation for the willing blonde. He's always made sure to breathe through it all, relax his body and mentally prepare for how rough Jungkook may or may not like it at that moment. It's a roll of the dice, and today, anything is possible.

The tight weave of red lace chafes against the model's fair skin as Jungkook thrusts pick up in pace, threatening to tear if tested enough. As much as Jimin loves the feeling of being as pretty as a girl, he doesn't blink an eye when the remaining heel falls to the floor. "S-slower...just...y-yeah, that's--" Jimin's words break into confused pleas, easing into the scene, calming his body enough to receive his partner, inch by inch. "You feel bigger today, Kookie," he gasps, rubbing his cheek into the upholstery of the chair's back and sullying it with his salty tears. He chokes on a quiet sob and presses his hips back to meet a new thrust, "I almost can't t-take it."

"Fuuuuck, say that again." Jungkook growls through his lustful, breathy words. He snaps his hips forward, rougher and buries his cock deeply to be as close as physically possible to his pretty lover. The photographer adores Jimin's choked words, and rarely does anything beat when he cries in pain due to the mere size of his thick length claiming it's space in the model's slick flesh. "Does it hurt?" He says with a noticeable grin that transfers to the tone of his voice. He grinds his hips forward while staying inside, ensuring the jeweled head of his cock is lodged deep inside, throbbing in excitement every time he feels Jimin clench around him with every audible sob. He drags out the moment, using the blonde to warm his cock properly, still grinding deeply inside. His hands greedily roam up and down Jimin's slender back, tracing his fingers on one of his favorite hidden features of his model-- the prominent, yet delicate line where his spine lies beneath his fair skin, moving prettily with every writhing movement of his torso.

"You know how much I love it when you endure pain for me.." He sighs, smoothing his tattooed hands down his lover's thin waist until they settle on his lower back, pushing down to force a stronger arch. "Feel that baby?" Jungkook licks his lips at the sight, intentionally flexing his cock inside to make a point of how impossibly hard he is, rocking his hips back and forth lightly to create the start of a momentum. "I said," He drags his length out further with every stroke, only to plunge it back in harder and harder, "Do you," And harder, "Feel that?"

"Yes...yes, fuck!" Jimin's cries are cut short by the heady penetration. The jolts burn his cheek against the chair, but not enough to distract from the sting of his abused hole.

Sounds of slapping skin rings in the model's ears--the force of Jungkook's pelvis colliding with his plump ass, deafening. "You--You're so big, I--" Jimin presses his ass back into the next deliberate thrust and swallows a yelp, morphing it into a sharp whine. He's incredibly tender from cumming already, full to burst once again. Only this time, there's more pressure built inside, like every ounce of fluid he could possibly possess is begging to be let free. "You'll make me cum too sooon." Jimin wriggles and writhes, but only for a bit, internally reminding himself to be good. Be a good boy for his Kookie. Stay still. Keep calm. Hands lay flat on the blonde's back, littered with faint marks of possession from months before. They scarred as a reminder, marking Jimin, helping him realize his one true place in life is right where he is in this moment--beneath Jeon Jungkook, moaning, whimpering, begging for pain and receiving adoring love and devotion in return. "More," he echos, softly at first, "Harder, fuck me h-harder..."

"You're whining so prettily, baby." Jungkook praises, getting a proper grip of the model's hips to use the strength in his arms to aid the pathetic attempts of Jimin trying to meet his thrusts. The harsh slapping of their skin coming together grows louder when he picks up the pace, indulging hungrily in the elder's hot, tight, insides over and over with his cock. He wishes so badly that he could stay like this forever and repeatedly claim Jimin's body and make him lose his mind. "Asking for more, when your frail body shakes so... Fuck, it only makes me want to hurt you more." He groans when a particularly rough thrust causes Jimin to clench down, his petite body jolting and his muscles quivering while struggling to stay in position-- trying his absolute best to be good. Jungkook's hunger for more grows, and with it, he fucks Jimin harder, digging his fingers into his slim hips to keep him in place, pulling him back on his cock when he's momentarily jolting forward with every forceful thrust. "Remember what I told you earlier? How I want you to scream so loud you cannot make a sound..." The photographer glances over at the camera, knowing it gets a full proper view of Jimin's face pressing against the chair while he can't see it as well from his perspective. He wonders what kind of expressions he's making right now..

He knows he'll be able to rewatch the content later, but he wants to see more..

Jungkook leans forward a bit, still fucking Jimin, heavy audible breaths of his hard labor pushing past his lips while he reaches around Jimin's small torso, lifting him on his knees. He hugs him close, pressing his muscular chest against Jimin's smaller frame, stomach perfectly melting together with the slender slope of Jimin's back. "Maybe I do prefer it if you scream loudly, though..." He buries his nose in Jimin's neck, kissing and biting his tender skin, one hand on his waist and the other smoothing up his stomach until he settles on his chest. The calloused pads of his fingers finds Jimin's nipple, reddened and sensitive due to the previous friction from the lace, making it real easy for him to find the reactions he's looking for when he pinches it hard between his fingers. His hips never cease to fuck generously, adamant to overwhelm every sense in the elder's pretty body.

With each filthy remark from Jungkook, Jimin yelps pleas of encouragement. The rough pinch simply drags it out of him, quick and loud. "M-more...harder! ...just like tha-aaat, shit..." He doesn't need guidance to say what comes next, meaning it with every short breath in his body-- "I'm a failure," he squeaks, "Cumming inside you so quickly, it's just--ahh!" You just f-felt so tight...and it's been so long, I..." Jimin grasps the hand that balances his flat chest and draws it up to grip tight around his neck, helping to push him over the edge--so close, it's almost alarming. Jimin squeaks, "...I'm gonna cum again. Fuck, I might...I don't know...I..." He loses his train of thought, not that there was much of one to begin with. Sobbing of praise and self depreciation are all his muddled mind can compute when he's fucked this well--now adjusted to his lover's large swollen length. "You fuck me too good...much better than I fucked you, I'm so s-sorr--mmmf--AH!"

Jungkook's pierced tip glides against his prostate, rubbing him raw, making his eyes flutter and skin tingle with the peak of his high. This is new. It's not normal. The gradual sensation he longs to feel is much more urgent, nearly bulging his abdomen to let free. "Wait, wait!" His small hand taps on Jungkook's arm to release him, struggling to pull away. His muscles spasm in a quick alert, and he knows all too well what's about to come next. "It's too much, I'll--" Before Jimin can finish his sentence, hot spurts of urine stream down his thighs and soak the chair he straddles. The second it starts to trickle out of his exhausted body, he can't stop it. Thrust after punishing thrust, spurts are fucked out of his shaking form until he's putty in the younger man's arms, quivering out what must be a form of orgasm. His cock pulses as his prostate continues to be abused, and all he can do is cry and whimper from embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I'm s-sorry--hic. Kookie, I couldn't s-stop--hic"

"Are you embarrassed?" He smiles, "Can't even hold it in when getting fucked." Jungkook peeks over Jimin's shoulder to watch his smaller lover's body quiver and squirm, unable to hold in anything when the younger fucks it out of him without mercy. "Always love to make a mess, do you? Then acts so innocent.." He teases, hugging Jimin closer while he squeezes the blonde's throat tighter, leaning his delicate back against his muscular chest to allow Jimin to feel some leverage. He slows down the grinding of his hips when he's fucked out every single drop possible from the model's cock, just pathetically red and throbbing.

"I still didn't cum..." Jungkook sighs, stopping his movements. He keeps himself buried deep, the grip on Jimin's throat moving to his chin to guide their lips to meet in a messy, drooly kiss. He delicately pulls back to crook an eyebrow, internally beaming with pride at how utterly fucked out Jimin looks. "Move onto your back, lay in your own filth." He suddenly commands, letting go of the elder's weak body to let it fall limp onto the chair, letting his length slip out of his stretched gape. Impatient, he's already aiding him when he notices the light struggle and quivering muscles from oversensitivity-- grabbing his hips to help him to flip on his back.

"Humph." Jimin's hiccups weaken once he's on his back, sinking into the tepid pool of urine that seeps out of the cushion. He stares up at the younger man with saucer eyes--adoring stars swirling in his gaze, slowly coming down from his orgasm. The apples of his cheeks blush an endearing shade of pink, even more as the moisture spreads across his back. It's an ever-present reminder of the mess he made, all over Jungkook's studio chair--the one he sits on to do his work, and the one he reclines in to watch Jimin pose during their private shoots.

"It's wet," the model whines, wriggling to find a comfortable spot on the chair. His nose crinkles at the audible squish the fabric makes when he adjusts his posture, saturated in him, possibly ruined and unusable. His blush dissipates just a bit, because this is the state Jungkook longed to see him in. Perhaps the visual of an alluring male model in feminine lingerie was what intrigued the talented photographer. But, just like the mirrored room, everything must come crashing down until only he can build it back up in just the way he likes.

Jimin loops his arms under his knees and exposes his tender hole to his partner, offering himself as a toy to be played with. "Do you like this, Kookie?" He pulls back a bit more, earning a wet squish from the cushion below. "Seeing your butterfly, like this..."

“Good boy." Jungkook praises, nodding in approval while a long, slow swipe of his tongue coats his lips in the glossy shine of his spit. His predatory stare darkens at the mess he's created-- the vision he's been craving finally coming to life. "I love it, you're perfect." The aching, swell sensation of blood pumping through his body is prominent in his cock as he gives himself a few tempting strokes, placing one knee on the edge of the wet cushion and the other keeping leverage on the floor while caging Jimin's body beneath him. He lines up the thick, jeweled head of his cock with the model's gaping entrance with one hand, placing his other palm on Jimin's thigh to dig his fingers into the soft flesh, aiding him in holding his legs back.

"You've done so well tonight, baby.. There's no better look for you than this.. My spoiled, expensive doll.." Jungkook's dark eyes squint as he smiles softly, a contrast compared to the way he drives his hips forward to bury his cock deep once more, welcomed by the stretched, slick flesh that hugs him tightly in the form of muscle clenches. Even when spent, Jimin does what he can to please. "My messy whore." He quickly builds up the momentum, using the full potential of every silky inch of his rigid length as he drags it in and out, harder and harder, until Jimin's petite body once more begins to jolt upwards with each and every powerful thrust. "S-shit, I love your body, I can't get enough of you like this." Jungkook spits out between grunts, thriving in the wet sounds of his cock plunging into the model, along with the squishes of his small body forcibly rubbing against the wet chair.

The photographer grits his teeth, chest heaving with every shallow breath and muscles flexing to fuck into him harder, harder to release every bit of primal desire to use Jimin to chase his impending high. "G-gonna cum soon," Jungkook's hazy eyes never waver from Jimin's face, watching it distort into his favorite expressions, a mixture of pain and pleasure. "Want me to cover your pretty face with it?"

Jimin doesn't have the power to speak, lost in the trance of Jungkook's cock railing into him at a powerful rate. His aching ring of nerves pulsates with sensitivity, so sore and spent that any words spilling from his rouge bitten lips would be desperate pleas to slow down. Positively not an option. It's their anniversary. Today is a special day--the most monumental day in Jimin's life to date, above any major career move or step in the spotlight. A year ago he may have placed himself before the pleasurable and painful touch of the photographer's hands on his flesh, but that part of himself has been far from erased. Now, in this studio, in their little private world, Jimin naturally folds at the simplest suggestion from the young visionary.

"Cum on my face, baby," he whimpers, holding his knees to his chest for stability. He nods rapidly to confirm, it's exactly what he wants. "Paint your whore--fuck. Cover me in you, I n-need it...all over my skin. Record it, up close. Please, pleasee." His voice squeaks, caught off guard by how badly he truly wants this. More than anything, he knows how beautiful the final scene will look--him, covered in tacky red sinful lace, sticking to his small body with cum, sweat, and spit. Smeared with lipstick. Prettied up and ruined for one man only.

Jimin knows exactly what the photographer wants to hear, and it's obvious by the way Jungkook's eyebrows furrow in concentration, gaze burning into the vision beneath him.

"I love it when you beg like that." Jungkook praises yet again, giving the model another punishing thrust before pulling out, leaving the gaping, needy hole empty for tonight. Normally, he would never pass on an opportunity to stuff Jimin full of his cum-- but tonight, his vision took the top priority over any carnal instincts. He had this vision in mind for forever, and it is finally becoming his reality.

"Look at me." Jungkook commands while taking a step back, tugging at Jimin's bicep to pull his spent body to slide down to the floor on his knees in front of him. He hooks the pad of his finger underneath the blonde's chin, tilting his head back to look up. His other hand works his slick length quickly and roughly, ready to burst at any given moment-- he's held it so well, and he knows he will cover his doll's perfect face with everything he's got. It'll be the ultimate visual of his fantasies; Jimin, the picture perfect man in shambles, ruined makeup and covered in various body fluids willingly, merely to serve and keep the photographer satisfied and happy. Maybe even excited for the rewards that come with compliance. "Pretty... So pretty, and all mine, hahh.." Jungkook hisses through labored breaths, clammy chest heaving as he looks down at Jimin's lips, rubbing the jeweled tip of his cock against them, stroking his cock purposefully to make a show out of the way his tattooed hand effortlessly glides thanks to every little ounce of slick fluids his lover provided. "Keep looking at m-me...fuck, I'm gonna--gah, cum." He moans louder to let Jimin know how much he's enjoying this, and the visual from both their perspectives must be otherworldly. Both men are utterly devoted and obsessed with the other.

Just as Jungkook's hip move to fuck into his hand, they stutter when his orgasm hurls over the edge without much of a warning. A drawn out, deep groan rumbles from the back of his throat, and it feels like his eyes would roll to the back of his head if he didn't intentionally keep himself so focused on watching the way thick, hot ropes of cum began to paint the model's delicate features one by one. His hand squeezes his cock, thighs tensing and relaxing between every twitching throb of his orgasm. He spits curses and praise, moans and whines, not stopping until he's made sure Jimin's skin is an entire mess, glazed with his release.

Silken droplets of pearly cum slip down Jimin's cheek and tickle the pert pout of his lips. Slowly, he licks away what he can, peeking open an eye and giving a longing look of devotion. The salty release tingles on the tip of his tongue, which he savors with a low hum. He doesn't need to ask to know how much the photographer enjoys this sight. He knows that from this angle, he's a masterpiece, commemorating a year of servitude in the most filthy way imaginable. The low glow of the recording camera reminds him of his duty, to show off his final look--a far departure from the stunning, sinful vision he admired in the mirror. Heels are scattered on the floor, stained with a light streak of blood. Stockings are torn ragged, and bralette is askew and hanging loose. With no way of truly knowing, Jimin assumes he must look a complete and utter wreck. Still, remnants of lipstick stain him in misplaced splotches, smearing down his lips and onto his chin. The ruddy makeup appears to be even brighter and remarkable under the luminous sheen of cum that slips off his chiseled jaw. Jimin lifts to his knees and palms at Jungkook's thighs to draw him closer. "Come here."

Jungkook mindlessly follows Jimin's quiet order, stepping closer before dropping to his knees in front of him, meeting his hazy eyes on face level. He can't do anything but admire his work as if in a blurry trance, and the boiling adoration in his gaze is evident.

"I'm here, baby." He says quietly, glancing over at the camera. He had gotten his shot, the visuals of everything he'd been hungering for now captured in an eternal digital memory. A sense of pride and content fills his chest as he looks back at Jimin, reaching out to swipe his thumbs underneath his makeup smeared eyes. He takes another longing moment to just look, slowly inching closer until he finds the model's pillowy lips with his own. He kisses him gently once, twice before pulling back.

"You did amazing. I got the perfect shot, and you looked so gorgeous." He rubs Jimin's bruised neck slowly, examining the purple and red marks, "Did you enjoy it a lot? I had this planned for a while.. And it came out even better than I anticipated.."

The blonde closes the distance again to kiss Jungkook tenderly. A shaky hand cups the photographer's face while the other mindlessly holds him at the waist for balance. The room shifts subtly, and Jimin breathes into the motion, tilting his head to follow the natural part of their mouths moving as one.

"Mhm," he hums again, indulging in the comfort and warmth of Jungkook's touch. He needs it after, always, to feel like a precious doll again. Like clockwork, they come together into a slow comedown, feeling their united heartbeat as the tips of their fingers brush against damp skin. "Happy anniversary," Jimin smiles into a sweet and short kiss. The tentative hold on his neck draws the model in more and he allows the younger man to indulge in his creation. He allows it until the warm ropes of cum begin to tack to the round apples of his cheeks, and the slight discomfort of his muscles begin to set in.

"So sticky and wet now, Kookie. Just how you like," Jimin smirks, pleased he could once again fulfill his love's vision. "I may need some help getting out of this though." Jimin hints at the soaked, ruined lingerie that still clings to his torso.

"I'm so happy. Thank you for taking me so well, baby." Jungkook places one last rewarding kiss on Jimin's sticky cheek before he gets up on his feet, bringing his lover up with him to lift him up into his strong arms. He holds him close, walking over to the camera to turn the recording off and heads towards the bathroom. "Let's get you cleaned up and ready for bed, I have another surprise for you." He smiles through his statement, placing Jimin on the toilet seat to wait while he draws a hot bath. He turns to Jimin, reaching behind his torso to unclasp the bralette and discard it on the floor, then resumes to tug at the panties to get them off. Every action of his is tender now, the aftercare more than important to ensure that Jimin is properly rewarded for doing so well and taking every rougher part of him-- so he deserves the affection as well. "Come." He coaxes lowly, undressing properly as well until the tub is filled, and takes Jimin's hand in his to guide him into the water, seating them with Jimin's small frame practically in his lap. A soft sigh pushes past his lips from the relaxing warmth surrounding them. "Wash your face off first, don't want your eyes to get irritated."

Jimin cups the warm bathwater in his hands and stares at the faint shadow of his face cast over it. He pauses a moment, adjusting to the comfort of being supported from behind--feeling small and cared for, then brings the water up to cleanse. The warmth soothes over his soft skin, and after only one splash, he can feel the layers of grime shluff off. His palms tinge a faint red. Lipstick rubs away, followed by other various bodily fluids, some of which need a couple passes before it is completely removed. The work to remove it only makes Jimin appreciate the work Jungkook put into planning such an unexpected night.

"I never get tired of this," Jimin coos, bring another palmful of water up to wash over his face, "Taking baths together...it's one of my favorite things." Baths--such a normal and almost childlike experience. It's something that brings the small model pleasant ripples of nostalgia, like it was only yesterday they first shared the simple experience of cleaning one another. It's centering, to wash away the filth of the day and watch it slide down the drain until it's gone completely. Jimin reclines into the tender embrace of his love and allows him to rub soapy water over his body, moaning gently the cleaner he feels.

"One year," the blonde sighs, closing his eyes, "What would I have done if I never met you?" He tilts his neck to get a good look at the younger man. "Life would be so...boring."

"Indeed." Jungkook agrees, the toothy grin on his face just as childish and endearing as when they first met eye to eye in his studio. He looks back at Jimin with just as much-- if not more admiration swirling in his doe eyes. He cranes his neck to kiss the elder's forehead, gentle hands smoothing over his petite body to rub off tonight's events. "But it was fate." He adds, hands moving up to comb his fingers through the blonde curls after adding his familiar shampoo into his palms, massaging his tender scalp with the comfort of his scent.

"Sooner or later, we would've found each other." A moment of silence follows, all that is heard is Jungkook cleaning Jimin's hair while the latter basks in the aftercare.. until he speaks again. Whether Jimin heard it or not, remains a mystery.

"I would've made sure of it."

#fic: expensive doll #Mused Obsession #jikook smut #jimin smut #jungkook smut #bts mxm smut #bts mxm #bts smut #sub jimin #dom jungkook

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lesbian-deadpool · 3 years

Text

Saving Rosie

Part One of Two: “I’m Not A Spy.”

Rosie Betzer x Reader

Words: 5,768

Warnings: WWII (and everything that comes with that era), Nazis, spy shit, arguing, alludes to execution, sadness... I think that may be it.

Request: No.

Summary: You save the woman you have grown close to over the past few years you have been undercover as a Nazi general, and now you’re going to save her family.

A/N: Me, still broken after watching Jojo Rabbit almost a year and a half ago?? It’s more likely than you think... so, apparently I write Rosie Beltzer fics now lol

Also, just some lil notes. The reader in this is undercover as a male Nazi general, and they’re not actually German in this fic.

EDIT: I accidentally tagged this as a Natasha fic lmao. I fixed it now tho.

Ko-Fi

Commissions

(Not My GIF)

***

"It's a lovely night for it, huh?"

For what? You weren't

certain. Maybe it was the full moon. Maybe, it was the clear sky. The deserted streets, perhaps... what loomed in the following days to come.

Or maybe, just maybe. It was the woman by your side.

The woman hummed, a small sweet smile caressing her face.

"One of the better ones we've had in years. Came her strong German accent. A stark difference to yours, considering you no longer had to mask it. Around her, anyway.

Your smile mirrored hers as it brightened.

"It sure is."

"I can't believe it's almost over. And after so long..." she said, while you grunted, sitting down beside her on the small roof over the open attic window. "This unjust war is finally coming to an end."

"Okay, you're starting to sound like my commander now."

Rosie chuckled at your words, moving to softly lean into your side, keeping her head up to continue looking at the bright white stars that littered the midnight blue sky.

"Why do you always insist on meeting up here?" you grumbled, no malice in your voice, "It's a pain in the ass to get up onto the roof, from the outside, y'know?"

"You're a spy, aren't you? Aren't you supposed to be good at this stuff?"

"Oh cheeky," you laughed, lightly slapping the side of her leg, with the back of your hand. Rosie's quiet giggles following your remark, "And I'm an undercover soldier. Those are two very different things."

"Still." She shrugged.

You sat in silence for a small while. Over the few years, you and Rosie had grown close. Meeting up on her rooftop, at the dead of night, where there was no chance of anyone seeing you together, this way, becoming an almost every day occurrence.

You knew you could trust her the moment you first met, almost three years ago. After you had stolen the identity of a Nazi officer, that looked starkly like you. Luckily, there was hardly any information about this person. So, there was less chance for your cover to be blown.

Soon, the resistance that Rosie had been deeply a part of was un-earthed to you, thanks to your informant and the letter she carried. It wasn't long after that you started working with them too. Helping them better than they could ever hope, thanks to the military resources and information you brought.

"What happened to your neck?" Rosie asked, pulling you out from where you were, deep in your memories.

A hand came up to rub at your slightly sore skin.

"My informant can be cruel..."

Rosie cocked a blonde eyebrow at you, wanting an explanation from you.

You sighed, getting ready to tell her.

***

Eyes burned into the woman from all sides as her heels kicked against the polished wooden, yet stained, floor. Her light brown hair shone under the glowing lights, confidence radiating from her just the same.

"Can I help you?" a German Soldier slid in front of her, she had to stop herself from sneering at the man. For both his being a Nazi and his sweaty stench. But instead, she managed a sultry smirk.

"I'm here to see your General," she replied, in a German accent.

"Don't bother," another Soldier, this one drunk and slightly swaying, called over, from where he was pressed into the wall a few feet behind her.

"I don't think your General would take too kindly to you stealing what they paid for."

"They're gonna have fun with you," he replied, blatantly looking her up and down. Like a wolf would, to a tiny bunny, ready to devour it whole. However, the wolf was not a wolf at all, the wolf was, in fact, the bunny, and the bunny was the actual wolf.

She would tear him to shreds, given the chance.

"The General is in the usual room," the original man said, "Fair warning, though. They're not in a good mood today."

The woman began strutting down the hallway, once again. Throwing, "Aren't they always?" over her shoulder once she passed him by.

When she opened the thick wooden door you resided behind, the sounds of your continued groan began pouring through the crack.

"Sometimes I cannot believe that you got this assignment," she uttered in her original London accent, with her back pressed against the now-closed door.

You finished your groan off and took a deep breath before you uttered your reply.

"Luck-of-the-draw, I guess," you spoke from the floor where you lay on your back, with a shrug, "That, or I look strikingly alike the guy who died. The Nazi prick."

She walked over to you, one foot rising to press her heel into your neck, your thyroid resting in the open space of the shoe.

A choking noise sprang from your mouth as you flailed your limbs around gently. You knew that if she were to press any harder, she would surely manage to choke you.

"You're not suited for this job."

The brunette pressed harder against your throat before she released you. Leaving you to turn on your side, coughing and spluttering.

"Well, no shit. I'm a soldier, not a spy."

"You can tell."

"What was that all about?" You motioned to your neck. Red marks already making their way upon the tender flesh.

"We need to make it seem like we are having sex. Remember? I am supposed to be your hooker after all."

"You're a bitch, is what you are."

She scowled at you as you rolled yourself onto your stomach, sighing when you finally got to your feet.

"Where's the update?"

You hummed, almost as if you were remembering what you were here to do. Removing the crystal tumbler from your lips the whisky sloshing around inside. Reaching behind you, you pulled the file from where it was tucked into your pants and under your shirt. Handing it over to her.

"Is this it?" She asked, weighing the file in her hand, "It's very light."

"Yeah, and so's the information swimming around. Unless you wanna hear about the fish Agatha caught last weekend," you snarked back, moving to point at the file with the same hand that held your glass, "There's some good stuff in there. It's not much. But it's good."

"I'll take your word for it."

She tucked the folder into the long overcoat she wore, then you saw her eyebrows furrow.

"Aren't you supposed to take care of that?" She nodded towards the uniform jacket you had thrown across the room not long after you had entered it.

"You sneered at the fore-talked about item.

"I hate it and everything it stands for." You turned back to face her. "As soon as all of this bullshit is over, I'm burning that fucking armband. And then the rest of the fucking uniform."

"Real calm there, aren't you?"

"Don't start shit with me, Hannah." You took a large swig of your drink, almost emptying the glass. "I know that you wish you had somehow gotten this mission. But trust me, you don't fucking want it. The shit I've seen and done. The stuff that I've had to authorise, just to keep my cover. The fucking horror storied these monsters have told proudly, or as if they're fucking jokes." You were panting now. "You don't want that."

You had her startled into silence. Hannah had never expected this to come from you.

"How's the resistance?"

You grunted. Downing the rest of the brown liquor before moving to pour yourself another glass three fingers tall.

"It's going." you gave a heavy nod. "Still trying to spread the word."

Hannah hummed, slowly making her way towards you. Fingers coming up to razzle her hair, and wipe her lipstick, so it smudged onto her cheek.

"How's the blonde?"

"What-?" you were cut off when she wiped the red lipstick on her fingers across your own lips, leaving a smudge like hers there. "Ugh," you groaned, moving away from her palm, only to utter small obscenities and sounds of pain when her lipstick freehand messed up your short, slicked-back hair.

"What blonde?" you finally managed to ask.

"The one from the resistance. What's her name?" She clicked her fingers together, in realisation, "Rosie."

"Oh! Yeah, she's fine, and so are the kids."

"You seem to be taking a shine to her, from what I hear from the resistance. You and Rosie seem to be something of a dynamic duo."

Suddenly your shirt was ripped open, from the collar to your ribs. Making your eyes widen in shock.

However, you were used to this by now, so they soon returned back to their regular size.

"Yeah, we're friends."

Hannah hummed, something akin to a knowing smirk on her face. As she untucked your shirt.

"I'd keep an eye on her, though."

She opened your pants.

"She's being watched."

Breathless at what she just said, you stood stock still, watching as she walked towards the wooden door.

"Oh." Hannah stopped, her hand upon the handle, pulling some pieces of paper from her pocket and threw them to the floor, "I'll leave you to deliver the bad news."

And with that, she left.

***

You forewent telling Rosie everything from the mention of her.

Thinking it the best if she heard it differently.

"That really sounds like a spy meeting to me," Rosie said with a smirk, knowing it would annoy you to no end.

You closed your eyes before you could roll them into the back of your head. Taking a deep breath, you exhaled, "I'm not a spy."

"So, you've said," she giggled.

"You're drunk," you mumbled to yourself.

"What was that?"

"How are the kids?" you asked, clearly watching as Rosie groaned lightly. Her head down-turned, almost sad looking.

"Jojo's still obsessed with Hitler and everything. And Elsa's doing her best. But I can tell how much this is affecting her. And in what world wouldn't it?"

"She's strong." You nodded. "She'll get through it. We all will."

"And what about Jojo?"

Rosie turned to face you, hair swaying as she did. You could see the glazed look in her eye's, telling yourself to be extra vigilant with the woman upon the roof. You had to make sure she didn't fall off in her drunken state.

"Is he going to be like this for the rest of his life?"

Tears were building in her eyes now.

"Supporting evil dictators, wanting to take over the world, and fill it with hate?"

"No. No, of course not," you whispered. Reaching over, you clasped her cheeks between your rough, war-hardened hands. Wiping away her silent tears. "He's just a boy. A boy who wants to be a part of something, even if he doesn't understand what that is. What monster's he's following. He will realise one day. Trust me."

"I trust you." She nodded. "It just. It's hard. It's so hard. Especially when he plays up, like he did at dinner today."

"He did?"

She hummed with a nod.

"We're low on food right now. I had to go without to feed Elsa. But Jojo, he didn't know, obviously, so he took that too. Then he started arguing about his father-"

You inhaled sharply, shoulders tensing. But luckily for you, she didn't notice your reaction.

"-I yelled at him... we made up not long after, but I still feel awful about it. I'm a terrible mother."

"No, you're not-"

"I am-"

"No. You're not," you said firmly. Grabbing her forearm, gently moving it side to side, to get your point further across, "You're such a caring and amazing person. Your heart is so big and kind. And you're an even better mother. It's like all of that is doubled for those kids."

"Thank you," Rosie whispered, tears in her eyes once again, before she moved to wipe them away.

"Anyway, you're way better than my mother. She abandoned me at a farm. I was lucky a cow didn't shit on me."

She giggled at your little joke.

"I'm so sorry that happened to you."

"There's no need. I wouldn't change it."

Things were quiet for a few minutes when you suddenly remembered.

"Oh!" You reached into your pocket and pulled out three packages, wrapped in brown paper and tied together with string. "I guess it was just lucky that I brought these then."

"What are they?"

"Beef sandwiches, I thought you would like them."

"Oh, you're a lifesaver," she spoke in something close to a moan as she took a bite out of her sandwich.

You gave a small chuckle at the woman seated beside you, "I'd thought you'd say that. I'll have to start bringing food over to these meetings of ours because it's not like I can do it out in the open."

"People would think something was going on between us," Rosie hummed.

"You're right about that. Everyone is so bored around here. Gossip is like their life sauce."

"Would you be surprised if I told you that it was the same before the war?"

"Not at all," you laughed.

Rosie finished her sandwich, and you dreaded what was coming next.

"I need to tell you something," you almost whispered.

She bumped her shoulder against yours when you didn't continue.

"Well? What is it?"

"It... it's about your husband..."

You watched her carefully as you said that, all the while emotions, flew into her while she processed them.

She held back more tears, ones from the look on her face that she had shed more times than she could count. Face contoured into one of concealed pain. Looking away from your gentle, caring eyes while rubbing her hands together.

"He's dead, isn't he?"

"I'm afraid so." You nodded, looking out before you, into the starry night sky.

That's when you felt a tiny jolt beside you. Looking over at the blonde, you watched as a tear trickled down her cheek.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered.

With a gasp and a wet sniff, Rosie wiped her tears away.

"What happened?"

"There was a raid, some members of a resistance was there, your husband included. None of them made it... they saved the people they intended to, however."

She nodded with a sad yet proud smile.

"How long ago was this?"

You swallowed. Hating the words you were about to say.

"A little over a year ago."

You winced when you heard her sobs, ones being held in so hard just so no one could overhear her cries.

And, sickeningly so, the worst thing of all was that you didn't know how to help her.

Placing a hand upon her back, rubbing small comforting circles into her shoulder. Feeling her lean into you, face now pushed into your neck.

"I'm here. Everything's going to be alright."

You left not too long later, after already spending way too much time up on that roof.

Rosie wished you a "goodbye" with the promise that she would be fine. However, she didn't reply to you when you told her not to finish the rest of the wine. That she had been pounding for the majority of the day.

Before you arrived "home" and promptly collapsed onto the bed.

***

The afternoon sun was warm upon your face as you walked the streets of the German town. Watching as children ran around, women worked, and well, gossiped, and Nazi soldiers came and went.

Soon. You thought. This will all be over soon.

That's when you heard the murmured words from the women you had just walked past.

"Yes, the Gestapo. They're here right now."

"Who for?" the other woman asked, voice slightly higher at the aspect of such "juicy" gossip.

Sometimes it surprised you just how detached some of these people were from human lives. But then you took a step back and saw everything that was happening in the world. And you weren't surprised anymore. Just disappointed.

"The traitors wife. Beltzer."

And now you were scared.

"-They should be taking her to the square, right now."

It was like the world had slowed down as you turned to look at them, meeting their curious eyes.

The last thing you heard before taking off at a run towards the town square was a fading, "Like husband, like wife. I guess."

The people you passed by looked at you like you were insane. To see a, what they thought, General, sprinting down streets and panting like crazy, it set them on edge.

But you didn't give a damn about what anybody thought.

You just had to get to the square.

And quick.

***

By the time you got there, you had a light shine over your skin. Thanks to the sweat from both the running you had done and the worry that coursed through you.

"Remove your hands from her," came your faux German accent.

"She is a traitor to the Reich," one of the Gestapo's, seemingly the leader, replied assuredly.

"And what proof do you have of this?"

Rosie was terrified. You could see that as clear as day, no matter how she tried to keep calm. It was written all over her face.

So, you forcefully pushed their hands from the heavily breathing woman and pulling her to stand by your side and away from the group of men dressed in black suits.

"I'll have you know, we have very probable tips from some of the community-"

""Probable"?!" you shouted, causing the on edge woman beside you to jump slightly. To which you pulled her closer to you as a form of comfort. Your hand, coming to rest on her shoulder.

"Yes. Probable. We cannot have risks."

"Well, I say that it is bullshit."

"You have no jurisdiction or authority over our department."

"And I never said I did. I am saying that I vouch for this woman."

"But the tip-off's-" another man began.

"You choose to believe lonely and bored housewives over a General?!" You watched as their faces fell, and they tried to grab onto any straw they could to change your mind.

"There is still a chance-"

"There is no chance!"

"And can you be so sure?!"

"Do you really believe that I, a General, would be with her if you were right?"

"With her?" a third Gestapo asked curiously.

You knew what you had to do to get her back home, safe and away from the men trying to execute and make a spectacle of her. Just like the poor people hanging to your right.

"It means that I have been seeing her. Romantically, if you still do not fully understand, what I mean."

They didn't say anything for a few short moments, only stumbling and stuttering over their own voices.

"So, tell me. Who are you choosing to believe?"

"Uh. Y-You General."

"Good." You nodded once. "Now, I'm going to take her home. Goodbye, gentlemen," you spat. Turning on your heel, with Rosie under your arm, and walking away.

"Are you okay?" you whispered. Not drawing any attention to yourself or Rosie.

"I'm fine. Thank you for saving me," she replied in the same way.

"I wouldn't have done anything else." Your hand slipped down to the blondes dip in her lower back, helping to guide her back home. "Where are the flyers? Did you have any on you?"

"Yes. I threw them down the drain before they could see."

"Good. You did good." A squeeze to her hip before your hand returned to her lower back, just to keep up the appearance of the lie. "They're not gonna find them."

***

Rosie had relaxed more by the time you were at the bottom of her street when you saw a distinctly expensive car parked outside of Rosie's house. A car that everyone knows belongs to that of Gestapo's.

"Is Jojo home?" you asked, just stood there starring at the sight, with Rosie by your side.

"Yes," she husked.

"Shit."

And that's when you both broke out in a run.

You, being faster than Rosie, arrived at the building first. Barging through the door, with her hot on your heels.

Pounding your way up the stairs, only to come face to face with a gang of men, identically dressed to the Gestapo's, you had just saved Rosie from. Along with Jojo and Elsa, in clothes that didn't look like they belonged to her. Not to mention the demoted soldier, holding an identification book.

"What is the meaning of this?!"

"What are you doing in my house?!" you and Rosie said at the same time. Your yell angrier, compared to her more so worried one.

"We are searching the premises," the lead man, who wore round glasses, spoke. Face confused as to why Rosie was still alive. But as soon as he saw the anger chiselled upon your face. He could take a successful guess as to who had stopped the execution.

"Mama, they were just checking Inge's identification," Jojo said as his mother rushed towards him. Her hands, on his cheeks, as she checked him over.

"Oh, yes. Of course." Rosie pulled Jojo along to bring Elsa into her side, just as you had done for her mere minutes ago. "Are you both alright?"

She gained words and nods of confirmation from the two children.

"I think it's time that you all left."

"But-" one Gestapo said, looking to Rosie.

"But nothing," you continued, "I'm sure your associates will fill you in on their mistake. Now, if you are finished, I ask that you leave this house."

"We were just about to, anyway," the leader said, leading the way out for everyone. But not before the ID was handed back to the assumed Inge. With you trailing after, to slam the door behind them.

You turned, leaning your back against the wooden door, sighing deeply.

"Are they gone?" Rosie called down, leaning over the railing, to peer down at you.

The stairs creaked below you, the layer of carpet doing nothing to quiet them. You spoke your confirmation, as you reached her, "They're gone."

The kids looked like they had just been caught with their hand's in the cookie jar.

"So..." the caring woman started, "You two know about each other."

They nodded.

"For how long?"

"A couple of weeks, at most," Jojo said.

"How did you even find out about her?"

"I-I found the hatch-"

"He crawled in-"

"And I found her-"

"He was terrified."

"Was not!"

"Was too."

"Was not!"

"Was too!"

"Okay, enough," Rosie raised her voice, gaining the bickering children's attention.

Taking a breath, she ran her hands through her soft blonde hair.

"And you never told anyone?"

"No." Jojo shook his head. "I didn't want you to get into trouble..." It was at that point, he realised you were silently stood behind his mother, watching as everything unfolded and who you were.

Rosie caught this and looked over her shoulder at you.

"Don't worry," she told both of the kids, crouching down before them. Elsa's face one of mild terror.

This is when it hit you that these kids were exactly that.

Kids.

Kid's that were too scared of their mothers, or motherly figure, scolding them, than the actual, apparent danger that lurked not too far away.

"They're not going to tell anybody. They know. And won't let anything happen. To any of us." she manoeuvred to face you. "Right?"

You nodded. "Absolutely. I will do my best to protect all of you."

"Speaking of." She slowly rose to her feet, walking towards you.

The hand that Rosie placed upon your arm was gentle, almost like she was worried she would hurt you. Fingers curling into the jacket of the uniform you loathed.

"I have to speak with the General. So, you two stay up here. Understood?"

They nodded.

"Good." She pulled you through the open door, but before she could close it fully, her head popped through the door, "Oh. And we're not done yet. We still have a lot to talk about."

Then the door clicked shut.

"You're really good at that."

"What?"

"Being a mother."

"I know. You've told me before."

***

Things had changed rather quickly when you arrived downstairs.

Sat upon the blue cotton cushions of the wooden framed couch. Watching as Rosie paced around in front of you, fingertips rubbing against her full lips, worry etched across her face.

Your eyebrows shot up, and your body straightened when she turned to face you. Arms now down by her sides.

"So, we're together, huh?"

"I'm sorry," you replied, German accent dropped, "But that was the only thing that would get them to back off and drop the suspicions against you."

"I know." She nodded, completely understanding. Before her minimal composure dropped, and the worry came back. "What do we do? Jojo obviously thinks you are a traitor now. What if he tells someone?"

"He won't." You stood abruptly, taking Rosie's shoulder's into your hands, squeezing them gently. "He didn't tell anyone about Elsa when he had so many chances to do so. Hell, he had the chance, not even five minutes ago. But he hasn't said a word, purely just to keep you safe... he doesn't understand that this could hurt him and Elsa too. He doesn't know what's happening."

"But this is different-"

"Yes, it is different. It's better he thinks I'm a traitor, helping his family, than him knowing I'm an undercover soldier."

"You mean a spy?"

"Don't you start with that shit." You pointed at her playfully.

Rosie's smile dropped when a thought popped into her mind.

"Do you think they will still come back?"

"It is possible," you said honestly, "Which is why we should leave as soon as we possibly can."

"And go where?"

"Anywhere that isn't here."

"What do I tell the kids- What do I tell Jojo?" she clarified.

"The truth. You tell them that they could come back and that we all need to leave because we could all be in danger."

With her head in her hand's, the blonde scoffed tearily, "God. This fucking war."

"I know. I know."

You pulled her into your chest, letting her cry into you. Arms wound around your torso tightly.

"I hate it, For so many reasons."

"I know," you repeated again, "I feel the same."

"When will it just end? When will people be safe again?"

Deciding that it would be best to tell her the truth, you said, "I don't know. Soon I hope."

And there you sat, for a small while longer, allowing the blonde to cry into your chest.

***

You had left.

Gone to go gather some of your things, thinking it best to stay with Rosie and the kids while you were forced to stay in town.

All the while Rosie, spoke to the kids about leaving.

"I don't understand why we have to go!"

Was what you were greeted with as you entered the home.

"Because it is not safe for us here anymore," Rosie's voice came, calm but firm.

"But they won't come back."

"That's not entirely true," you spoke, entering the kitchen. Placing the leather bag you carried and the wicker basket upon the small table against the wall, you continued, "There's always a chance, no matter how small."

The young boy watched you silently for a minute. Not knowing what to say.

"Trust me, Jojo. I know how all of this works. I just want to keep you all safe, so does your mother. And this is the best way to do it.2

Jojo sighed.

"Where will we go?"

Rosie looked at you intently when her son asked this, wondering the same thing.

"We'll get out of town first. Then we'll focus on a safe place for us all to go."

"Jojo, would you. Would you go to your room, please?" Rosie asked, "I need to speak with the General, alone."

Just as the blonde boy was about to protest, he was cut off.

"Now. I also have to start preparing dinner."

He huffed and walked from the room, bounding up the stairs rather loudly.

You felt bad for the woman as you watched her grip the sides of the oven, bow her head, and give a great sigh.

"Where's Elsa?"

"She's in her hiding spot." Then she turned to face you. "Y/N, K know that Elsa isn't Inge."

"What?"

"She got Inge's birthday wrong, and he didn't say anything."

Your eye's wandered as you took in the information that was just given to you.

"Do you think he will say anything?"

"I don't know," you said with a shrug, "But I don't wanna take any chances. It's too risky."

"I agree." Rosie nodded once. "So, when do we leave."

"As soon as possible. Tonight if we can. Only pack the essentials. And not yet, we can't raise any suspicions."

Rosie's only reply and indication that she had heard you were a good few nods.

And then.

"What's in the basket?"

"Oh," you said chipperly, "Don't worry about cooking. I brought dinner."

***

Turns out "tonight" wasn't a viable option for skipping town, as with loud, almost deafening sirens of dread filled the sky came the air-raid strike.

"Wouldn't it give us a good cover, though?" Rosie had asked, preparing for bed.

You had resigned yourself to staying over, as a sort of bodyguard, while still in town. And the threat was still very much weighing in the winds.

You looked over your shoulder at her. Being spotted by her through the mirror of her vanity, where she sat. Removing her makeup and then applying some face cream.

"I'm not the only one by a window," you told her. Then moved to peer through the window, at the moving lights in the black, midnight sky. "I'm sure I heard Elsa and Jojo in the attic watching them."

"They are," she confirmed.

"See. We're not the only ones. Too many eyes. A good distraction," you admitted, "But almost impossible. And with two kids added to that? No chance."

A hum came from Rosie.

"So, what are our options?"

With a sigh, you began explaining, "People will be too jumpy tomorrow, so our best bet would be the day after."

The blonde, now ready for bed, came over to you. Moving to stand right in front of you, looking out the window herself.

"Wouldn't it be too risky, staying here that long?"

It seemed it was your turn to hum, shrugging your shoulders.

"I'd rather stay here a few more days than risk it out there. But there is a good side to these change of plans."

"And what's that?"

"Now, we can sneak stuff to the car. And won't risk being caught doing it all at night. That way, all we have to do is get in, then drive off."

"Good plan. Partner," Rosie spoke in a slight mocking about sultry tone. Which only made you roll your eyes good-naturedly.

"Yeah. Yeah. You're welcome."

"Seriously," you halted at Rosie's serious tone, raising your head to peer at her, "Thank you for everything."

"You don't have to thank me." Your lips ticked up in a small smile before you lightened the sober mood and atmosphere. "And you definitely won't be thanking me if I accidentally kick you in my sleep."

Rosie laughed at your words, watching as you said into bed beside her.

"Do not worry. If you kick me, I'll just kick you out of the bed."

"Now that's just rude."

Waking up the next morning was strange for you, to say the least.

With the bright sun shining through the thin drapes, across the cosy room, and onto the bed. Duvet lumpy above your forms.

And then there was Rosie.

The blonde pressed up against your side, head resting on your shoulder, arms curled around one of yours, still fast asleep.

Now that.

That was very unusual for you.

But then again. You were too sleepy to process anything at that moment. So instead, you just watched her breathe soothingly, looking so peaceful by your side, with your eyebrows furrowed and eyes squinted in curiosity.

It was a wonder how someone could look so contest face asleep like Rosie was, with everything that is going on in the world.

The world wouldn't be that way for much longer, you thought, it was only a matter of time before everything was over.

And the same thing could be said for the blonde sleeping by your side.

The wooden door barged open, alerting you fully awake, as Jojo strutted in. Only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight of you. In bed. With his mother.

You could see the slight anger in his eyes, purely out of protection for his beloved mother.

"Good morning, Jojo," Rosie said sleepily as she moved to sit up, looking at the boy with a sleepy smile.

You grunted as she pressed her palm into your abdomen to raise up into a seated position.

"What are they doing here?" he asked, nodding his head towards you.

Rosie looked over her shoulder at you, tired eyes evaluating you. Before she turned back to her son.

"There's something I forgot to tell you yesterday."

You watched the mother and child with slightly wide eyes, not uttering a word, just looking like you wanted to escape this situation.

"What did you forget?"

"The General here-" she patted your abdomen where her hand still resided. "-And I, are seeing each other."

It was a few good long moments as Jojo processed the words. You thought he was going to be angry. It would be natural. You would understand. He was a young boy, one who undoubtedly missed his father and would not be happy with his mother being with anyone else.

But you also had to understand that he idolised you, if only for your -albeit fake- position in the German military.

And yet, you were still surprised and confused by what he said next.

"A lion?"

Rosie smiled brightly, nodding her head, "A lion."

"A lion?"

That was the first thing you said that morning, and it was full of confusion.

But it fell on deaf ears.

Jojo nodded once at his mother before turning on his heel and walking from the room, without saying what he initially came in for.

"What?"

Rosie smiled at you.

"Come on, we should get moving."

The bed shook and bounced as she got up from the bed, preparing to get ready for the day.

"I'm so confused," you almost whimpered, only gaining a soft giggle in return.

***

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aubreyprc · 3 years

Text

In My Veins Final 2

part one part two part three part four part five(happy)

Find the first half of this here

Again... very sorry. also i know i said tomorrow but... oh well lol😀✋

once again, tagging those who have read from the start, yall really🥰😎 hell yeah besties @hotchnisscardigan @florenceremingtonthethird @olivinesea @eprcntiss @jetaime-jespere @petit97

another big shoutout of course to @suckerforhotchniss. this was all her idea and actually if you’re going to come for anyone come for her okay?:)

TW! for/ mentions of depression, drugs, death and suicide. please read with caution if these things could trigger you, but they are only mentions. nothing graphic.

They bury her on a warm day in the fall. Jack stands in front of his father, the man’s hands over his shoulder as she’s lowered down. There are tears down his face but Hotch remains standing straight, holding back his emotions, watching with a broken heart as she lowered to the ground for the second, but final time.

JJ grips Will’s hand tightly as she closes her eyes, taking a deep breath, Garcia then loops her hand in hers and the woman faces her and nods, before turning back.

Penelope has tears streaming down her face as she watches, she looks over to the Hotchner’s and just wishes there was something she could do for them, but the only thing they want is her back and that is something she just can not do, no matter how much she wishes she could. She wants to hug Hotch and tell him it’s okay, that she forgives him but she can’t. All she can think about is the fact that her friend died and he didnt let her say goodbye. Again.

Spencer is standing a few feet away from her, staring at the casket being lowered into the ground as he holds his breath. He can feel Morgan inches from him and all he wants is to reach out and grab his hand but he doesn't know if he can. Ever since Emily died they’ve been… different. Spencer knows that Morgan blames him and he accepts that. It’s his fault anyway.

As the casket lowers into the ground, Hotch feels the grief for two, because along side Emily in that casket is their baby, their baby that will never be. The baby they will never hold, or name or watch grow up. He will never tell anyone about them. They don’t deserve the right, simply due to the fact that she never knew. Emily will never, ever know that they had created a life together before hers was taken, alongside theirs.

As the casket reaches the bottom with a small thud, as he and jack place some mud into the grave, along with some flowers, as he watches his team do the same, he can’t help but feel like his future is buried right there with her, and he doesn't see a way through it.

One month after Emily dies, he goes back to work. Jack’s started sleeping through the night again and there are no more nightmares.

Every Sunday night it’s no longer one candle the young boy lights, it’s two. Haley and Emily.

He and Aaron will sit on the floor in the living room, place the candles on the table and Jack tells them both about his week, about school, he’ll tell them he still misses them everyday and that he is still so sad but that he’s going to be strong for them. He tells them he loves them and he looks to his Dad, who will then do the same.

He’ll share a funny, but PG story about something one of the team did at work for Emily and then a funny story about Jack or Jessica for Haley. He’ll tell them he misses and loves them and Jack will blow the candles out and smile at the smoke.

Jack will go to bed then and like every other night previously, Aaron will sit on the couch, grab Emily’s jumper he keeps under it, bring it too his face and he will cry for her. For their baby. For them.

Everything in the apartment reminded him of her. Her smell still lingered in their bed, her shampoo and body wash remained exactly where she had left them, her clothes remained in his draws, unmoved. The coat she'd left still hung up next to his, her shoes still on the stand.

He knows JJ and Penelope had cleaned out her apartment weeks ago because they’d handed Dave the clothes he had scattered around there and with a sad look in his eyes, he gave them back to him.

Those clothes remained in the laundry room of his apartment. He won’t wash them. He won’t wear them again.

The mug she had drank out of the morning they had left for North Carolina still stood unwashed and untouched in his sink. Her lipstick still on the rim of the mug and he remembers the way she had smiled at him from under it as he spoke to her that morning. The way she chuckled lightly when he winked at her before trying to get Jack ready for school.

He remembers that he’d kissed her quickly before he left like he would do it for the rest of his life. He remembers it all. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget. He doesn’t want too.

Two months after Emily dies Hotch is no better. His smiles, however rare they were in the first place, are now non existent. The team brings up depression and they talk about how he should see someone about his grief but he pushes them away with a single “I'm fine” and ends the conversation.

Jack struggles to bring his father out of his grief, he spends most of his time with Jessica, but every now and then Aaron will take his son to the park, or to the beach and they will smile, they will laugh and everything would feel like it was before.

Sometimes Jack can hear his father crying, so he jumps from his bed and walks into his bedroom, jumping onto the bed and laying next to him. Hotch will take a breath and hold back the remainder of his tears and Jack will lean over to wipe them.

“You did this for me when I was having my nightmares,” He whispers to him when he wipes a tear from his face and Aaron chuckles.

“Thank you, buddy.” He whispers back and the boy smiles.

Aaron’s grief consumes him. It’s overwhelming the way he loves her and it’s overbearing the way he misses her. Grief is all he feels. Grief, heartbreak, loss, emptiness and anger.

He wants to get over this for the sake of his son and he tries but he just can’t. It’s overtaken him and he can not get out of the pit the loss of her has put him in. He feels like he can’t even breathe without her. Everything feels harder than it should and he just can’t do it. He’s trying for Jack but it’s starting to eat him alive, the guilt, the loss, the memories, everything.

It’s a Thursday night as he stares at the bottom of an empty bottle with tears running down his face, a picture of him and Emily in his hands that he becomes haunted by the thought that his own son might not even be enough to get him through this.

Three months after Emily Prentiss died a man named Peter Lewis enters his life and from the moment the killer sets eyes on Agent Hotchner he knows that’s the one whose mind he can break easily. That’s the one who he can snap in half. With a grim smile he watches, and plans his attack.

Three weeks and two days later Aaron Hotchner is walking from the parking lot towards his car when there is a sharp needle in his neck and a voice behind him. He’s falling to the floor slowly as his mind clouds over and all he can think about is that the whole thing is sort of...peaceful.

Peter Lewis places the mask over Hotch’s mouth and let’s the drugs do their job, leaning over him and whispering..

“When you wake up.. Your precious son will be dead, you watched me kill him before I brought you here.” He smiles to himself, “You will see the person you love the most and when they hand you the gun.. you’ll know what you have to do.”

What he thinks will happen is he will see Jack’s mother, he thinks she will tell him to kill his team when they walk through the doors and that he’ll do it, before his brain snaps like everyone else’s and he’ll become Mr Scratch, leaving Peter Lewis to roam free.

What he doesn’t expect is for Aaron Hotchner to be depressed and in love with a dead woman named Emily Prentiss. What he doesn’t expect is for the man to be suicidal, the grief of losing the woman he loves and their baby almost too much for him to handle.

What he doesn’t is expect that his son was the last thing keeping him holding on.

He doesn’t expect a lot of things that he should have.

Aaron wakes with a gasp and looks around the room. He sits up and feels for his gun to find himself without it.

Looking around again he notices that he’s in a house he does not recognise and doesn’t know how he got to. He feels a slight twinge in his neck and it jolts something inside of his mind. He sees flashes of a man breaking into his house, he can hear his son screaming for him and he… he remembers fighting a man who was going after his little boy. He closes his eyes as he tries to force himself to remember more when there’s a loud sound from another room. He stands up and walks towards it, only to freeze when he’s met with the man he sees in his flashes.

“Where is my son?” Aaron asks the man, who laughs in response.

“You don’t remember?” He asks, “Think.” He tells him, and Hotch looks around his unfamiliar surroundings again.

“What have you done with him?” Aaron asks, his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

“You really don’t remember?” Peter Lewis questions and he steps towards him. Hotch watches every move the man takes but he won’t step back. Not until he finds his son. “He’s dead Agent Hotchner.” He smiles and Aaron didn’t think he could ever, ever, feel anymore pain but he was wrong. Those words slash through him like a knife. He steps backwards and takes a breath, shaking his head and looking around the room.

“You were there, remember?” Peter Lewis pushes, Hotch looks around. “A bullet.. right between his eyes. You watched…” As he hears the words Hotch’s mind starts to piece it together and… he can see his son lay on the floor, his eyes open, staring blankly at him and he remembers trying to get to him before being pulled under by whatever was put into his neck.

“You.. you killed my son?” Hotch asks, tears running down his face.

Peter Lewis just smiles before walking off slowly and Hotch wants to go after him but he can’t. His mind is foggy and it’s putting pieces together, sending him dizzy. He hits the floor with a thud as his mind clouds over once again.

The team realise he’s missing an hour and a half after he left that night after a call from Jessica to Rossi, asking if Hotch had left yet because Jack can’t sleep unless Aaron puts him to bed.

The CCTV footage from the parking garage tells them all they need to know and they’re working immediately.

“This is bad, Rossi.” Morgan tells them as they stare at the board, “The man’s mind is already…” He pauses, “Whatever happens to him, whatever Peter Lewis does to him.. I don’t see him coming back from it. He still hasn’t come back from losing Emily.”

Aaron comes to again a few moments later and with a foggy mind, dizzy and confused he sits up and stands. In his mind all he can see is Peter Lewis in his apartment, Peter Lewis holding a gun up to his screaming little boy and firing. He can see Jack staring blankly at him before he sees nothing.

His phone rings then and he frowns in confusion about how he still has it.

“Answer it,” He hears Peter Lewis say from somewhere.

“Hello?” He says down the phone, looking around the room he’s in.

“Aaron?” The voice says and Aaron stops, “It’s Dave.”

“Dave?” He questions, “What-“

“Tell us where you are.” Dave commands and Aaron looks around once again, searching for windows, maybe a front door but there is nothing.

“I don’t know…” He mumbles, “He...he killed Jack.” His voice cracks and he wants to scream.

“What?” Dave questions, “Who did?”

“Peter Lewis. He’s here.. somewhere. I don’t know. But I saw it… I saw him…”

“Aaron.. listen to me.” Dave tells him sternly, “Listen.”

“Okay…” He whispers, sinking down onto the floor.

“Mr Scratch did not kill your son. Jack is not dead.”

“What?” He says, confused and shaking his head. “But-”

“But you saw it, I know. That’s what he does. He drugs people into seeing whatever he wants them to. You know this, Aaron. Fight it.”

Hotch doesn’t say anything, just remains silent while his mind shatters to pieces. Imagines of him and Emily flash before him, her laughing, smiling then her under a car. Then it’s him and Jack and they’re smiling and laughing but then… but then Peter Lewis kills his son. He see’s it happen and it looks so real.

“Aaron!” Dave shouts again, “Fight it. Fight it.”

Aaron goes to speak when theres a noise from somewhere infront of him and when he opens his eyes.. he see’s her.

“Emily?” He questions, almost as if he doesn’t believe his own eyes. She smiles and bends down in front of him. His breath catches in his throat as she looks at him.

“Hi.” She says softly, “Don’t listen to them. They’re lying.” She tells him. He just stares at her and reaches out to touch her, and when his fingers touch her skin he quickly pulls them back.

“How.. what?”

“Aaron!” Rossi shouts down the phone again and Hotch puts it back to his ear.

“Yeah..” He says but it’s obvious in the way he says it that the hallucination of Emily has his complete attention, not that they blame him, some of them even wish it was them seeing her.

“Listen to me, okay? Listen.”

“I am..” He says, still looking at Emily as she sits in front of him, a smile on her lips and he reaches out to touch her once again before freezing just before his fingers reach her cheek.

“That is not Emily.” Are the words that freeze him, “Jack isn’t dead and that is not Emily and you need to find a way out of there.” Rossi shouts.

“Why?” He whispers, “It’s her. She’s here. I can see her…”

“It’s not her, Aaron. Emily is dead, Aaron. She isn’t there. You know that.”

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t know that. He was already so broken before Peter Lewis drugged him that his mind had now shattered completely and to him what he was seeing was true. It was true and she was here. His son was dead and she was here. He had nothing left to fight for.

“Emily..” Aaron whispers again, before putting the phone down.

“Aaron you need to get out of there,” Rossi tells his sternly, “Even though the thought of a life without Emily is heart breaking and I know how much pain you’re in, there is a six year old waiting for you at home who’s going through the same thing. He needs you, Aaron.” He says, “Jack isnt dead and that is not Emily.”

There is silence for a few moments before Hotch ends the call, as as the beep of the loss of singal echos around the room, Rossi stands.

“Track that call!”

She smiles as he ends the call and puts the phone of the floor, his eyes transfixed on her.

“I’ve missed you.” She tells him, reaching for his hand and when she takes it and he feels it on his own, tears fall from his eyes because she’s here. she’s back.

“I missed you too.” He whispers, smiling at her. He looks at her and tilts his head into her hand when she cups his cheek and he can’t help but notice just how cold she is. He intertwines her fingers with his as they rest of his cheek and he sighs.

“Jack’s dead?” He whispers, and Emily nods softly.

“Yeah…” She replies, “I’m sorry, honey”

“He killed him..” He says and Emily nods her head again. She pulls her hand from her cheek slowly, but keeps their fingers locked together as she starts to stand. He follows her actions and when they’re stood, he stares at her.

“Do you trust me?” She asks with a smile while she locks their hands together, he nods.

“Always.” He tells her and she smiles.

“Follow me.” She says and leads him into a different room. They stand in front of a closed door and before she opens it she looks back at him.

“What’s this?” He asks her and she smiles, opening it and he looks inside. “Is that-”

“That’s our daughter.” She tells him, unlocking her fingers from his and walking towards the little girl sat on the floor. Emily crouches down next to her and they both stare at him.

“How?” He whispers, he walks in and bends down in front of them both. “They said you didn’t know..”

“I didn’t..” She says, “But I know now.”

“She looks just like you.” He tells her with a smile and she nods.

“Come on,” She says and grabs his hand again, pulling him away from the little girl who waves goodbye to him, he’s still looking behind him as they leave the room.

“Emily.. what is going on?”

“What do you mean?” She questions, standing in front of him in what looks to be a living room. It’s not one he recognises.

“How are you here?” He whispers, “You’re.. you’re dead.”

Emily stands in front of him and rests both her cold hands on his face and nods.

“Yeah.” She whispers, “But I really missed you.”

“I miss you too, god.. you have no idea.” He tells her but she’s pulling away and he wants to follow her but he can’t move.

“It’s so cold, Aaron.” She tells him, there’s tears in her eyes, “It’s so cold, and it’s so dark.” She whispers, “I’m cold…” She says again, looking at him.

“Emily-” He starts to say but he can’t finish it because he remembers her saying this the first time. How when she coded in the ambulance all she felt was darkness and cold and it’s been haunting him for months thinking what if she’s cold where she is? What if it’s dark? And to have her say the words to him breaks his already shattered heart.

“Aaron,” She whispers and he looks at her, there’s blood down her face and coming from her mouth and he’s seeing flashes of her once again pinned under a car. “I need you.” She tells him, “You’re the only place I feel safe. I don’t feel safe here. Its so cold. It’s so dark. It’s so lonely.”

He loves her so much that this is torture for him to hear this. To hear that this whole time she has been in the dark, cold and alone. He reaches out for her but he can’t reach her.

“Let me help you. Please.”

She walks towards him and presses something heavy in his hard and he looks down to find a gun. His eyes snap up to hers and she’s smiling, nodding her head.

“I love you.” She tells him, “Please. Help me.”

“But-” He wants to say what about Jack but then he remembers that his little boy was dead. His son was gone, taken by the man who’d brought him here and he had nothing left now.

He loved her so much and she’s cold, she’s scared and she’s alone. There is a gun in his hand and in one click it’s all over he can join Emily where she is and she won’t have to be cold and alone anymore. He can join Jack.. and Haley and they can all be together.

“It’s okay,” She nods as she lifts the gun for him, it’s balanced against his temples and her hands are on his cheeks and she’s so cold, he can feel it on his skin and it makes him shiver. He’s starting at her but he’s not afraid, he smiles at her and she’s smiling right back. “We’re waiting for you.” She says and then there’s people behind her. Not just people but, Jack, his little boy, he’s in his mother’s arms, who’s nodding her head in his direction and then there’s the little girl with dark hair that looked much like him and Emily he could not believe it.

He stares at Emily once more and she smiles at him.

“I love you.” She whispers to him, he sighs, nodding his head and the gun goes off.

His hallucinations fade away just as he does.

He dies instantly.

The team rush into the building to find Peter Lewis waiting from them on a chair in the middle of the abandoned building, laughing.

“He was more broken than I thought.” He laughs, “I can’t even be angry that I’ve been caught. Watching him so..shattered, was better than I could have imagined.”

“Where is he?” Rossi shouts as Morgan picks the guy of the chair and handcuffs him.

Peter Lewis laughs and looks at him, “If you thought everybody you loved was dead, and the one person you loved more than anything was telling you how cold they were.. where would you go?”

Everyone freezes, before taking off in a run. Peter Lewis is handed to local PD as they search the house.

JJ runs into an empty room and spots his legs, he’s lay on the floor and for a moment she lets out a sigh of relief until she realises he isn’t moving. She walks slowly towards him, her heart hammering against her chest and she can’t breathe because surely, surely this isn’t happening. It can’t be.

“Hotch?” She calls, taking slow steps, “Hotch..” She says again when she reaches him and at first glance it just looks like he’s lay there, but then she spots the gun in his hand and the bullet hole is his head and he’s staring so blankly at her she feels like she might throw up. All she can do is scream.

It’s JJ’s scream that gives them all his location and as the blonde woman falls backwards into Morgan’s arms, they all see the sight she had.

Aaron Hotchner lay dead, a bullet hole in his temple, a gun in his hand in the middle of the floor of an abandoned building.

Rossi walks over and bends down, closing the man’s eye while he ignores the cries of JJ as Morgan holds her tightly.

“It’s okay,” He whispers to the dead man, “You rest now.”

They all arrive back at the BAU and the first person they break news to is Garcia.

Morgan is the one to tell her and when the words leave his mouth all Garcia can do is scream before almost dropping to the floor, collapsing in Morgan’s arms as he holds her up and brings her into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around her.

“He can’t be dead!” She cries, “He can’t be…he can’t die thinking I hated him.” She's sobbing into his chest and Morgan holds back his own tears as he holds her close.

“He didn’t think that.” He whispers, rubbing a hand down her back.

“He did!” She cries, “He died thinking that I couldn’t forgive but I did.”

“He knows, Penelope.” Morgan reassures her, “He knows.”

Jessica and Jack walk into the BAU with no idea what to expect.

Dave guides Jessica into his office while JJ sits with Jack. They have no idea how to break the news to the six year old who is now an orphan. Every parental figure he has gone.

“He’s dead, isn’t he.” Jessica says, looking at Dave. The man nods slowly, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“His name was Peter Lewis. He.. he drugged Aaron and-”

“I don’t need to know the specifics.” She tells him, shaking her head and looking at Jack as he talks to JJ.

“What do I tell him?” She whispers, “How are they all dead?”

“Life is cruel.” He says to her, “I find peace in that he’s with Emily.”

“Where’s Jack’s peace?” She questions, looking at the older man, “He lost three parents in two years. How does a little boy get through that?”

“With time.” Rossi says softly, “With help.”

Jessica and Dave look back to the boy who sits and waits for them, not knowing that his dad had joined his mother and Emily. Not knowing he was alone.

In the end it’s Dave who breaks the news to him because Jessica just can’t do it. She tries, but as the boy’s eyes stare into hers she just can’t.

Dave takes over and crouch’s down in front of the boy, smiling sadly at him.

“Hey Jack.” He whispers and Jack just looks at him and he already knows what is coming. He’s been through this twice now.

“Is Daddy gone?” He asks, “Did he join Emmy?”

“Yeah, buddy.” Dave says after a few moments, “I’m sorry.”

Jack looks down, tears burning in his eyes. He leans forward and wraps his arms around Dave.

“He promised me.. Uncle Dave. He promised me he wouldn’t go away like everyone else. Why did he lie?” Jack cries into his neck and Dave just holds the boy tighter.

“He tried very hard to stay for you, Jack. Really really hard.” He lies to the boy because he doesn’t need the truth. He wouldn’t understand it. He’s better without it. There’s movement behind Dave and Jack looks up to find JJ standing there. He slowly pulls away from him and heads towards the woman. Looking at her with wide eyes and she smiles, bending down to be eye level with him.

“He lied, Miss Jennifer..” He whispers to her and she shakes her head, wiping his tears with her thumb.

“Come here,” She whispers and scoops the boy into her, holding him tightly as she stands. The boy cries into her neck because what she forgot was that she was wearing Emily’s perfume and all the boy could smell while he rested in her arms was Emily.

“You smell like her.” Jack whispers as he rests his head on her shoulder. “I miss them.”

“Me too, baby.” She says, kissing his head.

Jessica takes the boy home an hour later and as they lay in her bed, him resting softly next to her, he asks her a question that breaks her in half.

“Is it just me and you now Aunt Jess?” He asks her. She turns to face him and runs a hand through his hair.

“Yeah baby,” She tells him, “Just me and you.”

“You’re not going to leave?”

“No.” She shakes her head, “I’m right here.”

The two candles turn into three and as he tells his parents about his day, Jessica watches with a sad smile and just hopes that the young boy makes it through this.

They bury Hotch next to Emily four months and two days after her funeral. Jack stands in front of Jessica, watching as another casket is lowered to the ground. Spencer and Morgan stand two feet away, hands grasped together and they hold back their tears, Penelope’s hand wrapped in Morgan’s other, tears falling freely from her face. JJ and Will stand two feet away from them, Will holds her close as they watch. JJ can’t take her eyes away from Jack, the little boy who lost so much so quickly.

As the boy places a rose on each grave, the team cry silently.

“Let’s go give the other rose to mommy.” They hear Jessica whisper to him after a few moments and the boy nods, taking her hand and letting her guide him through the small walk of the cemetery to where his Mother was buried in the Brookes plot.

The team come by and visit Jack for a few months after Aaron and Emily’s deaths. They go to as many of his soccer games that they can, they try to take him on days out and make him feel as though he’s still a part of their family. He has play dates with Henry and for a few months they’re doing what they know Aaron and Emily would have done for them and try and help Jack through the process.

Yet, one by one the team just stopped coming over to see him. It’s too hard. He has Haley’s eyes and Hotch’s face but he also has Emily’s mannerisms and it’s too hard for them to see it. He reminds them of all they’ve lost and soon no one comes to see him anymore and he’s never understood why everyone always leaves him.

Why didn’t anybody ever stay?

So when Jack snaps at sixteen because everybody he loves is dead and everybody else left him alone to deal with the repercussions, it’s the team he goes after.

He manages to get all of them apart from one before they catch him.

Rossi is first because.. that was Uncle Dave. That was Uncle Dave and why didn’t he stay? Why did he leave?

He shoots him in the chest because it’s his first one and he hasn’t quite got the hang of it yet. Dave looks at him and takes a hollow breath,

“It’s okay, kid. I get it. I’m sorry I left you. I forgive you..” and he won’t stop talking. Jack shoots him in the head and just like that there’s silence. He bends down and looks at the older man. “It didn’t have to be this way Dave, but you didn’t stay. Why didn’t you stay? Why didn’t anybody just stay?”

Spencer is next because he was like a brother to Emily and a man his own father treated more of like a son than he did him and it has always upset him that after just two months without them he put them and him in the past and moved on. When he’s done Spencer, a gun shot to the chest, he moves onto Morgan because he was supposed to be the protector of the group and he had promised him he would be there but then once again had chosen Spencer. Just like he had done with his father, like he had Emily.

As they're both dying, gripping each other’s hand as they take their final breaths he scoffs because “Why should you get to die together when they didn’t?” They bring Emily and Aaron. They being him and his family.

It’s JJ next because he can’t believe that after everything Emily did for her she just left him when he was just a child with no parents. She even has a child herself and Henry was his friend and so why did no one help him?

He doesn’t make it to Penelope before he’s caught. When he’s asked by detectives and Agents why he did what he did he looks them straight in the eye before answering.

“Because they made promises they couldn’t keep, and they left me. My parents died for them and they couldn’t keep their promises.”

Garcia buries all of her friends in the fall and when a leaf falls over the middle of where Emily and Aaron have lay for the last ten years, she thinks maybe Jack sparing her what their way of saying they forgive her for not being there for him and takes it as a sign to be there for him now.

Penelope visits Jack in prison every week for five years. She bumps into Jessica every now and then and they talk about their lost friends. About Jack.

Jack spends the rest of his life in prison. Forever missing his parents and forever holding a grudge against those who left him on their own accord. He doesn’t forgive those he killed and he doesn’t think he ever will.

He has a picture of him and his mother on the wall, as well as a picture of him, his father and Emily.

“I miss you,” He whispers to their pictures one night three years later, “I’ll see you soon.”

fin

#hotchniss #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss fanfic #in my veins

32 notes · View notes

alj4890 · 4 years

Note

In the TRR book 3 we know Olivia gets stab by Anton during a fight, but what if Riley was the one to get stab while fighting with Anton? After all he was her press secretary and the betrayal ran deep with him!

A/N Here we go Nonny. I will admit that in book 2, I really liked Justin. His catchphrase was annoying, but so is Penelope’s incessant talk of Poodles, LOL. I enjoyed the twist in book 3 of him being the bad guy, but I did wonder why PB had Riley brushing off his betrayal so easily. Maxwell seemed more tore up than anyone that he was the terrorist. When you think about it, she spent months of the most difficult time in her and Liam’s relationship depending on this man to help her find a way to clear her name and find a way to have her happy ending. I think facing him would be harder than book 3 made it out to be. So...starting from the moment Olivia and Riley escape the dungeon and have let Gladys out of her prison, we will begin with them in the recreated Nevarkis weapons room.

Masterlist

@gkittylove99 @darley1101 @krsnlove @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @yourmajesty09 @mom2000aggie @ofpixelsandscribbles @twinkleallnight

Hesitation

Mysterious Nevarkis Stronghold...

"He will come for his wife," Anton boasted. "And when he does, he will meet his end."

Riley tried to focus but Anton's words kept replaying over and over in her head.

"Which weapon do you want?" Olivia asked as she picked through the different daggers.

When no response was given she looked up to see what was wrong.

Riley was staring blankly at the wall adorned with various battle axes, swords, and war hammers. Her fingers moved over the angry red marks where the rope she had been bound with had rubbed her wrists raw. Her lips parted to answer Olivia, yet no words came out.

Liam. Her heart ached at the thought of losing him. After everything she had done to finally have the chance to be with him...Anton was determined to destroy it all. How could she possibly save anyone? She had little to no training in defense, yet she foolishly believed she could save the man she loved along with herself and her friend.

"Riley?" Olivia snapped in a harsh manner.

It was just what she needed to snap out of the defeated mindset she was falling into.

Riley reached up and removed a sword from the wall. Giving a few practiced swings, she ordered Gladys to draw as many of Anton's minions away as she could.

"Thank you, your majesty." Gladys reached out to squeeze her hand.

Olivia blocked her from touching by sliding in front of Riley. Her emerald eyes burned with hatred as she spoke.

"She might be giving you another chance," Olivia set her blade against the backstabbing servant's cheek, "but if I see one lock of your hair anywhere near Justin or the fight, then I will kill you myself."

Gladys stumbled back and bobbed her head while promising that she wouldn't go anywhere near them. She tripped over her own feet to get as far away from Olivia and her knives as she could.

Riley snorted on a laugh. She couldn't believe that at a time like this, her mind could see any kind of humor. "You need to teach me how to do that."

Olivia smirked at her as she led the way out.

The hallways were silent as the two crept along, sticking to the shadows as much as they could. After seeing that the rooms they came to were empty, Olivia begrudgingly complimented Gladys's ability to clear the way for them.

"Wait a sec." Riley whispered.

She handed Olivia her sword and then bent over to rip a slit in her dress. Testing it out, she ripped it higher until her legs felt free to move. What she wouldn't give to be wearing any other kind of shoe over the open toed high heels she had on.

"You good?" Olivia whispered.

With a nod, Riley took her sword back and continued down the hallway.

Murmurs of differing voices were heard when they approached a corner.

Olivia raised her dagger while Riley positioned beside her with her sword hedged over her shoulder like a baseball bat.

"They must be some--" Drake stopped just a hairsbreadth from being cleaved in two.

"Riley!" Hana pushed past him and Maxwell to hug her and Olivia. "Thank goodness you're both okay!"

"Where's Liam?" Riley stood on tiptoes to see over Drake's shoulders. "Isn't he with you?"

Maxwell rubbed the back of his neck. "He insisted on meeting Justin alone."

"Liam wanted us to find you and Olivia." Drake added.

"What about Bastien and the other guards?" Olivia asked.

The three shared a look.

"They didn't come?!" Riley hissed. "Liam has no one watching his back?"

"Yet." Olivia tilted her head. "He'll have us soon enough.

****************

Riley didn't know where this burst of courage came from, but she had already vaulted over a stairwell and slashed numerous soldiers that tried to help Anton fight Liam. Her heart was racing in time to her husband's every flinch and movement. She knew she should double check on her other friends to make certain they were holding their own, but the moment she heard Liam say, where is my wife, in that deep, dangerous tone...she only knew she had to do whatever was necessary to protect him.

They had not had a chance to speak or even to touch to make certain the other was truly okay before being thrust into the battle that she prayed was truly the final altercation.

She paused off to the side after wrestling with another minion. She brushed the hair out of her flushed face that had escaped her pearl hair clip. Her mind tried to comprehend the utter chaos going on around her.

And then she saw Anton make his move.

There was no time to shout a warning to Liam who was fighting three at once. The dagger’s blade in Anton's hand gleamed in the faint moonlight filtering in the windows as he raised it to stab Cordonia's young king in the back.

Riley kicked her shoes off and rushed to get between them. The muscles in her arms burned from lifting the heavy sword high above her head. Using what energy she had left, she blocked the blade about to pierce her beloved's heart.

Anton's lips twisted in a frustrated snarl as he leveled his cold gaze upon her.

Liam turned around in time to see what Riley had done. Just as he was about to help her, Claude barreled into him, knocking him into a far wall. Drake rushed over to help Liam when two other soldiers answered Anton's second in command's call for assistance.

Anton gritted his teeth at seeing his men defeated by people who spent all their time at fancy dinners and balls. Taking a step back to reassess whether or not this was the time to claim the crown, he decided retreat for the moment was the best option.

"It's over Justin." Riley told him. "Surrender now."

His expression eased into that of his easy going alter ego. "The battle might be, but this will not end until you and Liam are dead."

He sprinted over to the stairwell.

Riley dashed after him, determined to not live the rest of her life in fear.

"Justin!" She shouted.

He turned just in time to barely miss her sword's blade plunging into his back.

Smirking, he faced her. "I see you learned more from me than how to work the press."

She blinked at how calm he was as he lifted his dagger. Memories of time spent with him flittered through her mind. His effort in supporting her, laughing late at night with her and Maxwell over some of the ridiculous events they took part in, comforting her whenever she lost hope that she could one day truly be with Liam.

He had been a friend when she desperately needed one.

Her hands trembled as they tightened on the hilt of her sword.

It wasn't Justin who faced her now. It was the man who had worked with traitors to take the crown. The man who had tried numerous times to kill her and anyone else who got in his way. It was the man who threatened her the very future she had fought so hard to obtain..

It was Anton who stood before her.

Her friend Justin was no more. His death had come swiftly the moment she discovered his photograph in Olivia's vault.

And soon Anton's would follow.

"Riley, let us end this." He cajoled when he noticed her hesitate. "You don't have it in you to kill anyone." His familiar Justin smile flittered about his lips. "I know you. You are the kind of person who deserves to live a happy life. Not one caught up in political intrigue."

He edged a step closer as his . "It shouldn't have been you that was kidnapped. If you had only given up on Liam and allowed Madeleine to have him." He shook his head in pity while his Svengali like voice washed over her. "I wish you had stayed in New York. You will be the only person I regret ever having to eliminate."

Before Riley could react, he plunged his dagger into her side.

A hot wave of pain hit her when he jerked the knife out. She staggered back in shock. Her sword fell from her numb fingers, clattering as it fell down the stairs.

She could hear a roar thrumming through her ears and realized it was Liam.

He had just witnessed his wife being stabbed.

Justin glanced over his shoulder to taunt the current king.

Unable to focus on anything going on around her except the agony she felt, Riley pressed her hand to her side and felt the warmth of her own blood seeping through her fingers. Her side felt like it was on fire as she sank slowly to the floor. She glanced down the stairs and saw Olivia struggling against a solider to reach her.

With a violent flick of her wrist, her dagger went into the man's throat that had tried to pin her to the wall.

Olivia staggered as she walked, blood trickling down from her nose and bottom lip.

"If you can breathe, you can stand." She mouthed to Riley.

"And if you can stand, you can fight." Riley mouthed back.

Unable to get to her feet easily, Riley crawled over to where Justin stood. His back was to her as he threatened Liam and her friends. He continued to torture her husband by going into vivid detail all the ways he could finish her off.

Looking for anything she could possibly wield as a weapon, she noticed the loose railing and decided to use part of the training Mara had given her. Summoning all her strength into her legs she braced herself against a banister and swept Justin's out from under him.

He teetered, trying to find some balance by grasping onto the railing. The moment he did, Riley rose to her knees and shoved against him, causing his body weight to crack the rotted wood and plummet down to the main floor.

Gasping in pain from the exertion, she fell back once more on the worn carpet and closed her eyes.

"Riley!" Liam rushed the stairs, leaving Drake and Maxwell to deal with Justin.

He fell to his knees. His voice cracked as he whispered denials that he had been too late to save her.

Her eyes fluttered open only to close again as he kissed her. She could feel the exhausted desperation in his touch.

"Where are you hurt?" He asked. "Did he stab you anywhere else?"

"No." She whimpered when he eased her hand away from her wound. "Just there."

He tried to be gentle as he ripped his coat off to press against her side.

Bastien and the rest of the King's Guards burst through the doors.

"Your majesty!" He didn't bother to mask his anger. "You shouldn't have--"

"The queen has been wounded!" Liam interrupted harshly. "She requires immediate medical attention!"

Bastien hurried up to examine her while radioing for an ambulance.

"Hold on, my love." Liam pleaded. "Please. Stay with me."

She weakly grasped his hand. "Is it over? Justin didn't--"

"He's being taken care of." Liam told her. "He won't ever have a chance to harm you again."

"You're safe." Riley gasped when EMT's began to check her. Her voice became faint as blackness ebbed around her vision "I didn't lose you, Liam."

The last thing she remembered before blacking out completely was Liam's concerned face hovering over her.

***************

The Royal Palace...

A few hours later, Riley stirred. She blinked a few times to make the room she was in come into focus. A lamp turned down low glowed on a nightstand. Familiar paintings of past kings and queens hung on the walls. The beyond soft bed she was in brought back memories of a particular ball when Liam had shown her the Royal chambers.

A smile formed at that romantic thought as she sank further under the blankets.

"Riley?"

She opened her eyes again and noticed the outline of a man sitting in a chair by the bed.

"Liam?" She turned about, wincing when she felt the tug of stitches along her right side. "What happened?"

He leaned forward and took her hand in his. Pressing a kiss to it, he went through the series of events.

Images flashed through her mind, as the memories of her fight came rushing back.

"No more Sons of the Earth?" She asked.

"The ones who survived have been captured."

Her eyes widened. "Survived? Who died?"

Liam kept her hand clasped between his. "A few that Olivia and I fought...and some that you did."

Riley tried to comprehend that she had killed people. "How...how many?"

"My love, there is no need to dwell--"

"Liam." She gripped his hand. "Did I kill Justin?"

She knew by his hesitation that she had.

"The way he fell," Liam swallowed, "he broke his neck."

Riley pulled her hand away to cover her mouth.

"I beg for your forgiveness." Liam choked out. "If I had been there sooner or had--"

She shook her head while reaching for him. Urging him to lay on the bed with her, she tried to comfort him.

"You don't owe me an apology." She said through her tears. "You came to rescue me." She tried to smile. "Just like every prince does in fairy tales."

He wiped her tears. "I don't want you burdened with what happened." His eyes searched hers. "All I have ever wanted is to give you every good thing in life, not have one overshadowed with fear and guilt."

She swallowed audibly. "I'll be fine. I just...I can't believe I had to kill someone I spent time with. I actually enjoyed his company during your engagement tour." Her nose wrinkled. "The pain in my side though keeps reminding me he deserved being pushed over the banister."

"My only regret is that I didn't get a chance to be the one to end his existence on this earth." Liam's face darkened with his anger. "He dared multiple times to take you from me. He killed my father. Made our people doubt their safety and the crown's ability to defend it. If I couldn't fight him to the death myself, then I should have been the one to sentence him to such."

She cupped his cheek. Knowing he needed to vent after all they had been put through, she listened without interruption. When she felt his tense muscles relax, her mind turned to what they should do now.

"We both need to focus on it finally being over." She pressed a kiss to his lips. "All our plans to be together, to start a family, can be from this moment on. We fought for Cordonia, our friends," her smile peeked out when he kissed her, "we fought for us and for every moment we are lucky enough to share."

"You're right." Liam turned to kiss her palm. "We have a future before us, one of our choosing."

She snuggled closer in his arms, sighing as she felt sleep luring her back into its soothing confines. Just as she began to drift off, an image of Justin came to mind. It wasn't the man she had faced tonight, it was the one who helped protect her from cameras being shoved in her face during that very first meeting. She could see him pushing reporters out of her way, while holding tight to her waist.

It seems appropriate, Riley thought, to have a scar along the very spot Justin had once touched in such a deceptive, gentle manner. Having a personality that tried to only see the good in others, she would need a daily reminder to be more cautious in the future.

Her trust would never be so easily given again.

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babycracker · 3 years

Text

morgan/m!oc (tanner drake) ~1.7k words mature (swearing, blood, minor violence)

suggested by and written for @kelseaaa, i hope you like it!! <3 it's only been like really roughly proofed so if you see some mistakes, no you don't lol

Tanner's felt this before; the whole world freezing around him like this. Everything fading away and going silent and slowing down until it's like the world has ended and he's the only person left.

The last time was when his world had ended, when he'd seen his sister on the ambulance stretcher, bloodied and torn up. Dead.

He wasn't sure he was capable of feeling enough for it to happen again, not until right now. He watches the Trapper pull the modified prod out of Morgan's side only to plunge it back into her shoulder as her knees buckle and she goes down.

The gas mask the Trapper's wearing suddenly makes sense when he hears glass smashing and a cloud of red mist filters through the air all around Morgan.

"No-" his voice catches in his throat, the word barely choking its way out of his mouth and he takes a step towards her as the Trapper pulls the prod out again.

She's fine. She's fine. Vampire healing and all, she's fine.

Only she's not fine, her hands landing heavily on the ground in front of her as she coughs and blood spills from her lips.

"No, no!" He finally gets his voice working, breaking into a run towards her but faltering when the Trapper spots him and bolts.

He hesitates, watching the man run off, his shoulders twitching subconsciously as the struggle to keep his wings hidden almost becomes too much.

He could catch him easily. Could catch him and do to him exactly what he's just done to Morgan. But slowly.

But she's hurt badly, he realises when he glances back over at her just as she falls to her side on the ground.

"Fuck," he mutters, casting one last fleeting glance towards the retreating form of the Trapper before shrugging his jacket off. "Fuck."

He balls the clothing up and holds it over his face as he advances through the red mist to get to Morgan, panic forcing him down onto his knees beside her when he sees her eyes closed and blood flowing freely from the wounds in her shoulder and side.

"Hey," he reaches out and shakes her, his voice muffled by his jacket. "Hey!" A little louder, he nudges her a little harder, but still no response.

He looks around, wincing against the red cloud beginning to sting his eyes and seeing the rest of Unit Bravo starting to get the upper hand against the Trappers.

He takes a deep breath and holds it, dropping his jacket and hoisting Morgan up in his arms. He's never wanted to hear her snap at him for coddling her as much as he does right now, but there's nothing. Her head lolls back against his arm, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth and running in a line down her cheek.

He exhales heavily once he's gotten them both out of the DMB cloud but doesn't stop for a breather, instead carrying her straight over to Lucas' beat up car and gently laying her in the back seat.

"Tanner!" He hears Farah yelling to him and spins around, but her eyes widen when she catches a glimpse of Morgan before he closes the door, and she gives him a slight nod before turning back towards the fight.

This hurts like a bitch.

It's all Morgan can think about when her eyes snap open before closing again just as quickly in response to the harsh lighting of what looks like a hospital room.

Her shoulder and ribs feel like they're on fire, her lungs feel full and heavy, her head is throbbing. What the hell had happened to her?

She groans, everything hurting that little bit more when everything starts to come back to her; the fight with the Trappers, the volt rod she received, the DMB.

She lifts a hand to her head, rubbing lightly at her temple when she hears movement beside her, and then Farah's voice, uncharacteristically quiet. "Just a sec, I'll get them to dull the lights."

"Okay, you should be good now," the familiar and comforting voice speaks again, and Morgan opens her eyes to see Farah perched on the end of her bed, the room now considerably darker.

"Too soon to talk about how shockingyou look?" Farah asks quietly, a small grin crossing her face when Morgan manages a slight smirk at her efforts.

"One might say you've probably been in a cloud of worry over my well-being."

Farah's eyes widen and she shakes her head. "Nah, this isn't right, that cloud did something to your brain, since when do you make puns?"

Morgan raises a middle finger at her before easing herself up into a sitting position and then leaning back against the headboard, her brow furrowing as she fights back a groan at the pain shooting through her from the movement.

Then, she sees something that she wouldn't have guessed she'd see if she were given unlimited tries.

Tanner. His tall frame sprawled uncomfortably on the armchair beside the bed. He's missing his jacket, his shirt is untucked and has patches of dried blood on it, his tie loosened and hanging crookedly around his neck. He's fast asleep, mouth hanging slightly open and snoring softly, the sound so familiar to Morgan that she hadn't even noticed it until now.

"What's he doing here?"

She doesn't miss the small smile that Farah doesn't even bother trying to hide as she replies. "He brought you here. Been telling anyone who tells him to leave to F off."

"How long have I been here?"

"Nearly two days, you were messed up pretty bad."

"He's been here the whole time?"

"The whole time."

She looks back over at Tanner with a frown and Farah pats her knee gently before getting to her feet. "I'll go let everyone know you're awake."

Morgan barely hears her go, the questions flooding her mind too loud for her to be able to focus on anything else. Why is he here? Why did he stay here? Why is he covered in blood? Why is he so pale and tired looking even while he's sleeping?

Why does she care?

He shifts a little in his sleep and she hears one of his joints crack loudly with the movement; apparently he's been asleep in that awkward position for a while. The sudden shock of pain wakes him up and he groans as he unfolds himself and gets to his feet, lifting his arms above him as he stretches out.

His eyes find hers as he drops his arms back down to his sides again and she can literally see his shoulders sag in relief as he mutters a barely audible "thank Christ."

"Welcome back, sunshine. Thought I'd lost you for a minute there." He grins, but his tone is more serious than the expression seems to be trying to convince her of.

He sits on the edge of her bed, reaching briefly for her hand before deciding against it and dropping his down onto the mattress beside it instead.

"You brought me here?"

"Yeah," he chuckles, "in Lucas' piece of shit car. Would've been quicker to fly you here and just stop for a breather every few minutes."

"Why'd you stay?"

He shrugs, studying her face carefully for a moment before answering quietly. "I had to make sure you were going to be okay."

They both fall silent for a long while until Tanner finally kicks his shoes off and nudges at her gently. "Move."

"Excuse me?"

"Move over."

"Why?" she asks uselessly, already slowly manoeuvring herself closer to the side of the bed.

"Because I haven't been able to get you in bed for days and this is my chance," he answers seriously, making her roll her eyes.

The familiar calm that she always feels with him washes over her the second he lays down beside her. He pushes her lightly to turn away from him, scooting closer and pressing himself up against her back, carefully sliding his arm around her above the wound left in her side by the volt and holding her firmly.

He kisses her shoulder lightly, just beside the wound in that before relaxing against her, his face nuzzling into the back of her neck with a soft sigh.

She really wants to complain. Who does he think he is, hovering around her for days as though she were some kind of invalid? Telling her to make room in her own hospital bed? Spooning her, for fuck’s sake.

But he makes the beeping of the hospital equipment in her room a little more bearable. Makes the scratchy sheets of the bed, the sterile hospital stench, even the pain of her slowly healing injuries, makes all of it easier to handle, and before she even realises how at ease he's put her, she's fallen back to sleep.

"Is Tanner still in there?" Adam asks Farah over his shoulder, and she nods.

“He was sleeping.”

“And you didn’t think to wake him?”

“You want him awake; you wake him up,” Farah replies with a small chuckle, the grin remaining on her face when Adam doesn’t reply.

She just about smacks into his back when he pushes the door to Morgan’s room open and stops in his tracks, staring into the room. She stands on her tiptoes to peer over his shoulder, letting out a tiny, excited squeak instead of the squeal she feels in her heart at what she sees.

Tanner and Morgan, spooning, asleep together in her bed. Adam lets out an almost disgusted sounding and impatient sigh before turning and brushing past Farah back out of the room.

“We will let her rest for now,” he mutters over his shoulder as he disappears down the hall.

Farah grins at Nate, grabbing his arm and bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Look how cute they are!”

“He and I don’t get along,” Nate pauses, peeking into the room and letting his lips curve into a soft smile. “but even I have to admit, that is impressive.”

“And sweet!” Farah insists, drawing a chuckle from him before he gently pulls her out of the room and lets the door close quietly behind them.

“Yes. Very sweet.”

tags (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @admdmrtn @masonsfangs @homeformyheart @mmerengue @agentsunshine @bravomckenzie @freckles-spangledvampire @mistyeyedbi @kelseaaa @fhauvilles @amlovelies @forestcreatures @maraudern05 @kat-tia801 @alyssalauren @winterkeys @agentnolastname @utterlyinevitable @masonscig @graysinblack

#twc writing #the wayhaven chronicles #twc morgan #twc oc #tanner drake #cw: blood #cw: violence #kat writes

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lvlyhao · 4 years

Text

「PART TWO: FEAR」

HUMANITY SERIES; Q.K

A/N: took me long enough to post, I know, but thank you to that last anon for reminding me of the series lol with school i tend to forget what i have and haven’t posted but i’ll do better from now on. i hope you like this :)

important: this chapter includes mentions of vomiting and though i’ve already put a warning for violence and gore in the masterlist, i’m saying it again: please don’t read this if you are not okay with that!!!!

word count: 2.1K

pairing: qian kun x reader

disclaimer: the characters in the story below do not reflect real people or present real facts. this is purely fictional, and you may not copy, change, translate or repost my work in any way. all rights reserved © cherry-hyejin 2021.

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“I’m heading out”, your hands fondly squeeze Taeyong’s shoulders from behind him. He does not look up from his task for a few seconds, counting rolls of gauze. Then, upon processing your words, he twirls to face you. His eyes trail up and down your figure, making a mental checklist of everything you need to be safe. Apparently, one thing is missing.

“Take Jaehyun with you”, he asks, “or maybe Yuta. Johnny is always good to have around, and so is Renjun. Those swords of his are no joke”, he rambles, losing focus. The way he places his hands on his hips and sighs tells you he’s absolutely drained. “Or maybe I should go with you—”

Shaking your head fervently, you pat his cheek for his attention, observing the streaks of noon sunlight across his face. He stares at you with concern and shifts his weight.

“You’re staying right here and so are the boys, Tyong. We haven’t found a survivor in weeks, and taking one of them is always more stressful than anything”, you reason. Recollections of how the boys attract trouble wherever they go cloud your mind, far too many to count. The air suddenly feels too chilly, with shivers running down your spine.

“Just stay here and maybe find a way to rest. You know Doyoung won’t mind keeping track of the supply for you.”

At this point, he knows it’s no use arguing.

“Just be careful… and get back before dawn”, he adjusts the collar of your jacket, thinking back to the weather outside of the grey walls of the dorms. “All I’m saying is you never know what you’re gonna find.” Giving you a tight-lipped smile and a nod, he resumes his job, and you leave him. Headed to the heavily locked iron doors guarded by the towering figures of Shotaro and Sungchan, you ask yourself if there was any hidden depth to Taeyong's words.

“You never know what you’re gonna find, huh", you mutter.

Now, roaming the deserted streets on your own and basking in the orange glow of the afternoon, you just think he was wrong.

It’s already been a couple of hours since you left: you’ve explored parts of the district you barely even knew before the virus, seeing all kinds of animals scurrying around your path. You’ve also eaten the rice balls Jaemin packed for you, and you’ve gawked at the decaying building that used to be your favourite theatre. It’s all the same as you imagined it would be. Not many walkers litter this part of town—just 7 or 8 you managed to avoid—and no people. No one worth rescuing.

Wandering like this, in silence, brings back memories you're not sure you like. Weekly game nights with your friends, attending Jisung’s dance presentations, playing in the park’s playground at night... All of those feel foreign to you, parts of life too good to have ever been yours. Still, the need for a shot of wistfulness takes over, and you sigh. Better now than when it gets late, then. With a shake of your head, you pick a destination and start moving.

You’re conscious of your surroundings as you keep one hand on the bow and make your way across the square. Dry, fiery leaves crunch under your boots, being the only sound you pick up. Nothing looks out of the ordinary, either. The same old abandoned stores seem to look down at you, their busted windows moaning in the wind. But, right then, something jabs at your gut. It's a silent alert to a threat you can't see.

Damnit. You better pick up the pace.

As soon as you make a turn to the left, spying the pizza place you used to visit, you freeze. Walkers, maybe 10 of them, whimper and try to get past the debris to reach something inside a pharmacy.

How could you not notice them earlier? They’re not a quiet horde, and the awful stench is not something you should have missed either. Have you been that lost in your nostalgia?

Whatever happened, you don't have much time. If the undead are making that much effort to get around the rubble, there has to be someone inside. A fellow human being—hopefully, a nice one. Someone you can help.

Acting out of instincts, you drink in your surroundings. Having your back hastily pressed against a tree trunk is not ideal, but it's what comes to you. While you can't call yourself a strategy master, jumping right into action is not the right plan when someone else's life is in danger.

Mind racing, you know you need a better shooting spot now if you want to make a move. Drawing them out to an alley is not a totally bad idea either. They wouldn't be able to escape, and maybe then they could flee.

As soon as you found a perfect corner for that, the screech of old door hinges catches your attention. A second later, shattering glass.

Shit. They broke in.

With no more time to assess the situation, you quickly climb up a rotting picnic table. The zombies, some missing a limb, slowly drag their feet towards a man in a plaid, blue shirt.

He's petrified, head lashing from side to side, looking for a way out. You know very well there is none, and soon enough it will be too late. He’ll be just at reach for those disgusting, putrid fingers. If they get a bite in, it's over for you, and it's over for him.

That’s when you take the stupidest decision of your life.

Screaming.

“YO, YOU POINTLESS MEAT SACK! WHY DON’T YOU LOOK OVER HERE?”

The boy might just get whiplash from how fast his eyes find yours. His are dark and desperate, but there is something else to them—to him. Something you will never find it in you to explain.

It could have been the way the stares right at your soul, or how his face displays every emotion from relief to terror. You could even say it was how his knees buckled under his weight or his fluttering hair in the wind. You can blame your reaction on a lot of things, but none of them startles you as much as yourself.

A cold hand grasps at your heart, squeezing it tightly in your chest. Blood drains from your face, and your frame shakes in the wind. You know this sensation all too well to have doubts, although it is what you swore never to feel again. Fear. Not for yourself, no, even when the undead start walking towards you instead. You don't—can't— care enough about your life, and you know it. It is all for him, the beautiful stranger you are going to save.

The first two arrows find their aim, speeding right through the undead’s skulls, but something shifts in your arms. The rest of your arrows now seem to swerve a bit to the sides, lodging themselves on necks or shoulders. In other words, not where they are supposed to.

Oh, how much you hate that the walkers will only die if you damage their brains.

“Annoying bastards, I swear—”

Falling into a state of near panic, you drop to the floor unceremoniously and race to the horde. If your bow won't do the trick, your other weapons will.

Momentarily thankful for their lack of agility, you pull out the knives hidden on the sides of your shoes. In a flurry of drive, you slash and stab everything around you. While throwing some hand-to-hand-combat here and there, your eyes start to burn. The walkers smell even worse from up close, you bitterly recall from past encounters. It's one of the things that make fighting harder—the urge to run away from them at every second.

The more daring among them clutch at your clothes, keeping your movement limited, but you manage to cut off their hands. The slick sound it makes is enough to make bile rise up your throat, but you swallow it back.

“C’mon, Y/N”, you pant, kicking what had once been an adult woman in the chest to send her down to the asphalt. “You’ve had tougher battles than this." With a breath as deep as you can manage, your knife cuts at another zombie.

It is true, you know. It's impossible to count the times you’ve been up against groups of 20 or more. You were always fine. Right now, though, wincing from multiple wounds scattered around your skin, you question how the hell did you do it.

Hurriedly glancing to your right, you notice 5 are already dead—well, dead-er than they had previously been. The lady you kicked struggles to get up, giving you a gap to spin and bury your knife into her scalp. She goes limp right away, and you stare. 4 more to go.

Just as you retrieve your blade and turn to face the other walkers, something bites your dominant hand. Hard.

With your knife tumbling down in a metallic clunk, fire shoots up your arm. The first thing you do is wiggle your hand back and forth. Some part of you thinks it was going to let go like it’s some sort of dog. You realize you were wrong when darkened saliva flows into the cuts, your mind going blank with agony.

You figure it was one of the undead you had pushed down before, only to lose sight of him later. And, yes, wiggling was a poor attempt at getting him to drop you, but you did it out of pure alarm. Fear is gradually taking over you now, freezing cold and impossible to fight.

With only your non-dominant hand free, you sloppily sink your blade down however many times it takes for the corpse to stop moving. The pain you feel is sharp, travelling through your veins like blue fire. As his grip slackens, the body slumps to the ground, a wet thud echoing. Despite the agony that threatens to blind you, you're aware of the other 3 walkers you have yet to take down.

One is easy enough, with an arrow embedded deep on one side of her neck, and another coming down on her brow bone. Repugnance swirls in your gut, and you have to look away. Their skulls are incredibly soft.

Your remaining enemies pace at either side of you, circling you with dead eyes and faltering strides. You keep your wounded hand close to you while the other clutches the leather grip of your weapon. It's time to put an end to this.

Choosing to go for the right first, you slash at his chest, grimacing at the black blood that oozes. It taints his shredded red hoodie and sprinkles at your front. The shudders that course through you in silent rage give you the strength to finish it off.

In one clean, powerful strike, your knife goes through an eyeball, but he collapses a bit too fast. You can't recover your blade.

Having no weapons on your hands, even for a second, is critical. The walkers are borderline sluggish, but it was easy to lose track of them: your severed hand was proof.

To your relief—or mild disgust—, hasty strides bounce at the pavement behind you, followed by heavy thuds on a slimy surface. It takes no more than 3 seconds for the last body to tumble by your feet, face down.

It's only then you see the skull, or better, what is left of it. Blood and brain flow over a gaping crack, done by something sharp. You could guess it was the heavy, black rock that you find before you, held in the hands of the man you are supposed to be saving.

From there, you realize his medium length hair is a faded blue, with dark brown at the roots. A grey university hoodie hugs his slim figure under the plaids, matching his cargo pants and busted sneakers. His face is all sharp angles and soft edges, but his gaze is nothing short of magnetic.

Wide, chocolate eyes glare at the body with such horror your own throat tightens. Then, with no words shared, he lets go of the rock and stumbles back like he cannot believe what he did. Your own eyes divert to the cloudless sky, hearing him vomiting on the concrete in a matter of seconds. Poor dude.

Pity, combined with the reminiscents of adrenaline and dread, settle in you. Your thoughts boil down to one small detail: the Sun is setting.

The throbbing on your hand momentarily vanishes, lost in the memory of Taeyong very clearly telling you to be back before dawn. Aside from that, the memory of what you did to get the walkers' attention still burns at your mind. That goddamned shout. Having a sense of hearing as acute as they did, you are sure any other zombies around you are coming your way.

You have fucked up big time.

-------

final notes: ik chapter one wasn’t all that exciting but i’m hoping this one is better wheeze two more to come, stay tuned <3

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zoocross0vers · 3 years

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ZOOTOPIAN SONIC THE HEDGEHOG BRAINSTORM TIME DAY 3

CHARACTERS AND CHARACTER ROLES

The Heroes Concept

Sorry for delay but I finally showing topic that what character would fit into character and how their roles would look like (I explain in here)

As an example let’s start with main cast:

Sonic as Sonic - since he’s the main character of the story there’s no need to change his character role since those are key-important for the plot like in movie

(here’s his profile just in case: https://sonic.fandom.com/wiki/Sonic_the_Hedgehog_(Paramount)#Cast_)

The only in his case would be the change of place and comunity: he’s in world of anthromophic mammals with no powers and certain prejudices and stereotypes, and sometimes certain paranoias, which that makes his anxietes harder since he is also a mammal/hedgehog but still different: blue, prefers shoes, glowes instead of clothes and has powers. And it could be possibility that when he arrived on Zootopia (not sure how if their planet is called Earth or not) the missing mammal case was happening and distrust towards mammals was growing, give him reason to not show up after what happened last time. There could be also small possibility he helped stopped the Bellwether takeover although unknowingly (or maybe not? who knows) and some two pair of eyes probably might noticed him even briefly though if you know what I mean. But for the record he decided to hide in Green Hills where he meet Nick and Judy and you know the rest.

Nick Wilde as Tom Wachowski

Tom personality

Kind-hearted and hard-working, Tom actively pursues the chance to help other people and is dedicated to his duty as Green Hills’s sheriff. He is very brave and is not afraid to get physical if the need arises and is protective of those he cares about. Despite his sharp tongue and an occasionally dark sense of humor, he is very sweet and gentle and frequently goes out of his way to assist others. Tom enjoys telling corny jokes, whether he is alone or with company. According to Sonic, Tom often talks with donuts and eats them if they “do not listen him”.

He dislikes boredom to the point that Green Hills’ lack of action nearly drives him out of his hometown to pursue work in San Fransisco. Tom shows open skepticism when presented with a situation that seems odd or fabricated, such as when he first met Dr. Robotnik. Although Tom is not afraid to fight, he prefers to avoid resorting to violence, shown when he tried to leave the Piston Pit when confronted by angry bar patrons.

Nick personality

https://disney.fandom.com/wiki/Nick_Wilde

Since those two are pretty much different when it comes certain things but have still lot in common like bad pun jokes and sense for justice.

It was not easy to make it right. I wanted him fit into Tom’s role but also keep his Wilde charm he has. Thankfully I was able to do right somehow so here it is:

Nick was actually born in Green Hills and was friend with Judy Hopps in childhood after incident with Gideon, but after incident with Ranger Scouts where she was present in this case ashamed for certain actions he decided to move (or run away) to Zootopia to live as shifty fox, unaware of him been targeted by Bellwether. But Judy whose also decided to study in Zootopia find and trying to make up to him and bring him back to Green Hills. After studying, while dating, they return to Green Hills get married and Nick follows footstep to became sheriff be a better person (unaware of him also been followed by small certain blue guardian: take a hint of what I mean by it). After hearing of Bellwether case he wants to try be a cop in Zootopia to find a purpose (instead just leave Green Hills out of boredoom he wants to prove himself be better). He sympatize with Sonic more since he knows what is like to feared of what you are and been haunted by a past. I still need to work on that.

Judy Hopps as Maddie Wachowski

Maddie Personality

As a veterinarian, Maddie cares deeply about living creatures and enjoys helping them to heal. She scolds Tom not to shoot the raccoons that get into their trash with her dart gun and gets annoyed with him when she finds out he shot Sonic with it. She also shows sympathy for Sonic when she sees that his feet hurt because he wore through his sneakers. She works well under-pressure and shows emotional and intellectual maturity. She is very loving and supportive of her husband. She made him a cake to congratulate him in case he got the job he wanted in San Francisco and another cake in case he did not get it. She also tells him that since he has made sacrifices for her, she is happy to sacrifice for him.

Judy Personality

https://disney.fandom.com/wiki/Judy_Hopps

They sure have more in common aside for job. She cares for her husband since childhood despite of what happened, she even go after him to make up to him, save him from wrong path and ask for forgiveness, since she feels responsible for it, even though none of both was fault. She was born in Bunnyburrow but always visited her relatives from mothers side in Green Hills where she also first met Nick (inspired by my life, I really love to visit my relatives) She wanted to be cop but could not, but also found a passion in medicine and that is why she became vet after she moved in Green Hills with Nick (those two make a really great team, also it is nice callback from concept of Zistopia where Nick pretented to be vet). She also shows connection with Sonic and in this case has less problems with his “nudity” considering she always has to check her patients without clothes. (trust me I know what I talking about)

Again still need to work on that. I hope you help me grinding with this. For now that is all but I promise there will be more. Also think you can pictures on those description since I dont know how to do that along with your opinions? (you can use my drawing for that if you want ;-D)

And also:

HAPPY 5TH ANNIVERSARY ZOOTOPIA

...

Hi Guest! I’m so sorry for taking forever to get back to you on this. Hope you had a great 5th Zootopia Anniversary! I watched the movie again that day and even after 5 years, I still love that movie!!! <3 <3 <3

But anyhoo, on to this lovely Sonic crossover!

When it comes to the setting, do you think Green Hills should actually be BunnyBurrow? Or do you want Green Hills to remain it’s own thing?

I guess I ask because the way Nick is being set up, he kind of reminds me of this one fic that Helthehatter wrote called, “Blueberries”, where it’s an alternate story of how Nick and Judy met. In that fic, Nick is a deputy in BunnyBurrow and his police partner is Finnick and Nick is pretty bored because not much happens in a small town like BunnyBurrow (that is until he meets Judy, who never became a cop before meeting him).

I picture Nick would be something like this where he and Judy weren’t the ones who solved the Bellwether and Nighthowlers case, but Jack and Skye. And he wants to have an exciting adventure like that and be a hero, do something important, but nothing ever happens in BunnyBurrow/Green Hills.

I could still see Judy being his partner on the force, but unlike him, she’s actually pretty content being a cop in a small town. Though, if you like the idea of her being a vet better for this then I could work with that ^^

Personality wise it shouldn’t be too hard to give the characters similar traits since they seem to have enough in common.

Would it be okay if Judy does at least try to get Sonic to wear some clothes, it still feels like something she would do, lol! ^^” But of course, in a nice understanding way rather than in a panicky manner.

When it comes to Sonic, rather than Nick just forming a sort of best friendship with him, maybe Sonic can kind of look up to him and Judy like parents? I mean, Sonic is still a teenager and Nick and Judy are full grown adults. That way at the end, he really is joining a new family. :)

I think I like the idea of this Nick having been born in Green Hills/Bunny Burrow rather than Zootopia, because that makes his desire for a new and bigger setting more important. If he grew up in Zootopia, left it, then wants to go back to it, then it kind of takes away that feeling of wanting more.

In regards to Sonic, maybe he decided to hide not just because he’s a blue hedgehog, bust also because he’s basically walking around naked and maybe when he first showed up he walked like that in front of some old ladies and he scared them. Ever since then he decided to observe the animals from afar. It’d be a good reason too why he had a disguise too. Here not to blend in as a human, but simply to cover himself up?

I say let’s just call the Zootopia world Earth. It’s easier ^^

Not sure yet, if Sonic should’ve had an active role in the nighthowler incident, but maybe he did manage to see the fear and chaos it caused in animals via Nick and Judy’s TV and by observing animals from afar. If he did decide to help solve it though, maybe he probably just helped Jack and Skye grab the concentrated pellet and handed it to them like a blue blurr and then with that evidence in their grasp, it proved enough to arrest Bellwether and they got the credit since nobody saw him.

This is all I got so far. Does this work for you? Is there more you’d like to add or change?

#zootopia #sonic #crossover #fanfic #au #wildehopps #submission

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twixtandshout · 3 years

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Tagged by @pidgeonpostal! And not tagging anyone else because I have SOILED the original template (soiled it!!) in deference to my [brushes off skirt] mostly clean public-facing appearance.

...I’ve been making a lot of Spongebob memes lately for someone who has not seen Spongebob.

How many works do you have on AO3?

71!

What’s your total AO3 wordcount?

...306,834. Jesus.

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Uh. Many! I do a lot of one-offs (and/or start long things I never finish) in many different places. My top three fandoms by fics written are RWBY (29), Undertale (25), Gravity Falls/Transcendence AU (4).

Bet you can’t tell where my hyperfixations have fallen.

I’ve also got some Pokémon and Sonic the Hedgehog fics back on my ff.net account, or I think I still do, anyway, but let’s never go back there pls

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. Sweeter Than Honey (Undertale): Taking a Completely unsurprising first place, with over 600 more kudos than the runner-up, the haphazard Underswap fic featuring a post-college self-insert I wrote just after high school! I shake my head some at how overblown and ridiculous the gap between this and all my other stuff is (c’mon, guys, I’ve written way better fics), but this is also the fic which prompted me (and at least one other person!) to start using they/them pronouns. I’ve gotten a lot of really sweet comments about how seen and appreciated it’s made people feel, so I can’t get down too far about it.

2. To Be A Hero (BNHA): I don’t count myself as part of the BNHA fandom, for a number of reasons, but for something that’s arguably the main motivation for the entire plot, Midoriya’s quirklessness is something I’ve never thought has been handled well. This fic marked the first time I (somewhat tentatively) claimed the disability label (thanks again to Sweeter Than for prompting that realization) to hold that lens over canon. It also really shot up my chart, dang! It’s the only thing here I’d consider “recent.”

3. Three-Sentence Shipping (Undertale): Self-explanatory.

4. Brothers Beyond Bonedaries (Undertale): Ah, the way-overcomplicated AU³ I got nowhere close to finishing. One of the things I really like about Undertale is the interface screw, how Toby Fox uses the medium of the video game to pull off crazy things and enhance his game, but most of the fic written for the fandom seems dedicated to explaining it away, grounding it, rather than taking it to the next step and messing with the medium of fanfiction when you keep the story going. I tried to do something cool like that here, playing with questions like narrator and authorship and breaking the fourth wall, even taking the “final boss” fight to a “totally separate” fic reached through the first by link – but, well, then I never finished it, which probably didn’t make anything less confusing for the poor folks who missed the intent.

5. Spirit and Such (Gravity Falls: Transcendence AU): A whole fic written to line out a particular image I had, which, naturally, never made it to the page. I consider it a bit of a cautionary tale for myself when it comes to writing (near-)original content; there’s a lot I look back on and cringe. I still love the characters, though – well, the important ones – and I think just stepping away from the tried-and-true Mizar formula nets it a star sticker here.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

>w>; I try, but a lot of the time I just don’t have anything to say? Like, oh, you liked it? Neat. There’s not much to respond to in comments like that, and then I’m weighing falling down on an ~obligation~ to respond to every message in my inbox vs annoying people with copy-paste fluff responses all down the page. Plus I know I make more of an effort to comment on things that didn’t get the attention I feel they deserve, so if I’m driving up my own comment count with nonsense, am I preventing myself from being in a position to receive more comments later? And then if I do comment, am I being too effusive or running people’s ears off explaining things they don’t actually need to know? Sometimes people just want to express interest or admiration and don’t necessarily want a whole peek and guided tour behind the curtain.

Can you tell I have anxiety? x3;

Anyway, I do respond when I can. And I keep most of the comments I’ve gotten to go back and reread.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Hm, hmm. Lots of stuff in the TQ Nonsense series would probably qualify! I’m thinking of Unfixable, Wolfsong, and Ethanol. And there’s Bursting Through A Blood-Red Sky (I Can Live, I Can Breathe), of course, but that was always intended to have a fix-it epilogue. It’s just that I wrote it in a couple of hours day-of, stared at it, and decided I didn’t wanna just then. But now that’s As Long As You’re Still Burning Bright (I’m Still Awake), and that’s probably the best romance I’ve written, so that one worked out.

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve ever written?

Now and then! When the urge strikes. Uhhh, I’ve got a series of Doctor Who x Undertale crossovers I actually made a whole dang verse for that never made it to print. Get a couple great comments on that every few months or so. I think the World Trigger x Undertale crossover is probably weirder, though, by virtue of WT being a very small fandom. My enthusiasm kinda sputtered out on that one.

Mostly I just daydream crossovers with whatever happens to catch my eye at any given moment. I have a lot!!!! Though odds are out on whether I manage to remember any of them once the initial thought’s passed, lol.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Gotten a couple eyebrow-raising comments, but I think mostly I’m just too small a writer to draw that kind of attention.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don’t? think so? Think my tastes are a little niche for most people to bother ^^;

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I had someone apologize once for any language mistakes in their comment cause they had to run it through a translator! That’s not what you asked (the answer is no), but it’s very flattering to think that someone liked my fic enough to read and comment despite the language barrier.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! :D @pidgeonpostal was gracious enough to agree to co-write Five Nights at Denny’s with me off an idea about shoes. This has fulfilled a long-held dream of mine (collabing with someone, not the shoes) and also introduced me to some lovely people.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

Who has time for just one? ;3c Honestly, I care more about the characters and how the relationship – any relationship – between them changes them than I do about ~A Ship~ as a solid, bounded noun-object. I’ve got characters I like more and less and feelings about who does and doesn’t have chemistry in which directions with whom, but finding anything that agrees with those preferences is hard, harder when you take alloromanticism into account. I’ll play in any sandbox with cool toys, especially if other folks have already built sick sandcastles there.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

[kicks every single unfinished fic further under the bed] What nooo no WIPs here, everything on my account is either finished or does not exist

I’ve got a couple extra chapters of Sweeter Than floating around unposted, but 1. that fic’s a mess 2. high school Twixt and post-college Twixt are different people and trying to contort myself into three other me-shapes just cause people Like this fic is not something I’m super interested in 3. it’s headed for an emotional dip and I’d rather leave it where it is than post two chapters, stall out again, and leave folks with a bad end.

As for other fics... it’s looking more and more likely that v7 of my Yellow Brick Road AU will never actually make it out. >w>; I’ve got some really great ideas, but not enough to make me feel like I know what I’m doing, and that’s a big roadblock. Plus trying to engage with RT’s Atlas-Mantle worldbuilding in any serious capacity is... a headache. I can’t recommend the Happy Huntress Cinematic Universe enough, but it leaves some pretty big shoes to follow! And I’ve got small feet. <w<;

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue’s fun, probably as an extension of characterization. I love tearing into what makes people tick, especially against the backdrop of their environment, the story they’re in, and the people they’re up against. Voice is a double-edged sword; I’ve been told my writing is really recognizable and individual, but on the other hand, I’ve been growing frustrated with with the limits of my narrative ability. There’s a strong rhythm I keep when I write (you might notice it here, even) but that leaves me feeling predictable and stale. I’m not sure I’m great at setting as a matter of course, but I’m pretty good at describing setpieces where the need comes up; that comes from my background in poetry, as does the fun I have with sublimating and abstracting complex imagery. And I think I bring some needed nuance to the universal. For good or ill, I don’t do what “everyone else” is doing.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Well, writing, for one thing. If I don’t know how something’s going to go and don’t have the urge to write it, it isn’t getting done, which means there’s a billion things that will never see the page and a few hundred more that are never getting finished. I lose momentum easily and have a hard time getting started, and I put way too much standing on finding a foothold with other people; as critical as I am of my work, I have high expectations for the stuff that passes muster, and it never seems to measure up. I’m also really uncreative. Yeah, I can mix up elements and extrapolate events, but coming up with things wholesale is really hard, which is why I avoid it wherever possible and steal/reskin stuff from other places instead.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Something along the lines of “Hoo boy, I am Not qualified for this but hopefully it’s decent anyway.” Maria’s Spanish lines haven’t been a big deal – I’ve used it sparingly and, as a Latin language, it should be easy for English-speaking audiences to pick up on the gist – but I’ve had a harder time with Tai’s Chinese, both because I have Even Less background there and because it is, of course, an entirely different language system. If I write it out in English or Romanized italics, am I colonizing it or changing the meaning? If I write it out in the presumed-original characters (presumed because it’s Google Translate and who knows if I’m even barking in the right forest), am I confusing or alienating my presumed-majority-English-speaking audience? Where should I put the translations? Should I put the translations? And for Frisk’s sign language, thinking back, are the brackets I used instead of quotes alienating/infantilizing? I like that different characters give the text between a different feel, but I’m not an ASL speaker – and I’m pretty sure the word is “speaker,” which would only reinforce that that demographic would rather I didn’t do that. It’s important for all these characters, I think, that they use non-English language where it makes sense; it’s part of who they are. But as a white monolingual English-speaker, I don’t think I can really weigh in.

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for?

Thaaaat’d be Pokémon, followed closely with Sonic the Hedgehog. Whether those fics are still on my ff.net account or not (pretty sure I’ve purged them, but you never know) I’ve still got a couple saved to a folder on my current laptop, ostensibly so I can look back and see how far I’ve come and more practically to allow for the possibility of furthering group cohesion through public shaming.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I still like the idea behind The Man Who Is Atlas, and Burning Bright (Still Awake) gets props for being my current fic, though it’s currently in that spot where I’m excited to get new chapters posted but also quietly marking everything up in red pen. I think Harbinger gets the crown here, at least for now.

#answerin' stuff

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grimoire-of-seven · 5 years

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Because I’m an angsty bitch, could you do a head cannons from the seven with a terminally ill MC? Or at least really, really sick. Thanks! Love your writing 💕

PROMPT: “If Only We Could Have More Time…”

Rating: SFWWords: 600-700Characters: Demon Boys + MC / Gender-Neutral ReaderNotes: Hi! I tried not to make the situation all much worse by means of pressing too hard with the subject in a sense, but to end it with something both parties could cherish. I hope you will all enjoy it!~Oh! And this is written in their perspective.~

Lucifer

Shit..Shit..Shit..

F*ck..

Screwsaving face, the Avatar of Pride himself soon began sprinting through the palehallway, missing to register himself by the lobby as his eyes were fixated bythe red beaming light under the sign; emergency room.

It was imprudentto put his phone to silent at his meeting with the prince of Devildom. Heshould have known better not to… otherwise, he would have read your messagehalf an hour ago, their voice replaying in his mind as his feet quicken itspace.

“Heyumm.. Luci? I know itis a bad time to call you.. but umm.. I’ll be having my operation again in anhour according to the doctor. I hope you’ll take it easy with those meetings and take care!”

“I’msorry sir but you could not enter from this point on. I’m afraid you have towait at the waiting area.”

“But Ineed to see them! Are they already there?” The light-bringer tried to reasonwith the man in a white coat but to no avail. His fears only heightened whenthe doctor reminded him of the day’s operation and how it could grave it couldgo further..

“They do tend to get worse every cycle..”“Why?”“Because each infusion gets harder and the doctors say that Ishould expect that I’ll get weaker every moment.”“Then why place yourself in that situation..?”

Thosebitter words clung into the air as the embodiment of Pride could no longer holdhis composure as one of the nurses by the station assisted him to take a seat.With his fingers entwined together, letting his chin rest on it, his feetclearly indicate how uneased his spirit was as the sole continues to move upand down as though it were to pounce to the emergency room.

Lookingthrough his surroundings, there were also people under his shoes. Hands claspedtogether with their forehead close to it, mumbling under their breath as thoughthey are talking to…

God?

Prayingat every second spared before the judgment on the other door. And…

Should he do the same?

“Ma’amChase?”“Yes?”“Yourdaughter is doing fine now. The operation was a success thanks to Dr. Pomatter.”“Oh thankGod! Can I go see her now?”“Yes, ma’am!This way.”

Thank God?They are thanking… Father?

He hadresented any forms of communications within the Celestial Realm, only forming aprofessional relation to Simeon and Luke under Diavolo’s rule yet… why are histhoughts claiming otherwise?

No.Why should he ask for mercy?He is Lucifer.The eldest and the leader of his pack.A fallen angel to whom prowess never left, despite his glorytainted by the burning sulfur.Yet here he was, incapable to put Death far back on his drawingboard for picking his human for its next kill.Unable to take his human out of it…

Takinghis focus away from the mortals that surrounded the waiting area, thetelevision played a soap opera and with no remote to control its channels, itwas projecting a tragic scene with the woman dead on her lover’s arms.

What if their life would be cut shorter than it already is becauseof this operation?

Could he ever digest the thought that within those times they weretogether, he did not spend it wisely because…Because he let his pride in between? Because he considered hisreputation more than..

Closinghis eyes once more, taking in a series of deep breaths, he, the Avatar ofPride, has always seen the display of empathy as a visage of helplessness andit was their little exchange student that demonstrated it to him otherwise.

Nonetheless,with his human weak.. why should he too, present himself in the same conditionjust because of his worries?

It wouldnot be right.He doesnot want to see his human frown just so his face is.

Maybe there is something he could do.. He thought to himself. Ifhe could not bail his human out of the cold-lighted room, perhaps he could maketheir stay un-cold. Something that could make him see them smile again.

Lookingthrough the window as the room itself has proven itself unable to distract thedemon on his own thoughts drowning his own rationality, there was a signagebeaming with fluorescent lights that made him stand and read;

“Seven..Eleven..”“I wonderif there have any ice cream there..”

Mammon

For being the Avatar of Greed, he sure do brag about bein’ their little human’s first to ever make a pact with. He ain’t letting it pass on as just that.

Just to see his brothers sneer and hiss from mentioning it.

It’s like this bullet that could penetrate even to the thickest skull out there.

An accomplishment and for once, it was a pact he felt that wasn’t a curse. The witches should def. take down some notes from his human~

Yet…

He thought to himself…

There’s no one like his human.

Recalling how his human would ride along to every trouble he creates, every idea he makes, it was this exchange student who was only staying a year that somehow, taught him companionship. And…

He couldn’t take it out of his chest, that he, the Great Mammon, had failed them.He was their first demon to ever make a pact with yet he didn’t do much being one.Perhaps, thinking now, most of them did more than he.Showed more care. Provided more care.And all he did was to get himself out of troubles and the consequences of his actions.Correction: It’s his human that would bail him out… like a mom.

But then, was there anything he could do to being with?

“Dang.. How much am I going to pay you now?”

His human has never even once mentioned of this illness resulting to Death..Well, all diseases would lead to Death but not with this higher rate of going to Death.It‘s like a parade to Death with his human the star of the show.

“I knew I should have bought Boardwalk the moment I landed on it the first time round!”

Maybe he should be the one to blame here.Maybe he didn’t ask more. Known them better.To think even money could betray him because there’s no known cure yet for them.Just like what the doctor said.

“Rent revenue of 50 dollars plus a three houses, umm..”

“Mammon?”

…

“Mammoney?”

…

“MonMon!”

“Ya?” Clearing his headspace, the Great Demon of hell went straight to his Boardwalk card. Sure thing that the visit was expensive. He’s getting all the money from this human plus his property, that’s… for sure..

“Is there something wrong?” they asked, their eyes piercing and hoisting only the truth on the sea of lies, he had come up of saying; “For you not to be interested with mone–“

“I wish I could have known this sooner..”

“Mammon..”

“I could have not wasted your time too much with tossing you from one chaos to another.. and—“

“Mammon…” taking his hand with theirs to entwine with, their little cash-based board game folded in half as they inched closer;

“Why didn’t you ask me to make it go away?”

Did his voice just crack?

“Mammon..”

“I’m the first demon ya got to make a pact with. I got some witches and we might have been able to conjure some potion to get ya ou—“

“Because I just want to spend my time with you..

I do not want our time to be spent on looking for a cure when we could have so much more fun alone.”

Pause.

“Before meeting you, for a while, I was in your shoes too. Looking for a cure that was not there and I am glad that I snapped out of it meeting you.”

“Ummm…” the Avatar of Greed gulped down.

Did he just screw up?

“Because if it were not for you, I would not have enjoyed living. Having fun. Making troubles. I felt alive.”

For someone whose lifeline is in the near end… a demon, a particular avatar of Greed demon could only comprehend so little. Here was a human, frail and like the money he knows would soon be gone out of his pocket, talking of living life to the fullest with him..

Because of him…

“So.. are we still playin’ Monopoly or we’ll just snuggle ‘til the nurse bails you out of visitation hours?”

Leviathan

“What do you think we should play next?” Looking to his rightside, his little human was watching intently at the monitor of his laptop,completely ecstatic as he was able to defeat the final boss of the game. He wasable to manage to get through the final boss because of the UR armour pieceshis human was able to pick whenever he has to decide which crate he should openafter completing another level.

“Shall we go for.. Ruri-Chan Idol or A!3?”

“Whatever you decide on, Levi! As long as I’ll get to watch you.”

His eyes tried not to leave theirs but with his eyes inevitablytracing the cord from the IV down to their hands, injected for how long theycould have been admitted, playing video games became much more of a distractionfor him than it was for his human.

“Levi?”

“Y-y-yes?”

Making his eyes return to the person staring back at them, hecould definitely see a glistening spark as their lips curled, reaching theirears.

“Are you afraid of needles?”

Needles?Afraid of needles?Why would he be afraid of needles?

“Me? Afraid of needles? ROFL LMAO. The only thing I’m afraid of isnot having enough diamonds to purchase another UR Ruri-chan for the next event.”

It wasnot the needle that he was afraid of..But rather, on how swollen their hands are.It must have taken a lot from them..

“Then why are you looking at it like it’s some boss level at oneof your video games?”

Just as there were no room left to insert an excuse from hisinventory, he shifted his attention back to his folder of video-games that hewas able to install for offline playing purposes when he heard them laugh oncemore.

“Look at my hand, Levi! It looks like a balloon. I can’t move it..”

“Let me get the nurse then.”

“Why aren’t you saying ‘lol’ or ‘lmao’?”

Leviathan dead-panned looked at his human for quite some time, hiseyes fixated on theirs going to their hand and back again;

“You want me to lol when your hand looks like it weighs a ton?! Ifthis were an otome game, your intimacy with me would go down!”

“I am just kidding.. hahaha”

That laugh. That silly laugh that even a shut-in could not helpbut be flustered every time his ears are graced with it.

“I already rung the nurse station. Someone would come assist meanytime soo-“

“Good day, how could I be of assistance, sir?”

A woman dressed in all white looked at him before it was able todetect the cause of her call.

Her hands soon untangled the weave by his patient’s left hand, askingto keep their hand still as a ball of cotton soon veiled how the needle wasejected from…

And that was when he turned away from the scene and gave the nursesome space as he went through once more to his file of games..

Whichgame would best distract me?

He could always trust his video games.Video games has always shut him out of facing the outside world.Had always been his comfort blanket.But with him always in this comfort blanket, could he be truly there to supporthis human?

“You could look now, Levi!”

Why arethey smiling? What is there to smile? One hand told to be careful and anotherstuck on a board so it would not bend and have the needl—Maybe he is, sort of, afraid of the needle…Because of how it could be dangerous to them!

“How could you be so chill in all of this?”

“Because, I’m used to it?”

“But you see me with every boss level. Yes, I am used to gameshaving boss level but it is still different..”

“Well.. it was quite painful..”

Then whyare you so chill about it?Is this perhaps.. jealousy with how their human could handle things that ademon couldn’t?Him shutting in and them.. facing it?

“But today, I feel fine today.~”

“How come?” the Avatar of Envy looked once more to their hands,knowing how their left hand would soon be swollen too after a couple of IVs anddays..

“Because I have you.~”

Thishuman..

Sensing his cheeks go crimson red in heat, he tried concealing hisface with one hand, hearing once more that silly laugh, making him moreflustered. “Warn me next time when you’ll go cheesy, human.”

“How about this.. I’ll play a game and you will watch whileresting on my shoulders.”

“What will you be playing?”

“Do you have that game where the owner of a fast-food restaurantof chickens in a dating simulator?”

Satan

“Sorry, I’m late.”

Watching his human finish the last spoonful of their supper andpausing a video from their phone, it was prominent to his tone how angry he wasto himself. Mixed with frustration as his efforts of spending more time at thelibrary, looking at every bookcase for a book with a solution to theircondition, wasted as he found none.

Of all the spells and ancient writings, Devildom is provided with,none could enlighten the Avatar of Wrath on how he could just make theirillness non-existent which only added fuel to the fire considering how there isa book that could swap two entities to the other’s bodies but none about makinga mortal’s terminal illness gone.

“What were you listening to?”

Trying to put the subject or reason of his tardiness to rest bymeans of bringing up another conversation, right now, what the devil wants, isto turn his brain from overthinking off, and more on thinking about them.

“Oh! I was listening to a podcast with a holographic fanatic.”They beamed as though they had spent their time fruitful compared to his. “Youlook a bit tired..”

“A bit tired?”

Are hiseyebags prominent once more? He most definitely would not like to put his humanin worries or to even look tired.That he took from Lucifer.

“But still pretty charming.~”

“Now that is cheesy.”

Putting the food tray and the food container that looks similar tothose at the cafeteria away and near to the door, he saw his human shiftingmore towards their left, a clear invitation for him to be nearer, resulting toSatan putting his coat by the sofa readily available for a visitor.

“What was the podcast about?” He asked as he kept on shifting toattain that perfect and comfortable position to lie down next to them. The bedwas not relatively bad, much to his surprise.

“Just mundane stories that I just missed while being in here.”

If only asickness could tremble and run with his wrath, he would have done it in a snap.Why does sickness have to constrict someone from living?Especially them?

“I’d rather hear about you.~”

Surprised, his features were much more of confusion, somethingthat made his little human laugh and smile as though they were not in such confinedsituations.

“About me?”

“Mhmm!”

There itis again. Those kitty-like eyes.Those eyes that would make him fall for them once more.And make his cheeks flustered and in heat.

“What about me?”

“Anything. Childhood, fondest memories, life as a student..anything! I just want to hear more about you.”

“There is nothing to tell.”

“Eh?”

“Well, there is nothing interesting about me, darling.”

“Don’t say that!”

Hethought he was the Avatar of Wrath..But with his human angry at his reply..He could be dethroned with that title and just be the VP of being the Avatar ofGreed.

“You are interesting!”

“Darli—“

“You truly are! You are interesting to me.”

Interestingto me.

Sensing his ears getting hotter and hotter, he looked up by thepale ceiling, the fan spinning round and round when he felt an arm wrap aroundhis abdomen, warmth coursing through; “Pleeeeaase?”

“All right, all right. Maybe I could tell you how Asmodeus taughtme how to lie to save a kitty.”

“Yay!”

Asmodeus

“Asmo?”

Sensing his fingersentwined further to theirs, the Avatar of Lust fluttered his eyes open, seeingtheirs holding a reflection of himself making his body jerked itself to functionand boost up at once.

“You’re awake!”

How long was he asleep?

“Good morning, beautiful.~”

Beauty?Now now, little human..Let the Avatar of Lust handle the flirting.Although hearing their compliment was definitely more boosting than any reserved slot or timefor spas and saunas.

“How are you feeling,dear?”

Looking through his phone,it was already 4am by his lockscreen, garnering how the Beauty himself wouldalready have underbags on his eyes. But that is something a cold slice ofcucumber and sleep would cure. Unlike theirs, where the operation was rather concerning in regards of how their body would take it. How the body will heal and take in the changes..

“How long have you beenhere, Asmo?”

This human..When will they ever learn to answer before asking?

“Just an hour ago. Then Ifell asleep instantly.~”

Lies.He had been there for hours and perhaps a day?It had been so long since he moved from his seat from their operation and truthbe told..His buns.. his “ass”ets are kinda flat by now.Nevertheless..He would not miss being the first demon his human would see when they wake up.Never.

And to think he was out-waken by his human.

“Was there a nurse thatcame to visit me?”

“There was one that replacedyour IV and checked pressure while ago.”

Both eyes were soon by theIV with its fluid contents were nearly empty, something his lies however, couldnot cover.

“Wow.. Only a while ago withmy IV already up to be replaced? Asmodeus..”

Oops?

“Fine..I have been here formore than a while..”

Pouting their lips with theireyes gazing afar from his to the round décor by the wall, it was evident how hehad spent overnight beside them without any flinch or reconsidering even tomove from his seat before he could see his reflection once more on their eyes.

“You have dark circlesunder your eyes already.. Do you want to switch places? I will take a seat andyou will lie down on my bed?”

“You are not yet advised toeven sit up, darling.” The demon argued. “Dark circles could be remediedeasily.”

This human just woke up and their first concern is him?Or more specifically, his looks..Truth be told, the same could be said with him but They now come in second.His main priority is them.

“But..”

“No buts now, dear.”

Smiling seeing theirfeatures an upside down reaction to his, he nudged his seat closer to them, hesoon let his pressed his lips against their forehead before stroking a fewstrands of their hair that were, unfortunately, bit too sleek to his liking;

“Darling?”

“Hmm?”

“Want me to help you.. wash?”

“Asmo!”

Blushing at his suggestion,it was more of a concern rather than his usual evocative invitationsconsidering how several cords would hinder the progress, not to mention how thenurse would dutifully remind him of how their hand where it is injected to,should remain unmoved otherwise, blood will come out and ascend to the tube;

“I am quite serious.”

“Eh?!”

“I could wash my darlingbefore breakfast. What do you say?”

“Asmo…”

Finding this all amusing,it was quite difficult to put the talk into a more serious tone but with thenurse coming in an hour or two for their breakfast, it seems the Avatar of Lusthas to surrender it all;

“I could get a towel and abowl so you could work clean yourself while I will be in charge of cleaning anddrying it What were you thinking, silly?.”

“Oh..”

“It looks like someone ishaving a different idea. We could always do that.~”

“Asmo!”

Oh it is good to have them back.

Beelzebub

“Is this what they have inthe cafeteria?”

It was then, that even theAvatar of Gluttony found food unappetizing. They were looking rather bland andfrom the faces of the people eating, they seem to care more about filling inthe void there is at their guts rather than actually enjoying the food.

He would most certainly beable to tolerate it, especially when he sensed his tummy rumble when his palmrested on it but, for his human to also have the same experience?

It was a big no-no.

With an hour and a halfbefore the nurse or staff would give their meal for the noon, the Avatar ofGluttony followed his second brain to scout and find stores that sells betterfood.

Tastier food.

Just the thought of it hadhis stomach grumble as his nose then sniffed out, making several stops near thehospital’s vicinity, surprised with what mortals could do with simple and fewingredients that the demon presumes to be readily available.

Perhaps he should come around and know their delicacies more?He had always heard stories from them about some food that are spoken not tohis language despite being Gluttony himself.

With goodies in a largebag, truth be told, he was not accustomed to what his person would call “terminalillness”. It was a shock and the thought of it became overwhelming. His pacewere gradually slower as his mind could not erase their confession of theirailment, how they warned him, but did he listen?

He did.But he did not want to let it hinder them.And he will never let it be.

…

“That’s all for you?!”

At this point..

His eyes were fixated ontheirs, breaking its trance with the sound of the door shutting, making hiseyes travel lower down to their figure. They have been getting thinner thanthey were when they were introduced, having his rear colored with dark blues.

Perhaps, it reminded himtoo much of famine.. Seeing it onto the privileged’s eyes as they take what is supposed to be shared to others.

Taking the moment to settlewhat he had brought over by a small bedtable, his lips subconsciously drew asmile, refraining himself from making a comment or two about it.

“Why is that what you wouldalways say..”

With a giggle or two, therewas already a feast laid out on the table, making no room for the food providedby the facility, something he would just have to eat all to himself to trickthe staff, his eyes reflecting how swell they looked from sensing the newvarieties offered on their plate.

“Didn’t I mention we would have lunch together?”

“Yup. And I always get myusual hospital food.. But not anymore!~”

“Now hold on before diggingin..”

Munching the food away toreplenish the sense of famine within him, diverse yet complimenting flavors overwhelminghis tongue, it was obvious the Avatar of Gluttony could not help either to moanto compliment the divine food he just purchased or continue munching as thoughthey were alive and would run away.

“Umm.. Beel?”

“..Yes?”

Hearing them laugh ascrumbs went onto his shirt like a waterfall, his eyes fell too onto theirplate.

They have not even touched their plate..

“Could you help me slice upthis chicken?”

Is this why they are so thin?Because the food is rather inaccessible for a one-hand person?

“Of course.”

It took quite a while forBeelzebub to settle his fourth hamburger and mince to their favored sizes.

If that is the problem..Maybe he could offer them a solution instead.Him.

“Now say ahh..~”

“Beel!”

“Hmm?”

“I could do it on my own..”

“Not when I am holding yourfork, you couldn’t.~”

Belphegor

Violently shaking what heheld dearest onto his arms, not even a flinch or any movement came about totheir chest, making himself tremble, holding them closer to him.

It couldn’t be true.This is just a dream..He needs to wake up.

Belphegor could take on anyhardships there is, burden there is, but not facing the inevitable yet.. He wasnot ready yet.

And probably never will.

To an Avatar of Sloth,wasting time had been his forte, and to spend it efficiently.. is this what hisdream is communicating him with?

“Nnnn…”

“No.. no..no…”

“Nooo…”

Sensing his consciousnessseeping through, his body felt like being electrocuted by the door creaking anda stranger’s voice entering.

How long has he been passed out?

Usually, he could care lessabout such trivial matters but feeling like sleeping schedules and body clocksbut with someone’s life given with a countdown…

…

“Good evening. Is he your guardian?”

Turning his head to facethe voice, his vision soon could interpret the man as the hospital’s securitywith his record book at hand and a pen, his eyes for a moment, on Belphegor’sstate.

“Yes he is.”

There they are, sitting onthe sole chair provided for the guest with the metal rod or pole accompanying them,assisting the flow of the IV through their veins.

“Will he be stayingovernight?”

“He will be.”

“On it. Seems like he’s thepatient rather than you are. Ta-ta!”

“That’s not true…” Hemuttered, dark hues reappearing on his rear just as they were visible in hisdreams.

“Are you okay, Belphie? Youwere sleeptalking again..”

“I was?”

Shit.

“Just a random dream, Isuppose.”

By the looks of theirfeatures, it did not take too long for Belphegor to know how his response wasunpleasant.

So much for someone who just woke up..

“I just had a nightmare.The curse of sleeping too much.”

He dare not bring up hisown troubles. That would be insensitive nor does he wish to press an issueregarding their limited lifeline.. Truth be told, humans are mortal beings butwith an illness pressing them down towards the inevitable further…

“Would you like to tell meabout it?”

Tell them about it?

“It is just nothing..”

“You’re not really a goodliar, Belphie. How about we get to talk to it with a cup of coffee?”

Though the mattress wasrelatively comfortable and the pillows plump with the scent of theirs, like acertain paradise created for him, his body voluntarily get up and made them coffee.

“Don’t you think my habitsis just wasting your time?”

Crap.. What was he thinking?This is why he should have coffee first before even saying anything..Caffeine before making a mess out of himself.

“What do you mean?”

Too late. He dug himself deeper into this.

“Well..” his back facingthem as the kettle was settled down to two mugs, the powdered mix adding hue tothe pouring hot water; “I am the Avatar of Sloth and I tend to take naps moreoften.. sleep, you know… waste ti—“

“No.”

“No?”

“Because any time with youaround is time spent worthwhile.~”

Bewildered with howcheerful a mortal could be despite their lifeline drawing thinner by everyshift there is on the hands of their own clock?

“I do not understand..”

Parting his lips to gentlysway the heat away from the cup, their hands touch as they reached out for thecup, something with their heat warmer than a hot cup of coffee could provide…and it is rushing towards his cheeks;

“Because I get to hear yousnore.~”

Excuse me??Snore..Have his human mistaken him for Beelzebub?

“I do not snore!”

“You do! And yousleeptalk.~”

“That’s another thing!”

Giggles turning tolaughter, made it all the more embarrassing should he, indeed, does snore. Hishuman was someone who could not lie convincingly, at least for someone who istrained efficiently to sniff the BS out of his brothers;

“I do not snore..”

“Yes you do!” And theyproceeded to imitate it.. or make it looklike he does..?

“Okay, that’s enough..otherwise, I would make sure you get to sleep first before I do.”

“Noooooooo” and theyproceeded to sip their cold coffee, preparing themselves for the battle on ‘who gets to stay awake longer to witness the other fall asleep’.

_________________________________________________Updated masterlist here.

#obey me game #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me headcanons #anon ask #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor #mod shin-seul

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sombreboy · 4 years

Text

Love Maze »1

Series masterlist » Next ▎ 18+ ▎ pairing: Taehyung x Jungkook ▎ genre: School AU, crack humor, smut, angst, ETL, slow burn. ▎ word count: 7.4k ▎ ch.warnings: They’re basketball boys in the school team lol, cursing, mxm, two dumb boys trying to figure their feelings, smut, anal (pls use lube irl this is fiction!), mentions of alcoholic father, some angsty feelings. Idk what else lmk, just, don’t read this if you’re sensitive to messy angsty feels, mxm smut, dumb humor & lots of cursing. A/N at the end of the post!

Taehyung didn’t know what kind of response he was expecting from Jungkook. Perhaps something like, ‘Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone, let’s forget about it.’ That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less. But what he didn’t expect to read was what he received, and his body language proved that. His shoulders were tense, and his jaw was locked in place. Tae ran a hand through his damp hair, repeating Kook’s words in his head. ‘But you didn’t say we should stop..’ What the fuck kind of dumbassery was that? And why wasn’t Taehyung opposed to the idea of it?

‘‘Taehyung, the hell’s wrong with you today? Get your head in the game!’’

Those same series of words kept on repeating themselves in the back of Taehyung’s busy mind, almost taunting him in a way.

Namjoon, their team captain, had made it very clear this early morning—Six o’clock, to be exact, that Taehyung was out of it, and was lazily dragging his feet across the court.

The latter knew that Joon’s only intention was to help him, but if he hadn’t bit down on his tongue, Taehyung would’ve lost his shit.

Who the fuck thought that it was a good idea to start practice so goddamn early in the morning?

Tae was a mixture of surprise and thankful that he didn’t just fall asleep right then and there.

Truth be told, there was a strong urge to..

Because of this, Taehyung almost regretted staying up so late into the night slashing zombies left and right, searching for ammo, yelling profanities out of anger when someone would sneak attack him—almost. He was way too invested in his gaming to truly feel any guilt.

But, much to his shock, the boy felt a sense of guilt begin to gnaw at him throughout the day, hence why he was making his way towards the familiar gym once again. This time not half-dead.

Tae knew how much this upcoming game meant to Namjoon.

As he began to get settled in, glad that he was the only one there, Taehyung casually practiced his free throws. He challenged himself to make it from different spots in the court, succeeding in most of them.

Minutes later when he was beginning to get in the groove of things, in waltzed Jeon Jungkook.

Fucking great. Just what he needed.

Tae let out a defeated sigh, meeting the other boy’s gaze for a split second before continuing with what he was doing.

“What the hell are you doing here.” It was a mumbled question, no trace of enjoyment laced in his lower tone.

Jungkook glanced at Taehyung, their eyes met for a split second as he walked in. Tae's snarky comment had Jungkook roll his tongue on the inside of his cheek with annoyance, glaring with furrowed eyebrows as he went to the opposed side of the play field. He brought his own basketball, bouncing it a few times to make sure it had enough air, "To practice, what the hell does it look like?" He scoffed before the loud echo of the basketball was the only sound coming from his end of the court.

A sour scoff originated from the back of Taehyung’s throat, whom in response to Jungkook’s presence tried to show off by shooting the basketball from a further position.

“Yeah,” The boy began, extending out his arms, “you need lots of practice, alright.”

He successfully made it into the net.

Call him childish, but the little smile tugging at the corners of his lips was getting hard to ignore..

Ever since the age of eight, when Jungkook was introduced to his group of friends, Tae enjoyed finding different ways to irk him.

From chasing him around the playground with a worm in his hand, bumping shoulders into him whenever he felt like it, to making fun of his Basketball skills.. it was amusing, he couldn’t lie.

“Hey, you.” The taller didn’t bother referring to ‘you’ by his name, “We should play against each other. You could learn a few things from me.”

Jungkook grit his teeth, dashing towards his hoop to jump up and slam dunk the basketball into the hoop, much harder than intended. He’d been working out a lot lately, and his strength was finally showing, and he couldnt wait to wipe that grin off Tae's face.

"Eat shit," he frowned, but he accepted his challenge, "Fine." He threw his ball to the side, getting ready to sprint towards him with a speed completely new to the elder. Taehyung would be lying if he said he wasn’t the least bit fazed by the look of determination in Jungkook’s eyes.

This wasn’t the Jungkook he knew, who the hell was this person?

However, he wouldn’t let the younger scare him, no matter how often he tried to play the “Big Wolf”.

It was pathetic, really.

Those pretty eyes didn’t compliment that facade at all.

“Nah, I’ll pass,” Taehyung smirked, sharp eyes hooded as he studied the other’s every movement.

Tauntingly bouncing the ball in front of the younger, Tae managed to dodge the figure coming towards him and instead charged towards the opposite net. Nothing but determined to one-up Jungkook.

It was always a struggle, it didn't matter if Jungkook was stronger, Taehyung would always seem to be faster, one step ahead of the game. He quickly turned on his heels, the sole of his shoes squeaking against the floor as he sprints to catch up with Taehyung, trying his hardest to push himself to use his strength to attempt to jump in front of Tae before he'd be able to throw the ball.

Much to his dismay, Jungkook actually manages to bat the ball in a different direction midair, preventing Taehyung from scoring his shot.

Now he just feels like a dumbass..

He doesn’t stop there, though.

Instead of backing out, Taehyung’s drive only soars through the roof. The latter wasn’t about to let Kook show him how it’s done.

He was the one in charge.

In a swift movement, after running across the court whilst dribbling the ball, Taehyung jumped up in the air and made it even.

“Back in the game, baby!” The taller cheered, pumping a fist in the air.

Time seemed to get lost the more time they spent playing against each other, and surprisingly, Taehyung didn’t seem to mind it.

Jungkooks dark curls was clinging to the sweaty skin of his face, heavy shallow breaths taken as they kept playing against one another for quite a while. It was rather fun, and it gave Jungkook the energy and drive to keep going, keep trying his best. They were both extremely skilled, so the game kept going even back and forth, the competitive tension stronger than ever--but he was getting tired.. his muscles ached, his body coated in a layer of glistening sweat.

“Getting tired already, Kook?” Taehyung playfully snarked, completely disregarding the fact that he was also drenched with sweat from running from one end to the other over and over again.

“That’s weak.” He wouldn’t admit that, though. “Come on, one last match.” The boy stated, his defined stomach on full display as he used the end of his Jersey to wipe at his face.

Not bothering waiting for an answer, Tae hoped that the challenging look in his eyes was enough to draw Jungkook in.

As he began dribbling the ball, waiting to see what the younger’s next move would be, Taehyung began charging towards the familiar net, passion evident in his face when—POW!—He tripped on his undone shoelace and fell on top of Jungkook.

“Fuck..” He hissed, feeling some minor pain emerge from his lower leg but thankfully, Kook’s body was there to act as a cushion.

After the taller managed to redeem himself (to the best of his abilities), he brought up his face from Kook’s chest to look down at the other.

Taehyung’s hands were placed on either side of Jungkook’s head, chest heaving and sweat beads streaming down his temples.

He didn’t know why, but his body wouldn’t move away from its position. It was like he was stuck there.. face so close to Jungkook’s..

Everything happened so fast that one moment Jungkook was preparing to charge towards Taehyung, and the next he was on his back on the floor, something heavy weighing him down. He opened his eyes, and they blew wide as soon as he saw the view above. Taehyung was so sweaty, and he looked... incredibly good up close. Jungkook froze, holding his breath and it felt like his heart skipped several beats, his arms laying limp above his head in such a position that had him feeling vulnerable. The tension between the two was so strong, at this point he wasn’t able to differentiate whether it was pure anger or pure lust that flowed through his entire being.

‘What the fuck is going on..?’ Taehyung asked himself, swallowing down all of his remaining questions in the shape of a strong gulp.

“Uh..” Was all he had to say, continuing to stare down at Jungkook like an intrigued weirdo, eyes skimming over the little details on the younger’s face. From the small scar on the side of his cheek, to the beauty marks perfectly placed on his skin.. Tae was infatuated.

He would never, in a million years say that out loud, but was he thinking it..

The boy wanted to say something like, “Wow, you’re even uglier up close,” but that was so far off from the truth, it would be a sin.

The heat erupting in Jungkooks body made itself known through the shade of red creeping on his cheeks, feeling himself getting flustered. Why wasn't Tae moving away? Why didnt he say something? But then again, he was completely frozen in place as well, having nothing to counter with. His lips fell open, a quiet breath escaping his lips, unable to find the words he was so desperately seeking.

Before he could tell right from wrong, Taehyung’s lips met Jungkook’s in an awkward kiss, hesitating at the start before finally gaining the courage to move them against the younger’s a little more naturally.

It was slow at first, Tae’s bigger hand cupping the side of Kook’s face, not wanting him to pull away by any means.

His thumb found itself caressing over that same scar he took notice of not too long ago, Taehyung’s own cheeks overtaken by a rosy hue.

Then, like the spell had been broken, Tae broke the kiss.

“Fuck.. uh..”

He looked like an absolute dumbass, didn’t he?

“You should use some lip balm, or something.” The boy cleared his throat, still not parting their bodies.

Something was wrong with him.

Jungkook was dumbfounded, staring at Taehyung as if he was a deer in headlights. Fuck, this was confusing. He had been struggling with how he felt towards Tae, trying so hard to suppress his feelings for him, and now feeling his lips in a kiss, his hand gently touching his cheek, it was as if all of the walls he had been building up around this enigma called Taehyung was slowly crumbling down. It was terrifying, and it clouded his thoughts, now all he could think about was the desperate need to feel those lips on his once more, "A-again..." He whispered, so quietly it was barely audible, almost hoping Taehyung wouldnt hear it.

Taehyung heard it. Clearly.

And he didn’t budge when it came to giving Jungkook what he wanted.

Tae kissed the other once more, gently sucking onto his bottom lip as if asking for entrance, for permission to take it one step further.

The older’s hand slowly traveled down to Jungkook’s waist, snaking under the boy’s Jersey, gently squeezing at the bare skin, feeling Jungkook’s sweat against the palm of his hand.

Suddenly, a drive to feel more hit Taehyung like a truck.

Teasingly, the taller’s slender fingers brushed over Jungkook’s nipple as he stared down at him, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

Searching for a bigger reaction, Tae squeezed on the perky bud, lightly tugging at it here and there. Meanwhile, his hooded eyes were set on studying every movement in the younger’s face.

Jungkooks parted his lips even further in a gasp, allowing the kiss to deepen. He whimpered quietly, extremely responsive under Taehyungs ministrations on his nipple. His cheeks were more than just pink now, but a shade of rosey red, his chest starting to heave up and down heavier. His entire body was aching for him to do more, anything, and he was almost ready to beg at this point, eyes pleading with tae to continue

The sight of the younger’s body reacting in such a way was enough to awaken more than just Taehyung’s inner want for more; he felt himself begin to envision what it would be like if they took it a couple steps further, Jungkook whimpering.. just like he was now, so quiet yet so loud to Tae’s ears.

By now, the tent in the latter’s shorts had made itself obvious as his fingers continued to rub over Jungkook’s nipple, pinching the tip just for the fun of it.

“Let’s get the hell out of here, hm?” The older’s already deep voice seemed to get an octave deeper.

Taehyung finally pulled himself up from his spot on the ground, before extending out a hand for the other to take. If he wasn’t so clouded with lust, Tae would’ve been embarrassed at the fact that he had a massive boner in front of Jungkook.

But, as he led the younger downstairs, smaller hand in his, that was the least of his worries.

Jungkook nodded, eyes flickering between their joined hands and the floor as he blindly followed Taehyung to whever he'd take him. At this point, he'd go wherever for this man, his heart pounding heavily as he felt his own erection strain the fabric of his pants, lips pressed tightly together to keep his whimpers in check.

Taehyung halted in his quick steps upon reaching the familiar locker room, hand letting go of Jungkook’s as he peeked his head around, trying to make sure they were the only ones around.

Thankfully, no one else was in sight.

The older reluctantly turned back around to face Kook, hesitating on whether or not to place his hands on the latter’s waist.

At the end, he said ‘fuck it’ and needily pulled Jungkook close to him by the waist, trying so hard not to listen to the consciousnes in the back of his head..

With a bit of hesitation, Taehyung’s lips aimed for the crook of the younger’s neck, nuzzling his face into the warmth before beginning to press open-mouthed kisses along the skin.

He gently sucked on a spot, nibbling on it teasingly, wanting nothing more than to make Jungkook enjoy it just as much as he did.

“Tae...” Jungkook breathed out his name with a quiet moan, sensitive to every single touch. He places his hands palms flat on Tae’s chest, granting the man access to his neck by moving his head to the side. His needy erection grew harder, leaving little to the imagination through his basketball shorts. The aching throb between his legs was screaming for attention, however he did enjoy the slow buildup

The older, as much as he was turned on, didn’t quite know how to tackle this sudden.. urge to feel Jungkook; all of him.

Sure, he’s had sex in the past, too many times to keep track of. But he’d never gotten this close to another guy before.

It was one thing to watch gay porn, but when it actually came to showcasing what he’d seen through a screen.. it was nerve wracking.

Tae didn’t know where to begin.

The taller pulled his Jersey over his head, leaving him shirtless in front of the younger.

He guessed that was a better start than none.

However, almost as if someone else had taken over him, Taehyung drove Jungkook’s body back against the lockers, his kissing more rough, and his leg placed in the middle of the younger’s.

Jungkooks back hit the lockers with a loud thud, a yelp drowning in his throat, muffled by Tae’s lips. His jaw fell slack, granting the man access to his mouth. His body was almost shaking, this feeling and need so overwhelming that his skin is hypersensitive to every bit of attention it receives. This was like a dream, it felt surreal, how did he end up here? What was going to happen later? His thoughts were drowned out when he felt the friction of Tae’s leg against his crotch, and he wishes so desperately to be touched, rutting subtly against his thigh.

Growing needier by the second, Taehyung pulled away from their heated kiss to undo the strings in his shorts, hands shaky as they fumbled with the fabric.

The older’s bottom lip got caught in between his teeth in concentration, overgrown fringe falling down on his eyes like a curtain; a lot of secrets hidden behind his intense gaze.

Once he was left standing in just his boxers, Taehyung’s hands now tugged at Kook’s clothing, wanting to make it even.

In the heat of the moment, a little chuckle slipped past the older’s lips, “What the fuck kind of boxers are you wearing..?”

His eyes amusingly skimmed over the patterns engraved in the soft fabric, holding back his laughter.

Jungkook frowned, his cheeks on fire as he averted Taehyungs eyes, “fuck you...” he hissed, but his voice came out weaker than he wished it did. It cracked at the end into a whine, only causing his embarrassment to grow further. He was so vulnerable like this, exposed to the man that he’s been pining for, the very man he’s been trying to suppress his emotions for, trying to hate him. But he couldn’t. His hands were clawing at Tae’s shoulders, pressing his back against the wall to get some room to breathe within the thick intensity of the moment.

If he wasn’t such at a loss for words, Tae would’ve taken this opportunity to make fun of Jungkook, but it seemed like his mouth was too dry to even utter a letter.

His gaze traveled from the younger’s dorky boxers to his small waist, then to his abs.. his chest, neck, and lastly to his face.

Suddenly, Taehyung got the confidence to speak at the sight.

“You shy, Kook?” He smirked, not failing to take notice of the splash of red dusted on his cheeks.

He looked so.. vulnerable. Taehyung wanted to jump at the chance to corrupt him.

The older parted their distance, looking down at Jungkook with so much hunger in his eyes before swiftly turning him around, pressing his bulge against the younger’s ass.

Tae’s lips hovered above the other’s shoulders, pressing more kisses onto the side of his neck as he teasingly grinded his hips into Jungkook, getting that desperate friction he needed.

''N-no, a-ah...!'' He gave up on trying to argue him, another small noise drowning in his throat when he gets turned around, placing his palms flat against the lockers, his chest pressing against the cold surface. He whimpers when he feels Tae's lips on his neck, shivers running down his spine, goosebumps appearing on his skin. If anybody saw him in this state, his whole image as a jocked bad boy would be completely ruined. But at this moment, nothing mattered. Nothing mattered more than the greedy desperation he feels for Taehyung, he couldn't be physically satiated until he got everything. Jungkook bit his lower lip to prevent more whimpers from escaping, but to no avail, his pathetic noises muffled as his hips press back against Taehyung, his plump ass rubbing against the large bulge pressing on his behind.

Even Taehyung struggled to hold back his noises of pleasure as he stared down at the way Jungkook’s ass moved against him..

“Fuck..” The older grunted, increasing his pace as he continued to grind against Kook, but, that wasn’t enough.

He needed more.

In one swift movement, the boy’s underwear found itself down to his ankles, his cock springing up to slap against one of Jungkook’s cheek.

Now that various of thoughts rushed into his head, 90% of them were questions.

Had the younger even been fucked by a guy before?

Was he okay with this?

Shit—Taehyung didn’t want to think about that.

So, he settled for dismissing all of his thoughts and worries. How much more different could it be?

In a hurry, Tae soon tugged at Jungkook’s boxers as well, now leaving them both naked to the eye.

Fuck, Jungkook had a nice ass.

After gulping at the view in front of him, Taehyung brought two fingers up to his mouth, coating them with his warm saliva before aligning them to the smaller’s hole.

Without thinking twice about it, the older’s digits pushed past the initial rim of muscle.

He began curl and uncurl his fingers inside of Kook, making scissoring motions as well.

“You like that?” Taehyung leaned in to breathe onto the nape of his neck, the squelching noises of his fingers now pumping in and out of Jungkook bouncing off the walls of the locker room.

Jungkook held his breath at first, his body tensing up, but as he felt the wet digits against his ass he took deep, slow breaths to relax. Slowly, as Tae thankfully worked him gently, his wet fingers warm and thick, it wasn't uncomfortable. He wasn't unfamiliar with the sensation of fingers, as he's done it to himself countless of times, but Taehyung's fingers were larger, and with the obvious fact that they weren’t his own, they reached so much farther than his own ever could. Jungkook pressed his cheek against the cold surface of the locker, whispering out 'yes' to the question thrown at him, lips fallen apart as he no longer can remain silent, a sudden high pitched whimper rolling off his lips when Tae reached a certain spot inside of him. Jungkook was surprised by himself, not aware he could even make such a lewd noise.

As a response to Jungkook’s unexpected whimper, Taehyung’s fingers only worked faster than before. He pressed them further into him, wanting to reach Kook’s deepest places in hopes of hearing more of his moans.

The younger was so fucking tight; his cock couldn’t wait to get a taste of it.

After a few more minutes of Taehyung stretching him out, adding in an extra finger or two.. massaging Jungkook’s warm walls, he decided it was time to climb up the ladder.

Without any proper lube in sight, Tae opted for spitting onto the palm of his hand before beginning to jerk himself off, wanting to ensure all of his length was covered.

Taehyung might hate Jungkook’s guts, but he didn’t wish to hurt him.

Resting one hand on the younger’s shoulder, Tae used the other to direct his throbbing cock into the smaller’s entrance.

He could only get the tip in at first, as Kook was that tight.

“Shit.” The boy cursed, having to re-align himself before using some force to hopefully fit all of the remaining inches.

“A-ah.. fuck yeah..” Taehyung breathed out, biting down on his lip as he gradually planted himself deeper into the younger.

This felt.. new.

He was overtaken by a sudden blanket of warmth as he slowly began to move his hips, sinking his nails into Jungkook’s shoulder.

''Oh my g-- f-fuuck....'' Jungkook cried out as Taehyung moved inside of him, the feeling so overwhelming, he felt so full. His hands curled into fists against the locker, the urge to almost punch into the metal surface because he didn't know what to do with every feeling that was overtaking him. It hurt a little, and the whines he makes were a mix of pain and pleasure, but with every slow stroke against his insides, the pleasure overtook the pain, and his breathing turned into needy, shallow gasps.

When seeing Jungkook begin to visibly relax in front of him, the older’s thrusting gradually increased in speed. The hand that wasn’t holding onto Kook’s shoulder sneaked it’s way to the latter’s heaving chest, freely roaming around the soft skin before stopping at its desired destination.

With a harsh slap of Taehyung’s pelvis on Jungkook’s cheeks, the sound of their skin clashing against one another became more audible as Tae picked up his harshness.

“So tight..”

He hastily licked over his index finger before placing it back on the other’s nipple, multitasking while quickly flicking the perky bud and ramming into Jungkook’s hole.

Tae found himself holding back a bit, not using all of his strength just yet.

Just from the way the younger’s body had reacted to his fingers, Taehyung could tell this was new for Jungkook as well.

“So fucking good,” He hissed, hiding his sweaty face in the crook of the smaller’s neck whilst continuing to pound him from the back.

Jungkook's moans gradually became louder and breathier with every few thrusts, his hips starting to move on their own to meet Taehyung's advancing hips, sweat dripping from his face down his neck, his dark curls clinging to his skin, ''T-taehyu--ung..'' He cried out, glancing down to see the sinful sight of his nipple being played with, then down to his untouched cock, swollen and needy for friction. But even if he didn't receive any attention on there, he feels like he could still cum from the way his insides were abused either way, and it was an amazing feeling, he never wanted it to end, ''H-harder, harder, please...s-shit...'' His words were barely coherent, his voice higher in pitch, his legs starting to shake in bliss.

“Harder, huh?”

He repeatedly rubbed against Jungkook’s prostate, not sparing the latter any mercy as Taehyung began to unwind; he was letting down his defenses.

If Kook was ready for more, then he was going to give it to him.

The taller’s broad chest heaved from exhaustion, but he pushed through it nonetheless.

He wanted to catch a glimpse of Jungkook’s expression as he came, knowing it was bound to come soon.

Taehyung’s hand traveled down to the dip in the other’s back, pressing down on it so that Kook’s ass could press further against him.

The taller took notice of how Jungkook’s peach had taken on the color red, the corner of his lip inching upwards proudly.

“Ah.. fuuck,” Taehyung cursed out, feeling a familiar pooling of warmth begin to settle in his lower stomach the more his hips snapped against Kook.

Jungkook turned his head to the side, leaning his cheek against his arms that now served as protection from having his head repeatedly jolting against the lockers. His knees were growing weak, but it got easier when he had his back arched, however it changed the way Tae's cock was angled, and he felt himself being brought closer to the edge with every snap of their hips. His cock was desperate, aching and dripping with precum, it was more than ready to explode. When he couldn't take it anymore, he reached down with one of his hands to squeeze his shaft firmly, easing the painful aching by just a tad bit, ''I'm g-gonna.... '' His voice cracked into a sob, being so on edge but not quite able to get over the hurdle just yet was such a powerful feeling.

Taehyung’s cock snapped harder and deeper into Jungkook, feeling his energy falter, his thrusts lazy and out of rhythm.

The taller was close to his peak, and it was clear by the way his eyebrows were pinched together, lips slightly agape as heavy puffs of air slipped past them.

Every inch of Taehyung’s body was enjoying this.

“Are you..?” Before he was given the chance to finish his question, Kook’s broken voice was his answer.

Wanting to drive the both of them to ejaculation, Taehyung didn’t hold himself back. Not one bit.

After many curses, grunts, and moans later, the older’s cock twitched inside of Jungkook like a volcano before breaking loose, some of his cum seen trickling down the boy’s entrance.

“Fuck..” Tae whispered, having trouble regaining his breath.

Still panting, Taehyung pulled himself out of Jungkook before leaning his sweaty back against one of the lockers, thankful for the cool touch on his skin.

Jungkook came hard, his insides filled with cum and the floor beneath him stained with a pool of his own flowed, his cock twitching heavily in his hand as he jerks himself dry, a loud, drawn out cry echoing in the room. His voice was hoarse from all the moaning. Jungkook gasped quietly, breaths shallow and quick when he feels Tae withdraw himself, pulling out from his ass. The wet, thick sensation of Tae's seed dribbles down on the back of his thigh, and he could no longer hold his body up as he dropped to his knees within the mess of their cum, holding on to the bench. He didn't dare to look back, not yet. The way he had acted, and spoken was completely new. He didn't know how much he enjoyed being the subsmissive in this scenario, and now it'd just be another thing Taehyung would bully him for. Unless... Maybe, this was a changing point. Jungkook glanced back at the taller man, still working on catching his breath.

The second Taehyung had been caught sneaking a glimpse towards Jungkook’s direction, he quickly snapped his head the other way, jaw clenched.

“Uh, I um..” He didn’t know where to begin.

Should he begin at the kiss they shared on the dirty gymnasium floor?

..At the way he nipped at Jungkook’s skin?

When he toyed with the younger’s nipples..?

Just where the hell should he start?

“I’m gonna go.” Taehyung cleared his throat, not sparing the other another glance, suddenly feeling disgusted with what he’d done.

He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing back the strands that once stuck to his forehead when he began to dress himself, not wanting to spend another second naked in front of him..

‘What the fuck did I do?’

Taehyung repeated to himself, his back facing Jungkook as he struggled to make sense of his actions.

Without another word, he left Kook in the empty locker room, eyes trained ahead as Tae only had one motive: To get the fuck out of there.

Jungkook quietly watched as Tae left him, naked and alone in the locker room. He felt disgusting, used. On wobbly legs, he got up, groaning quietly at the wetness between his cheeks. He decided to take a quick shower, using the one by the locker room, turning the heat up so high that steam filled the room, letting the water boil at his skin, ''Fuck...'' He hissed, still unable to focus as all his mind keeps going back to, is the way Taehyung sounded while ramming into him, the rough but delicate ministrations of his hips, ''Get out of my head.. Fucker, fucker..'' Jungkook turned the water ice cold, numbing himself from thinking, freezing seemed to help better. After a long while, he got out, dried himself and got dressed in his normal clothes, packing his basketball outfit into the backpack he'd brought and exited the locker room. How was he ever gonna face Tae again? Were they a thing? Did they still hate eachother? Jungkook himself wasn't sure, but he never did hate him. He needed to find this out eventually, or it'd gnaw at his mind.

When Taehyung made his way to the school’s parking lot— about to angrily throw his backpack onto the backseat of his crappy car, he was met by Namjoon as he pulled up into the spot next to him.

“Yo, Taehyung!” Joon’s voice rang, stepping out of his car when he was met by a harsh welcome.

“Listen, if you’re gonna continue to bitch at me about this morning, I’m not in the fucking mood, alright? I already stayed after to practice.”

The younger drifted off, failing to catch the look of confusion attached to Namjoon’s face as he focused on remaining his cool, hands unconsciously balled up into fists at his sides.

“Tae.. I was just gonna say hey?”

The older’s brows furrowed, internally questioning why Taehyung’s panties were in such a twist.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?”

Namjoon crossed his arms over his chest, “You okay?”

He hoped that if he asked enough questions, it would be enough for Taehyung to give in.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Apparently Joon forgot he was talking to the Kim Taehyung, he should’ve never expected Tae to open up to him.

The only time the younger actually told him something somewhat personal was in fourth grade, when he admitted he, “needed to go poop.”

Not believing him for one second, Namjoon struggled to drop the subject. But, he noticed how much Taehyung looked like he wanted to get out of there, so he let it go.

“Well.. fine. Just know you can always talk to me, alright?” Joon said as he watched him get in his car, meeting Taehyung’s dimmed eyes for a split second before the latter drove away, far too fast for a school zone.

With a sigh, Namjoon brushed off their encounter for the moment being and made his way into the familiar doors. He’d forgotten his basketball uniform in his locker, and it was safe to say, it was time for a deep cleaning.

Just as he was about to make his way downstairs, he took notice of Jungkook.

“Kook!” He called out, waiting to meet him at the top.

“What are you doing here?” Namjoon didn’t fail to notice Jungkook’s small limp, hesitating whether or not to ask him about it.

“I saw Tae leaving as well, he was pissed off— wait a minute,” The Captain’s eyes widened, “you guys didn’t get into a fight, right? Is that why you’re limping?”

Nine times out of ten, Joon was the one who broke off their stupid arguments. It wouldn’t surprise him if things had actually gotten out of hand this time around.

Jungkook tensed, looking up at Namjoon with surprise. He quickly straightened his posture, ''Hi, I uh...'' He's never been a good liar, but he knows he couldn't tell anybody about this. Could he? Should he? No fucking way, Taehyung would literally strangle him to death. Jungkook's eyes flickered between Namjoon's before nodding hurriedly, ''Yeah, we got into a fight, it was nothing,'' He bounced on his leg a little, gritting his teeth to endure the small pain jolting through him, pretending his body is fine, ''I'm fine. I uh, I have to go now, so.. '' He shifted his weight between his feet, muscles in his legs aching as he just wanted to get away, starting to walk past Namjoon as he grips the strap of his backpack harder.

Namjoon let out one of his ‘shocked, but not surprised’ sighs, “Just ignore each other, how hard can it be?”

He mumbled, rubbing at his temples in utter frustration.

Joon wanted to say more, but Jungkook insisted he had to go.

So, he pressed his lips together, knowing he tended to overstep in people’s personal problems. It was a little flaw of his, but really he just wanted to help.

“Alright well.. see you tomorrow.” Namjoon waved the younger off, waiting until Kook was out of sight to do all of his pondering.

With a light shrug of his shoulders, Namjoon stayed put for one more second before making his way downstairs.

He just needed to remind himself to talk to Taehyung and Jungkook tomorrow morning, more like scold them.

Joon couldn’t have two of his best players take their anger out on each other, not when a big game was near.

Plus, they were his friends, so part of him worried about their own safety.

Jungkook was exhausted, and he had no car, so he sighed loudly as he opted to simply walk towards his place. It wasn't terribly far, but a good 20 minute walk. Actually, with a limp, make it 30...

As he finally made it home, he threw the backpack on the floor, and laid down on his stomach on the bed with a grunt. He had no energy left, but yet his mind went on to think about Taehyung. Where was he now? What was he up to? Did he think about him too? What the fuck is going to happen from now on...

Namjoon on the other hand, had gone through the lockers to grab his forgotten clothes, but also making sure nobody forgot anything. As he made his way towards the door to get out of there, he almost slipped, catching himself last second, ''What the hell..''

Joon looked down on his feet, a sticky mess stuck to the sole of his shoe, smeared along the floor in a small puddle. He crouched down, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. He took off his shoe to wash it, and before putting it under the tap water he smelled it and scrunched his nose, making a face, ''What the fuck is thi-'' His eyes widen when he realized exactly what it is, it's fucking cum. He washes it off, luckily he's got a very strong stomach, not easily disgusted by the liquid itself. However, he was wondering why the hell it was there in the first place. He pondered for a long while as he cleaned it up, being the way he is, and took his things and started leaving. His mind would rewind to when he met Taehyung earlier, he had just left the practice hall... Just moments before Jungkook, ''No way...''

He countered himself, but before he knew it, he had connected the dots for a possible scenario. So, Taehyung did not want to talk about something he was upset over, and Jungkook was limping, obviously in a hurry to leave... And then there was cum on the floor. Namjoon felt dizzy, rubbing his neck as he blinked several times, ''So they weren't fighting?''

Taehyung dreaded going home; he despised stepping into an environment that, in fact, didn’t feel like home at all. But, the more he drove further away from the school, the anger in his mind not having quite evaporated into nothingness yet, Tae figured ‘home’ was his only option.

He just prayed his deadbeat of a father wasn’t there, or if he was, that he wasn’t drowning his liver with one alcoholic beverage after the other.

It was a long shot, but the boy could hope.

After countless road rage moments later, Taehyung managed to pull up to his driveway without a single scratch.

Considering what happened last time, this was great news.

That reminded Tae, he needed to get his left view mirror replaced. It’s been a couple of days that he’d driven without it.

His heartbeat began to pound wildly against his ribcage after stepping foot into the medium-sized house, asking himself if he was the only one home.

Well, Taehyung guessed there was only one way to find out. Shutting the door behind him and carelessly letting his bag drop to the ground, the latter’s sharp eyes carefully raked around the living room, glad to see it was left untouched.

Then, for the biggest test of all, he opened up the refrigerator door.

Yes. The pack of beers were still in tact.

Without thinking twice about it, Taehyung reached for a bottle. He /needed/ some alcohol, having grown tired of thinking too much into things. Maybe this way he’ll learn to loosen up, his head hurt like a bitch.

For the remaining of time, Tae spent it up in his room, mindlessly browsing through his social media while occasionally downing the cold beer in his hand.

Sooner than he expected, the day’s light no longer peaked through the curtain cracks, and Taehyung couldn’t tell if it was because of the light alcohol in his system, or his inner fear of what could happen, but his finger found itself hovering above Jungkook’s contact.

Being a part of the basketball team, everyone was told to exchange numbers on the first day.

Namjoon made him and Kook cooperate, and now Taehyung might actually have an excuse to use it.

[Taehyung]: JK, don’t tell anyone about what happened, got it?...Use some panthenol on your butt, I read somewhere it should help with the pain or whatever.

Taehyung hesitated whether or not to include the last part, but he couldn’t be bothered to question himself anymore, so he pressed ‘send’.

Jungkook was laying in his bed when the phone chimed, groaning lightly as he stretched out to reach for the device laying on the floor next to his bed. When he saw the contact name, he coughed as he almost choked on his own breath, and out of reflex he threw the phone across the room, “Oh fuck...”

He was anxious, not knowing what this text would contain. It could be anything! What if he told him to never fucking come back to practice? Or that he’s going to kill him!... or.. something else?

Jungkook sighed as he got up off the bed, slowly walking over to fish his phone back into his hands that were shaking as he unlocked the screen.

“Don’t tell anyone about what happened...” he read it out loud to himself, and he felt like his chest tightened. Of course he’d say that. But, he didn’t say it couldn’t happen again.. he didn’t say to fuck off out of his life forever.

He read the ending of the text and almost felt like his lips were twitching into a dumb smile, because it was so unlike Taehyung to sound like he almost cared about him. Or at least his ass.

Jungkook hovered over the texting pad before he started to tap at the screen,

[JK]: Got it. But you didn’t say we should stop.. p.s thx for the butt tip.

Jungkook cringed at his own text, but was too tired at this point to overthink it as he tapped the send button. He had to know, or his soul would disintegrate. He already wanted more, and he hated himself for it. Why would he fall in love with the most emotionally blocked person on earth! Jungkook sighed with a frustrated groan following before throwing his head into a pillow to scream out his overwhelming feelings.

With a towel loosely wrapped around his waist, and toothbrush still in his mouth, Taehyung had just gotten out of the shower when he heard his phone’s familiar chime on the bedside table. Unable to put off his curiosity for after he was done getting ready for bed, Tae carelessly jumped onto his mattress, reaching over for the device before taking a look at who it was.

‘JK’

He felt that all knowing sensation of tightness in his chest, anxiety piercing through his veins. But, deciding that he wasn’t a pussy, Taehyung quickly tapped on the younger’s message.

After reading over it multiple times, he found himself still at a loss for words.

Honestly, Taehyung didn’t know what kind of response he was expecting from Jungkook.

Perhaps something like, ‘Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone, let’s forget about it.’

That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less.

But what he didn’t expect to read was what he received, and his body language proved that. His shoulders were tense, and his jaw was locked in place.

Tae ran a hand through his damp hair, repeating Kook’s words in his head.

‘But you didn’t say we should stop..’

What the fuck kind of dumbassery was that? And why wasn’t Taehyung opposed to the idea of it?

..Why couldn’t he stop thinking about it ever since he got home?

It got to the point where every time he looked down at his dick, he would be reminded of Jungkook.

God, his whimpers..

Taehyung was definitely out of it, surely the beer had something to do with it.

“Fuck.” He groaned out loud, closing his eyes for a moment.

He should just forget about it, pretend it never happened..

But something told him that was easier said than done.

Throwing his phone to the side, Taehyung decided he’d thought enough for one day, mind starting to blank every few seconds because of it.

He needed to sleep it off, and hopefully by tomorrow morning, everything would just blow off.

Shit, he was already dreading having to face Jungkook at practice, but it was a given.

Jungkook kept glancing over at his phone from time to time, sighing when he realizes that Tae wasn't going to answer him. He wasn't surprised though, why would he? This was a lot, he should've just said something else, anything, that wasn't putting their entire dynamic on the table. But he had to do it. He couldn't not do it... After a while, Jungkook's eyes felt heavy, burying his face into his pillow until he fell asleep, still replaying the way Tae's skin felt on his.

A/N: Surprise! This is part one of a series co-written with @velvetwicebang, (whom also made the banner!) this is a DM rp we’ve had going on for a while and I really wanted to share it(and keep it for myself to re read) because their writing is just too amazing!

Also, this is NOT Yandere! This is vastly different from my other content, but I hope many of you will love it either way.

#fic: Love maze #bts smut #bts high school au #taekook fic #taekook smut #bts mxm #vkook smut

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Best Part of Me - Chapter 1 (Six Months Later)

HUGE THANK YOU TO @tragiclyhip FOR THE AMAZING BANNER! BEAUTIFUL AS ALWAYS <3

WARNINGS: PROFANITY, Daddy Tyler (and not in the perverted way, so if that’s what you’re looking for, move along), fluff (is that a warning? lol)

TAGGING: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @thunderintheshadows, @innerpaperexpertcloud

The school is two blocks from the centre of Cooktown; a one story U shaped building situated on a dead end with two acres of fenced in green space and a large, elaborate playground. It's four miles from home, and while normally the kids take the bus, Tyler finds himself parking downtown to avoid the crowded street and parking, then back tracking. Crowds still bother him; too many strangers, too much noise, too much activity. His hyper-vigilance still very much a nuisance; instincts and reflexes always on high alert when away from the comfort and familiarity of home. A combination of new meds have helped considerably; he is no longer as agitated, his temper doesn't flare up as easily, and his anxiety attacks were less frequent.

Keeping busy helps. There is always something to do with fifteen acres of property, five kids to help raise, and a small side business that he and Ovi started together. He doesn't have the time to be bored or to allow his mind to slip away to the 'bad place'; caught up with being domestic and the familiarity and routine that comes with it He finds that he thrives on those things. Craves them, in fact. More than he ever thought that he would. Night is when things get especially hard; when everyone else is at rest and the pain and the lingering sleep issues keep him awake. He has time to think then. An opportunity to think about the life he had before. It's not that he misses it. There's no desire to return; he doesn't miss travelling the world, spending time away from his family, hurting people, killing people. But after so many years, the job has become so ingrained in him that letting go is proving to be harder than he thought it would.

When he arrives at the school, he lets himself into the property through the back gate, taking a winding cobblestone walkway to the side of the building; where he'd meet the kids instead of them being ushered to one of the waiting buses, joining dozens of other parents that wait for the dismissal bell. Half a year later and he still finds himself scanning the crowd and the surroundings; eyes taking in everything around him, brain always at the ready to spot anything even remotely suspicious or could be considered a potential threats. Even on a school yard or at a park, he's always on alert, filled with that lingering fear and worry that there is always the chance that someone is watching or waiting to catch him off guard. So he notices -as he always does on the rare pick up day- the attention that he garners. It's always from the mothers; the running joke at home that he's the 'insanely hot dad on the playground'. He's heavier now; a total of twenty-five points since Dhaka six years ago. Ninety percent of the extra weight being solid muscle. He carries it well; mostly through the chest, arms, and shoulders. Even in a simple pair of weathered jeans and a plain grey t-shirt it's noticeable, and he sees the way a couple of mothers huddle together and begin whispering between one another, sizing him up the entire time.

Adeline begins to fuss in the baby carrier he sports. She's two weeks old; impossibly tiny -a mere five pounds, ten ounces when she was born- and so much like her mother. A head full of dark, wavy hair, enormous dark eyes and the splatter of freckles across the bridge of her nose. The 'odd duck' they often affectionately tease; the other four looking -and for the most part acting- just like him. He lifts the corner of the receiving blanket shielding her from the sun, a palm gently cupping the back of her head, his thumb repeatedly brushing against her ear; effectively lulling her back to sleep before covering her back up. The only thing visible two tiny bare feet poking out from the bottom of the blanket.

The mothers take it as a sign to make their move, and soon he has half a dozen surrounding him. All wanting to see the baby, all asking questions at once: Name. Age. What kind of sleeper? What kind of eater? How many siblings?. Each of them reacting with wide, shocked eyes when he tells them that she's the last of five. It's surreal even to him sometimes. A little over six years ago he was close to putting a gun to his head, now he's attending soccer games and dance recitals and getting up in the middle of the night to change diapers and fetch bottles.

Millie is out shortly after the bell rings, chatting and laughing with classmates as she steps through the door. A My Little Pony backpack over her shoulders and Spiderman sandals on her feet; another drawing for the fridge clasped tightly in her hand. Out of the three older kids, she's the one that has adapted the best. Easily making friends, impressing the teacher with how intelligent and athletic she is, but never taking any shit from the bigger kids and the bullies on the playground. And she gives him a bright smile when she sees him, stopping momentarily to remove her shoes and stuff them in her backpack, then racing over in her bare feet.

“Hi daddy!” she chirps, and he wraps an arm around her waist and effortlessly hoists her up onto his hip. She takes his face in her hands, kissing him noisily before peeking under the receiving blanket. “Hi Addie,” she whispers, and then leans in to give her baby sister a peck on the nose. She'd been relieved when she hadn't gotten another brother. There'd been no need to trade this one in for a puppy.

“Let her sleep,” Tyler says, and places Millie on the ground. “Don't wake her up.”

She begins waving her classmates over to see her baby sister, and he finds himself crouching down to give the curious five and six year old's a look. His oldest proudly boasting about her 'brand spanking new' sibling and instructing them not to wake her up 'or else'. Tyler isn't sure what 'or else' means, but usually at home it's a warning to her brothers that she's about to kick some ass.

When he stands up, Millie's teacher is approaching. Young -late twenties to early thirties at the most- all long legs and torso and tiny waist; long blond hair always pulled back into a ponytail or tossed up into a messy bun. Always friendly. If not a little too friendly. Way too chatty and a little too 'touchy feely' as far as he's concerned. And he wonders if maybe that's just her personality; flirtatious by nature.

“Oh shit,” Millie grumbles, and rolls her eyes before giving a fake smile and an overly sweet, “Hello Miss Pence,” as her teacher arrives on the scene.

“Amelia,” she greets, and the soon to be six year old glares at her. “How nice of you to bring your dad along.”

She issues a sigh of exasperation. “I didn't bring him. He came to get us.”

“Don't be mouthy,” Tyler scolds, and she gives a pout and then wraps her arms around one of his thighs, her eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed as she stares daggers at her teacher.

“We haven't seen you in a long time,” Miss Pence gushes, and Tyler moves his arm away when she attempts to place her hand on it.

“I've been busy.”

“I've heard. Baby number five! Is this her?”

“Don't touch her,” Millie snaps. “My sister is sleeping.”

“She's sleeping,” Tyler confirms, and plucks the edge of the blanket out of the woman's hand before she can pull it back.

“And just so you know,” Millie continues. “My daddy is married. To my mom.”

“Okay...that's enough...” he gently admonishes his daughter. “Watch your tone with people. Easy now.”

“We're having problems with that,” Miss Pence sighs. “She's so smart but she gets....well, you know....so mouthy.”

“Only to people who deserve it,” Millie defends herself.

Tyler lays a hand on the back of his daughter's head, giving the teacher a polite smile. “My wife and I will take care of it.”

“If you ever want to call me so we can chat one one one about it, I can give you my...”

“My wife and I will take care of it,” he repeats, and the young blond holds her hands up in surrender and slinks away.

“What?” Millie asks innocently when he looks down at her. “I don't like her. I don't like how she looks at you, daddy.”

“Yeah? And I don't like you talking to her like you did. That's your teacher. You don't talk like that to your teacher. To anyone.”

“Well I don't like how she looks at you and I don't think mommy would like it either. And she was going to wake Addie up! What...” she places her hands on her hips and glares at him “...if she asks you out on a date?”

“I'm married. To your mom.”

“Miss Pence doesn't care.'

“Well, I do. I'm married to your mom and I'm staying married to your mom. So....”

“She probably wants to kiss you,” Millie huffs “And do other things. That make babies.”

He frowns, opening his mouth to reprimand her, only to be interrupted by the twins -already bare foot- racing towards them, accompanied by their teacher' a short, portly woman with shoulder length grey hair. A surprisingly tender and sweet woman despite her harsh appearance and constant stern expression.

“We had another one of those days,” she sighs, and lays a hand on TJ's head. “Not as bad as the others, but bad enough. Threw a chair, turned over a desk. I know things have been hard on him over the past few months. But we're running out of options and the principal is running out of patience.”

He wants to say 'fuck the principal'; the kid had just turned five, and was still struggling to adapt to a new life, in a new country, thousands of miles away from the only home he'd ever known. They're all struggling. In one way or the other.

“Dylan Patterson called me stupid,” TJ explains. “Twice! So...” he shrugs. “...I got mad.”

“Mad is never a good option,” his teacher says, and lays her hands on his shoulders. “And violence is never the answer.”

Tyler smirks. He wants to ask her if she's ever heard of killing two people with one garden rake. But he decides against it.

“I heard him say it, daddy,” Tanner speaks up. “I heard him call Teej stupid.”

“You just saying that because he's your brother and you want to protect him, or...”

“No! He really said it!” Tanner insists. “I heard him. I wouldn't lie about that.”

It's true. The kid never lies. Always coming clean and fessing up for things that he does.

“Daddy,” Millie tugs at his arm, and motions for him to lean down, then presses her mouth to his ear once he does. “Dylan Patterson is a dick head. He's mean to everyone.”

He frowns. “You're sure?”

Millie nods, then bounces up and down on her heels, obviously proud of herself for solving the problem.

Tyler decides to dismiss the teacher and her concerns. For now. TJ's problems are no secret. Behavioural issues that had seemed to start out of nowhere and just escalating; a hair trigger temper that he can't seem to control and doctors seem at a loss when it comes to treating. They -parents and physicians alike- keep hoping it will pass; that being in a new house, new school, new country will just get easier on him and his problems with pass as quickly as they developed. Or that as he matures, he'll mellow out.

“Okay guys...we gotta go...” he checks backpacks; making sure they have everything they need to come home with them and there won't need to be any trips back. Lunch bags, shoes, homework. The latter seeing absurd for that kids that young. “...we gotta pick some things up for mommy.” He lays a hand on the back of Millie's head, gently moving her in front of him, the twins sidling up beside him, each grabbing a pocket on his jeans.

“I hope you and your wife will talk about this!” TJ's teacher calls after them. “We need to get a handle on this!”

He gives a polite, tight lipped smile over his shoulder, then looks down at the kids and grumbles, “Let's get the fuck out of here.”

All three kids burst into hysterical laughter.

****

They run errands in town; picking up a small load of groceries for that night's dinner and breakfast in the morning, and a special treat for mommy at her favourite store in town: a small cafe that caters in cupcakes and nothing but. Afterwards Tyler takes them to the park; a chance for them to expel any excess energy that school didn't flush out of their systems. It's empty and he's grateful for that; even the smallest of interactions at the school have him feeling anxious. All the mothers that had flocked around him, the 'too friendly teacher', having to listen to someone fake sincerity when talking about his son's issues. He prefers keeping to himself; the occasional trip into town for groceries or prescriptions or things at the hardware store more than enough to fulfill his desire to be out in the public. Craving solitude; perfectly content to just stay in his own or on his own property. He knows that isn't logical; he needs to be a functioning member of society and the only way to heal some of the past pain and trauma was to get out of his comfort zone. To challenge himself. And he hadn't even realized just how deeply his mental issues effected him until one day the mere idea of going into a grocery store was enough to bring on a panic attack; the thought of the crowd and the noise and having to actually talk to people.

It's disheartening, to say the least. When you look in the mirror and no longer recognize yourself. He'd thought that it would be different; the job and the horrors that often came with it turning him into a tougher person, not a weaker one. It doesn't matter how strong he was on the outside; on the inside he often feels weak and vulnerable and absolutely fucking hates it. Even at an empty park he can't fully relax; eyes constantly scanning the treeline instead of concentrating solely on his children, attention diverted from them with each car or pedestrian that passes by. He despises it; the seemingly constant state of alertness. By now he'd thought it would be getting better; it's been six months since he's left the job. But it only seems to be getting worse.

Still, he toughens it out; planting a smile on his face, trying his best to acknowledge every time one of the kids yells 'daddy look!', resisting the urge to constantly survey his surroundings.

He's sitting on one of the park benches -baby laying along his as he feeds her from a bottle he'd brought with him from the car- when his namesake saunters over, yawning loudly as he plops down beside. Lying down on his side with his legs tucked into his core, head resting on Tyler's thigh; reaching out to take hold of the bottle, so his dad can drape his arm over him.

“What's up?” Tyler asks, as he rubs his son's shoulder. “Tired?”

TJ shrugs.

“You wanna talk about what's going on at school? Because what the fuck, mate?”

TJ looks up at him, grinning.

“Don't tell your mom I say that word around you guys, okay?”

“Okay,” TJ agrees, and once against rests his cheek on Tyler's leg.

“You can't do sh...things...like that at school. You can't do them anywhere. Not even at home. I know you get pissed off but you can't freak out like that. Throw chairs and desks and sh...stuff...like that. You just can't. You hear me?”

“I can't help it,” his son says. “I really can't.”

“What do you mean you can't? You know what you're doing, yeah? Well if you know what you're doing, you can help it. You've got to calm down. Take a breath when you feel like that. Ask the teacher to leave the room. We talked about this. More than once.”

“I can't help it,” TJ insists. “It just happens. I just get so mad. I get so mad and I just do things.”

“What makes you mad?”

“I don't know. Lots of stuff. When there's too much noise and I can't hear the teacher. When someone chews their food too loud. When someone says mean things. Not just me but to other people. Makes me want to punch them right in the face!”

“Well let's not go around punching people in the face, okay? You need to learn to calm yourself down. You can't act like that. Not at school, not at home, not anywhere. Do you see me throwing stuff around when I get mad?”

“No. You just yell a lot. And really loud too.”

“Okay, well that's not exactly the best way to handle things either,” Tyler admits. “I shouldn't yell like that. Especially not at your mom. And especially not at you guys. It's scary, yeah? When I yell?”

“A little,” TJ says. “It's a little scary.”

It hurts his heart to hear that; he remembers being a scared little boy hiding in his bedroom closet as his father went on rampages. But he never stopped at just yelling; he took things that extra step, using his fists and his feet and anything he could get his hands on to terrorize Tyler's mother. And eventually Tyler himself. And he swore he'd never be like that. That he would never, ever cause that same kind of torment.

“I hate my brain,” his son laments. “I hate how it works. It doesn't work right.”

Tyler sighs. He can understand that feeling; his own brain is a fucking disaster. He can't help but wonder if maybe some of this is his fault. If maybe he's always been messed up but it didn't surface until he was older. If maybe Austin's cancer and his abandonment of him had been what kick started the whole thing. And if maybe he's the reason why TJ is the way he is. That he's passed down some damaged gene that is causing his namesake the issues he's going through.

There it is. Guilt. It always finds him. Regardless of the situation.

“You'll fix it, right daddy?” TJ asks, those blue eyes full of tears as he looks up at him. “My brain? You'll fix it right?”

Tyler gives him a reassuring smile and leans down to press a kiss to his son's forehead. “I'll do my best, mate.”

****

She's in the kitchen when they arrive home, engaged in a heated discussion with someone over the phone. Leaning stomach first against the island, cordless phone pressed to her ear, a pad of paper in front of her, alternating between twirling a pen between her fingers and angrily tapping it against the granite. Declan on the floor between her feet; busily -and happily- emptying out the entire contents of the pots and pans cupboard. And she glances up as they all enter, giving a small, weary smile before turning her attention back to the phone call at hand.

He sets the baby carrier on the floor and tends to the kids' usual after school routines. It's something so simple and seemingly mundane, yet he likes the simplicity of it. The same thing, every day. Nothing unexpected. He'd spent too many years dealing with that kind of bullshit; things going wrong, having to think quick in order to keep himself (and sometimes others) alive, always having to 'expect the unexpected'. Now even the simplest of things gives him a sense of stability and calm. Even if it is unpacking school bags and cleaning out lunch pails, getting the kids to take their homework outside onto the back porch, and setting them up with the snacks that Esme has already laid out on their favourite coloured plates.

“They put me on fucking hold,” she whispers to Tyler as he steps back into the kitchen, laying a hand on her hip and pressing a kiss to the side of her head in greeting. “Twice! Fucking twice! You should talk to these assholes.”

“You're way scarier than I am,” he teases, and crouches down to clean up the mess that Declan has made; it's the OCD tendencies that have cropped up with the PTSD; a need for cleanliness and organization, which are extremely hard things to achieve with five kids in the house.

“They're such dicks,” Esme grumbles, and then giggles and directs a kick in his direction when he presses a kiss to the back of her neck, the scruff of his beard scraping against the sensitive skin. “Do you mind?” she squeals and wriggles away when she feels the scratch against the back of her other knee. “And would you get your son out of there? He's been a little shit since we woke up. Getting into everything. Dumping the dog food, dumping the water bowl, getting into the toilet.”

“He's a ginger, what did you expect?” he scoops Declan up off the floor, a hand on the back of that strawberry blond head as he presses a kiss to the toddler's cheek. “Aren't they all trouble?”

“Well if you hadn't have left me alone with the cable man, he would have been yours,” she retorts, and then gives him a wink and a playful slap to the stomach.

“Who are you talking to anyway?” Tyler asks, as he slips Declan into his high chair, tightly securing the straps. The kid is fearless and way too smart for his own good; able to get himself out of even the toughest of situations. Tall and solid. Impossibly strong for someone so young.

“Well I'm not actually talking to anyone right now. But it's the school board. About your son.”

“Yeah....apparently he had 'one of those days',” he makes air quotes around the last four words, then grabs a bottle of water and a cup of juice out of the fridge; handing the latter to Declan.

“He's been having one of those days three times a week for six months,” Esme sighs, and begins tapping the pen even harder against the counter top. 'And you're telling me that they can't help him? Like that's their bloody job. Hi...yes...hello...” she rolls her eyes as someone finally comes back on the line, her voice sugary sweet but her facial expression clearing indicating she's ready to commit a homicide.

He unbuckles the baby from the carrier and lays her along his forearm, body swaying back and forth ever so slightly as he stands at the sliding glass door watching the three oldest as they huddle together; more chatting and giggling than doing actual homework. He can vividly remember each one when they were as young as the one currently in his arms. It seems like a lifetime ago; bringing Millie home from the hospital, to that little apartment just outside of Sydney, scared shitless about being a father again. He'd never thought he'd get another shot at it; his first time around had ended horribly and he didn't think he deserved another chance at being a dad. He didn't sleep for months after she came home, terrified that something would happen to her if he dare closed his eyes. Obsessively checking on her every on the hour to make sure she was still breathing.

It had gotten a little easier with the twins; he wasn't as anxious and paranoid once Tanner was well enough to be released from the special care nursery. And by the time Declan arrived, he;d hit his stride; much more comfortable with being a dad to a newborn, not panicking if the baby slept through the night, no longer having nightmares of something bad happening to them.

Addie is different though. Impossibly tiny; much more fragile and vulnerable than any of her siblings had seemed. She looks up at him as he holds her, those huge dark eyes locked on his, as if burrowing into his very soul. And he adjusts his hold on her; placing her against his chest, a forearm under her bum, a palm on the back of her head. Pressing a kiss to her cheek and closing his eyes ; enjoying that small moment between him and his daughter. His last child. The smell that clings to her clothes and hair, the feel of her soft breath against him, and how those tiny fists clutch at his t-shirt and she nestles her face into his shoulder.

“I understand that the school is getting frustrated,” Esme says behind him, and he turns to watch her, amused by the way she multitasks; easily moving between activities, never losing her stride. The phone held to her ear with her shoulder, pulling things out of the fridge for dinner, grabbing Declan goldfish crackers for a snack, snagging a bottle of water for herself. “But believe me, no one is as frustrated as we are,” she continues. “We've been waiting four months to get into a developmental pediatrician closer to home and we are not taking our five year old all the way to Sydney to see some biased hack that the board has in its back pocket.”

Tyler grins as he listens to her; feisty, tenacious. Two of the things that he'd initially attracted to. She'd walked into his place in the outback as if she'd owned it, not the slightest bit put off by his dismissive demeanour or the sight of the bottles of medication and booze. A five foot nothing spitfire that weighed a buck twenty soaking wet and handled herself with a confidence most men twice her size didn't possessed. She'd been unlike any woman he'd ever known before. A challenge that needed be solved. Sometimes she still is. Even six years later.

And she's still as beautiful. Even in a simple pair of black leggings and one of his t-shirts, hair pulled back in a simple ponytail. She's heavier now; breasts larger, hips wider. But she's had five babies. His babies. And that fact makes her even more beautiful in his eyes.

“Listen,” she huffs in exasperation. “You are not going like it if my husband starts handling all this. Because he doesn't have a filter and he won't be as polite as I'm being. So if you'd rather deal with him, that's fine. But the last time didn't go so well for you, did it.”

He smirks and sips his water.

“In fact, he's right here if you want to talk to him. I'm sure he could manage to get through to you. Because you aren't listening to a damn thing I'm saying.” She frowns, then removes the phone from her ear and stares at it. “They hung up on me. Those fuckers.”

Tyler grins. “You just had to drop the big and bad husband card on them, didn't you. You just had to make them shit their pants.”

“Assholes,” she grumbles, and tosses the phone down onto the counter. “I'm tired of dealing with their shit. You deal with it from now on. They'll listen to you.”

“They're not listening to me. They're scared of me. There's a difference.”

“Well scare them then. First they treat our kid like complete and utter shit, then they hang up on me?”

“Want me go down there and kick some ass?”

“I'd say yes if I knew it would do something other than getting you arrested. Ughhh....” she places her hands on his hips and rests her forehead against his chest. “So frustrating! This is bullshit having to deal with this. Why can't they just help him?”

“Too much work, I guess. Too many kids need help and there's not enough people to help them.”

“Now is not the time to be diplomatic, Tyler,” she sighs, then looks up at him. “Hi, by the way.”

He presses a chaste kiss to her lips. “Hi.”

“How was she?” she places a hand on the baby's back, rubbing softly.

“Perfect. She was an angel.”

“So was Lucifer.”

“Are you seriously comparing my daughter to the devil?”

“Oh so she's just your daughter now, is she?”

“When you talk shit about her like that she is,” he teases.

“I thought Millie had you wrapped around her finger. This is even worse.”

“She's the last one. Last time we get something like this. I figured I have to enjoy every second of it.” There would be no more. Their home and their hearts full. And it was medically impossible, unless his surgeon had entirely fucked up the procedure.

“You really are very good at the big, strong man with a baby thing,” she muses. “It's a very attractive look on you. Especially now that you look like a sexy lumberjack.”

He smirks. “You and this sexy lumberjack shit.”

“It's true! It's exactly what you look like now.” Almost a full thirty pounds heavier than when they'd first met; thighs thicker and more powerful, wider through the chest and shoulders. His hair short and unruly; the quintessential 'bed head' look. His beard fuller yet not untamed. “I like it,” she says. “It suits you. And you were okay? While you were out?”

Tyler nods.

“I was surprised when I woke up and saw your text. That's brave of you. All those thirsty moms on the school yard. They haven't seen you in a while. I'm surprised you made it home. That no one scooped you up and took you home with them.”

“Were you hoping someone would or...”

“Baby, I'd miss you way too much. Who else would get the spiders and the snakes out of the house?”

“So that's why you keep me around.”

“Well there's other things too. I mean, you are pretty nice to look at it. Every woman deserves her own eye candy. And you're very easy to wake up to in the morning.”

He drops a kiss on the top of her head. “You're kinda okay, I guess.”

“Kinda okay,” she laughs, and then smacks him on the ass before heading back to start dinner. “You'd miss me if I was gone.”

Tyler nods in agreement. She has no idea just how much.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fiction #tyler rake fan fic #best part of me #extraction #chris hemsworth character

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avesagittarius · 5 years

Text

lost mal-evolence // 8

WORD COUNT // 3010

an ! PLease forgive me for the ENORMOUS delay, I don’t even have an excuse but just starting back up this series. Send ask if you don’t wanna be on the taglist anymore, sorry everyone i know im a disappointment lol

summary ! The youngest of the Maximoff siblings had lived through heartbreak twice now. First her parent’s death and then her older sibling’s abandonment. She did not know what she had done wrong, only that she searched for them for 3 years before HYDRA recruited her. She joined them when she learnt Pietro and Wanda had came here after leaving her. Now 6 years after their departure, she was in the process of becoming HYDRA’s best asset ever.

part one part dos part tres part quatro part cinco part seis

part siete

________________________________________________________________

At dawn, when the sun starts to rise in the sky, the various shades of orange, yellow and pink illuminating the sky, that’s when Pietro used to feel the most peaceful. Of course, that was before they went and discovered the rampage that fueled his baby sister on the run. Before he saw what years of abandonment had done to her.

A few months ago, Pietro would have loved getting up before everyone else and go on his morning run, running faster than the forever circulating cars of New York City, when the city was awakening. He’d sometimes even go as far as the Liberty Statue, so he could admire the lady in the morning light, without the sea of tourists.

But now everything had changed, and he felt that when he woke up and had to force himself out of bed. When he didn’t have the motivation to go around the city, when looking at the rising sun didn’t feel as tranquil as it did before.

He could only think about her, Amalya.

Wondering where she was at this second, what she could be doing, how she was feeling. The overwhelming feeling of helplessness enveloped him once again. Pietro felt useless.

What was he going to become if he couldn’t even look after his own little sister?

He didn’t feel deserving of the Avengers. He felt like all they had done since they rescued him and Wanda from HYDRA was helping them, and all he could do was joke around and make mistakes on missions.

He was startled when he heard the knock on his door. To his surprise his body got up and went to open the door, but it felt as if he was far away from it. Like he was watching his body move from the outside.

Outside the door stood a very concerned Wanda, immediately she entered the room taking Pietro into her arms.

“Piet’ why are you crying ?” her voice was soft and worried, as usual these days.

But Pietro pushed her away to feel his wet cheeks, he hadn’t even realized he was crying until his sister told him so.

He dried his tear-stained cheeks and smiled sadly at the witch. Then, proceeded to shrug, not knowing how to express his feelings out loud, not really wanting to share either.

“You know we’ve told you a thousand times that it is not your fault ! Why do you keep doing this to yourself Pietro it isn’t healthy for you to think all this” Wanda felt she had to check up on everyone’s state daily, at least it prevented her from letting her thoughts wander.

“I can’t help feeling this way you know!” The tears building up in his eyes made him hate himself even more, he wished he could just find his sister in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.

“Well it isn’t easy for any of us right now, but could you try at least? For her?”

“Don’t you think I know that it isn’t easy for you for me or for anyone in this fucking tower ? I know it okay? But none of you abandoned her like I did, so please please Wanda leave me the fuck alone and don’t tell me how to feel.”

The hurt in her brother’s voice wasn’t like any she had ever heard, she wasn’t used to seeing him so torn and hurt, she couldn’t even be mad at him feeling what he felt, she was left speechless.

“Stop getting into my head please Wanda” He had always been annoyed when she searched for something in his head and had somehow found a way to block her out, which he did right away.

He didn’t want her to find out yet, he knew she wasn’t ready.

Not that he was either.

∆ While the Avengers were slowly starting to awaken in the Tower, it was already mid-afternoon in far-east Europe.

On her 10th day of running, Mal woke up startled by a loud knocking on the door. Whoever was behind it did not seem friendly enough for her to open it. A man was bellowing in Russian on the other side, his energy felt angry and annoyed.

Even though the sixteen-year-old girl had nothing to be afraid of, considering the amount of chaos she could bring up in just about three seconds, she didn’t feel safe.

After all, she had broken into a small cottage on the outskirts of a city through the backdoor. She just needed to sleep for a while, rest and eat so she could go on. The adrenaline from the first few days following the escape was slowly starting to dissipate and the heaviness of her fatigued body slowed her down.

Her muscles were tired of all the running, the calves of her feet had started to harden, not used to so much exercise in so uncomfortable shoes. The young girl had had to change clothes often in order to hide her identity from the people on the streets, especially the agents that she could recognize easily and were dispatched in small groups all over the country.

Her disappearance from the facility had caused a real panic over at HYDRA headquarters. A real man-hunt had been put in place, so they could retrieve the girl as soon as possible. In fact, the government had even been informed -not to the extend as knowing that she was a mutant- of her escape.

Upon hearing the very disturbing and worrying news, the authorities had put word on the street of this girl who was wanted by the government. Her image could be seen everywhere, on all medias allowed in Russia they were displaying nearly 24/7 a picture of her face.

As she had no money, she couldn’t buy herself any food, any clothes, anything to allow her to survive.

All she could do was steal or mend, which was rendered difficult for the most part considering every corner she turned, the police was there looking for her.

She doubted most of them knew what she was wanted for. She knew the evil organization wouldn’t ever compromise their mission, their goal. They were a secret.

She was a secret.

But she had escaped, and they had been forced to reveal her identity to the world. Now she most definitely knew that she couldn’t ever return or be found. They would hurt her, for disobeying, for hurting their men, for exposing herself to the world.

As she was slipping out the backdoor once again, the front one flew open and she ran. Cursing herself for waking up so late. Now she was sure the man was going to report forced entry and the authorities could find any kind of stuff belonging to her. From hair to her socks, they would be able to retrace her steps.

Great, now she had to change plans entirely.

The city she had just entered was situated on the Russian border, she was so close but so far. Because a mistake like the one she had just made could cost her everything.

At least, if the man had seen her run he wouldn’t be able to give the same description of her as the one the photo showed. After the four first days, she had been lucky enough to find a DIY-hair dye lotion in a supermarket trash.

She was ashamed of having to search through the garbage to get what she needed, but at the end of the day she didn’t have a lot of options. So now she had somewhat icy blonde bleached hair which made her blend in more in the big crowds of Russian girls. The dye wasn’t all that great though, it had hurt her scalp and even though she had followed the instructions she knew the color wasn’t going to last very long.

The only option she felt like she had was to cross the border before the sun set, today. Because finding shelter for the night would be way harder than it had been, the borders being heavily controlled at all times.

Mal knew she was probably only two kilometers away from Ukraine, which was less than a 30 minutes’ walk. It seemed so easy, too easy. That is why she felt more comfortable waiting for the night to come and the sun to come down, it felt safer. Like the night would hide her away.

After a little time of walking by herself and looking over her shoulder from time to time she entered the space of a small coffeeshop not too far away from the border. She had found some change laying around in the house she had stayed in the previous morning and decided best to wait silently in an unknown shop.

Even with a full plan in head Mal never even thought that she would eventually have to leave the coffee shop. She had stayed there all day, reading magazines and ordering the cheapest thing on the menu with the little money she had found in the house’s cabinets in the morning.

It was now 8pm and she was outside, kicking herself for not thinking that guards would be covering the entire area for the night, being this close to the border had left her with too much hope it had clouded her judgment. She now had to find a way to reach it without bringing any suspicion upon herself.

At least she had managed to go through the whole day unnoticed.

She was glad for the combat boots on her feet, the cold wind harshly wiping her face wouldn’t have been so kind with her extremities. She kept walking, grateful for the busy city she had chosen as a last stop before freedom.

She wondered what that felt like, to truly be free. Not like that feeling she had in the train but truly being able to enjoy a moment, without having someone monitoring you or having to constantly look over your shoulder.

The experiment she had gone through with Hydra’s surgeons and scientists had sadly blurred some of her childhood memories. The face of her parents wasn’t clear enough for her to draw a perfect family picture, but surprisingly enough she could remember the exact conversation her brother and sister had had before abandoning her. Memories like these only fueled her rage to get back at them, her entire life had been about being good enough for them, and she now knew she had sacrificed so many things just to realize they had never cared.

Knowing she couldn’t stay in one place for more than a few minutes without a guard looking at her suspiciously, she decided to keep moving and chose the most direct way to the border, hoping her plan would work.

And so, she walked, her mind still trying to make out the color of her mother’s eyes, and her dad’s voice.

∆ The chaos that was taking place in the Tower was like no other. It didn’t resemble anything that any of them had encountered before. Nothing like one of Tony’s after parties or like a fight between Sam and Pietro. The tower was bustling, the Avengers hurriedly trying to get all of their stuff together so they could be flying as fast as possible.

Thanks to one of Fury’s sources, they had been informed about some of the young girl’s whereabouts. The conclusion made had been that she would try to cross the border tonight or during the following day. So, here they were, changing into gear and getting the jet ready.

“Is everyone ready?” Steve’s voice boomed out throughout the main room, making everyone still their actions and look at him, “We have to leave, now, or else we’ll be coming back empty-handed once more”.

People around him had concentrated faces, even if there wasn’t going to be a fight, nobody was taking this mission lightly. It was important for them to be concentrated, for once no one dared to try and lighten the oppressive and tensed atmosphere, all too preoccupied to try and make a joke.

The lack of response from his teammates would have troubled Steve if he, himself had not been worried about his best friend and the twins. He had tried to get them to stay at the Tower and not go on the mission, unfortunately, all his good intentions were not taken into account when the conservation exploded into an argument.

Of course, the twins had to come. If anyone was going to save their baby sister, it had to be them. Not only did they feel responsible for what had happened to her, but they couldn’t even bear the thought of staying one more day stuck in the Tower with nothing to do and no new information.

Steve had, in the end, stopped trying to persuade them, knowing the discussion would not lead anywhere near a sound decision. He knew they would do anything to get her back and know what happened, but what he feared most was Pietro’s need for revenge. He could see it in his eyes, and feel it in his attitude, Hydra’s touch on his sister was not something that he was willing to just let go. He was afraid that getting her back would never be enough for him.

Another thing on Steve’s mind was Bucky.

The winter soldier had been even more serious than usual. He was always either working out and destroying punching bags or in the lab uselessly trying to be of some help to locate the girl. Steve knew her situation bothered and angered his friend, but he was scared of the consequences participating in such a mission could have on him.

Bucky was a grown man, but another encounter with Hydra was never something he could truly be prepared for. The memories and experience he had with them were still there, and always would be. Steve wondered why his best friend, even with everything he had been through at Hydra’s hands, was still so committed in finding the girl.

Steve was now sitting on the quinjet, still drowning in worry when Natasha sat next to him, snapping him out of his trance like state.

“If you frown any more, even your super-soldier serum won’t be able to prevent the wrinkles you’ll have.” She lightly tapped his shoulders in way that wanted to be comforting.

Steve chuckled, the first time since the news had been delivered.

“I’m worried about them”

“Everyone is” She looked around at every single one of their teammates, “We can’t take another failing in this mission, we’ve worked too much, it’s taken a toll on everybody”

“I know, we’ll find her.”

The rest of the flight was spent in silence. The thick and tensed atmosphere felt almost suffocating but no one dared to talk.

∆ As Mal approached the border, she knew her plan was working when the guards around her were too preoccupied with the crowd forming on the square not too far. No one was looking at her, the distraction she had conceived working like a charm giving her the perfect opportunity to escape and slip through Hydra’s grip. Coming up to the last one of the guards who had stayed behind to keep watch, she extended her hand to give him her fake identity card.

He looked at it intently and asked her why she was going out of the country. She answered and when he looked back down, his eyes widened, and she knew her cover was blown. Panicked, she punched him violently in the throat, the man dropping unconscious on the floor.

Adrenaline pumping through her veins, she ran as fast as she could and when she stopped running, any notion of time she could have had before was lost. Trying to regain her breath she looked around her.

Kneeling in a clearing covered in snow, the only thing surrounding her were trees. Both a blessing and curse she thought, she could hide in the forest, but her footprints were the only ones here, she knew she had made a mistake by choosing to go off the roads. Because her prints would be easily recognizable and the clouds not presenting any sign of snow did nothing to reassure her.

Her head was spinning with the amount of blood rushing to her head because of the running, preventing her from thinking straight and establishing a plan. The exhaustion from the past few days was starting to show its face and she knew that if she didn’t keep moving, she would pass out in the middle of this beautiful clearing.

But before she could even try and define the first step of her plan, she heard the shouts of men behind her.

Head spinning around, she turned and could feel the earth trembling with each soldier’s footstep. Tears of frustration now spilling on her cheeks, she knew she didn’t have time to run, especially now that she had been discovered.

Concentrating, she mustered up all the energy she had left and prepared herself for the battle running towards her. Electricity buzzing through her system, just itching and begging to be let out, she breathed in.

But before she even had the time to exhale, the sound of an engine sounded all around her. The clearing before illuminated by the moon’s soft light was now pitch dark, the aircraft blocking out any of that light.

Mal didn’t panic, she didn’t faint like she thought she would.

She got angry.

Fury flooded her veins and raged through her being like a hurricane upon being surrounded. She was ready to fight, once again, she wouldn’t stop because she was so angry and tired of people trying to take her freedom away from her. She had enough.

She wasn’t going to go down without a fight. They would know just what she was truly made of.

They would understand just how much power she had, because no one would take her liberty again.

And when she the jet finally landed, Mal exhaled, her eyes turning the deepest shade of amethyst.

________________________________________________________________

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