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savebatsfromscratch · 9 months ago

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Hockey Watching - Palletshipping Week 1 (Roommates)

Summary:

Gary and Ash watch a hockey game together. (Au notes in final note in ao3 version, I put them at the top in this one.)

Notes:

Prompt: Roommates Note: The first thing I went to was watching a Hockey game together. …for some reason. I kinda made up my own Pokemon world teams, but feel free to imagine your favorite team I guess. (Though if it’s not the Sabers I don’t want you here. /light hearted) Also, for the record, they’re kind of American coded in this one. Whoops. I apologize for this look into my mind. Cws: Surprise kiss, sort of nonsensical writing Words: 1,791

End Notes:

…dude this is such a mess. (<- did not even try to edit it.) Here’s a fun secret, I headcannon Blake (from Pokemon Adventures) as a Hockey player, and I made his number his dexholder number! :D I also headcannon Jun (from Pokemon Diamond and Pearl Adventure) as a Hockey player, and I made his number “3” because he has three total pokemon lol. I also put Hareta (from the same series) on his team and made him number “1” because that’s the number of my favorite Sabers goalie. :3 I also Headcannon Barry and Jun as triplets (the third being Pearl from Pokemon Adventures.) I also had to make up a last name for both Jun and Blake. For Jun I gave him “Aemilius,” because I went the roman route and it “was originally derived from the Latin word aemulus, which referred to equal or rival.” (iGENEA) And I gave Blake Rasmussen because it starts with an “r” sound and so does his Japanese name AND Rasmussen would look SICK on a Hockey jersey.

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54803911

Prompts from here: @/shigerussato

Fic under the cut!

Gary plopped down on the couch in front of the already flickering TV, one hand clutched around a large can of some gross thing that Delia had bought them, and the other clinging desperately to an overfilled bowl of chicken wings. Already on the couch, Ash laughed and turned up the volume on the TV with the remote that he had apparently located. (Last time Gary had checked in, the two of them had been pretty sure that that thing was gone for good.)

“Is the game on yet?” He asked, setting the huge cup down on the coffee table (and releasing a short prayer that it wouldn’t spill) as he looked up at the current rush of ads across the television screen, “Who’s winning?”

Ash giggled and got halfway through a, “Not yet Oak,” before stopping and realizing that something was still missing from their Hockey watching spree. “Um, you did get us napkins, right?”

Gary looked around himself, and though he saw Ash’s fingerless glove clad hand already covered in Buffalo sauce, hovering unsurely about the rest of the chicken wings, he saw no napkins. “Oh dang it,” He let out an exasperated cry and smacked a hand to his forehead, “I forgot them in the other room, here, I’ll get them-,”

He went to stand, but all of a sudden the announcer sprang to life before them.

“Welcome to today’s game of Hockey,” he was saying, voice strong and accented like an old radio star, and speaking just as fast, “We’ve got a very interesting match up today,”

The second announcer interrupted, sounding just as excited as the first, “Thankfully for the Snowpoint Legends, it seems that number 3, Jun Aemilius, is back on the ice, after his injury on Wednesday we were getting worried that he might not be able to make it to the next game, but it seems the medics came through!”

“And based on today’s lineup for the Icirrus Truths, the Legends may have really needed the return. I mean, ever since number 16, Blake Rasmussen, was traded into the team from the Castelia Ideals, the Truths have been rising in power across the league,”

“However, the new goalie for the Legends, number 1, Hareta Rowan, might be able to match Rasmussen’s intensity,”

“Do you know who they’re talking about?” Gary whispered to Ash, who seemed to have given up on napkins and was instead licking his fingers clean. (Seeing this, he quickly flushed red and looked back to the screen, pretending to be looking for clues there, though he hoped Ash would not guess the true reason for his newfound focus. …though it wouldn’t have been a problem if he had known.)

“Number three for the Legends is triplets with one of my rivals from when I was in Sinnoh,” Ash commented, watching as the camera tracked after a very attractive blond offensive player as if it was a totally normal comment to make to his current rival.

Gary suddenly reached for a can on the table, suddenly realizing that his throat felt dry.

“None of that,” Ash waved his hands back and forth, flinging a speck or two of leftover sauce into Gary’s face, “I still love you the most,” he looked down at the cans, “Plus, those are non-alcoholic,”

Gary put his head in his hands, laughing. Had Ash assumed he had been trying to get drunk? “I’m just thirsty Ash,” he said, “and you reminded me of what your mom bought us,”

Ash made a face, studying the cans critically, “I wouldn’t suggest trying those, they’re probably flavored, like, pumpkin pie or crayons or something,”

Gary studied the can in the brightness of the ice from the screen. “The first one,” he told Ash, making a face, “Pumpkin pie seltzer, are you kidding me? Where does she even get them?”

“The Viridian Pokemart I think,” Ash said, snuggling a bit closer to Gary under the guise of checking out the ingredients of the strange drink.

“Why would she go all the way to Viridian to get-,” Gary cut himself off as the game suddenly kicked into action on the screen in front of them. Ash too sat up, suddenly on the edge of his seat as the puck rushed from player to player, currently held by the Truths. Gary glanced over at Ash’s face, noticing that he didn’t look super happy about that fact.

“Soo…” Gary tried, now his turn to scoot closer, “Are we rooting for the Legends?”

“Would you want to root for a team from Unova?”

“Fair point,”

The two sat together, watching as the action moved from player to player, occasional crashes and shrieks coming up from the players as they crashed together and into various metal walls. Gary found himself leaning forward and hissing in anticipation as the puck shot towards the goal on their side, but joined Ash in whooping when the (apparently not-so-rookie) goalie expertly blocked the shot, catching it under his glove and sending up cheers among the crowd on his side of the stadium.

Ash grabbed Gary’s arm and shook him, as if Gary had watched more than a couple of games before to understand quite what that meant for his team. “Did you see that?!” He asked, sounding almost as excited as he always had before their battles, “That was so cool!”

The fact that Gary didn’t quite understand the game did not stop him from sharing Ash’s excitement. (Though he suspected that was more due to the fact that his rival was all but climbing into his lap in nervous joy about the game.)

“Yeah,” Gary said, watching somewhat in awe as the players sped from side to side in the advertisement lined rink.

They continued to watch like that, whooping as number three on their team managed a goal and hissing as 16, Blake, on the other side finally managed one of his own. At one point, their hands met in the chicken wing bowl, and of course Ash couldn’t help but joke that it was the most affectionate they’d been since getting back to Pallet together. (Gary shoved him off his shoulder and laughed it off, but the entire next period passed before he was done blushing about it.)

Advertisements passed as Gary left to refill the snacks, and he found himself grinning with the draw to watch the game as he saw it starting up again.

“You have to admit that this is just as interesting as watching a Pokemon battle,” Ash said, between bites of chicken wing, looking expectantly up at Gary.

“And nowhere near as irritating,” Gary added, breaking off in the middle of his sentence to take a large sip of pumpkin pie seltzer. (Which was honestly even more interesting than Delia had advertised it as being.) “I’m not there picking through every mistake they make,”

They both cringed as, number three, the forward on the team they had decided to root for just barely missed an easy shot.

“For the most part anyway,” Gary corrected

“For the most part anyway,” Ash laughed, agreeing with him.

They looked forward, and the game went back into that comfortable blur as the announcers led the cheers (or boos) as players entered and left the ice. (Though Gary found himself realizing that the two rivals were getting oddly close again as the final period began to wrap up. Even if the “close together” in question was more like, “just about falling off the couch with how focused they were on the flashing screen,”)

They cheered as their goalie blocked yet another would-have-been goal, and then cheered even louder as their team managed to actually complete a goal of their own. They were back in the lead by one, and with only a couple of seconds remaining on the clock, and a major player of the Truths out for misconduct earlier in the match, it was looking good.

“Comeon comeon,” Ash muttered, his fingers digging into Gary’s shoulders as he leaned even further forward, “Just hold the goal for one more-,”

“No!” They both shrieked, watching as their goalie, the one named like his region’s professor, was knocked to the ground by an opposing player, allowing the puck to sail cleanly into the net behind him.

Making the game tied, and sending it into overtime as Ash jolted to his feet, taking two large steps forward and echoing the announcer as he yelped. “How was that not an illegal move!”

Gary stood and walked to meet him, but found his eyes similarly glued to the screen as the teams reset for the tie breaking move. In his still lacking understanding of the game, he couldn’t quite tell what was happening, but the energy in the crowd (and in Ash), was enough to tell him that, whatever it was, it was seriously interesting.

He squinted at the glowing ice, and then found himself jumping up and down as he spotted number three dragging the puck forward and towards the opposing goal. He was moving like lightning, skirting around nearly every other player as he raced for the win.

Ash and Gary watched in slow motion as 16, Blake, from the other team fought to catch up with Jun, and cheered as he crashed into a defenseman from his own team, clearly still at least a little shaken up from his apparent injury on Wednesday as the two skidded across the ice together, their balance lost.

It happened so fast that Gary almost missed it, but the puck banged against the net and the stadium exploded. Even with the TV on low volume, Gary truly felt like he was among the screaming fans as Ash jumped up and down beside him. Clapping his hands together and shivering in excitement. To Gary, the sight was almost funny, but as he opened his mouth to say something about it, he found himself the one taken aback as Ash jumped up and kissed him.

They hung that way for a moment, Gary feeling like he was floating in sudden joy as Ash’s arms wrapped briefly around his shoulders, only to be dragged back away again as his friend suddenly pulled back, face bright red.

“Oh I-,” he tried to explain himself, “I didn’t mean to-,”

Gary’s face was definitely bright red, but he didn’t care. “Well,” he said, grabbing Ash’s hands and leaning forward, “Do it again and I might think about coming back for the next game,”

He smirked as Ash stuttered out a sudden, “I love you,” right before Gary pulled them back into a kiss as the cheers of the crowd echoed through the dark room.

(Even if their mouths tasted like buffalo chicken wings and pumpkin pie seltzer.)

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megamindsupremacy · 1 year ago

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Misc Marvel Fic Recs (part 7)

ghosts in the machine by hollimichele

History, Peggy has learned, never tells the whole story.

romantic tomography by pigeonstatueconundrum

Remaining neutral about Eddie Brock was much easier in principle when he’s the unseen ex of your girlfriend, a little harder in practise when you’ve helped him through the worst week of his life.

“Pay up.” Anne flops down next to him on the couch two months later. They’re still fishing bits of the Life Foundation Rocket out of the Pacific, but no evil or chaotic neutral ex-terrestrial goo has been recovered. Supposedly.

Dan fishes the promised $20 out of his wallet, “He finally told you.”

Dr Dan Lewis would like to stop feeling like the third billed in the romantic comedy that is his life.

call every girl we ever met maria by irnan

"You're telling me," Rhodey said, gleeful, "you're telling me that you've been shot, stabbed, sewn up, been riddled with shrapnel, had a magnet implanted in your chest, spent two years poisoning yourself with palladium, spent twenty years as a functioning alcoholic and had a vasectomy and you still managed to knock Pepper up?"

decoys by littlerhymes

The serum makes Steve stronger, but not bigger. Instead of a superhero, he becomes a spy.

Respectibility, Politics by brawltogethernow

Per the prompt, "the Spider-Man fic where anti-mutant bigots think JJ is one of them because of how he is about Spider-Man and he experiences no personal insight whatsoever in reaction to this but is so offended he dedicates the front cover of the Bugle to spotlighting the X-Men for like three days straight and Peter is keysmash feelings".

Blips on the Record by ambivalentangst

Flash, let it be known, doesn’t like Peter. He’s too good at everything—infuriatingly so—and nobody ever calls him on his bullshit, like with AcaDec nationals. Flash has to put his all into everything he does for a fraction of the attention Peter gets for his bare minimum, and it pisses him off, to say the least, so sue him for looking for chances here and there to knock him down a peg.

However, when he notices, he shuts his entire operation down.

Maybe Peter has a decade on his age when he was in the thick of it, but Flash remembers what it was like. He gets having school be a safe place, and nobody, not even himself, is going to jeopardize that for Peter.

Flash Thompson’s story is not simple, Peter Parker can always use someone else in his corner, and secrets are had and protected by all.

Far Out by Bergen

It all started the way it usually did; with Tony doubting his own sanity. “Happy,” he said, turning the paper over, then turning it back, squinting at it. “What the hell is this?” Happy barely glanced up from his phone. “How should I know? I just drive you around, I don’t try to understand your designs. You’re the one who left it in the back of the car yesterday.” Tony turned the paper towards Happy, tapping a finger against the scribbles in the margin. “I didn’t write that. I thought it, but I didn’t write it. What sorcery is this?” “Oh shit, sorry,” Happy said, expression resigned. “I’m guessing the kid went through them when I drove him to school this morning. He has no regard for personal boundaries.” “The kid.” “Um— My girlfriend, she has a—“ “Your stepson did these calculations?” “That’s not entirely—“ “Bring him to me,” Tony commanded.

Where the Need is Greatest by Niitza

In which Steve Rogers takes one look at the history of American military interventions since the end of World War II and nopes straight out of it, follows in his Ma's footsteps to become a paramedic, joins Doctors Without Borders, gets sent on an unsanctioned humanitarian mission to Syria, and somehow still ends up being a determining factor in Hydra's downfall - all of this without throwing a single punch.

Somehow, he's okay with it.

If you wanna be my lover (you gotta get with my friends) by mindshelter

MJ still remembers Ned’s initial disbelief when Peter—infamous for missing class back in sophomore year, suspended for two weeks freshman year—finished his bit of the group write-up four days early. The work was perfect, and so was Ned's chemistry grade. After that it was Peter this, Peter that, Peter parted the Red Sea, it’s true, MJ, I was there; I saw it. MJ, hey, are you listening?

Then Ned says, “We should invite Peter to join AcaDec.”

or;

peter isn’t rock bottom on midtown’s social ladder; he’s underground. friendless, rumoured to get into street fights. ned declares him bestie material anyway, and mj catches feelings.

she also meets tony stark(?) in foodtown, of all places, and makes a spider-man(??) sighting.

Cannon Fodder by KieraSayre

During the war, Steve and Bucky get stuck with press duty. Sometimes reporters are racist assholes. The Howling Commandos decide to take this as an opportunity to get creative.

you had your soul with you by napricot

Three timelines and a Reverse Time Heist.

#fic recs #marvel fic recs #marvel fic rec list #fic rec list

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citrus-cactus · 7 months ago

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Creative Goals Summary (May)

Hm! Well! May is already over, isn't it? It was kind of a weird month for me regarding creative goals. I made some great stuff and a lot of forward progress, but also I... barely finished anything?? So instead of reporting percentages, I'm just going to ramble about the stuff I actually worked on!

Goals are split between “things I will put on Tumblr when they’re done” (aka, fandom stuff), and “things I will be keeping to myself” (because they will eventually have my real name associated with them).

Fandom stuff:

Gargoyles oneshot ("joined in love (not in hate)"). This is the one I declared percentage on this month! I'm still picking away at it. The beginning has been pretty difficult for me to get a handle on in terms of flow, and how much and what sort of detail to include to maintain the mood and tension. Working on it has caused me to notice that when I'm struggling with the beginning of a fic, it makes me feel anxious about finishing the fic as a whole. But I am really happy with the third act, so I know I’ll figure out a way to get there eventually!

OTHER Gargoyles oneshot ("The Room of Infinite Mirrors"). This fic is like... the polar opposite of the one above, but I seem to be incapable of working on one without working on the other, which is so odd! Good news is, I made a huge breakthrough on this one this month too, and while there are gaps in the narrative, what's there is now flowing like a well-oiled machine. Between these two fics, I have 10,000 words (and counting), and as someone who has been struggling with writing for years and years at this point, that’s pretty cool!

Start Haru birthday fanart Er!! I didn’t do this. I feel pretty guilty about it, but I still have time before July 1 🤞

Menoa/Wallace fanart Replaced by the following:

Self-indulgent babygirl fanart. Hasn't progressed past lineart, but I'm really pleased with what I have so far (I mean. Pleased when I’m able to move past the cringe. I’m in constant struggle with the shame spiral, but also I’m gonna do what I want forever, so hopefully I’ll be able to accept that within myself someday!)

Bad End Takuma Series, #2. Um! I marathoned inking and finishing a two-page comic over the long weekend. This piece was not really on my radar for this month, but then I was like, "you know what would be fun? TAKUMA ANGST." And guess what… it was! The finished piece is about on par with the version that exists in my head (win!) and I’ve enjoyed using my floaty shoujo-art powers for evil (I always do) >:3 [Finished piece is here!]

Personal stuff:

Secret Personal Project (SPP) Research I showed what I have to a few more people, but I need to do this research for real next month!

Christmas-present-idea stuff from last year. Yeah, this is still something I'm working on. For THIS year, hopefully!!

#the cactus speaks #creative check-in #creative check-in summary

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awakeshedreams · 3 years ago

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sugar and spice ( 1 )

pairing : resident bad boy!jjk x model student!reader

setting : highschool!au x stepbrother!au

summary :

a messy highschool!au x stepbrother!au where model student reader who has quite a few dirty little secrets sees her world take an unexpected turn when her mother comes home one day with an engagement announcement, to the father of none other than the school's resident bad boy.... Jeon Jungkook.

genre : smut, for laughs, kinda pornish, slow burn with collosaly overwhelming sexual tension

rating: soft m ( for now ) due to adult content

warnings : unconventional relationship of sexual nature, tropes and clichès, teenagers partaking in porn-esque activities, made up things with made up people happening in a made up world, don't like don't read XD

wordcount : 2.3K

a/n : i've been fighting in a long standing war and I have lost. the man known as jeon jungkook had his foot on my neck for years and today, I have finally submitted to my fate and surrendered to his reign.

yes. after a hundred years, i'm writing again. specifically, writing for bts. particularly, writing for jungkook. its been a long time coming.

life just took over and I transitioned into an adult and kind of grew out of the state of mind I was in before. but. sigh. jeon jungkook has been tormenting me the whole time. it was only a matter of time before i relapsed honestly.

so here I am again. in mind, body and spirit, a different person from who I was before but still the same in the sense that with the way bts have my whole heart, jk will always be the demon in the corner of my room that I invite to bed for a cuddle even though it's (probably really) not good for me.

do not misconstrue. I love him more than I can say. but. sigh. he has me in a chokehold, loves. please try to understand where I'm coming from.

anyways, enough with this ranting. you all came here for the nitty gritty so let me not hold you hostage with my dilemma rambling any longer. here's to the first bts fic i've posted in literal years. introducing- sugar and spice.

1 2

Unless they told someone, no one would have been able to guess it.

At school they were complete strangers.

She was the nice head girl with a clean record, all smiles and straight A’s. He was the mysterious bad boy with a track record, all tatted up with bruised knuckles.

She wore plaid skirts with neat pleads in them and pastel sweaters with bows at the collar. He wore jeans with rips in them and leather jackets with studs.

They couldn't have been any more different.

As far as anyone was concerned, they existed on two extreme ends of a vast spectrum.

What they didn't know was that they shared a dirty little secret.

You were a girl with many dirty secrets.

For instance, you used to sell nudes online. It was a side hustle you did.

Not because you needed money.

Your mom was a renowned doctor so there was more than enough of that in your life.

Not because you needed validation from people online either.

Even without the constant compliments and the praises you knew you were visually blessed with a pretty face and a nice body too.

All things considered, you simply thought you had a nice pair of tits and you took pictures of them sometimes.

Posting the shots you snapped online came much later when you heard about this website where people were getting paid crazy money for posting racy things.

‘It’s just so degrading…’ It was one of your friends, June, who sneered, pretty nose scrunched up. She fixed her long ponytail and rolled her brown eyes while looking in the mirror at her locker. ‘Who would do such a thing, am I right?’

She said this, but June was the girl who has slept with more boys than she could count on her two hands. And those were the ones she told you about.

Like every other time, you said nothing. Even when it carried on to lunch with the rest.

‘Pretty desperate if you ask me.’ Mei the stellar track runner shrugged casually as she stretched her limbs like routine.

‘Where are their parents?’ Nina the library nerd shook her head in disapproval as she fixed her glasses so it sat right on the bridge of her nose.

‘Um… I don’t think it’s … appropriate… to talk about ….’ Kiko the one who always carried a cross and bible around mumbled into her sleeve.

All your friends spoke of it in derision and repulsion of course. This was a school for proper children so they were proper girls. At least they were supposed to be.

Regardless the conversation sparked a curiosity in you.

So you made an account and uploaded your first picture. Nothing bizarre. Just your tits in a pretty lace bra.

You made sure to keep your face out of the frame because that was the smart thing to do and you were nothing if not the smartest student in school.

In all honesty, you weren’t expecting anything out of it. In fact, in between work with student council and tutoring your juniors with finals right around the corner, you even forgot about it for an entire month.

It was by a complete whim that you decided to open the app while you’d been unwinding at your desk following a tedious day at school.

To say you were amused by the response you found waiting for you would have be a grave understatement.

You were staring at the four figure digit that now sat in your bank account.

Reading through the comment section was even more interesting.

There were all sorts of people there who had all sorts of things to say. Ranging from honestly sweet to downright dirty.

You had never been brought to tears laughing in her life before until then.

It was just so funny to see people misbehave and lose their minds over a pair of tits.

From then on it just sort of became a thing.

But that wasn't the worse of your secrets.

You were making a name for yourself on the crude web months later.

The next step was naturally to move from making taking pictures to making videos. Since you was already in too deep you didn’t see why not.

So you upgraded and opened another account. An amateur one where your touched yourself for an audience.

You were no prude.

You might have never been touched by a boy before but you had touched yourself plenty times. Stress and frustration came hand in hand with being head girl. Since you couldn’t quite vent it out at the annoying troublemakers at school, this was your second best option.

Third was watching porn, but that was mostly when you were extremely bored.

But that wasn’t where that little endeavor ended.

Later on it became a lot more risqué.

It all started when your mom hit you with a marriage announcement.

She met a guy on her business trip who she really liked and she was convinced he was the one.

Your mom had a tragic history of being a bad judge of character.

You’ve had this conversation at least five times since you became old enough to understand that boys and girls who were just friends didn’t kiss and sleep with each other.

Most times, it felt like she was doing it because she thought you needed a dad around.

You might have once, when you were younger and your mom was too busy with work to be there. But she worked from home these days and you were soo busy with school to worry about things like that.

This time it was like she was doing it for her. You were glad.

Your mom looked genuinely happy when she spoke about this guy.

Who were you to get in the way?

She spent almost the whole weekend in the kitchen. It was the longest you’ve seen her in there in your entire life.

She was excited for the dinner on Sunday.

Mr Jeon was the name of the chosen man.

He was coming over with his kid. A son, his only family. His wife passed away years ago.

You wore the dress your mom picked out for you, something cream in color and off the shoulders that brushed your knees. She looked pretty in her champagne dress. It was different from the office slacks and loose blouses you were used to seeing her in.

You stood by her at the door while the guests came through.

Lifting your head from a polite bow, you found herself staring straight into an achingly familiar pair of glinting dark eyes and went completely still.

‘Sweetie,' Your mother said sounding delighted, a soft hand on your stiff shoulder. 'This is Mr Jeon and his son Jungkook.’

Ah. Fuck.

‘Jeon dear, this is my daughter. Isn’t she lovely?’

Dinner was a mild affair, with small talk and the occasional clinking of cutlery on fine china.

From the outside looking in, you probably looked the picture perfect family already.

Only if no-one looked close enough.

Arms crossed, tongue in cheek. Your discomfort could be detected from miles away.

The two adults were oblivious.

The dark eyed boy with the slightest wave to his nape touching, brow grazing, ear covering onyx hair sat across you though; he took note of this with a passing glance and wordlessly returned to his food.

Jeon Jungkook had a countenance that betrayed his reputation.

Even though you’ve never talked, you knew plenty about him and you were sure he knew a lot about you too.

You went to the same school.

Dressed as he was in a crisp white dress shirt buttoned at the wrist and dark tailored pants with a fine belt on, it might have been hard to tell what kind of person he really was.

You lifted her gaze from your plate to look study him wordlessly, idly twisting the noodles with your fork.

People either called him the black sheep or the dark cloud but for you, Jeon Jungkook was the school’s resident lone wolf.

He smoked in the secluded areas on campus, sometimes playing his guitar. Beat up people who got on his nerves, sometimes using his guitar. Slept in class the rare times he was there, many times on his guitar.

Being his senior, you had never seen any of any of that for yourself. But you received plenty reports weekly to come to a sound conclusion.

There was no way people hated him enough to join hands in solidarity and make this all up.

It was quite the contrary actually. He had an alarming number of fans.

On the surface level you couldn’t see why. Most times you saw him, he looked bored out his mind and honestly, intimidating.

Maybe it was the tattoos. Or the ripped skinny jeans. Or the leather jackets with studs.

Maybe it was the domineering height and fit frame and structured face.

Maybe it was the intense dark eyes or the silky ruffled hair.

Even then, you failed to see the irresistible appeal in him. All those things that made him up only added to his unapproachable aura.

Bottom line was, he was bad news.

You didn’t want to be a spoil sport.

But how much of a thug your mom’s boyfriend’s son was shouldn’t be something that would make her like him less.

They were both their own people. Right ?

It was just that you just didn’t want her to be shocked and devastated if something happened later. When it happened.

Yet it seemed the serious conversation would have to wait.

After dinner your mom suggested you head to the living room to chat over wine and cheese.

You stayed back to do take out the dishes.

Earlier, your mom had stood to do it instead at first.

‘Don’t bother with that, dear.’ She reached for the plates in your hands. ‘Let me do it.’

‘It’s okay, mom.’ You smiled a little. ‘This is your night. I’ll meet you in the living room.’

'Sweetie...' Your mom looked close to tears. ‘But there’s so much of it…’

‘Jungkook,’ his father's voice had cut through the moment. He was a serious man in a crisp suit with a stoic countenance. His voice was just naturally authoritarian without him trying ‘Give her a hand.’

Jungkook stood, almost robotically.

‘It’s fine.’ You said. Politely. Nicely. Tightly. ‘I can handle this much.’

You left without another word.

That had been moments ago and now you were done with cleaning.

You stood at living room entrance for a while, taking in the scene.

The two adults were exchanging moon eyes and whispering in each other’s ears at the love seat.

Jungkook was sitting on a solo seat, but he was on his phone, completely unbothered by what was happening.

Your mom seemed to think it was the perfect time to pull out the photo album right then and there upon seeing you.

It was embarrassing but at least you knew you didn’t have to worry about the pictures spreading at school.

Jungkook was looking, picking up a picture occasionally to rove over, but he wasn’t the type to do that.

He also wasn’t the type to stare but you felt his glance shifting to you and lingering multiple times.

Once, you caught his eyes and he just stared at you across the coffee table wordlessly with a curious tilt to his head, idly flipping a picture of you dressed as a knight in glitter shining armor for Halloween at eight in his hands.

Honestly, it was starting to get annoying.

But you endured. For your mom’s sake.

Your alarm went off at exactly ten.

As subtly as you could, you excused yourself with an apology to the guests, saying you weren't really feeling well.

In hindsight you probably should have used a better excuse.

Your mom was notorious when it came to worrying, especially when it comes to your health.

Also, you probably should’ve locked the door before undressing just for good measure since people were over.

But in the moment, you were too busy setting your camera up where you were kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed to be concerned about that.

That day you were testing out a new toy.

Distractedly, you took note of a couple of people asking you if that was your boyfriend’s shirt you had lifted over your tits.

You ignored them.

Couldn’t a girl own an oversized tee without getting any flack?

Trivial comments like that aside, a good majority of the audience are fawning over how wet you were and how perfect you bouncing tits look being played with.

Your head fell back and your eyes fluttered shut.

You were sitting there, knees raised to your chest and legs splayed, your gushing pussy in full display where the toy was stuffed deep into her tightness, vibrating pleasantly.

‘I’m close…’ you mumbled throatily, squeezing your tits and pinching your stiff nipples in between your moving fingers. You moved your hips move faster, feeling the toy buzz against fluttering walls. You took a hand off one of your tits to rub at your engorged clit. ‘Fuckfuckfuck…’

Deep in your high, you didn’t hear the door open and close with a foreboding click.

You only heard your name being called by a deep, smooth voice through the heady haze.

Instantly you stilled.

When you snapped your head to look over her shoulder Jungkook was there, hands in his pockets, leaning against your doorframe with his sleeves drawn up to his elbows, muscle roped, inked skin on full display.

When he tilted his head to the side a little, appraisively, you dared to say as a quaking chill ran down your spine and your entire body felt like it was about to burst into flames, a bit of his hair fell over his face.

His eyes were like two black in the dark as he took you in, dragging his gaze up and down your exposed body languidly.

In the back of your mind, you wished the ground would part and swallow you whole.

‘Your mom,' he starts, capturing your attention wholly, dark gaze finally flickering to your face, his voice suddenly lower, hoarser. ‘She sent me over to check on you.’

It took you a moment to realize where you were, who you were, who he was.

It was like a bucket of cold water had been dropped over your head.

Jeon Jungkook, the school's resident trouble maker, soon to be your step brother, just walked in on you fingering yourself in in front of a recording camera.

Well. Yeah.

You gulped.

You were royally fucked.

depending on the response I get I might ( most probably will ) delete this. not because I'm ashamed of my work. because I'm embarrassed of myself. I really swore to never write again and here I am. sigh. yes, I have seen my previous works and noticed just how terrible they were and this is a big reason why. so sorry for putting you through that. a million apologies.

also, that's right. I have adopted a new style which might not be to everyone's liking. another reason why.

anyways, if you liked this filth ( i know it seems mild but I can tell you it's very likely gonna get worse ) please idk uh... fuck this isn't ao3. hm.

like and drop by in the ask box if you liked it and want to see more. it makes me happy. its like serotonin fuel to me.

have a nice day. see you next time ( maybe ). stay fresh. yeah. 💜💜.

#bangtan #bts #bts angst #bts fluff #bts imagine #bts scenario #bts smut #bts au #jeon jungkook #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook smut #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts high school au #jungkook high school au

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thestarrynightslover · 4 years ago

Text

I'll Make It Okay for You - Part 1

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader

Word count: 3,666

Warnings: Discussion, yelling, some angst, mentions of drugs, and drug abuse.

Summary: What happens when (y/n) (y/l/n), Harvey’s secret crush and a junior partner at his firm, openly defies him in front of everyone?

You can find Part 2 here.

Disclaimer: I don’t own the show Suits, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way or know anyone involved with it.

A/N: So, this is my first Harvey Specter fic and I’m obviously quite unsure about it, lol. This might’ve ended up like one big mess, cause I tried to combine a bunch of Harveys I wanted to see. The perfect recipe for disaster, right? Anyways, I hope it doesn’t suck too bad and, please, feel free to give me feedback, cause I’m also here to learn!!

(y/n) = (your name) (y/l/n) = (your last name) (y/n/n) = (your nickname)

| masterlist |

You’d barely stepped out of the elevator when you were met by your secretary that morning. That couldn’t mean anything good.

“Morning, (y/n/n). You’ve got an emergency meeting with Jessica today. Gonna give you the schedule on the way there.” Lucy stated, leading you on the opposite way to Jessica’s office.

“Oh, I got the memo; company’s under attack again. She wants me on the frontlines this time. Louis is probably running around saying ‘We’re at war, people, war!!!’, or something like that. But why aren’t we headed towards the boss’ office?”

“Apparently, uh, she wants y’all to convey at Harvey’s office.” She said hesitantly, as if afraid of your reaction.

“Are you kidding me? It’s the first hour of the morning and she wants me to go see that smug face of his?” You pouted childishly.

“Smug and hot, you mean.” Lucy corrected you, getting an outraged look from you in response, as she usually would by saying anything positive about Specter.

“Shush,” You said, motioning for her to stop talking, “ one shall not praise Harvey Annoying Specter around me.” You stated full of obstination, but the younger woman just laughed you off and said:

“Well, here we are. I guess I’ll just have to send you an e-mail with your schedule, since, once again, we spent our schedule minutes of the day talking about “the enemy”.” She mocked with gestures and everything this time. That Lucy really was a piece of work, she timed the whole thing perfectly, in a way that you couldn’t even repudiate her insinuations because you were already standing in front of Specter’s office door.

Not long after you had entered and Jessica had officially started the strategy-meeting, though, all eyes in the room turned to you, as your phone started ringing in your back pocket. "Shit! I'm- I'm so sorry, guys, I guess I-"

"Can you please take your job seriously for once in your life, (y/l/n)?" You heard Harvey Pain-In-The-Ass Specter rudely remark, as you tried to swallow your embarrassment.

“Well, like I was trying to say, I’m sorry. Gonna turn it off right now, won’t happen again.” You said, directing your apologetic look to Jessica.

“You should just go ahead and answer it, could be something important.” She calmly told you.

“Especially now that you’ve already interrupted our work.” Specter chipped in again, which just gave you more fuel to answer the goddamn phone.

“Hello, yeah this is her.” You confirmed to the man on the phone, while taking a few steps towards the corner of the room. “What??? Are you sure? Oh my God! O- okay, just tell me which one and I’ll be there as soon as possible! Right, thank you.” Everyone’s eyes were on you, trying to understand what made you look so distressed. Except his, of course.

“Wait a second. Are you leaving right now?” He asked with a mix of annoyance and irritation in his voice.

“Yes, I am. I’m sorry, Jessica, but this is a family emergency. I have to go.”

“Well, I just hope you know that this doesn’t look good for you, (y/n).” She said, voice inexpressive.

“I do and, honestly? I couldn’t care less about that right now.” You firmly told her, while hoping your career wasn’t over by the next morning.

“I hope everything goes well for you and your family, (y/n). If you need anything, and I mean anything, just let me know.” Louis told you with that childish smile of his. Jesus, even in a moment like this, he tried to flirt with you.

“Thank you, Louis. That’s very kind.” You faked a tiny smile.

“Unbelievable.”

“What?” You asked, turning back to face Harvey.

“Your firm is under attack and you’re leaving because of some stupid family crap?” Was he even serious?

“Precisely. And I don’t really care what your thoughts are on it. Our priorities are clearly very different.” Who the hell did he think he was to say anything about your family’s issues?

“Well, that shouldn’t matter because, the minute you walk in here, through those elevators out there, you’re supposed to leave all things personal behind.”

“Oh, right. I’m so sorry that I’m not some heartless lawyer like you, who’s just in it for the petty fights in the name of money-making.” Shit. You needed to get the hell out of there before you said something else to make Specter wanna kick you out himself. So you did. Stormed out like there was no tomorrow, leaving nothing but the very shocked Donna, Jessica, Louis, Mike, and Rachel behind. Oh, yeah, and a very pissed-off Harvey Specter.

Okay, maybe you were a little too harsh, but given the place you needed to go, to do what you needed to do, you didn't care about Harvey, your job, or anything else.

---

It was much later on that same day, around dinner time, that you heard a soft knock on your door. But how could someone be at your door, if the doorman downstairs hadn't announced any visitors? Were you dreaming? Well, the day had been so tiring that that wasn't exactly impossible… Nonetheless, you made your way to the door, whilst holding your very needy three-year-old nephew in your arms. Not that you could blame Henry after the day he’d had.

Since you weren’t expecting anyone, it was reasonable to believe that, whoever it was, was going to be a surprise. But not in a million years would have you ever guessed that Harvey Specter was the one knocking at your door. Especially considering what had happened at the firm earlier. How did he even know your address?

“Hi, (y/l/n). I didn’t know you had a kid.” He stated with a bit of surprise of his own, pointing to the little boy you were carrying.

“No, uh, I don’t have any.” You managed to say, trying to control your shocked expression. “This is my nephew.” You clarified again, a little more at ease this time.

“My name’s Henry. What’s yours?” You heard your nephew ask with his cute child-voice.

“Harvey. It’s, uh, it’s very nice to meet you, Henry.” Harvey told the boy, holding out his hand for him to shake, as a sweet smile came to his lips.

“Is he your friend, auntie (y/n/n)?” Henry asked you hesitantly, before making a move. The Don’t Talk to Strangers Rule must’ve kicked in his mind.

Before answering him, you hesitated a little bit yourself, though. Was Harvey your friend? Obviously not, but if he came to your apartment in the middle of the night like this, it was probably because of something important. Work-related, of course. Which meant you’d have to let him in, so you settled for what would be the easiest classification for a three-year-old.

“Yeah, bud, he is my friend from work.” Hearing that, something in Specter’s eyes changed, you didn’t really know what, though.

“Well, then, can he come play with us?” He gave you such a cute look, that you almost said yes right on cue. But you obviously couldn’t.

“You’d have to ask him, but I’m sure he has a lot of other, more important, things to do now.” You tried to explain to the little boy, giving Harvey a look. But you didn’t get too far, as the lawyer quickly said:

“Of course I wanna go play with you! That is if your auntie’s okay with that…” Now he was mocking you, that was the only explanation.

“Can we play with him, then, auntie (y/n/n)? Please, please, please?” God, what horrible thing could’ve you possibly done to deserve this particular punishment?

“Um, I guess... If he really has nothing better to do-” Harvey didn’t even let you finish your sentence.

“I really don’t.” He said, shooting you and Henry a bright smile that you’d never seen before.

“Okay, then, come in. Please disregard the mess, I got this stuff to make dinner, but someone just won’t detach, right, mister?” You asked your nephew with fake annoyance in your voice, as you tickled his sides a little bit. He just laughed at you. Though what really caught your attention was the fact that Harvey, too, was chuckling lightly at the scene, as he started picking up your groceries’ bags from the floor. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you, what else?” You gave him a weird look because, well, it was a weird situation. Maybe he noticed your discomfort because he added: “You look tired, so I’ll help you by making dinner and putting the rest of these away.”

“You’re kidding, right?” There was no way in hell that the All-Mighty Harvey Specter was gonna get domestic for you, of all people. Since he didn’t bother to answer, you went on: “First of all, what was it that you really came here to do, hum? And, second, I don’t need your help with anything.” Normally you tried to be kind to everyone, but, then again, Specter wasn’t exactly your normal kind of guy.

“Well, first of all,” he started in a tone of mockery, “that was rude! Look at the example you’re setting for little Henry!” Oh God, as much as you hated to admit it, he was kinda right, because you had completely forgotten about the little boy still cradled in your arms. “Second, we can talk about the reason why I came here later,” after your nephew’s asleep, was implicit in his speech, “third, it looks like you do need some help. And, for your luck, I happen to be a very good cook when I want to.”

“But-” You could barely begin your sentence, as Harvey sharply cut you off:

“You see, buddy,” he started, motioning to Henry this time, “the quicker we get your auntie on board with the game plan, the quicker we’ll get to eat and go play together!” Son of a bitch! Using a child to get to you…

“Can we please, auntie? Please?” How could you not crack after that pleading?

“Fine, but I swear I’ll make you pay if we wake up with food poisoning tomorrow, Specter.” You told him playfully, trying to lighten the mood after all of your bluntness.

“Oh, trust me, (y/l/n), you won’t. This will be the best meal you and the young man here will ever have in your entire lives.” He said cockily, but without the usual arrogance level, if that even makes sense.

A few hours and a really great dinner later, you and Henry couldn’t help but snicker shamelessly at Harvey’s ridiculous faces, as the three of you played a game on your living room’s floor. Trying to catch your breath from your giggles, you glanced up at the clock and realized that it was way too late for your nephew to be out of bed like that. So you broke up the game, announcing:

“It’s bedtime for you, Mr. Henry.” You watched the faces of the pair turn into ones of pure disappointment, as they prepared to pout.

“Just a little longer, auntie (y/n/n)! please!” The little boy started.

“Yeah, auntie, just a little longer! Please?” This time it was the grown man, one of the toughest Wall Street lawyers.

“As moved as I am by your synchrony, guys, the answer is a big no. C’mon, bud, let’s go brush your teeth. And then straight to bed. So say bye to Harvey, and thank him for being so nice to us tonight.” He looked between you and Specter as if still hoping for a hail Mary of some sort.

“Bye, Harvey.” He sounded so sad, but then he smiled brightly again, as he repeated what you’d told him to say word by word: “And thank you for being so nice to us tonight.” Hearing that, both you and Harvey chuckled lightly at the young boy, who quickly added: “Will you come see us tomorrow too?”

“Uh, we’ll, uh, we’ll see about that, okay, little man?” He tried to let Henry down slowly but, watching the boy’s expression become a sad one instantly, he added: “It’s just because both your auntie and I have a lot of work ahead of us tomorrow, but I’ll do my best, okay?” That was definitely a side of Harvey you’d never seen before, he had even bent down to be on your nephew’s level.

“Okay.” Henry said quietly, seeming to be a little happier, too.

“Okay, then let’s just go upstairs already.” You took the boy’s hand to guide him towards the spare bedroom’s bathroom, all the while shooting Specter a look that told him to wait for you a little longer.

“I’ll wait for you down here.” He said, proving he understood what your eyes tried to transmit.

So you headed upstairs with your nephew and, after a good fifteen minutes of brushing Henry’s teeth, helping him into his PJs, and tucking him in, you finally managed to come back to the living room, where you found Harvey looking through some of your photos displayed on the sideboard. For a minute or two, you just watched him. It wasn’t that you liked what you saw or anything. It wasn’t. It was more like postponing the weird conversation you two were bound to have, because, after all that had happened in those few hours, the atmosphere was, at very least, a strange one. But, almost as if he’d felt your gaze on his back, the lawyer in him was switched on, and he interrupted your thoughts by saying:

“Ah, you’re back. Good, because we need to talk.” You just motioned for him to follow you into your home office. But both you and Harvey looked so informal to be in that kind of environment, that you just indicated the small couch on the wall opposite to your desk for you to take your seats in.

“So, uh, before you even say anything, I wanna thank you for being so kind tonight,” a small smile came to your lips, as you remembered, not only the evening but how your nephew had used almost those exact same words, already imitating you, a little earlier. Specter smiled too, you noticed. “and I also wanna apologize. If you came here to talk to me… I must’ve made you waste a lot of time, huh?” You tried with a half-smile this time, as embarrassment started taking over you.

“What? No, of course not! I'm pretty sure that I told you I didn't have anything better to do, didn't I?" He calmly asked with a smile.

"Yeah, but I'm not buying it. You're Harvey Specter, isn't that what you're always saying? And Harvey Specter always has something better to do, isn't that right?" You shot back in a mockery tone, regaining your confidence.

"Well, maybe. But, not today. So don't apologize, and don't thank me. I'm the one who should be thanking you, I had a really good time tonight." Okay, now you were shocked. He had a good time?

"Uh, okay, um, so... What was so urgent that you had to come here in the middle of the night?" You nervously ranted, while tugging your hair behind your ears. He just stared at you, so much so that you almost repeated your question.

"Um, yeah, about this morning… That's why I came here…" You were already guessing that that would come up eventually, but it was the topic of your conversation? "I know that you and I always had our differences, and maybe even some rivalry-"

"Some rivalry? Dude, I'm just a junior partner, and ever since I started on that firm you've been persecuting me-"

"I wouldn't say persecuting…"

"Oh, you wouldn't?"

"Not since you made junior partner anyways. Now it's just a healthy rivalry between work friends…" He tried to use what you’d told your nephew earlier.

"Oh, so you do admit you were persecuting me when I was an associate, huh?"

"Shit." He muttered quietly, as you watched him with a victory smile on your lips. "You know what? Hell yeah, I did persecute you when you were an associate." Hearing that blunt admission of guilt, you just couldn't find anything to say. “You wanna know why? I did that because, from the first time I saw you doing your job, I saw this very thing that I see now: you kicking ass, you think I wanted to admit this to you? I’ll answer it myself: no, I didn’t. The only reason why it happened is that you led me to it.” He blurted out, completely knocking you off your socks.

“So, um, you treated, you treat me like shit because, um, because I’m good?” You asked, still unsure of what to think about his confession.

“Well, that was part of it, sure. So, you see, I could understand it when you weren’t particularly thrilled at the perspective of working with me. But, this morning, you said that I’m a heartless guy who only cares about money… Is that really what you think of me?” This time he sounded genuinely sad? When Harvey said that he’d come to your apartment to talk about that morning, you thought he was gonna reprimand the shit out of you for disrespecting him ⎯ your sort of boss, a senior partner ⎯, but, apparently, he was asking about it on a more personal level. A level you’d never really thought played a part in your relationship with him.

“Oh, Harvey…”

“Be honest, please. I don’t want your pity. You don’t even know me all that well, so don’t try to minimize anything. I can take it.”

“That’s not what I was gonna do. And, trust me, you’re probably the last person in the world I’d pity.” You told him with a sly smile. “You’re right. I don’t know you all that well. Or, at least, I didn’t this morning. But I do know that you’re not heartless. Also, I was really out of line then, I’ve seen you fighting tooth and nail for a lot more than just money in that firm. You’re loyal to your firm and friends like no one else and, tonight, I watched you sitting on the floor and playing with a little boy. And, trust me, that meant more to him than you’d ever know, especially after today… Anyways, what I’m really trying to say is that I was so damn wrong and that I’m sorry. I’d gotten some pretty nerve-racking news beforehand, not that that’s an excuse but...” You told him, meaning every word and trying hard to show how much you regretted your previous actions.

“Wait, what news?”

“Ah, it’s nothing for you to worry about, really.” You tried to brush him off.

“Oh, c’mon! You said all those nice things about me, but when it comes to your life and your problems you still don’t trust me, isn’t that right?” His tone was sharply inexpressive, but his eyes showed he was actually hurt.

“What are you talking about? Oh my God, Harvey! I’ve relied on you for a number of cases that I really cared about! I let you in on my apartment! I let you spend an entire night around my nephew! Of course, I trust you!”

“Then what the hell is the problem? You think I’m not gonna give a damn about your family issues? Is that it? Because I am literally begging you to tell me about them!”

“I don’t wanna tell you because I don’t want you, or anyone else on the firm, to think that I’m some pathetic little girl who uses her family issues as an excuse to get out of a tough fight.” You confessed in a lower tone, slightly embarrassed, just hoping he would understand and stop poking. “Things are very different when you’re a woman, you know…”

“I would never think that about you. Family is important. Especially if it’s made of people like Henry…” He said, reassuring you, even though there was a hint of sadness in his voice. “Besides, you said you trust me, so you need to trust me when I say that I wouldn’t betray you by telling people about your problems. I’m not here as your boss, (y/n). I just wanna help you.” He sounded so sincere and, if you were being honest with yourself, you kinda really needed to vent.

“Okay, um, where to start? I have two sisters: Henry’s mother, Kat, and a fifteen-year-old, Lisa. I’m the older one of all three of us. Lisa’s sick, like very sick, so my parents, who are both retired, are with her at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, to try and get her better. In the meantime, Kat was supposed to go to college, as well as care for her son, between my parents and me, she wouldn’t even need to provide for them or anything. But, a while ago, she overdosed for the first time. That’s when we found out about her addiction. We’ve already tried a million different things but nothing works. So, my parents and I threatened to make her lose her parental rights over Henry, hoping that it’d be a wake-up call for her, but it backfired. She just took the boy and disappeared, then today I get that call, from the police department, saying that she was in custody for drug distribution and endangering the well-fare of a minor. They asked me to go pick my nephew and, maybe, get Kat a lawyer.” And, just like that, you’d told Harvey Specter, of all people, everything. Tears rolling down your cheeks and him pulling you into a hug.

If anyone had told you that that was how your night was gonna go, you would have definitely laughed them out of the room. But now, just sitting there, being held and caressed by Harvey, as you let your armor down, it was finally beginning to look like things were gonna be okay.

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echoghost1 · 3 years ago

Text

What's In A Name

okay, this took me longer than I expected... but here is the fic based on this post

Title: What's In A Name

Summary: Danny thought that having a sub in class would make things easier. Unfortunately, this leads to everyone finding out that his first name isn't Daniel.

His class isn't taking the news very well.

word count: 1670

you can read it on AO3 or down below the cut!

Oh, and I guess I'll tag the people from that post: @spookberry @shinygoldstar

Danny had just gotten to school and was getting his supplies for first period when Tucker ran up with way more excitement for this early in the morning.

“Dude, you’re never going to believe it!”

“Believe what?” Danny asked with an amused grin.

“Lancer took a sick day since the first time in forever!”

Danny felt like he was missing something.

Tucker rolled his eyes when Danny didn’t react correctly, “Subs, man. We have subs.”

“In all of his classes?” Danny asked as the news finally sunk in.

“Yup.” Tucker said with confidence as he popped the ‘p’.

“I have so many classes with him.”

“I know dude, me too!” He wrapped his arm around Danny’s shoulder, “Which means that today is going to be a breeze.”

Danny smiled and couldn’t help getting excited about a nice easy day at school.

================================================

His first class was easy.

The sub seemed just as tired as they were and simply checked that they were in their assigned seats and handed out a worksheet for them to do.

Once the teacher made it clear that they didn’t care if they worked together or not, it turned into more of a hang-out session than actually getting much work done.

================================================

His second period was science which he didn’t have with Mr. Lancer so he actually had to pay attention.

It was a lab day and he was still banned for life from handling all fragile school property, so the lab they had was a bit difficult until the teacher remembered (was reminded) and let him team up with Mikey.

All he had to do was take notes on what was happening. Which was fine. He could do that no problem.

All Mikey asked was for his handwriting to be legible.

================================================

It was his third class that ruined everything. It had all been going so well until then.

The teacher had decided to ignore the seating chart list and did roll by reading off the class roster list on the computer. Which in theory would be fine, except that the computer list didn’t have the notes that Mr. Lancer had added over the year, things like nicknames for instance.

It would have been fine if she had called him Daniel. It would have reminded him of Vlad, which would have been annoying, but manageable.

Unfortunately his first name isn’t Daniel.

“Johnathan?”

Everyone perked up at the name. They looked around, confusion evident on all of their faces. There was no Johnathan in this class. No John or Johnny’s. Was this a secret classmate? It couldn’t be, all the seats were full and no one here was Johnathan.

The teacher sighed and tried again, “Johnathan Fenton?”

Danny perked up and raised his hand, “Here. Sorry. I just um, everyone calls me Danny. Or Daniel, or just Fenton.” he realized he had been rambling and apologized again.

He looked down at his desk still embarrassed that he sort of forgot his own first name for a second. Then he felt like he was being watched.

He looked up and realized everyone, but Tucker, who was too busy chuckling to himself, was staring at him with varying degrees of confusion and anger. Sam included.

The class said nothing. Only stared for the remainder of the roll call.

Once the teacher was finished, and before they could truly start class, Dash was the first to break the silent tension. “Your name is Johnathan?!”

“Yes?” Danny answered hesitantly as he leaned away from the angry jock. Normally Dash wasn’t much of a threat anymore after all the ghost hunting, but he couldn’t exactly use his powers in the middle of class.

“Since when?!”

“Birth?”

“No!” Dash countered.

“Look, I’m named after my dad and it’s too confusing if we both go by the same name, so we just use my middle name instead.”

“But your dad’s name is Jack.”

“Which is short for Johnathan,” Danny explained with a sigh.

Dash sputtered in confused annoyance. Apparently, he didn’t know that either.

Before he could get too angry about his lack of knowledge, the teacher made it clear that they were going to start class now.

Dash glared at Danny and pointed an accusatory finger at him, “I don’t believe you, Fenton.”

“Okay?” Danny shrugged it off and the rest of the class went back to ignoring him.

Except for Sam.

She was still glaring at him.

“What?” Danny mouthed not a hundred percent sure as to what his gothic friend was upset about.

She flipped open her notebook hard enough for the paper cover to slap against the desk and furiously scribbled something down before tearing out the page and quickly folding it like a ninja star and chucking it at his head.

He carefully unfolded the note and read it.

“Are you serious?! Is this some elaborate prank?”

Danny looked up to Sam in surprise and then back to the note.

“No really. That is my name.” he wrote before trying his best to fold the note back up as she had it. He really wasn’t as good at it as she was.

She wrote her response quickly and made a point to get the creases of the folds just right. “Then why is Tucker laughing?”

“I don’t know? I’m not a mind reader Sam.”

“Did he know?”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He didn’t really understand why she was so upset by this. It didn’t really matter. Did it? “I wasn’t keeping it a secret. I just forgot.”

“Forgot what? That it was your name or that I didn’t know?”

He hesitated too long and Tucker finally snatched the note from him and read it over before snickering to himself and added his own two cents before tossing it back to Sam.

Finally, Sam smiled. With a roll of her eyes, she slipped the note into the pocket of her notebook and went to doodling like nothing was wrong.

Danny wasn’t really sure what that was all about, but he was glad it was over.

================================================

The rest of the day was mostly fine. His friends teased him about his full name occasionally throughout the day, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle.

Dash kept giving him the stink eye, which was weird, but better than being shoved into his own locker.

Lunch was a bit of a disaster once Tucker let out his inner bookie and started holding bets on what Danny’s real name was.

There were three options.

One was that his name was really Daniel and he was just pranking everyone somehow.

The second was that his name really was Johnathan and he was telling the truth because Fenton can’t tell a lie to save his life.

While the third was that he had a completely different name and may or may not be related to the Fenton’s at all.

Danny wasn’t sure if he should be finding all of this hilarious or just plain annoying. Maybe it was one of those, ‘we’ll laugh about it when we’re older’ things?

Of course, word spread fast and everyone was trying to figure out what the real answer was. No one was asking Danny, because they weren’t sure if he actually was a reliable source. Tucker refused to give the answer until the end of the day when he would reveal the winners. And Sam admitted that all of the name nonsense was news to her, but since she loved chaos, she would wink and add, “But it could be true.”

Danny realized too late that the only other person to ask before the end of the day was his sister.

Before he could get to her, someone else beat him to it.

Dash had cornered her just outside of the library and asked, “What’s your brother’s name,” without any preamble.

Of course, Jazz, being two years older than them and in none of their classes, had no idea what had been going on. So she answered the question as best she could despite the confusion, “Danny?”

“Ha! I knew he was a liar!” Dash boasted as he turned around and punched his fist into his open palm as he eyed Danny.

“Wait!” He called out to Dash before turning his attention to his sister, “He means my first name!”

“Oh,” she turned to Dash, “Why didn’t you just say that?”

Dash’s shoulders slumped in defeat, “his name isn’t Danny?”

“His middle name is, but not his first name.” she turned back to Danny, “Didn’t you explain it?”

“Of course I did! He just didn’t believe me! And now the whole school is losing their minds because they think this is some crazy prank or that I’m a liar or something.”

Danny sighed and composed himself before giving the warning as he had meant to, “Tucker is taking bets on what my name is so other people might ask you about it too.”

Jazz hummed thoughtfully to herself while nodding, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You are going to tell them the truth right?”

“Of course,” she said but she still had that far-off look in her eye.

Danny figured he would probably regret asking, but he was just too curious, “what are you thinking about?”

“This is very interesting from a psychological perspective, don’t you think?”

“How?”

“Well by learning that what they assumed to be true, wasn’t, it has shifted their perspective on things.”

“Do you really think it’s that deep?”

“What do you think it is then?” she asked, not annoyed that her theory was being questioned, just curious.

“I think people just like drama.”

“Perhaps.” she said as she watched a dejected Dash walk away, “and maybe it’s a bit of both.”

“Whatever it is I hope it goes away tomorrow.” he walked away and wondered if this was a preview as to what would happen if his secret got out.

He stopped in his tracks with a sigh. No, if they found out he was really Danny Phantom it would be worse. So much worse.

#Danny Phantom #fan fic #my writing #inspired by another post #silly head canon

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obsessive-ego · 4 years ago

Text

Talking in you sleep

Musical beetlejuice x reader

Reader says Beetlejuice's name 3 times in their sleep, but hes already in their home

Sfw

Idk been thinking about this for ages

Just a small fic

It was an accident

It was no secret to anyone that you talk in your sleep, not full sentences, just a word or two, nothing too abnormal, you didn't know about this little quirk of yours until a certain foul mouthed undead demon wormed his way into your life, he was the one who told you.

...

"Ya know you chatter on in your sleep?" He'd chuckle as if he found something truly embarrassing to bug you about.

"How'd you know? Am I that loud you can hear me in the livingroom?"

"Nah, I watch you sleep" he said it so plainly as if it wasnt super creepy.

The ghoul eventually upped his late night habits from watching you sleep, to sleeping in the same bed as you, he did this so often you stopped setting up the couch for him and just accepted your fate to be spooned every night by a creepy old dead guy who you may or may not have a crush on

...

The nights you've babbled in your sleep always brought on annoying mornings of beetlejuice teasing you, probably lying through his teeth over how you moan his name in you sleep to get you worked up for his own amusement, unfortunately you couldnt prove you didnt since your dreams never really stuck with you long after waking.

Hell with your late night chatter you even manged to summon beej once in your sleep, a night he was spending over at the Deetz, you manged to say his name 3 times in a row, spoken, unbroken, in your sleep, and boy was your face red when you woke up and saw the bastard in question sitting inches from your face with the widest shit eating grin you've ever seen on his face, that was an instance you couldnt deny saying his name in your sleep and dreaming about him, you missed him, of course you think about the demon when you two are apart, even the few days he's with the Deetz and the maitlands.

Tonight wasnt one of those nights, beetlejuice has spent the entire day glued to your side, chatting your ear off about all the scares he and lydia pulled in your absence, his stories always made you smile, the way he practically glowed green with excitement as he retold his showmanship to you.

The night went on with bad jokes and fun stories as the demon filled you in on all the fun you missed while you were doing boring adult breather things and how the two of you should mess with some unlucky breathers so he could show you how amazing he truly was, as if you needed proof that the ghoul was a ham who loved to show off.

As the two of you sat on the couch laughing away, forgetting the movie that basically became White noise to your conversation, a yawn escapes your lips

"Getting tired babes? Am I really that boring" the ghoul teased pinching you cheek

You groan and pull away "well, yeah, unlike you mister freeloader, I worked all day" you shrug before letting out another yawn

"Freeloader? Oh sugar, your words hurt" the ghoul fakes hurt, giving you an over exaggerated gasped face, with his hands over where a person's heart would be "I thought we had the mutual understanding that I was your trophy husband"

You give the demon a soft laugh "you wish-"

"Every night baby~" he purrs pink stripes slowly appearing in his hair

You freeze, it wasnt uncommon for beetlejuice to openly flirt with you, but that doesnt mean it didnt make you freeze up everytime, you werent exactly the type people lined up to date, nor were you very popular growing up, so the sudden and intense attention the demon gave you always made your heart pound.

"Uh, um, I think I'm gonna head to bed" you stammer before getting up "night beej" you mumble before disappearing into your bedroom.

The demon stifles a laugh, god slash satan you were a delight to get worked up, not to mention easy. He loved it, his favourite little breather was always so hot when they were an embarrassed mess.

The ghoul decides to finish the movie the two of you had on in the background, before heading to bed with you, he didn't need to sleep, just enjoyed being snuggled up to that soft warm body of yours, and it was more rewarding to sneak in after you were out cold, bed would be already warm, and with the added thrill of not wanting to wake you.

As the credits roll beetlejuice snaps his fingers and tv goes dark, the ghoul raises from the couch and gives a yawn and a long stretch as if he was exhausted. The demon makes his way to your room, standing outside your door he pauses at the sound of your voice

"Beetlejuice"

It was soft, barely audible, but herd it, guess you were still up, beetlejuice phases through your bedroom door, to be greeted by your sleeping form.

He stifled a chuckle, you were dreaming of him, tomorrow was gonna be great, the ghoul was already busy thinking about ways to poke fun at this in the morning, moaning out his name in you sleep? What kind of dream were you having babes? He could see your face now.

"Beetlejuice" you mumble again in a whisper

"Whoa there babes, you know the rule, one more time and I'm out" he whispers making his way to your bed.

"Beetlejuice" you sigh

"Y/N!" was the the only thing he had time to shout before vanishing.

His shout was enough to make wake you, but not enough to clue you in to what you just did, you grumble out a swear before rolling over and going back to sleep.

The next morning you wake up, a tad confused to not have a snoring dead guy weighing you down, normally on nights beetlejuice would stay over he'd slip into bed with you after you've fallen asleep, using your chest as a pillow.

You dont think much of it at first, heading to the kitchen to make some coffee before getting dressed, you did notice there was no beej there either, waiting for you kettle to boil you give your little home a quick sweep for the demon, nothing.

He's vanished to do his own thing before, he was a grown man, sometimes he'd duck out and mess with the neighbors in your apartment complex, but he would at least leave you a note or something.

You started to worry, what if something awful happened to him? Then it clicked, lydia must had summoned him away to hang out, that had to be it, and with that thought all dread left you so you could carry on with your day, since bj wasnt around you took the opportunity to get a few odds and ends done.

The day drags on into the late evening, you were enjoying the peace as you catch up on some reading.

Your phone rings, looking at the screen you see its lydia, that's odd, she normally texts you if anything

"Hello?"

"Y/n I need to ask beetlejuice something"

"Isnt he with you?"

"What? No-"

Dread returns to you chest, you havent seen him since last night, he left no note, he wasnt with lydia, did something awful happen? was he bored with you? You felt like you were going to be sick

"Y/n?"

"I gotta go" was all you could say before hanging up,

"Beetlejuice!"

Nothing

"Beetlejuice!"

Again nothing, he normally came after the second yell, anxiety for your dear friend make you since to your stomach in fear for the worst, you steady yourself and take a deep breath and say it for a third time

"Beetlejuice"

With a puff of green smoke there stood the ghoul, unfortunately sporting a purple hue

"Bee-"

"It took you that long to notice I was gone?"

"No, I-"

"Why did it take so long then? Enjoying your time without me?!" Red streaks began to show up amongst the purple

"I thought lydia summoned you back-"

"And you waited till now to check?!"

"I DIDNT WANT TO BOTHER THE TWO OF YOU" you yelled back, beetlejuice is taken abck by your volume, you take a deep breath "if I knew why you were gone I would have said something sooner, what happened?" You say calmly gently taking the demon's hand, red now fading away, though the purple stayed

"You sent me away, you said my name 3 times in your sleep and sent me back to the netherworld" he refused to look at you as if you did this on purpose to mess with him.

"Bee, I'm sorry, I would have never done that on purpose, i- i love having you around, and I, god, i miss you when you're not here, with me" now it was your turn to refuse eye contact, admitting such a cheesy thing, you wanted to just die, not that it would help.

The purple hue is quick to leave the ghoul's form in replacement with a much softer pink, you missed him, music to his ears.

"Sugar" beetlejuice grabs your chin and forces eye contact

You give him a soft smile seeing that he was no longer purple, but also when he pulls you into a rather over exaggerated dip and sloppy kiss "so how bout we make up for some lost time and you can make this little misunderstanding up to me, what do you say babes?~"

You only stutter and choke on your words as the demon spins you around

"Would you like to scare some delivery guy and watch a bad slasher?" You finally get out

The demon pauses for a moment, as if to think about this offer.

"Normally I'd be delighted honey, but I think you owe me~ how bout you have to sit on my lap the entire film~" he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively at you, you swallow the lump in your throat, this was gonna be a long night

Bonus

The two of you were snuggled together on the couch, Beetlejuice's arms were around your waist, his head on your shoulder, your bum on his lap.

"So babes, whatever you dreaming about last night?"

#beetlejuice x reader #muscial beetlejuice x reader

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ragingpancake · 3 years ago

Text

How To Woo Your Scientist In 100 Cookies or Less

Rodney has a secret admirer. Prompt fic. See end of fic for prompt. ~1800 words.

The first time it appears is the morning after the ridiculous mission to M5-X847 (more accurately described as ‘Planet of the Bat-Shit Crazy Natives and Their Ridiculous Trading Ceremonies’ in the privacy of Rodney’s own mind and in the not-so-nearly private mess hall whenever anyone else brings it up). It’s left sitting on his desk by his absolute favorite computer on a folded up napkin from the mess hall, taunting him.

He’s still staring at it as if it holds the secrets to recharging a ZPM, the cure for male pattern baldness and the name of the man Carly Simon wrote a song about when John ambles in for his obligatory weekly hour of light switch duty.

“Ooh, cookie,” he says. Rodney smacks his hand away with a squawk of indignation.

“Mine!”

“Well, are you gonna eat it or just stare at it?”

Rodney settles for the latter while John unfairly makes Atlantis and all of her Ancient Tech roll over for him like the complete slut she is. Besides, he argues silently, it wouldn’t be the first time someone’s tried to kill him with baked goods. It’s always better to be safe than sorry.

Fifty nine minutes and fifty eight seconds later, John plucks the cookie off of the napkin and pops it into his mouth, crunching loudly and spewing crumbs everywhere.

“What did you do that for?” Rodney bellows.

“Just makin’ sure it was safe and citrus free,” John says with a toothy grin. “Next time, you’ll know. Cya later buddy,” he says and ambles back out of the room without a care in the world.

“Next time? How do you know there will be a next time?” Rodney yells after him. “How do you know?”

—-

There is, oddly enough, a ‘next time’. The next morning when Rodney stumbles into his lab, bleary eyed after a late night watching terrible movies and eating horrifyingly greasy food (thank you, Daedalus) with John, there’s another cookie sitting innocently on his desk, silently begging to be eaten. He’s still worried about the possibility of an assassination attempt but he rationalizes that no one is really going to use precious chocolate chips just to murder him so he lifts it up, sniffs it and then shoves it greedily into his mouth.

Less than hour later, he’s still alive and wishing he had another.

—-

By the fifth cookie, Rodney stops checking for the possibility of citrus-laced baked goods. Clearly, someone finally appreciates his genius and has decided the best way to thank him is to ply him with delicious sweet treats.

For once, Rodney doesn’t complain.

——

“Another one?” John asks, eying the 30th cookie longingly. “How many is that now?”

“I don’t know. I’ve lost count,” Rodney lies.

John just snorts in response.

——

“This is getting out of hand,” Kavanagh gripes. “How come we’re not allowed to eat around the computers, but he never says anything about that damn cookie appearing every morning? Why doesn’t Sh—”

Radek steps on Kavanagh’s foot and Miko’s elbow catches him in the side. Kavanagh squeaks and then miraculously falls silent.

Rodney eyes his scientists suspiciously “Why doesn’t who do what?”

“Nothing,” Radek says. “Is nothing but idiotic mumblings of a jealous man.”

“Jealous. Yeah, right,” Kavanagh snorts under his breath.

Rodney is still not convinced and he spends the rest of the day trying to bully Kavanagh into telling him exactly what’s going on.

Kavanagh is gleeful at the idea of knowing something that Rodney doesn’t.

—

“Hey Rodney?”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t you ever wonder who’s sending you cookies?”

Rodney eats the last bite of his cookie and glances over at John. “Not really, no. Don’t really care either, as long as they keep coming.”

“Oh.”

John goes back to touching uncatalogued Ancient tech while Rodney practically has oral sex with the left-over chocolate on his fingers. Rodney’s so caught up in his little delicious world that he doesn’t even notice when the device starts glowing in an ominous way.

“Uh… Rodney.”

Three seconds later, John’s unconscious on the floor and Rodney’s yelling into his headset for a medical team.

——

The next day, there is no cookie.

——

By the third cookieless day, Rodney decides that maybe Atlantis was the secret Cookie Fairy, because whoever it was is clearly pissed off that he almost killed John.

——

“I brought you something,” Rodney announces as soon as he palms the door to John’s room open. It’s the only room, other than his own that he’s ever been able to get into without resorting to screwing around with the crystals. He’s never questioned it, but now he’s grateful that John never had the urge to lock him out.

“Been stockpiling the goods from your Cookie Fairy?” John asks grumpily. Rodney cuts him slack because he knows he still has a killer headache from that damn piece of Ancient Tech.

“No,” Rodney says. “I uh, actually made these for you, and by ‘made these for you’, I really mean I bribed the kitchen staff with an extra ten minutes of hot water in the mornings but um, yeah. I got them. For you.”

John gives him an odd look and Rodney wonders if maybe there’s brain damage that Keller missed on the scans. Wouldn’t be the first time, he thinks bitterly.

“It’s just… you seemed to always be hanging around when I had my cookie and I uh… know that I wasn’t exactly willing to share with you even though I know chocolate chip is your favorite. But that’s not the point. The point… the point is… I screwed up that day. I should have been paying more attention to what you were doing and I wasn’t and I’m sorry and, and, and will you just say something and stop looking at me like that?”

John gives him a slight smile. “Thanks Rodney. You wanna watch a movie?”

For the first time since the cookies stopped coming, Rodney feels like he can breathe again.

——

The next morning, there’s still no cookie, though Rodney really didn’t expect there to be. He doesn’t even really care, because while he acquired the cookies for John the previous evening, he’s the one who ate almost the whole damn plate and if he never sees another chocolate chip cookie again, it’ll be too damn soon.

He has a lot of catching up to do because ever since John got hurt on his watch, he hasn’t exactly been able to concentrate on his work and damn if it hasn’t piled up already.

He powers up his computer and scowls at the stack of papers littering his workspace. Grabbing a handful, he flips through them and then discards them like the complete and utter trash they are. Kavanagh never could finish up the simplest of equations.

He’s just about to log in to the network with the corner of a piece of paper sticking from under his keyboard catches his eye. He frowns and pulls it out. The handwriting is vaguely familiar.

Meet me at the East Pier. 1800 hours. -Cookie Fairy

Rodney doesn’t know whether to be flattered or frightened. He just hopes that whoever the Cookie Fairy is, they’ve forgiven him as easily as John has.

——

The doors to the East Pier slide open with ease and Rodney can’t stop the nervous flutter in the pit of his stomach. The sun is already beginning to set in the Lantean sky, casting a gentle glow over the calm water. Leaning against the railing, there’s a familiar set of slouched shoulders and a crop of dark, messy hair.

“John?”

He turns and gives Rodney a nervous grin. “Hey buddy.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand. What are you… what are you doing here?”

He holds out the plate of chocolate chip cookies. “Uh… surprise?”

For once, the great Rodney McKay is completely speechless.

John clears his throat and shifts nervously from one foot to the next. He sets the plate of cookies down on the railing and rubs at the back of his reddening neck. “So I guess you… Uh, I guess this really isn’t what you were expecting.”

“No,” Rodney says dumbly, because he really wasn’t. Miko? Sure. Simpson? Maybe. But John Sheppard? John fucking Sheppard? Not in a million years. “Why?”

”M5-X847."

“The marriage ceremony? The one where they made you put stupid flowers in your hair and, and, and…”

“That’s the one.”

“But why?” Rodney asks, because he needs to know.

“Because I wanted it to be real,” John blurts out. His ears are absolutely flaming at this point and Rodney’s sure they’re going to spontaneously combust if they get any brighter. “I needed… I needed you to know and I didn’t know how to tell you so I…”

“You baked. For me.”

“Every day.”

“Until you got hurt.”

“Well, yeah. It was kind of difficult when standing long enough to get to the bathroom was a chore. I was… I wanted to tell you that day, but you didn’t… you said you didn’t want to know.”

“I was afraid it was Kavanagh or some other equally terrible person!”

“Why would Kavanagh bake you cookies?”

“I don’t know! If could have been part of some nefarious plan to clog my arteries and send me to an early grave via horrendous heart blockage!”

John just stares at him. “Seriously?”

“Hey, it could happen.”

“Rodney, shut up,” John says and then he’s suddenly there, his lips pressed to Rodney’s.

It’s wonderful and terrifying and so right.

Rodney makes a little noise of surprise against John before he relaxes into his the kiss, reaching up tentatively to card his fingers through his silly hair.

When they break apart, they’re both panting.

“Was that… was that okay?”

“I don’t know,” Rodney says. “I think… purely for research purposes, you understand, I’m going to need you to kiss me again.”

“No problem,” John says and he leans in to kiss Rodney again.

——

By the time they’ve finished kissing, they’re both shivering in the chilly night air. John’s hair is messier than usual and Rodney’s lips are red and swollen.

“Seriously though,” Rodney says, burrowing closer to John’s side as John drops an arm around his shoulders. “Cookies? Really?”

“I figured that at least when it came to you, the old saying was true. The way to your heart is definitely through your stomach.”

“So you thought you could woo me with cookies?”

“It worked though,” John says triumphantly.

Rodney grins. It worked.

“Hey, next time, you think you could do peanut butter?”

“Shut up, Rodney,” John says fondly

“Why don’t you make me?”

“My pleasure.”

Prompt

:One day you come into work and find a cookie mysteriously placed on your desk. Grateful to whoever left this anonymous cookie, you eat it. The next morning you come in and find another cookie. This continues for months until one day a different object is left--and this time there's a note.

#mcshep #john sheppard #rodney mckay #sga #fandom: sga #stargate atlantis #ficlet #prompt fic #reposted from my old LJ as this is the only fic I've written in the past that didn't give me major second hand embarrassment.

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kaiparker-avengerssmut · 4 years ago

Text

Their Doll 1

So It Begins

B.Barnes x Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

series synopsis: y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.

Series Warnings: smut, violence, torture, swearing

Chapter summery: y/n Stark is captured by shield

warnings: slight violence, swearing

A/n: The timeline in this has been altered, as there I things I wanted to include but I also wanted this fic to follow the storyline/timeline of Winter Soldier and Civil war.So for purposes of this fanfic, Peter Parker was discovered by Tony at a much younger age - when he was bitten - and has been an intern with him since, almost like a protégée.(For the purposes of this story Peter was bitten much younger too - more like when he was 9 or ten rather than 14/15)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

POUNDING echoed through my mind like the sound of a stone in a gutter, painful and unwelcome. Bright lights penetrated through my eyelids, piercing through my vision as my eyes fluttered open. The dingy stone ceiling lined with a grime of green entered my vision, along with the prying eyes of scientists and surgeons that crowded my unmoving body. My fingers twitched suddenly, my wrists pulling at the metal wrapped tightly around them. Upon further experimentation, I discovered both my ankles were bound too, causing me to thrash and rattle against the constraints.

"It's done." The sound of someone talking calmed me down, making me crane my neck to see where it came from.

"Good." Another voice sounded, followed by the clunky sound of boots walking towards me. "It's good to finally meet you." The malicious grin on the man's face was unmistakable as he came into my view, the tone of his voice sending sparks of fear through me.

... "I never chose to do what I did, they fucking tortured me, the forced me." I spat, my wrists pulling at the ropes tying me to the metal chair behind my back. Steve scoffed and folded his arms over his chest, Natasha placing a hand on each chair arm and leaning down so she was face level.

"Then why were you there?" Natasha pushed, but before I could answer she was backing away again - almost as if the question had been rhetorical. She stood up with a push at the chair, running a hand through her red hair. She let out a frustrated groan before turning back around. "Who are you?!" Somehow her voice remained calm, but her actions were anything but. She slapped me across the face, my head snapping to the side with the force of it. But I stayed quiet.

"Why won't you tell us who you are, y/n? If that even is your real name?" Steve pressed, his eyebrows mittens together.

"It is! I promise!" I cried, pulling at my bindings even more. Why did they not believe me? It's not like they couldn't guess. It was so frustrating, but I wouldn't put it past HYDRA - the people who took me from my already shit life and made it worse - to make it seem like I was the bad guy. Another slap landed on my cheek, my jaw clenching with anger. "Come on!" He shouted. "Tell is who you really are!" Steve continued to shout, shaking my shoulders, his face turning red.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

I swallowed thickly, awaiting a sharp quip. This time his fist hit my face, the world around me once again going black.

... The rhythmic beeping soothed me out of my sleep, my eyes widening into the intrusively white light enveloping the room. My mid wondered, trying to link the days events to my current situation.

I had started my day with a briefing with one of the HYDRA agents, like any normal mission I had. I was to find out exactly what Captain America and Black Widow we're doing on the boat, without being seen, before reporting back to my superiors. Just like any other mission I'd been assigned to in the last three months. Spying on the Avengers - looking for weakness, strengths, secrets, weapons; anything to give them an upper hand when HYDRA finally enacted their plans to overtake SHIELD.

My fist connected harshly with the side of the man's head, knocking him cold and colliding into the wall. I shook my fist off and advanced, stealthily wandering down the now-deserted hallway - avoiding the lifeless bodies that scattered the floor. Rounding a corner I checked around, seeing two more guards stationed the other end. I slowly stepped around, catching the two men's sight almost instantly, their guns raising to shoot. In return my gun was raised too, but their actions soon halted at the melodic sound of my voice humming through the space.

As if in a daze, the guards turned to each-other, raising the guns to point at their companion's head. Terror in their eyes, they pressed down on the triggers and two small bangs emitted from the guns and the bullets propelled into their heads. Their bodies fell limp, slumping against the walls of the narrow corridor and I walked forward, the heal of my boot landing in one of the puddles of blood and leaving a sticky footprint trail behind me.

"This wasn't the mission." A male voice exclaimed.

"Maybe it wasn't yours." A female voice retorted, the clicking of key on a keyboard constant through the argument. The sudden pause of the man made me pause, and before I could see or hear anything I was ducked down, hands on my ears and head whilst debris rained down over us.

A ringing plagued my ears as I slowly stood up, my vision blurred and unfocused. The haze of chaos around me unbalanced me, the sound of voices simply a muffled white noise as I tried to find my baring. As I almost-blindly stumbled into the room, which was littered with slabs of stone an fragments of exploded technology, my consciousness slowly leaked from my being. The last thing I remembered was hearing the girl shout:

"Steve!" Before she landed in a pair of strong arms, which hoisted her up from under me knees and her armpits. The unconsciousness weighed out and black seeped through my vision, my mind shutting off finally.

HYDRA had brainwashed me, kidnapped and abused me. They set up a trigger - three words and I slipped form reality, mind linked with a superior of which I did not know until the words were repeated back or I suffered strong enough head trauma. My thoughts subsided at the sound of voices echoing in the room.

"Who is she? Why was she there?" Steve's voice sounded, followed by Natasha's.

"Is she okay?" She sounded slightly worried. An unfamiliar voice responded.

"She's fine, just a bit of a concussion and some stretches, she is..." his voice trailed off as I drifted back into sleep, my consciousness fading once again.

...

(Third person POV) "She is an agent, she works for, um..." Bruce trailed off, looking at Steve with sympathy. His jaw clenched.

"What, Bruce? Who does she work for?" He pressed, rubbing his temples with his fingers.

"She works for HYDRA." Bruce finished, wincing as Steve's fist connects with the wall beside y/n's bed. Nat instantly moved to calm him, her hand wrapping around his shoulder as she whispered soothing words in his ear.

"Maybe you should go and see Tony, tell him about y/n." Nat offered, both their eyes trained on Steve as he left the lab. When he was gone Bruce turned to Nat.

"I think we should keep her sedated, until we know who she really is and just how important she is to HYDRA. I mean what if she's another super soldier or something? She could be two things very easily - extremely dangerous and also, on a brighter side, a huge bargaining chip." Bruce suggested, met with a nod from Nat before he walked out the room.

... The thin metal handcuffed on either side of the small bed connected y/n’s wrists to it, holding her down in case the girl somehow awoke from her medically-induced coma. The steady beep of the machinery surrounding her continued - echoing through the near-soundproof glass cell, one whole wall completely clear so anyone could watch over her if need be.

Tony had refused to see the girl yet - either too engrossed in what he was working on or so genuinely not concerned about her that he didn't even this she deserved his attention.

Nat looked on longingly, pity in her eyes as she watched the poor girl laying there - motionless, seemingly unbothered.

Footsteps echoed behind her until a figure was stood beside Nat, arms crossed over his muscular chest and a small scowl on his face.

"I can watch her." Steve assures, turning to Nat and giving her a nod.

"Really?" She asked, sceptical about leaving Steve alone with y/n in fear of him acting rashly. He gave he another nod and she sighed, slowly retreating from the corridor.

#steve rogers smut #steve rogers #steve roger fanfic #captain america #chris evans smut #Chris Evans #bucky barnes smut #bucky x you #steve x bucky #bucky barns imagine #bucky barns x reader #bucky barns x y/n #steve Rogers x reader #marvel #marvel smut #marvel fanfic

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hibiscusangel15 · 3 years ago

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Rumors

Day 22 Prompt: there’s been talk about us

Summary: Rumors chased after Ichigo and Rukia their entire lives. People liked to gossip about their appearances. About their statuses. It was always the trivial matters that rubbed others the wrong way.

And then came the rumors about the nature of their relationship. For Day 22 of @ichirukimonth 2021.

Rating: Gen/K

*Also crossposted to AO3 and FFN!

If you like my fic, please consider buying me a coffee!

We fear that which we cannot see.

“Hey, have you heard?”

“That Kurosaki kid—”

“Yes, that Kuchiki girl—”

“No way! A delinquent joining our class?”

“Of course that untalented recruit is a noble. It’s the Kuchiki influence. I thought so, too!”

Rumors chased after Ichigo and Rukia their entire lives. People liked to gossip about their appearances. About their statuses. It was always the trivial matters that rubbed others the wrong way.

And then came the rumors about the nature of their relationship. A bit surprising, to be sure, but not altogether unexpected, given how petty gossip hounds could be. Just another bored rumor passed along the mill that would eventually be forgotten and replaced with something new.

They both denied it as firmly as they could. It never satiated others’ nosy appetites for long.

All those rumors fell away when she was whisked back to Soul Society. They were the last thing on his mind when he and the others fought to rescue her. He’d forgotten about them completely until she and the other Shinigami showed up during the next semester, unannounced, and the rumors started up again.

It didn’t help that she was living with him now, either.

“What’s the deal with you and Rukia-chan anyway?” Isshin asked while helping his son with the dishes. The girls were having fun getting to know each other upstairs, so he figured he’d step in.

Ichigo threw him a peeved side-glance. “What do you mean? She already told you she has no money or relatives here to help her.”

“So you volunteered to take her in without a second thought, huh?”

“You expect me to let her fend for herself?” The defensive edge in his voice made Isshin pause.

He smiled as he took a dish from the rack to dry. “No, of course not. You’ve always been the type to stick your neck out for someone in need. Why do you think your mom and I named you Ichigo?”

Ichigo said nothing, just continued washing dishes. If one good thing could be said about his punk of a son, it was the fact that he never flaunted his inner strength.

“You’ve never really had many friends growing up. For the longest time, the only friend you had was Tatsuki-chan and then Chad. Everyone else was too scared to try and talk to you. So I’m glad you’re putting yourself out there this year and making a bunch of new friends, Ichigo.”

His son’s face softened.

“That being said, you never answered my question, my son.” Isshin’s eyes sparkled with a single-minded pursuit. “Could it be you don’t trust me enough to tell me the truth? Or is it that you're too shy?”

That all-too-familiar scowl returned to Ichigo’s face. “What the hell’re you talking about, Dad?”

“There you go, dodging the question again! I’m talking about Rukia-chan! Is she, y’know, your girlfriend?”

“My...girlfriend?” A dish slipped from Ichigo's grasp and shattered into pieces.

“Aw crap!” he swore, stooping to the floor. “Sorry, Dad!”

Before he could reach for the largest piece, Isshin gently pushed his son's hands away. “Let me handle this, Ichigo. I don’t want you hurting yourself. Go get the trash can.”

“Dad, it’s no trouble. I can get it.”

Isshin paused. “To be honest with you, son, my joints ain’t as spry as they used to be. I probably can’t get up right now even if I wanted to.”

“Oh, what? You’re such an old man,” Ichigo said as he pushed himself up.

At that moment, Isshin slipped a small pill into his mouth. Urahara’s gigai tech might have been impressive when he was first gifted the thing, but damn was it getting more and more unresponsive as he got older.

After Ichigo cleared the shards away, Isshin let his son finish washing the dishes. It was the easiest way to trap him there, at any rate.

“Anyway,” he began again, “what is Rukia-chan to you?”

His son hesitated, brown eyes darting around as if he could pull some bullshit excuse from the murky dishwater.

He covered it up with yet another scowl. “We’re just friends. Sorry to disappoint you and Yuzu.”

“Aw, c’mon, Ichigo! Your sister and I are just curious!”

“You guys are way too keen about my nonexistent love life. Why don’t you two get lives of your own?”

“You kids might not understand this since you’re so young, but when you become a parent, your life revolves around your kids! That means your life is my life, too!” Isshin clenched his fist. “So c’mon, Ichigo! Tell me everything! Don’t be shy!”

“I’m not being shy. Quit bugging me.”

“Oh?” Isshin’s eyes gleamed. “Only a truly shy man would be so cold! Come now, my son! Confess your deepest, darkest secrets to your father!”

As soon as he tried to embrace his son, all turned black as his face rammed right into Ichigo’s elbow.

* * *

The girls upstairs heard a loud crash and Ichigo’s infuriated cursing.

Karin frowned at the floor. “There they go again. God, it’s so exhausting living with them. Sorry, you’re just going to have to deal with them for the time being.”

Rukia slapped on an innocent smile. “Oh, I don’t mind! I think a lively household is kind of fun!”

Another crash thundered through the house as the two men continued brawling away. Karin sighed. “Fun, huh?”

“I just hope they remember to clean up after themselves! I’d hate to clean the kitchen again when I already did it last weekend!” Yuzu said.

Rukia had heard their muffled fighting before when she hid in Ichigo’s closet. To actually bear witness to the Kurosaki family’s antics was another matter entirely. Compared to the piercing silence of the Kuchiki household, this was a much more comforting change of pace.

“Now don’t take this the wrong way, Rukia-chan.” Yuzu fidgeted on her bed . “But…um….”

Karin tilted her head back with a loud sigh. “She wants to know if you and our stupid brother are dating.”

“Karin!” Yuzu shouted, scandalized.

“It’s what you wanted to ask her since she arrived, right?”

“Dating?” Rukia repeated. “No, we’re just friends!”

“Just friends, huh?” Karin muttered.

“Yes, of course.”

“So you say.”

“Karin!”

“I’m just saying it’d be way more interesting if all this was some elaborate ruse for Ichigo to introduce his girlfriend to the family is all.” She flopped back onto her bed, letting her legs swing freely over the edge.

“That certainly would be more interesting, I suppose,” Rukia conceded. “Unfortunately, that’s not true. No offense to your brother, but he’s too honest to think of doing something like that.”

The three paused when Ichigo’s booming sneeze echoed up to them from downstairs.

Karin smirked. “Friend, girlfriend. It’s all the same to me, I guess.” She pointed a finger at Rukia. “You and I might get along swimmingly once you drop that nice-girl act and be yourself, though.”

Rukia blinked. And here she thought her human girl schtick would work here, too.

The smile that crossed her lips was softer, more natural this time. “You and your brother have the same instincts, I see.”

“I’d say I’m better at reading people than he is. He’s a big dope.” Karin waved dismissively.

Yuzu’s warm smile grew. “Whether you’re just friends with Ichi-nii or something more, I’m still glad to have you in our home, Rukia-chan! It’s nice to have more girls in the house for once!”

Rukia dipped her head. “I’m grateful that you’re letting me stay here without questioning my motives. I hope I won’t be a burden to any of you.”

“If you can keep my brother and my dad in line, you’d be more of a help than a hindrance,” Karin said. “Anyway, Yuzu tends to snore and fuss in her sleep, so I hope you can deal with that, too.”

Yuzu flushed and threw a pillow at her sister’s bed. “Karin! I don’t snore!”

Siblings showed the oddest resemblances to one another from time to time. Karin's teasing grin was so much like her brother's that it made Rukia smile in return. Ichigo then barged into the room and plunked himself on the edge of her bed to hang out with them. They all talked about their day and mocked each other in that special way only siblings could. It was warm and exasperatedly caring.

All those silly rumors that once passed around Karakura High about her and Ichigo dating would definitely escalate if anyone saw her living with him. It didn’t matter to her either way.

For once, she'd found a place where she didn’t have to worry about being judged. Rukia could dare to be happy. She dared to relax and laugh along with them. The Kurosaki family treated her like she belonged, and that was enough.

* * *

“Wait, they live together? Are you sure?”

“Of course! Kojima-san went to their house the other day to bring Kurosaki all the homework he missed, and he told me that Kuchiki-san was the one who answered the door! And she took it from him on his behalf! Like she was his girlfriend or something!”

“No way someone as pretty as her would be shacking up with a guy like that, right?”

“I don’t know. You remember how she climbed in through the third-story window and kicked him in the face and smacked him around? If anything, I feel sorry for Kurosaki.”

Now those rumors couldn’t be helped either. Rukia needed somewhere to stay, and like a little pest, she wormed her way into Ichigo's home and his everyday life. And with his month-long Vizard training going on, he wasn’t exactly around to put a stop to them.

The rumors really started to get out of hand once Ichigo, his friends, and all those weird kids who joined in the middle of the semester disappeared at the same time. No one knew where they went, or if they were even alive.

Some theorized that they had all dropped out to form a street gang. Others proposed the idea that Kurosaki and Kuchiki-san had eloped and invited all their friends to the wedding. All of which were extremely ridiculous, but who was to prove them wrong? Certainly not the subjects of the rumors themselves.

Oddly enough, both Asano and Kojima were the first to dismiss any rumors they heard. They seemed less enthusiastic about it, like their friend’s love life was no longer a fun puzzle to work out. They hung a lot more around Arisawa, who was equally morose and exhausted with it all.

Of course, this only fueled the wild rumors further. Perhaps they were bummed out that they weren’t included in whatever escapades Kurosaki and his other friends got involved with.

Then Kurosaki returned. Without any of those weird friends of his. Without that odd Kuchiki girl by his side.

Kurosaki Ichigo became a recluse, even among those he once called friends.

Perhaps they’d broken up. Maybe she had to move away.

The mystique of their relationship died down pretty quickly after that.

It was not until May of their final year of high school did rumors about Kuchiki Rukia returning circulate around the school. Someone claimed to have seen her hanging around Karakura again. With how eagerly Kurosaki cancelled the rest of his sports team contracts to leave school earlier, it seemed more and more plausible.

Inoue Orihime’s own confirmation that the Kuchiki girl was indeed back only fueled the flames. Apparently, Kuchiki Rukia and all the new kids had to move far away all of a sudden. No, they weren’t all a weird family. No, she would not return to Karakura High.

As for the rumor covering Kuchiki Rukia and Kurosaki Ichigo’s relationship status, Inoue, Arisawa, and Kojima were all tight-lipped on the matter. Despite their best efforts, Asano Keigo was not all that great at keeping secrets, and it only took a bit of pressure for him to crack.

“No, they’re not dating! Can you believe that?” he’d screech at anyone who would listen. “I swear, I’ve tried so hard to hook them up, but nothing I do works! Tell me, what’s a guy gotta do to help his dumbass friend score, huh?”

* * *

Rukia was in the middle of writing up a report when Ichigo decided to show up for an impromptu visit. Admittedly, it was nice catching up with him, but it did wreck her entire work schedule for the day.

Well, perhaps wreck wasn’t the right word for it. She didn’t mind his company. She just normally finished up faster than this.

The odd look her brother threw her when she requested that they be left alone put her off. It did not help that she had flushed when Renji raised a tattooed eyebrow at her before he left, nor the fact that the servants hushed their giggles when Ichigo looked over his shoulder at them.

“Hey, is something going on around here?” he asked after catching the latest servant stifling a smile as she passed. “The servants have been whispering to each other all day.”

That’s because you decided to barge in so blatantly like you live here, you fool, she wanted to say.

Rukia shrugged affectedly. “People like to talk.”

About us, to be precise.

Ichigo scoffed. “People are always talking about me like I’m some kind of freak because of my hair. I’ve never cared all that much about gossip. It’s all bullshit anyway.”

She set her brush down on the inkstone. “I see. You too, huh?”

“Too?” he repeated, finally looking over at her.

“You heard Nii-sama explain why I was adopted into the Kuchiki clan, correct?” She took his silence as a yes. “The Kuchiki name is a prestigious one, but that notoriety does not come without its costs. The moment I was adopted, I was immediately placed in Squad Thirteen despite never having graduated from the Shinigami Academy. I was deemed a product of nepotism, and the other squad members hated me for it.”

Rukia shut her eyes. The memory of Kaien’s warmth flickered in the back of her mind. That would be a story for another day.

“It may seem ridiculous to you, how such a thing could hurt me.” Her smile did not reach her eyes.

He shook his head. “It’s not ridiculous, Rukia. What’s ridiculous is all the stuff people assumed about you. They don’t even know you.”

“No,” she said. “But even worthless rumors can start to take their toll once enough of them build up.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I’m gonna change that.”

Her smile fell. “How so?”

“We’re friends,” Ichigo said without any hesitation whatsoever. “So anyone who talks shit about you gets the business end of my sword.”

“A little extreme, don’t you think?”

Ichigo snorted but said nothing else.

To alleviate the tension brewing around him, she teased, “And what rumors about yourself have you heard lately? I’ve heard quite a lot. I’ve even been asked to confirm a few, on occasion.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

Rukia turned the various rumors over in her mind, struggling to find the best way to spin it. A joke perhaps? Could he laugh off something like this?

No, Ichigo would probably get embarrassed and storm off to find the cretin who started these unsavory rumors in the first place. She would assume such talk was unbefitting of those who served in the Thirteen Court Guard Squads, but apparently she was mistaken.

“Nothing much. Petty gossip.” She continued writing her report as if such matters didn’t concern her at all. “About you and I, mostly. What we are to each other.”

Ichigo scowled. “Not this again.”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“It’s like people don’t have anything else to do with their lives. Stop trying to live vicariously through us already.”

Rukia paused. “Live vicariously?”

“Yeah, it’s like when people try to experience stuff through—”

“No, I know what it means. But what did you mean by that?”

The moment he met her eyes, she understood. There was a frantic, helpless gleam to them, but even so, he did not dare look away.

It was not a challenge, but more a question. It was a plea. His confession.

“Oh. I see.”

“Look, I wasn’t trying to…. I mean, it’s not…. This wasn’t the way that I wanted to….”

Ichigo put his head in his hands and took a deep breath. When he finally sat up straight again, he looked her right in the eye. “Rukia, do you want to go out with me?”

“Oh?” She leaned her head in a hand, the corner of her mouth tugging up. “Are you sure you want to prove those rumormongers right?”

He scowled. “This isn't about them! I told you, I don’t give a shit about what other people think. It wasn’t the rumors that made me like you.”

“What a bold thing to admit.” She covered her mouth in mock surprise.

“Ugh, shut up! It’s hard enough to say as it is.”

Rukia began to laugh. “You’re so strange, Ichigo. I like that about you, though.”

He tried and failed to hide how red his face had become. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not.” Her smile became more genuine then as she reached her hand out to his. “I am happy you asked. Although, I hope you know that it is uncouth of you to drop in on a woman unannounced. According to what I read about courting in the World of the Living, it is also customary to have a chaperone along with us on our dates.”

“Yeah, that’s been outdated for centuries now. What the hell kind of books are you even reading?” he scoffed.

“How rude! And here I was, excited to ask Nii-sama to accompany us for our first date!”

“What? Don’t bring Byakuya into this!”

Their silly bickering echoed all throughout the courtyard. Even still, they did not let go of the other's hand.

* * *

"Hey, have you heard?"

"That Substitute Shinigami and Lieutenant Kuchiki are dating?"

"Why is this news? Weren't they already a couple?"

"Ah, I see! So I was right all along."

Years and years of speculation, only to have the confession be far more mundane than they hoped.

The funny thing about rumors was, once they were confirmed, they lost their appeal extremely quickly.

Another rumor soon came to take its place.

"Kurosaki Ichigo is a noble? No way!"

"Sure, he looks a lot like Lieutenant Shiba, but isn't he just a human?"

"You sure he didn't just marry into the Kuchiki family?"

And so it goes. And so the rumors circled back once again.

If you can say that your heart doesn't change

Then that is strength.

No, nothing can change my world.

The only time a petty rumor is actually one hundred percent true lol. But I mean, it's not hard to disprove with the way they're always looking at each other.

I suppose this fic can kind of fit in the same AU as Home and Clearing Away the Rain. Maybe consider it a prequel of sorts, if you like!

Thanks for reading! Until next time!

#IRMonth2021 #Day 22: there's been talk about us #Ichiruki #OTP: Black Sun and White Moon #Kurosaki Ichigo #Kuchiki Rukia #Kurosaki Isshin #Kurosaki Karin #Kurosaki Yuzu #Bleach #my fanfiction

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honeymoonjin · 5 years ago

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: cursing, mentions of explicit sexual content, mentions of blood. the results of the fan favourite vote poll are at the end of this chapter.

banner designer @jamaisjoons | thank you sfhs babies i love you 3000

ELIMINATION

On the seventh Day of every Week in the game, Y/n’s elimination vote is released for 48 hours following the post of the fic. Please note, this is NOT the Fan Favourite vote, which has already happened.

Vote closed. Thank you for participating!

DAY FOURTEEN

There’s something exciting and indulgent about sitting apart from Taehyung and Jimin, yet sharing secret glances and muffled smiles.

You’d had to leave Taehyung’s room at different times, you and Jimin sneaking back to your respective rooms to change out of his clothes so it didn’t look odd.

As the eight of you gather in the lounge, sleepily curled up with mugs of coffee or lying back against the couch for a few more moments of peace, the familiar faces of the others send a pang of guilt through you. Like you were lying to them. Omission is a type of lie, you suppose, but you try and smother the feeling. You’re allowed to be selfish.

Especially when it made Taehyung and Jimin look so happy.

Taehyung, who was almost always cheerful much like the puppy you saw last night, now looks like he can’t even contain it, his toes wiggling and eyes gleaming. Jimin, who on the other hand tended to be a little stiff and wary during these meetings, seemed more at ease than he’s ever been in front of everyone.

Could the others really blame you for wanting to see them happy?

You bite down hard on your tongue as Sejin arrives, the final piece in the puzzle. Maybe they could. You count your lucky blessings you don’t have to pick a favourite as well as someone to eliminate. Staying objective and making a decision tomorrow would be hard enough.

“Are we all ready?” Sejin checks, consulting with his watch to ensure it was in fact nine on the dot.

Catching everyone off guard, it’s Jungkook that speaks up, sitting beside you with crossed legs. “Ready, PD!”

The rest of you go still for a moment of surprised silence. When was the last time Jungkook had sounded that chipper? You’d found it strange when, being only the third one downstairs after you and Jin, Jungkook had neglected the last empty couch in favour of sitting beside you. Still half asleep, he’d exchanged pleasantries and basically face-planted into a cup of hot chocolate, inhaling the steam like his life depended on it.

Now, though, he seems more alert than most of you, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as he waited for the meeting to start.

As you glance around, everyone seems equally shocked and relieved, except Jin, who just smiles quietly. You send the eldest a questioning gaze, but he just shrugs.

“Alright, today we just need to cover the prompts, Y/n’s Bangasm Bomb, and then we’ll finish off with the audience vote for fan favourite. Sound good?”

At the mention of fan favourite, Jungkook straightens up, knee jiggling. Your heart goes out to him. Not only had he had a rough time lately, but he put so much effort in to his prompt, and you can’t help but hope he gets it. He could use some cheering up, though he seemed cheerful again all on his own. “I’ll cross my fingers for you, Doctor Jeon,” you promise with a soft smile.

He glances back at you, eyes glittering. “You will?”

“Of course.” Out of the corner of your vision, you feel two sets of eyes on you. “You did well.”

He wrings his hands, gaze dropping. “I wasn’t even top three last week.”

You shrug lightly. “Then you’ll be most improved.”

When he grins, teeth poking out cutely, your shoulders drop in relief. “If I win, I’ll take you somewhere really fun, I promise!”

“Alright,” Sejin cuts in, breaking off your conversation, “our theme was dynamics and roleplay. Just like with last week, we’ll go through each of the guys and get Y/n to guess. Should be pretty easy. And we’ll see if anyone will be taking over the bunkrooms. Namjoon and Hoseok, you’ll be returning to your rooms tonight unless you failed your prompt again.”

Namjoon and Hoseok, squished up on either side of Taehyung, lean over him to high-five after the older one cheers.

“I’ll miss it,” Hoseok confesses, “but I missed my own bed even more. Namjoon; you’re welcome for a sleepover anytime.”

“A sleepover sounds fun,” Taehyung answers quietly, but Hoseok trills and cups his cheeks, inviting him too.

Across the other side, to the left of Jin and Yoongi, Jimin stiffens and instinctively sends you a look of uncertainty. Your lips part, but of course you can’t say anything in front of everyone.

Instead, you give a minute shrug and lean back. Taehyung had already spent the past two weeks being relatively free with his affections, and it seems unfair to get upset by it now. Especially when you were still having sex with other people.

Like a bucket of cold water down your back, the decision you made last night comes into clarity. You couldn’t go out on dates. You couldn’t really kiss or hold hands in front of the others lest they find out. And you couldn’t even be faithful to them. What exactly made declaring your feelings and choosing to be together any different from how you were before?

Before you get too deep into your thoughts, you notice the room has gone silent, everyone staring at you. “Hm? Sorry?”

Sejin’s pointing to Jin expectantly. “Could you state your guess for what Seokjin’s prompt was, Y/n?”

Jin’s face is weirdly unreadable, eyes not really focusing on yours. You struggle to process enough to recall the answer. “Um, poolboy.”

Jin remains silent, making Sejin cough awkwardly. “Yes, poolboy and client was his prompt. Congratulations, Seokjin, you didn’t explicitly tell Y/n your prompt and successfully completed it.”

On the other side of the room, Taehyung’s eyes fly wide, before his shoulders slump, blushing as Hoseok quietly teases him.

“Yoongi?”

You clear your throat, feeling weirdly strung-out, like your attention is in a million places at once. Get through the meeting, then you can chat with Min and Tae. Just stay focussed. “Yoongi was, like, an animal?”

“Predator and prey,” Yoongi explains smoothly, finally starting to look a little less zombie-like. “And I made sure we were in view of the cameras outside. The ones by the gazebo.”

Sejin nods, choosing to sit on the coffee table instead of just standing in front of you all. “Right. Congratulations, Yoongi, you also successfully completed your prompt within the rules. Jimin’s one?”

You’re pretty sure every person in this room could guess his without a second thought. “Stripper.”

Jimin blows you a teasing kiss with a wink, and you try not to look too endeared, heart leaping at the soft look that hides behind his flirty act. “I hope you all enjoyed the show.”

Beside you, Jungkook goes oddly stiff, face falling. But before you can ask him about it, he’s taking a deep breath and putting on a smile again, albeit a smaller one. You frown as Sejin congratulates Jimin before turning to your couch and indicating it’s Jungkook’s turn.

“Doctor and patient,” you hear yourself answer easily, but you find yourself still worried about him, remembering what he said about Jimin yesterday. Maybe he wasn’t as cheery as he was making himself seem today.

A similar look of worry flickers across Jimin’s face at Jungkook’s odd response, and you decide that once the meeting is done, you’ll ask Jungkook about it. Maybe get him to talk to you privately, or everyone so you’re all on the same page. Anything so that you can resolve the strange upset Jungkook seems to have.

“...his prompt. Now, Namjoon?”

“Husband and wife,” you offer up reflexively, grateful of the warm albeit shy smile Namjoon sends you in response.

“Now, Namjoon and Y/n, I’m aware you spent a significant amount of time together in the rec room. Of course, you can retain your privacy, but I do need to ask if Namjoon explicitly told Y/n his prompt in there.”

Looking like a teacher’s pet being told off, Namjoon’s eyes go wide. “I didn’t!”

Sejin lets out a quick laugh, holding a calming hand up. “That’s fine, that’s all I needed. Congratulations, Namjoon, you’re out of the bunkrooms.”

Taehyung looks nervous when Sejin’s stare rests on him. His eyes keep darting around to the other men like he’s waiting for their reactions. When Sejin asks you to guess the prompt, you hesitate. Something about how uncomfortable he looks gives you pause. “She doesn’t have to guess,” Taehyung offers up, “and you don’t have to say it. I already know I lost.”

Sejin gives him a look of sympathy. “The editing team did catch you telling Y/n directly which means you’ll have to stay in the bunks for next week, but unfortunately the nature of these meetings does require each prompt to be revealed to the group.”

You can see the puppy behind Taehyung’s eyes as he rounds them, pouting up at Sejin. “Really?”

“We don’t have to give details,” Sejin offers up shortly. “And none of these prompts will ever be things anyone has on their hard limits list, so please don’t think anyone hear will be in any position to judge it.”

This seems to ease Taehyung’s worry significantly. “Pet and owner,” Taehyung offers up shortly. “And I lost because I told Y/n. Time for Hoseok.”

Even as your heart aches to jump up and go to him, Jimin also shifting in his seat restlessly, you see Hoseok quietly wrap a hand around Taehyung’s elbow and Namjoon rest his head tentatively on Tae’s shoulder. You settle back, forcing yourself to remember you and Jimin aren’t the only ones that care for Taehyung.

Sejin clears his throat and gestures to Hoseok. “Lucky last, I suppose. What’s your guess, Y/n?”

You think back to Monday night. Hoseok teasing you throughout the day and then tying you up at night in the prettiest ropes, feeling entirely under his control. You’d called him Master. “Master and sss….sub?”

Hoseok smiles sweetly, his voice honeyed. “Almost. You and Jungkook were my pretty little slaves, princess.”

In perfect synchronisation, the others turn their heads around to you and Jungkook, sharing a couch. “I remember now,” you state weakly as Jungkook shifts on his spot.

Sejin looks distinctly uncomfortable with the sudden turn, wincing at Hoseok. “Well, congratulations because you also successfully completed your prompt. Anyways, that’s that done, time for the Bangasm Bomb. As you all probably recall,” Sejin explains, sliding off his glasses and wiping the lenses with his shirt as he goes, “the requirement was that Y/n had to stay in a different bed every night otherwise she’d be in the bunkroom. Luckily, she managed to do so, so Taehyung is the only one required to stay there.”

Taehyung shrinks, bottom lip sticking out in disappointment and Jimin watches him, stricken. Against your better judgement, you call out to Sejin. “But are we able to voluntarily go there?”

Sejin shrugs. “Sure, you already did so once this week. No rules against it.”

Jimin brightens up, but before he can say anything, Hoseok’s cheering, jostling Tae’s side. “Guess the sleepover will be back in the bunkroom, Tae!” Across the side of the room, Jimin visibly holds back his irritation.

“Can we do the audience favourite now?” Jungkook pipes up in a hopeful voice.

“Oh, of course.” Sejin fumbles to slide his glasses back on, lenses still smudged at the bottom, and clears his throat dramatically. “Alright, so I’ll just say the top three again. Third place this week was Namjoon.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen comically as he croaks out a, “Really?”

“Ah, I’m so proud,” Hoseok croons, reaching across Taehyung to pat Namjoon’s knee enthusiastically. “Young grasshopper learnt well.”

Namjoon still seems in disbelief, letting out a stilted laugh. “Wow, I- Goodness, that’s so nice of them!”

Beside you, Jungkook’s practically vibrating with nervous energy. He wasn’t even in the top three last time, and you can tell he’s feeling the pressure. Yoongi seems unbothered, even as his eyes keenly focus on Sejin; Jin waits patiently, not looking like he’s expecting anything. Jimin’s more focused on Taehyung than the announcement, his eyes locked onto the boy that’s sandwiched between Namjoon and Hoseok as they celebrate. Hoseok looks relatively uncaring about the favourite, lips still spread in a heart-shaped grin at Namjoon’s victory like it’s his own.

“Second place,” Sejin continues, “was Jungkook.”

You hear and feel his reaction rather than see it. Hear the exhale as he sinks, a mix of relief and disappointment making his frame go lax on the couch. Leaning over, you send him a warm smile. “Good job, Kook, you did really well.”

“Who’s number one?” he asks instead, leaning forward with his legs tucked up under him.

Sejin gives a small smile. “The highest number of votes this week went to Yoongi.”

“Yoongi-hyung?” Jungkook questions quietly, but it’s drowned out by Hoseok’s excited woop and chirpy laughter as Yoongi’s mouth drops open, doing a double take at the news.

“Are you serious?” Yoongi exclaims, a disbelieving grin spreading across his face as Jin rubs his shoulders and Jimin congratulates him lowly. “Holy shit, who would’ve guessed?” His eyes find you suddenly, brightening with realisation. “I get to take you out tonight,” he declares.

A shock of thrill runs through you at all the possibilities of some private time with the enigmatic doctor, but you can’t help but glance over, wary of Tae and Jimin’s reactions. Though Jimin just looks a little stiff, Taehyung’s eyes are on you, sullen. Rather than jealous, it seems more like he’s disappointed he couldn’t be the one to take you out. It’s a relief he isn’t mad, but it only increases the unsettled feeling in your heart. You, Taehyung and Jimin sorely needed to talk.

“Well, then,” Sejin interrupts, breaking you out of your daze, “that’s your Sunday meeting, I’ll see you all back here tomorrow for elimination.”

Like clockwork, the seven guys turn their heads to look at you, even as Sejin bids you farewell and leaves out the front door.

“Do you know who you’re voting out?” Jin asks with a complete lack of tact, an easy smile hiding the concern in his eyes.

You cough awkwardly. “I have no clue,” you answer honestly. “I’m just… trying not to think about it until I really have to, you know? I still don’t want to vote out any of you.”

“That reminds me,” Jin speaks up, though he states it awkwardly, almost sounding rehearsed, “I think we all need to have a group talk. Set some things straight.”

Jungkook recoils like the comment was directed at him, letting out a light huff. “Can’t this wait?”

Yoongi grimaces. “With all due respect, Jungkookie, I think it would be best to just have a chat now and sort this out. If the therapist thinks we need to talk, he’s probably right.”

“It’s not like it’s urgent,” the youngest rebutts, “let’s just do it some other time.”

Jin sucks in a breath. “We’re all sitting here now, Jungkook, and clearing the air. Unless you want to go back to feeling uncomfortable.”

Jungkook’s eyes cast towards the ceiling like he can’t believe he’s stuck here. “Oh my god! I already spoke to you, just pass it on!”

“You know I can’t do that, Jungkook,” Jin says calmly, even as his eyes flare in ire. “We want you to be happy, and I’m sure you’re not the only one that has been struggling, and if we-”

“If you want me to be happy, fucking let me leave, Jesus,” Jungkook swears, and you flinch when he suddenly stands, rushing away quickly. “I’ll come back when I’m done.”

“Done?” Jin asks, looking completely lost. “Goodness, that kid gets angry at everything these days.”

“A talk does sound really helpful, Jin-hyung,” Namjoon offers up. “If you want, we can hang around and wait for Jungkook.”

Jin lets out a light sigh, smiling gratefully. “I figure it’ll be good for us. Hopefully. I just worry about everyone, you know? Just because this is a reality show doesn’t mean we need to be always fighting and throwing drinks in people’s faces and stuff. We need to communicate like adults.”

Yoongi frowns. “You don’t need to take all that burden on yourself, hyung. I’m sure they didn’t teach you to handle this kind of situation in your training.”

Jin goes to reply, but the moment his mouth opens, words are cut off by a dual ding, two phones going off.

You glance over to where Taehyung and Namjoon both instinctively check their phones, faces falling almost simultaneously.

“Oh,” Taehyung says shortly, face falling. “I should’ve remembered.”

“What is it?” Jin asks with knitted brows.

“It’s his stream,” Namjoon explains guiltily, “he normally begins it earlier than this, so he was probably trying to leave so he could start.”

“Why didn’t he just-?” Jin exhales roughly, Yoongi’s hand falling to his shoulder to anchor him. “Whatever. He’s angry now, I guess, let’s just wait for him to finish and once he goes offline someone can text him and ask him to come down. Is everyone fine with that?”

Although no one protests, the air is significantly stiff with tension; Yoongi makes another round of coffees, Taehyung opens the stream and watches it with the volume turned muted, biting at his fingernail. It feels like such a departure from the same time last week, and being tuned in just feels even more invasive than last time.

“The people in the comments aren’t happy about him being late,” Taehyung notes nervously. “He looks upset.”

“I don’t think you should be watching,” Namjoon admits, shifting in his seat as he tries to avoid looking at the screen. “Doesn’t it feel strange to you?”

“I’m just making sure he’s okay,” Taehyung insists hollowly, eyes locked onto it. “He’s trying to touch himself but he’s not getting ha-”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Yoongi spits harshly, returning with four cups of coffee balanced precariously in his grip. “Watch it if you want, but respect that we’re choosing not to.”

Taehyung frowns, but doesn’t protest, returning silently to the screen. Alone on your couch, you take a cup of coffee from Yoongi’s outstretched hands and cradle the cup, feeling the warmth seep into your bones, your heart still as cold as if it were frozen in ice.

True to Yoongi’s command, Taehyung stays silent as he watches, and the entire room sits in uncomfortable quiet until, what can only be fifteen or twenty minutes later, Taehyung lets out a defeated sigh and locks his phone, setting it on the arm of the couch.

The implication is clear, and Jin sets his jaw, looking determined albeit regretful. “Okay, can someone text Jungkook? Let’s get this over with. Just remember it’s for the best.”

Though it seems like even Jin himself is unsure of that, everyone waiting in dread as Taehyung sends him a text, and he comes down the stairs a few minutes later, cheeks flexed with irritation.

You fight the urge to reach out to him when he collapses onto the couch beside you, hair messy but clean and in the same casual clothes as earlier. He seems restless and volatile, and you can’t help but wish the lot of you weren’t having this talk now, or wish you could just jump forward in time to when everyone was happy and alright again.

“Go on, then,” Jungkook starts, snapping the silence. His arms are crossed tightly and eyes piercing as they glare at Jin. “Start the group therapy.”

Though he’s been silent for a while now, Jimin lets out a tired groan. “Fucking hell, Jungkook, he’s trying to help you! Seeing you be upset makes us feel terrible.”

Jungkook stiffens, and you can just about feel the heat radiating off his body as he fires up. “Oh, I’m sorry, next time I’ll just be miserable in private!”

Jin looks stricken, rubbing at his temple. “Jungkook, you said you were going to try and seek out the things that made you happy.”

“And you said you weren’t going to reveal what I said to you in confidence,” Jungkook replies shortly, but before Jin can protest, he’s continuing, voice strained. “But- I do want to try and make things better. I’m sorry; I’m really stressed out and it’s frustrating not being able to leave this place. I thought if I got fan favourite I’d at least get a break.”

The rest of you fall silent for a moment. Your eyes sting, so you blink to ease the ache. “We understand. We want you to be happy. Can we all agree to try our best to just stay chill and talk this through?”

As the others nod, Jungkook scoots back like he’s trying to bury himself into the corner of the couch. “But talk what through? Do you not realise how shitty it feels having all of you sitting me down for an intervention right now? I don’t know whether to be offended or humiliated.”

Taehyung’s face crumples violently, like he’s about to cry. Hoseok, unusually solemn, clears his throat lightly as he pats Tae’s back. “JK, it’s not all of us gathering to dunk on you. I for one know that there are things I’d like to get off my chest. Things that bother me and stuff. I think if we all just front up to what we’re struggling with then we can work through these issues together. But it’s gotta be all of us. If we want to be happy here.”

Jin sends Hoseok a grateful look, sitting back in his seat when Jungkook begins nodding. “I can do that,” Jungkook agrees in a small voice. “Just… someone else can start.”

The concept of owning up about your feelings is clearly as paralysing to the others as it is to you. Everyone falls silent, looking around at each other’s faces and waiting for someone else to speak up. A thread of worry niggles in the back of your brain that Taehyung or Jimin would confess your closeness, bursting the bubble that was already so fragile.

In the end, it’s Yoongi that chooses to go first, heaving a great sigh to brace himself. “If I’m perfectly honest,” Yoongi admits, “I’m a little concerned that we’re going to be cornered into conflict no matter how much we avoid it. As nice as the producers are-” he pauses to glare at one of the cameras filming the interaction with an ‘I’m watching you’ gesture, “this is a reality show and reality shows are founded on drama. And look how much effort it took to get us to sit down and actually talk to each other? It would’ve been easier in some respects to just get angry and hateful and fight every other day, and I don’t think everyone is as aware of that as hyung and I are.”

Jungkook swallows. “I do worry about that, too,” he reveals. “I mean, not in the same way, but… If we wanted to, we could just all hate each other and only interact when we had to and then never speak again when we all leave. Which is weird because for now, we can’t go anywhere. We’re all gonna be really close and then we’ll just go our separate ways. And I don’t know what to do about it… If that makes sense.”

“But you did that exact same thing to us,” Jimin protests. “If you’re scared of us all acting like strangers then why push us away?”

Jungkook frowns stiffly. “That’s what you did at the start!”

“And it sucked,” Jimin retorts immediately. “It felt awful seeing everyone socialise and feeling like I had to stay out of it to protect myself. That’s why I’m not acting like a dick anymore.”

“Well, that’s up for debate,” Hoseok quips with a scoff.

Jimin sends him a withering glare, but Jungkook pays no mind to Hoseok’s remark, eyes still on the blue-haired man. “Everyone else was ignoring me anyway!” His voice is brittle, powered only by his frustration, and it feels like a pot ready to boil over. “Yoongi and Jin always do their own thing in the kitchen and never like me helping out, Namjoon and Hoseok have their whole teacher-student thing going on, and the only people my age are so up each other’s asses that they don’t even look at me half the time! Y/n has six other guys to sleep with so it’s not like I can even hang out with her that much. Everyone’s paired up and left me out of it but you all act like you haven’t. And then it’s all, ‘oh, why is Jungkook all grouchy?’ like I’m just making your lives difficult or something.”

Jimin winces. “We never tried to-”

“It doesn’t matter if you didn’t try to, you did! You and Tae fucking drool over each other all day long and even when I try and- and- talk to either of you, it’s clear that you’re just thinking about the other person.” Jungkook stands suddenly, whirling around to face Taehyung. “I thought that day in the confessional shed, Tae, when you said it wasn’t just Y/n… I thought you were talking about me. I thought we were having a moment, you know, and then it turns out it was just Jimin. It’s always Jimin.”

“Come on, that’s not fair,” Jimin cuts in, “he can’t help his feelings.”

Taehyung sends Jimin a confused look hastily before turning back to Jungkook. “Kookie, I’m really sorry. I don’t want to exclude you anymore. I’ll do better.”

“You shouldn’t have to apologise, Tae,” Jin pipes up tiredly, and a strangled cry comes from Jungkook’s throat, the boy almost hysterical.

“Why do you want so badly for no one to be on my side, Seokjin?”

“God, it isn’t about that-”

Jungkook seems borderline hysterical, bottom lip trembling violently as he points at the eldest. “Well, what is it about? You act so fucking high and mighty, Jin, yet you’re in the same fucking situation as me.”

Your eyes widen as Jungkook turns to you, knees almost bumping yours with how close he’s standing. Behind him, Jin makes a low noise of warning. “Don’t, Jungkook…”

Jungkook’s eyes are wild, two points of red on his cheeks. “Jin has feelings for you but he won’t say anything because he thinks you just see it as sex. And he has the fucking audacity to try and give me advice on my feelings for-”

“Jeon Jungkook!” Jin bellows, standing too. Beside him, Yoongi tugs at his wrist, but the eldest shakes it off. “You have no right to-”

You’ve had enough of sitting silently, wincing at Jin’s volume, the therapist so far from the pillar of emotional stability he usually was. “Just let him get it out, Jin, he’s frustrated.”

Jungkook scoffs even as Jin shakes his head in disapproval. “Are you serious?” Jungkook asks you incredulously. “I tell you Jin has feelings for you and you’re still trying to suck up to me?”

You reel back, brows knitted. “I’m defending you, Jungkook.”

“I don’t want you to fucking defend me, Y/n, I’ve had enough of you leading everyone on and then not returning anything. You have all the power here and you just toy with us and act all innocent.”

“What are you talking about?” you cry, throat aching with the effort it takes to keep your voice steady.

Jungkook’s eyes gleam, unshed tears reflecting the light. “Jin-hyung tries to be romantic and you tell him it’s just a scene to you, instead of just doing Namjoon’s prompt you take his virginity like it’s a 90s romcom, making it “special” for him. You want every one of us to fall for you so that you can get fawned over by seven hot guys, but you aren’t willing to take any of the responsibility that comes with it. You act like things are so hard for you having to choose, but you’re breaking our fucking hearts doing it!”

You open your mouth to retort, but a crashing wave of guilt overtakes you, and your cheeks are wet before you even realise you’re crying. Intentional or not, you rue all the times you complained about elimination, knowing that the guys must have been feeling so much worse. “I’m so sorry, Kook,” you make out, covering your nose and mouth with a hand to try and contain yourself.

From the other side of the room, it’s Namjoon that speaks up next, voice flat and reserved. It’s a stark contrast to the fire in Jungkook’s voice, but he looks no less affected by everything. “That’s not fair at all,” he says shortly, “Y/n isn’t in charge of our feelings any more than we are, and you don’t have any right to judge her for what I chose. I was the one who wanted my first time to be special, Kook.”

Namjoon’s low volume seems to influence Jungkook, taking his noise level down a notch. The words just hurt more. “Maybe you shouldn’t be here then, Namjoon. This isn’t where you come to have your cherry popped by a nice, young lady you can bring home to your parents.”

“Oh, my god,” Hoseok exclaims with a groan, “are we seriously just complaining about everyone now? Is that what this is? Good going, Jin, really fucking helpful.”

A whirl of dread rushes through you as the anger continues to flit around the room in an ugly cloud, everyone having a bone to pick with each other. Jin makes a noise of outrage, hissing back at Hoseok when he speaks. “I don’t see you coming up with any suggestions. Do any of you have any fucking idea how hard it is to have everyone expecting you to magically solve their problems and shoulder their burdens and not a single one of them gives a shit about you?”

“That isn’t true,” you protest, immediately regretting drawing attention back to yourself.

Jin scoffs. “You haven’t said a fucking thing since finding out I have feelings for you. Wait, no; you haven’t said a fucking thing since I got upset with you on Tuesday. Did you really never think to ask even once how I was doing?”

Your excuse feels flat even before you say it. “I was waiting for you to-”

“Ding ding ding, we have a winner!” he sings sarcastically. “Everybody waits for me to solve things and then complains when it’s not helpful enough,” Jin spits, glaring at Hoseok with the last few words.

A shuddering sob cuts into the silence that follow his words, and in unison you all turn to Taehyung, who has his face buried in Hoseok’s shoulder, Namjoon rubbing his back as his shoulders heave.

Jimin sucks in a sharp breath at the sight, body twitching as he fights the urge to rush over, and instead raises his voice to address the room. “Alright; show’s over. This isn’t solving anything.”

“Why should you decide?” Jungkook cuts in immediately. “I’m miserable and you don’t care, Jin’s miserable and you don’t care, but the second it’s Taehyung…!”

Jimin rolls his eyes, leaning back in his seat. “Why are you so bothered by it?”

Jungkook lets out a cry of frustration that sounds closer to a sob. “Because you’re taking him away from me! I can’t compete with you! Everybody’s obsessed with you, everybody wants your approval and you just drink it up, you narcissistic, selfish piece of shit!”

Around the room, everyone sucks in a wary breath, but Jimin’s already standing, features sharpened in anger. “Why are you acting like it’s my fault he has feelings for me? Maybe he doesn’t like you because you’re a whiny fucking brat who takes everything personally.”

“That isn’t true,” Taehyung hiccups out, “Jungkookie’s nice, Min. And you’re not selfish.”

Though the tension in the room just keeps rising and rising, you can see, behind Jimin’s standing figure, Yoongi sitting stiffly on the couch. He keeps glaring at the cameras expectantly, with one hand clutching his phone and the other latched onto Jin’s wrist, keeping him from interfering further. The two exchange words quietly, shaking their heads in disapproval.

On the more emotional side of the room, Hoseok holds Taehyung closely, soothing him as Namjoon looks up hesitantly at the others. “I really think we should stop, guys…”

“Let’s all take a chill pill,” Hoseok quips as Taehyung’s tears stain his shirt.

Jimin lets out a noise of disgust. “Oh, shut the fuck up, Hoseok.”

“Is no one gonna stop this?” Namjoon asks hesitantly, glancing up at the cameras.

“What did I say?” Yoongi retorts rhetorically. “They aren’t going to interfere. They know this drama gives their show more views.”

“Good for Jimin,” Jungkook states petulantly, “the more views he gets, the better he feels.”

“Coming from you,” Jimin says over the sound of Yoongi clicking his tongue in exasperation. “Maybe the reason you hate me so much is because you and I are the exact same, Jungkook, I just do it better.”

“Again with your superiority complex,” Jungkook huffs. “How long until everyone here gets sick of you, Jimin? How long until the novelty wears off and you’re left alone on your high horse again, huh?”

Jimin flinches like he’s been hit, but takes an accusing step closer to Jungkook. Around them, everyone shrinks back in their seats, Hoseok shielding Taehyung’s ears and Yoongi and Jin with a phone sandwiched between their cheeks as they make a call. Namjoon’s begun to cry, too, but he hides his running nose with a sleeve, eyes wide and shining as they watch Jimin and Jungkook square off.

The two of them are a few steps apart, now, not even the coffee table dividing them. Jimin, although physically smaller than Jungkook, appears to tower over the other as his face darkens. “At least I’m good at my job, Jungkook. Why did you come down so soon? Blow your load too quickly like an amateur?” When it doesn’t gain any more reaction than Jungkook’s face twitching in annoyance, Jimin grins wickedly. “Or could baby not even get it up, huh? Take your dick away, you’re not much of anything, are you?”

Jungkook lunges before Jimin is even done speaking.

The thud of impact and grunt of rage from the youngest echoes through the room sickly as Jimin reels back, clutching at his nose. Already you can see the intense scarlet pooling between his fingers, dripping down as his eyes tear up with anger and pain.

The urge to jump in, do something, almost overwhelms you, but you feel yourself paralysed, shocked and barely able to process anything like it’s a bad nightmare.

On one side of Jungkook and Jimin, Taehyung wails, struggling in Hoseok and Namjoon’s hold as the two of them keep him from interfering. On the other side, Yoongi stands up in alarm, keeping his voice calm as he splays his palms. “Woah, woah, that’s enough now-”

Jimin pulls his hands away, spitting out the blood in his mouth even as more streams to fill out. “You little fucker,” he hisses. “If you broke my nose, I’ll fucking kill you.”

Jungkook lets out a bitter laugh. “Take your face away, you’re not much of anything, right?” he mocks.

Sensing things turning for the worst, Yoongi widens his eyes and jumps forward, but his hands just catch on empty air. Jimin’s already launched himself forward, taking Jungkook off-guard as he shoves him with balled fists, using the full weight of his body to send the other tripping backwards.

Jungkook curses when he lands harshly on the coffee table, empty and half-full cups of coffee flung off, some smashing directly under him. He rolls off, instinctively curling his body away from Jimin.

Passing Taehyung over to Namjoon, Hoseok leaps up to tug Jimin back as the man continues to step closer to Jungkook’s prone body. The moment he gets a hand on Jimin, however, he’s met with an elbow to the cheek, stumbling back from the impact.

For a moment, everyone goes silent. Jimin stares wide-eyed at the red mark quickly blooming on Hoseok’s cheekbone, the dom looking shocked as he rubs at it.

That second of inaction is all it takes for Jin and Yoongi to descend on Jimin at the same time, an arm firmly grasped by each man as they drag him backwards. Jimin doesn’t even fight it, though, a strange clarity and sorrow in his eyes, even brighter than the red that’s beginning to drip down to his shirt.

When Sejin bursts in and rushes over to Jungkook, it’s too late to really solve anything. The combative atmosphere has dissolved into the sick, defeated aftermath of Jimin and Jungkook’s physical alteration.

Still, he directs Jin and Yoongi to take Jimin upstairs to ‘cool off’, crouching beside Jungkook and making sure he’s okay before he tugs the boy gently up. As he leads the youngest in the opposite direction, towards the front door, Jungkook twists in his grip, trying to look back towards the group.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he wails, “please don’t hate me, I’m so so sorry!” Jungkook babbles on almost incoherently, feet stumbling as Sejin tries to shush him, pulling him out the door.

The moment the door clicks shut, it’s like the emotions of the past hour or so hit everyone at once. Namjoon has joined Taehyung in crying, Hoseok trying to rub their backs at once with a pained face, his cheek beginning to swell slightly.

With your shoulders and chest heaving violently as you sob - the silent tears finally finding their voice - you blink away your blurry vision and heave yourself off the couch. The three of them accept you with open, albeit shaky arms, and without any care about exposing your relationship, you wind your arms around Taehyung’s waist and bury your face in the crook of his neck.

“Do you think they’re okay?” Namjoon asks in a small voice, fiddling with the damp sleeve of his shirt.

As if to answer his question, you hear hurried stomps, followed by Jimin bursting briefly into your line of sight, rushing down the stairs and out the front door without even a second glance.

Even the split-second view of him you got sparks worry in your chest. He’d clearly made a minimal attempt to wipe away most of the blood, but there were still dried smears below his nostrils and down his neck, and the shirt he’s wearing looks like something out of a horror movie, likely the material he used to clean himself up.

Jin and Yoongi follow down, but not fast enough, the blue-haired man long gone by then. The two of them seem hollowed, clearly taking this on as their own burden, as their fault - especially Jin, who’s knitting his brows harshly to stop his own tears.

Taehyung’s straightening up immediately, wrapped up in the middle of the three of you on the couch as he calls out to the older men. “What did he say? Is he okay? It’s not broken, is it? His nose?”

“Tae, easy,” Jin soothes, voice thick with emotion. “Yoongi took a look at it, it’s not broken, just tender. Jungkook sure does know how to swing a punch, though. Jimin was lucky.”

“Lucky,” the masseuse repeats weakly. “I don’t know if anything about this was lucky, hyung.”

“Can we even come back from this?” Namjoon asks slowly. “If we couldn’t talk like adults without fighting, then surely we’re doomed to just-”

“Nobody is doomed,” Jin assures. “If I’m perfectly honest, it seems like Jungkook was so wound up that there was nowhere for him to go except this. He probably just needed to totally vent and get it all out. I should’ve seen it coming, I’m so sorry.”

Yoongi grimaces, a hand on Jin’s shoulder. “None of this is your fault, hyung. We’re all complicit and we can all learn from this, but let’s not play the blame game. I just hope Jimin and Jungkook don’t entirely despise each other after this. I actually thought the kid liked- Anyway. Best thing we can do now is give them some time.”

You suck in a deep breath. That whole time, you’d just sat there, too shocked or too cowardly to move, you don’t even know which one. And although it’s too late, at least there’s one thing you can do to help, rather than just waiting passively. You gently detangle yourself from Taehyung, Hoseok and Namjoon and get up off the couch.

When Yoongi - the most composed of the bunch - sees you kneel on the carpet, beginning to pick up chips and fragments of the shattered cup, he lets out a noise of concern. “Y/n, you shouldn’t-”

In your haste to help, and your shakiness from crying, it’s no surprise that your fingers are clumsy, grabbing onto a shard too harshly.

You see the blood welling before you feel it, a hot line of pain that opens up across the base of your palm and spills onto the carpet. Dumbly, you just watch it collect in the fibres. You’re sure when the showrunners rented this house, they hadn’t anticipated blood to be the fluid they’d need to be cleaning up. But in just one day, so much had been shed needlessly.

You’d probably sit there forever, numb to your own injury were it not for Yoongi rushing forward, his fingers gently prying away the sharp shard of ceramic, holding your hand so tenderly as he inspects it.

“You’re coming to my bedroom, now. Can you stand?”

Yoongi’s voice feels far away, inconsequential. You hum just to feel your throat vibrate. Letting out a sigh laden with worry, Yoongi lifts you off the floor slowly, waiting to see if you can get your feet back under you.

It seems you can stand, though it takes all of your focus. The others are talking behind you, voices fretting, but they reach your ears like you’re underwater.

It’s less than a second of eternity before you’re blinking away the cotton fog, slowly coming back to your senses.

The first thing you feel is a freezing solid surface against your legs and back. As it seeps into your bones, it wakes you up, and you fight to focus your vision, watching the colours swim sickly.

“...hear me?” The shapes and shades begin to settle like silt on a lakebed, revealing Yoongi’s round face as it crumples in contained concern. “Y/n, can you hear me?”

“I h-hear you, yes,” you slur out, coughing away the remaining thickness in your throat.

“Good, okay, stay with me,” he instructs, crouched in front of you. “What day is it?”

The more you tune back in to your surroundings, you become aware of a second person behind Yoongi. Hoseok’s long legs sprawl gracefully in front of you as he sits on the toilet seat lid, but his head is dipped back onto the tile. He looks totally devoid of any of the positive energy you’re used to seeing on him.

“Everything’s ruined,” you mumble lowly.

Yoongi sucks in a breath and tilts your face back to him, his fingers cold like ice. “I need you to not worry about that for now and stay alert. What day of the week is it?”

“Sunday,” you give after a beat.

“Good, and what’s my name?”

You frown, shifting in his grasp. “I’m not concussed, you know.”

Yoongi huffs, his hands falling from your jaw. “I’m trying to keep you distracted, you brat. What’s my name?”

“Min Yoongi. Doctor Min Yoongi I gue- Wait, why do I need to be- ow!” You automatically try to jerk your hand close to you when a searing, stinging pain explodes your nerves, but an iron grip around your wrist keeps you steady.

Glancing down, you see Yoongi deftly wrapping a bandage around the base of your palm, winding it around your thumb. Below, the burning ache of antiseptic makes you wince. “It hurts,” you whine.

“Unlike poor Hoseok, you did this to yourself,” Yoongi replies shortly.

You pout. “Do you bully all your patients?”

“Only the ones I like.” Clearing his throat with a tinge of pink in his cheeks, Yoongi finishes bandaging your wound. “You’ll live.”

Despite yourself and the events of the past few hours, your lip twitches. “Reassuring.”

Before the doctor can respond, Hoseok lifts his head and blinks down at the two of you balefully. “He hit me,” he breathes in a sullen voice.

“Jimin?” Yoongi begins to pack up his little first aid kit, slumping back against the vanity you’re propped up on. “You got in the way.”

“He didn’t just push me away, he elbowed me right in the face,” Hoseok explains meaningfully. The thought seems to bother him more than you’d expect. “I didn’t think he actually hated me like that.”

“Isn’t that your whole shtick?” you ask tiredly. All of your annoyance, frustration, anger and even your guilt seems to have been sucked away by the chill of the tile, leaving you feeling strangely hollow and detached. “Two sparring doms trying to outdo each other?”

The truth is, Jimin didn’t like to speak or hear about Hoseok, and you hadn’t actually spent that much time with the professional dom to hear his side. Hoseok shrugs with a sigh. “I know he doesn’t like me. And I think he’s an arrogant prick, but I’d never hit him. I thought it was just a bit of fun to play up the rivalry, you know? I guess not to him.”

Yoongi looks grim. “I don’t think it’s wise for us to make any judgements about each other based on any of the events of the past six hours. We all got caught up in it, and I’m sure we’ll be able to forgive and move on.”

Hoseok nibbles at a thumbnail, unassured. “Do you think they’ll send them home for aggression?”

“Who knows?” Yoongi answers honestly. “But hey; you’ll get to be the winner of your rivalry and outlast Jimin. That’s something, isn’t it? You always wanted to.”

A shiver runs up your spine at the despairing look on Hoseok’s face. “Not like this,” are the only three words he makes out before a sob bubbles up his throat. He claps a hand over his mouth, but the dam has burst.

“Hobi,” you coo, shuffling forward on your knees to avoid putting pressure on your injured hand. He lets out a shuddering breath when you take his hand and link in your fingers, providing some physical comfort. “Let’s go downstairs, maybe make some dinner, and wait for Jimin and Jungkook to come back in. We’ll say our sorries and go to bed on a warmer note, yeah?”

Hoseok pauses, bites his lip to cease his tears, and nods shakily. “Yeah, let’s do that. Even if he hates me, I… I want to apologise if I’ve contributed in taking things too far.”

You hum, standing up. Though you wobble for a bit, you feel far more stable than before, and you use your links hands to tug Hoseok to his feet too. “And I want to apologise for not being fairer with you all. But we can’t do anything until Jungkook and Jimin are ready to come back.”

Yoongi pushes himself off the floor with a grunt. “And Hoseok, I’m getting you an icepack for that cheek of yours.”

Though Hoseok protests, five minutes passing sees you in the kitchen, Hoseok slumped at the breakfast bar with a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a paper towel pressed to his face. You busy yourself with putting some rice on to cook and Yoongi and Jin work in their usual companionable silence, preparing a basic beef broth.

Both uninjured and not much help in the kitchen, Taehyung and Namjoon occupy their hands and minds with cleaning, following YouTube tutorials on how to get coffee and blood out of the carpet. They haven’t made all that much progress by the time dinner is served, but nobody comments on the dark patches, huddling on two couches in the lounge instead of the dining table. Though no one admits it, you need the extra physical comfort.

As you eat, you find yourself glancing back and forth between the two full bowls waiting on the kitchen countertop, and the front door. “Should someone go out and check on them?” you ask eventually, snapping the silence.

“I texted Sejin asking if they needed any medical attention,” Yoongi offers. “He just said no.”

“Minnie took his phone,” Taehyung said in a low voice. He’s barely touched his food, staring blankly into space. “But he only sent one text saying he was okay and he won’t reply to any of my other ones.”

“We wait,” Jin decides resolutely. “We’ll just sit here and wait for them to come back, and then hopefully we can all agree to put this past us. It was awful, yes, but I think it needed to happen. And hopefully nobody feels like they have anything weighing on their conscience anymore.”

Nobody protests and so, you wait.

The leftovers - god, when was the last time you’d had leftovers in this house? - are wrapped up and put in the fridge, the pots cleaned. As the sky dims, you turn the lights on inside. Nobody dares leave long enough to have a shower, but Taehyung darts upstairs to grab some blankets so that you can tuck up in two groups - Taehyung stays by your side with Hoseok, and the two eldest sandwich Namjoon.

Time passes stiffly, but it does pass. When the sun goes down, there are still only six of you in the house. Everyone’s so emotionally exhausted from the fight, and strung out from the anxiety of listening out for the door, that when it suddenly opens you all jump, Hoseok even cursing as he gets a fright.

The sudden spike of hope in your chest tanks violently when it’s Sejin that rounds the corner, a grim look on his face.

Taehyung frowns, his frame trembling as it leans into you. “Where are they?”

Sejin gestures back the way he came. “They’re in the production van.” Taehyung stands up immediately, but Sejin steps in front of him, hands splayed. “They just want to have some space, Taehyung,” he explains.

“There’s more space in here than there is in the van,” Taehyung protests weakly, even as he settles back down between you and Hoseok. “When are they gonna come back inside? It’s getting late.”

Sejin’s eyes flit around the six of you as he shifts, uncomfortable. “I’ve told them they’re welcome to stay the night there and use my bed. I came in to tell you that I’m going to go home now. Please don’t go out and disturb them. I’ve talked to them, but now they need some time to chat to each other and think about what they’d like to do.” The older man adjusts his glasses and gives you a pained smile. “Try and get some rest.”

A cold bolt of fear runs down your spine. “What they’d like to do?”

Taehyung swallows hard, hands beginning to tremble. “They aren’t going to leave the show, are they?”

Sejin’s mouth opens, closes, opens again. “Please try and get some rest,” he repeats, rather than answering. Taehyung shivers, and you feel the pressure of his forehead on your shoulder as he wraps his arms around your waist.

The producer turns to leave, making Yoongi frown. “Hey!” he calls sharply. Sejin turns around to face him. “I was meant to be taking Y/n out as my reward for fan favourite.”

You bite your lip anxiously. Truth be told, the thought had slipped your mind, and you don’t fancy leaving the others now, certainly not Taehyung who was clinging to you like a frightened puppy.

Sejin curses under his breath, rubbing his temple. “I’ll call an Uber.”

Yoongi steps back a little like the response surprises him. “No, I- This isn’t really the time, is it? I want to ask if we can do it tomorrow night instead, or something? I’m staying here with my friends tonight. We’re staying together.”

“That’s fine,” Sejin allows, a weak smile gracing his tired features before he gasps. “Oh! That reminds me…” He turns so that he’s addressing the group. “I don’t think anyone is in the emotional headspace for eliminations, so… I’m pushing the Monday meeting to Tuesday. Nine in the morning like usual. Just rest up tomorrow.”

“Good to hear you care now,” Yoongi mutters bitterly.

Sejin winces. “I think we’ve had enough conflict today, Yoongi-”

“Something you could have solved,” the doctor accuses harshly, “if you’d answered my texts or my calls and come down when we were asking you for help. I won’t forget that.”

“It’s done. There’s nothing more for me to do beyond apologising.”

“Which you haven’t done,” Yoongi fires back immediately.

“I’m sorry.” The producer gives a stiff wave of farewell to the group. “My girlfriend is waiting outside. I’ll be back first thing tomorrow.”

When Sejin leaves the villa, the group heave out a unanimous sigh of exhaustion. It’s been a long day, but the thought of splitting apart, of being alone with your thoughts, is more than you can bear.

“Could we…” You swallow down the croakiness in your throat as everyone turns to look at you. “Could we maybe all stay down here tonight? Together?”

Namjoon’s eyes soften. “I’d like that. I could grab some blankets?”

Taehyung looks up. “I’ll get pillows.”

One by one, four of you run upstairs, Yoongi and Hoseok wanting to get into some more comfortable clothes for sleeping. Before you do the same, you turn to Jin.

He’s starting to push the coffee table towards the television, leaving more room in the middle of the couches. Stubbornly keeping himself busy.

“Jin,” you call out hesitantly, making him glance up in the midst of straightening the table against the wall. “I want to apologise. For relying on you for everything and not taking responsibility of the situation.”

His eyes soften, a pained smile. “You don’t have to.”

“I do and I am,” you counter, “I’m sorry. And for what it’s worth… Me calling it a scene, I… It wasn’t a grand statement. It was just a slip of the tongue. You mean more to me than just this game, than just sex, and I feel terrible that you’ve gone the whole week thinking that was the case.”

Behind you, you can hear footsteps descending the stairs. Jin glances up, then back at you quickly with a shake of his head. “To be honest, I’ve gotten over it. I’m fine; you don’t have to worry about me. I think it’s better just to keep it about sex.” He makes a vague gesture, indicating the day’s events. “Less messy.”

You blink, not expecting that. Had he gotten over being upset? Or gotten over his feelings for you? “Oh.” But Hoseok and Taehyung are stumbling down the steps, hesitating in the doorway, and you know you can’t dig deeper. For now, you’ll have to just be happy he doesn’t seem to be still bothered by it. “No worries. I’ll- I should go get into some pyjamas.”

That night, none of you really sleep the night. You lie tucked between Yoongi’s reassuring mass on one side, and Taehyung’s comforting warmth on the other, and try to steal whatever moments of respite you can. But a restless night shared with five guys who mean far more to you than they should is far preferable to a night spent alone, and you count your blessings for it. Although you’re all a little broken, you have each other’s support to stop from shattering completely, and hopefully you can stay together long enough to heal.

ELIMINATION

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mimiplaysgames · 4 years ago

Text

Terraqua Week Day 7 (Night Sky)

Summary: They don’t know it’s called love. Terra and Aqua dare a night out in a storm. || Word Count: 4,511

Read on AO3

A/N: @terraquaweek AAAAAAA it’s over!! It’s been a wild ride. This particular fic I feel is my weakest of the collection - I literally ran out of time to make this one special in my eyes. It’s just a soft and tender fic. I’m sorry I couldn’t give a stronger conclusion, but I hope you take something you like out this one regardless!

~~~~~~~~~~*

Wayfinding

The sky over Destiny Islands is beautiful. Like the mountains in the Land of Departure, we’re isolated here, an audience to pinpricks of light blinking down at us with secrets from far away.

Kairi’s been begging us to visit for a couple of nights to stargaze with her and her friends. She says we’ll be blown away. Tonight, storm clouds blot the sky in clumps, leaving us breaks in between to guess constellations. I do believe you could see stars from Destiny Islands you can’t see anywhere else, even though we all share the same sky. It’s special.

Ven points to a nebula, millions of miles away. “Hold on, is that—”

“The star system of Montressor, yep.” Terra takes a swish of water.

“It’s so much closer here.”

“What’s Montressor?” Sora crushes melted marshmallow onto chocolate, his fingers coated.

We’re sharing a fire, camping out on the beach and listening to the waves crashing. The beach overwhelms the senses in a way that grounds you. I can’t see the ocean through the darkness, but I can smell it. I can feel it by the humidity that drapes over my skin. There’s no mistaking where I am. The beach in the Realm of Darkness smelled like nothing.

And yet, if I walked into the water, I’d walk forever. The horizon vanishes at night.

The cloudy weather lately has made it difficult for us to see everything, so Terra has asked if we could stay longer. This is our third night.

“It’s a cluster of its own stars, like a galaxy.” Terra denies chocolate with his s’more. “The people there travel between different planets with their skyships.”

Kairi snorts. “The adults told us that a god sneezed millions of years ago and that’s his celestial booger smear.”

Sora gapes. “That sounds cool, I’ve never been.”

“You’re missing out,” Riku says, smirking as he chews.

“Wait, when did you go?”

Kairi plucks a marshmallow from the basket. “We can schedule a trip together. It will be fun.”

Terra cocks an eyebrow. “If you enjoy getting mugged by sky pirates.”

Sora leans forward, eyes wide at Terra’s nose. “Sky pirates? There’s such a thing? Oh, I’m in.”

They’re lovely kids, self-trained and their technique shows it. I take a sip of water out of a straw from a coconut that Riku had broken in half by smashing it against a boulder.

Terra eyes me from across the fire, holding my gaze as he drinks. We chose not to sit next to each other—no one else needs to know—but I admit that from this angle, I get to enjoy the way he looks at me. It was only last night that he held my hand and brushed his lips against mine, tucked behind a palm tree where no one saw us. I came back to the hut with fire on my cheeks. I still feel it in my stomach.

I can’t help my smile. I want to look at him longer but I don’t, so I cross my legs.

Paopu fruits hang on the trees nearby. Ven has mentioned (in front of everyone else) that Terra and I should share one. I told him to shut up, and he hasn’t brought it up again since.

“If we’re lucky,” Sora says, “we could see a meteor shower.”

I choke on my drink but keep my lips sealed.

Ven opens his mouth to reply but Terra hands him a warning glare.

Every star in the sky is a world. When worlds fall, the sphere that holds them together breaks into pieces, like the glass that shatters when the lantern is dropped. That is a meteor shower, but I wouldn’t want to break anyone’s heart if they believe otherwise.

“Don’t you wish upon them?” I ask, forcing myself to swallow. The thought of wishing upon the harm of others, even unintentionally, churns me. “Is that the tradition?”

“You mean you don’t?” Kairi asks.

I shrug, desperate for an answer. “We… don’t wish upon much. There’s little use for it when you’re training for the Keyblade.”

Terra turns away to hide a smirk.

“That’s so depressing,” Sora says and I frown.

The wind is warm and moist. It’s so peaceful, of course the only stories you’d ever hear about the stars are the good ones.

Ven jumps up, pointing at the sky. “Look, look!”

Two shooting stars fly straight across. May they be blessed.

“Okay.” Sora slaps his hands together. “Wishing time. I wish…” He closes his eyes, and for a second, a solemn smile darkens his face. “I’ve been away for so long. Any minute Donald is going to ring me up and take me somewhere. I just want to stay home for a while, just a few days. You know, take a break, be with you guys, my best friends. I promised my mom I’d help with her gardening and stay one night for dinner.”

Riku nods to himself.

“I’d like the same,” Kairi says, laying on her stomach on her blanket, gazing at the fire.

“You’re not supposed to be wishing on them,” Ven blurts out, covering his mouth too late.

Sora’s eyebrows furrow. This is not a look I like to see on him. “Why?”

If Ven could kick himself without anyone seeing, he would.

Terra holds onto Sora’s shoulder. “A shooting star is someone traveling between worlds. Their heart is reaching out to someone to comfort or protect them. You don’t want to wish for something selfish, you want to wish the best for them.”

The expression Sora gives can only be described as horror. “Oh, well, um, safe travels buddy. I hope you find your friend.”

“Is it too late to take the wish back?” Riku asks. I think he’s asking on purpose considering how much more fraught Sora becomes and how much Riku is enjoying it.

Terra notices. He nods his head to the side. I love the way he does it. He’s beautiful. “Probably.”

“But I really do want them to be safe,” Sora whines, defeated.

The wind picks up, clouds floating across the sky at a speed where they swallow the stars. It smells damp and it feels hotter.

“I don’t like the looks of this,” Riku says, dumping the pail of water next to him onto the fire. He kicks sand over it for good measure. Sora and Kairi don’t hesitate to stack baskets and fold blankets.

“What’s going on?” Ven asks, moving slowly when he folds his chair, as if unsure.

“Monsoon season.” Riku steps on the last embers. “We didn’t expect a storm to come out this soon but you never know.”

“Maybe it wasn’t supposed to come tonight.” Kairi eyes Sora suspiciously.

“No way—” Sora starts.

“Nice job, Sora.” Riku says. “You’ve doomed us all.”

“I didn’t wish for a monsoon!”

“You wished to be locked up here with us. Congratulations.”

I interrupt. “What do you need me to do? Where do we go for shelter?”

Kairi points to their treehouse, which connects through the cavern and which, from my understanding, stood there through their entire childhood. “My dad—the one you’ve met before, Papa—fortified it with extra wood on the walls and the roof. It’s always been safe.”

By the time we have everything packed and are going up the ramps to the treehouse, it’s pouring. At least it’s not the iciness of mountain rain.

The door bangs when Kairi swings it open, the wind throwing it back and forth as if it’s juggling it between two hands. Ven waves his arm in a circular motion—his magic redirects the wind for as long as he can hold it, letting everyone inside before he lets go and the door slams behind us.

Inside, we dry ourselves with rags, our shoes and socks warming up under the lanterns. We have fresh blankets and sacks of food, in case the storm lasts all night.

Except in terms of blankets, we’re one short.

Ven hands Terra the last blanket and (pointedly) says something to him.

The last blanket is the largest, so I’d have to share it with Terra. I adore Ven to pieces (and I won’t protest sharing any space with Terra), but when Ven gets difficult, I sometimes have to suppress myself. Judging by the way Terra wraps it around our shoulders and nudges close to me, he doesn’t care what the others think anymore.

Kairi quickly looks away from us, rolling her lips inward like she’s witnessed a scandal.

Rain beats onto the roof, a million patters like the fingers of thousands of people asking to be let in. Thunder rumbles in quickly, soothing then unsettling. Terra and I sit in front of a window, the water so thick that it blurs the screen. Under the blanket, he rolls a finger over my wrist, stroking my palm. I smile at him.

“We should have brought real fruit,” Ven says, chewing on dried mango. If by real fruit he means paopu, he’s smart for not specifying it.

“You need finer taste,” Kairi says, chewing on the same.

“You need culture,” Sora says, swallowing something I don’t recognize.

The idea of a spontaneous camp-in might have been exciting the first several minutes, but hours later, it becomes agony.

All this time, I can’t talk to Terra about anything too personal, though we’ve snuck a few passing whispers here and there.

He asks me an indistinct question that anyone can misinterpret out of context: When did you know?

My answer is just as vague. I was fourteen.

There’s not much we can do to explore touch. I tend to listen more to the way he takes finger by finger. Terra will intermittently say one sentence with minimal effort, but just enough so that the others know we’re still with them. I worry that if I laugh a certain way, it would expose us.

But no one asks, too busy chatting about building bigger boats for the one dream they’ve never been able to accomplish.

At some point, Terra challenges Riku to a rematch.

“So what you’re telling me,” Riku says, a mock-smirk that fits perfectly on his face, “is that you’re very impressed and you want to be foolish enough to lose to me a second time so that everyone else knows how impressive I am.”

“We all know, Riku,” Sora says.

“But Terra wants to remind you.”

Terra laughs as if he’s not interlacing his fingers with mine. He squeezes my hand.

It’s when everyone’s eyes are closed, drifting away to sleep, that Terra wraps his arm around my waist and I rest on his shoulder. One lantern is still on. The storm has quieted for now, but we’ve been told to expect another onslaught.

Terra cranes his head back, looking out the window. He’s done this twice per hour, but the sky has been black, the clouds smearing everything.

“What are you looking for?” I whisper.

“I have this very,” Terra starts, pausing, “vague memory of looking up to the stars, looking for home but I could never find it.”

So not his memory, but Xehanort’s. Blurs and images that make no sense, as if from a dream. Castle Oblivion never shined, so of course Xehanort couldn’t find it for the last twelve years. Terra is lucky that’s as much as he remembers. I don’t know how he could possibly deal if he woke up with a history of every crime Xehanort has committed in his body.

“And I feel like,” Terra continues, his eyes lost, his voice hushed. “I’ve—or he—tried over and over again.”

“Ah.” I sigh. “You were looking for it these past few nights.”

“The Master told me that home is the brightest star in the multiverse. You could see it through the clouds. It would always guide you back if you were lost.”

“I never heard that story.”

Terra looks at me and holds me closer. “That was before you came.”

“Whether it’s true or not, it’s out there.”

He frowns, leaning his head back against the windowsill again. “The idea that home was gone at some point… that’s the one thing that haunts me still, even though I know it’s just a trip away and I could always go back. But knowing that doesn’t suffice.”

I rub his stomach. “We can find it together.”

He goes quiet, the hand on my waist tensing up. The wheels in his mind turn. “Do you want to find it tonight?”

I look up at him.

“The storm has stopped,” he says.

“For now.”

“Then we come back before it starts again.” He pulls me closer, nearly settling me on top of his leg. I feel his smirk in my hair.

I glance out the window. “But the clouds are too thick.”

“Well, if the story is true—”

“If.”

“Then we’d take some time for ourselves.” He nudges my nose, and I wish he’d kiss me. “We’re Keyblade wielders. A monsoon isn’t impossible to manipulate.”

I stifle a laugh. He has a quick answer for everything, and to any given person, it’d be infuriating. I once found it so when I was younger.

“I am obligated to remind you that it’s dangerous,” I say, wishing I could get away with tasting his lips. I come close to.

“I feel like I’m about to scream,” he says, brushing my hair. “I need to do something loud. Yell. Throw myself into the ocean. Touch you—I don’t know. It’s too suffocating in here. I’ve suffocated for twelve years. I’ve had enough.”

I don’t know why my heart jumps at the idea when it’s so reckless. Terra is not a bad influence, he’s just as responsible as I am, yet I find myself yearning for the thrill.

I haven’t tasted something like this in years, when thrill was something to be avoided in the Darkness.

“Okay. But we come back in no less than twenty minutes.”

We blow out our lantern and Terra takes precious, long seconds to turn the doorknob.

Ven stirs, his bright eyes blinking open in the dark. “You guys are leaving?” he whispers.

“We’re coming back,” Terra says.

“Is this going to happen a lot?”

My heart sinks. It’s usually the three of us, never disconnected except when we’re bickering. I look to Terra for what to say when he replies with, “Do you want to come with us?”

Ven looks at me. “Nah. I’m tired.”

I bend down and pet his head. “You’ll come with us next time.”

“I know.” Ven wiggles in his blanket and gets comfortable. “Just don’t drown.”

Terra gently takes my wrist. As much as I’m compelled to stay with Ven, Terra’s smile is a reminder that there’s little to worry about with him. We leave the shoes and socks behind.

Outside, the wind howls strong, my sashes beaten in fury. The sand is warm when we step off the ramp, loose swirls of dust devils skidding across the beach. It’s dark without the moonlight, the ocean waves crashing onto the shore so hard that all I see are white bubbles. My heart races, but this feeling is nothing like the constant race of fear in the Dark Realm. No, this is familiar yet foreign. The slap of salty air in my face makes me gush with something jittery.

Terra cups his hands close to the ground and jerks them forward near the base of the giant tree where the treehouse stands. The sand buckles—he’s moving earth and boulder against the trunk of the tree, compensating for years of erosion, creating a natural scaffolding to fortify it further.

The river nearby spills out of its bank, small streams skittling towards the ocean. I bring my hands together and wave them back inland, redirecting the water away from the tree so there is less risk of flooding.

I hear Terra calling me. The wind ruins his hair—he looks more charming this way. When he walks, his pants flatten and blow open like balloons. He gathers bunches of my hair in his thick, large fingers, holds it off of my face, and kisses me. He’s firm and pulsing, strong but gentle, the touch of his lips igniting a flame that rides up to my heart. By the way he breathes through me, he’s been wanting to do this for a long time.

A gust of wind bashes against our bodies. Water splashes on our knees and I nearly topple down.

We laugh into each other’s shoulders, my legs caked in wet sand. He’s holding me up by my arms, taking me towards the nearest palm tree.

“This is the most insane thing I’ve ever done,” I say, my voice raised to compete against the roar of the wind.

“I needed this,” he says, nodding.

My heart sighs in agreement.

Terra trembles from adrenaline, his smile glued on his face. He gestures in a way to call something down from above. A palm tree bends over, giving its head to us. “I want you to meet my new best friend, Leafy.”

I snort. “What is this for?”

Terra giggles before grabbing a paopu fruit. “Thank you, my friend,” he says to Leafy, bowing.

“You’re talking to a tree.”

Pointing that out melts him into hysteria. “I don’t know how to describe it. I am so happy right now.” He gestures like he’s about to rip his skin off, something inside about to explode. “And I don’t know what to do with that feeling.” He turns to me, holding out the paopu fruit. “I want to share this with you.”

My cheeks hurt. “We don’t know how it works.”

“Will you accept it anyway?”

No second thoughts.

It has the consistency of an orange, the taste of a grape. The legend of the fruit claims that it binds the destinies of those who share it together, intertwining their hearts and fates so they’re a part of each other’s lives forever. It could be a symbolic gesture—I certainly thought so when I made our Wayfinders, embedding my magic into them to make sure they work that way.

I don’t know what I think of the future—I stopped planning for it the day I fell to Darkness—but I would be okay so long as Terra stays somewhere in my life.

Terra leans forward and bites the other side of the fruit, right out of my mouth. It catches me off guard, shuddering me into a chuckle, and I lean to meet him, wrapping my arms around his neck. He tastes of warmed juice. My heart pounds at the slide of his fingers on my forearms as he pushes my sleeves away. I lose the paopu fruit somewhere when he pulls me in.

I realize now what it is: I’ve been numbed. The Realm of Darkness hushes it all inside, leaving you with nothing but your thoughts. When you can’t take much more, you wish for it to be over. Then, you are soothed, a sick, cold honey that drips over your skin. The numbness makes you keep walking so you keep living, until you can’t take the numbness anymore and you go back to despairing. Only to be soothed yet again. The only real emotion that lasts for more than a moment is the sudden whiplash when Heartless attack and you have to survive. The wrong kind of thrill.

Terra has been cut off from all senses for twelve years.

I’ve been quieted.

So I need him. I need him to brush his fingers on my skin, I need to taste his tongue, I need to run in the rain, laugh at stupid jokes, get scared on purpose, for reasons that don’t truly threaten me. Terra reminds me of the morning when we raced in the ravine as children. He reminds me that there’s more to the way my heart beats than keeping my hands to myself.

Terra sighs into my neck. “I wish I was strong enough to be a shooting star for you,” he says into my ear. “I’m sorry we waited twelve years to do this.”

Does he not remember that he came to me in the Darkness? He told me not to give up.

He told me that I never stopped lighting his way back. I must have flown in the sky too, without knowing, for other children to see. Maybe I’ve done so many times. I hold him tightly.

An unnaturally strong gust targets at us, loose leaves slapping us and nicking my face. Terra looks up and bursts into laughter. “Stars, he’s watching us.”

Ven sits at the window, waving his arms in circles, as if to slap our wrists with rulers for such behavior.

My instinct is to remove myself from all scrutiny, but I bump into Terra’s chest. I laugh. I don’t know what else to do except to take his hand and run to the other side of the beach. I think about how Ven must have been worried, and opened that window to see what we were up to, only to witness what he did, and—

—I cover my mouth and snort. “I can’t believe we were caught.”

“We’re being sloppy.”

I can’t stop laughing. It hurts, but in a good way, better than the victory after a Heartless attack, better than even seeing my friends again after so long, when I couldn’t stop crying.

Water washes over my feet faster than I can step out of it, my toes sinking like I can be erased in a heartbeat. We all could, at the precipice of Darkness. I could laugh right now, I could mourn tomorrow. The thought chokes me.

“Aqua, are you okay?”

Storm clouds have suffocated everything, dark paint dabbed with a sponge layer after layer so that everything under is hidden. I lean back, but I don’t step away. It’s dark but not Dark, I tell myself. We’re alone, but I’m not. We’re nowhere close to home, but with him, I am. Small reminders for large steps forward.

“It looks like it goes on forever.”

Terra squeezes my hand, and it says so much. He understands. “We’re facing west. Home would be this direction.”

I’ve faced the darkest enemy and survived. I’ve been running—it’s my instinct to—but I don’t have to run anymore.

Yet I don’t know what else I could do with all this energy. I face the black ocean now. I want to do something crazy.

“We could try to find it,” I say.

Terra jerks like he’s about to torpedo himself into the sky. “We’ll fly.”

I swallow. “The ocean looks bottomless.”

“It’s not.”

“I know it isn’t.” I look again. The star isn’t there. “But that doesn’t make sense to me. Dark is dark, kind is kind, and the things that hurt me hide.”

“There’s nothing out there that can hurt you, only whales. And I know for a fact that you’re stronger than any shark I know.”

I pause, a mix of childish giddiness and sudden tears wrestling with each other and I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel. “We don’t fight sharks.”

“We don’t.”

“You don’t know any sharks.”

“You’re right.”

My body gives up and I laugh and cry at the same time. “That was the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.”

Terra wraps his hand on my waist, leaning against my forehead. “I’ve got you. I’m not going to let you fall. Ever again.”

“I know.” I place my hand on the center of his chest. Sometimes lessons are learned too late. Sometimes the consequences are more than what we’ve prepared for. “Let’s fly.”

He summons his Keyblade and commands it to transform into his glider, helping me on with the guidance of his hand. Neither of us want to break contact. His glider isn’t designed to carry two people, the curve of its engine forcing me forward so I lean onto him. His back muscles are well-formed, sturdy under my weight, his waist so thick that I have to grip his shirt to hold on.

When Ven sees us take off, he makes frantic arm movements, grabbing fistfuls of air. It calms the fury of the wind around us, giving Terra a smoother path ahead with mild turbulence. We leave the beach behind, and ride into a world of nothing.

I grip harder into his stomach and contain a meep. Terra slows to a stop. We haven’t gone far.

“I’m okay,” I say onto his neck. It’s quieter out here, without the waves and the trees.

Terra palms a hand over mine, gliding it up to his chest like he wants to feel his heartbeat through both of our hands. It’s hammers, like he’s running away, or towards something.

Or nowhere, really. We’re running just to run, just to remember what it feels like. I kiss the back of his neck, where it meets his shoulder.

“Look,” he says softly. His grip tightens on the handlebar, and he shudders under me. He’s about to cry.

There is one star through the clouds, brushed over in fog. Terra reaches up as if to grab it, measuring our home in the pinch of his fingers.

“To think our beds are small enough to fit,” I say, smiling into him.

Terra takes my hand from his chest and kisses it.

A gust of wind knocks his glider, and he revs it up to stabilize us, holding a solid kick onto the pedals. Ven is either too far away or too tired to keep helping us.

Rain prickles onto us, and starts to build. I tremble. For some reason, I don’t want to go back into the treehouse and sleep it off. I feel cut off, trapped in a bottle where I can’t move.

I look behind me. There are now four heads on that window, four worried faces gawking at the scandal. “The others are awake.”

“Let them have a show.” He turns over and holds me close, taking my lips with his. Again, again, again.

I shiver. He tastes like springwater. I don’t know why I don’t find our predicament threatening. We’re hovering over darkness—but I’ve won against the Darkness. We’ve hovering in a dangerous storm, and yet it seems miniscule. I’m grateful.

“I can make the water dance,” I say.

“I know. That’s why I’m not scared.” He smiles. It’s like he’s asking permission.

I nod. “We wouldn’t be falling.”

“We’d be flying.”

He dismisses his Keyblade. He falls first, relaxed, his arms open like he doesn’t mind landing into the turret of waters, like he’s about to fall on a feather bed.

I call for my Keyblade and let it shine. The rain around us swirls, bursting into bright pellets. Terra catches me with one arm, hooking it around my waist and keeping me close. We twirl like we’re caught in a tornado. We kiss. We laugh, our legs wrapping over each other. The light spreads, tiny pinpricks of asteroids and firecrackers that shower Destiny Islands.

I can’t be crazy. I can’t fall. I’m safe and sound with the earth beneath my feet.

#terraqua #aqua #terra #ventus #kingdom hearts fanfiction #OMG we're finally done #i'm finally done #this has been my life for an entire month i did nothing else haha #my fic

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blarfkey · 3 years ago

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Writing Tag Game

I've been tagged by like ten people for this so thank you everyone who tagged me! @redinkofshame, @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold, @kunstpause Consider yourself tagged if you see it and like it.

How many works do you have on Ao3?

38!

What's your total Ao3 wordcount?

702,253. I would love for it to be more but I am a slow writer lol

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. Woodstock 83 --3480 Kudos

Xmen fic set after Apocalypse where Peter keeps getting these golden opportunities to tell Magneto/Erik that he's his son, and keeps chickening out at the last minute.

I know I wasn't the only one who walked out of that movie theater pissed that Peter came so close to admitting this secret since the previous movie and never did, so I wrote a fix it.

2. The Sun Will Shine When Morning Comes -- 2567 Kudos

The sequel to Woodstock 83, told in Magneto's POV where he's coming to terms with being a father while he cares for his sick son. This is probably my fav X-Men fic I've ever written because I loved having these two figure out what their father/son relationship would be like long after Peter has grown up and how Erik has wanted a child again but doesn't know how to process having one.

3. Jail Break -- 2488 kudos

The first Peter & Magneto fic I ever wrote and the first fic I ever published! This takes place post Days of Future Past and it shows how Magneto could have found out that Peter was his son and build that reluctant connection. Peter has a lot of freaking out about whether or not he wants to accept a supervillain as his father.

4. Clowns to the Left of Me, Jokers to the Right -- 2396 Kudos

The third part of the series Jail Break Started. For some reason this is the most popular one shot in the series. In it, Peter has a huge fight with Magneto and then gets kidnapped by The Bad Guys and doesn't think his dad will come bail him out. But of course he does! And murders everyone in the compound to do it.

5. Two Lonely Souls in a Fish Bowl -- 2361 Kudos

The direct sequel to Jail Break where Magneto keeps showing up in the dead of night to visit Peter as they both figure out how they want this weird parent relationship to be.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Always! Even if it takes me a while. I love the interaction and I want people to feel noticed and appreciated.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Um, i don't really like angst. I think it would be Spark Me Up for Xmen. Professor X/Magneto angst with my first ever written smut. It was a remix of another person's fic for an exchange and they had an angsty ending so I kept it.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

The last installment in the Jail Break/Come Together Series -- Shine On You Crazy Diamond. In it, Peter's little sister Wanda comes into her powers and they go through a lot of pain before she settles into them. It ends with Peter's mom coming to stay with them and her, Peter, Wanda, Erik, and Charles becoming one big family. I've had several people tell me it made them cry lol.

Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you've written?

I'll write something like a set of characters from one fandom in the set up/premise of another fandom/piece of media. Like Dear Fen'harel is a crossover of Dragon Age with an old book called Dear Daddy Long Legs. But I don't combine different universes of different fandoms, it's too weird for me and I can't buy into it.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

took over and finished. We have an AU in our plans but so many other fics keep getting in the way! Sort of? I wrote the first part of a Solas/Maria/Varric series that@cartadwarfwithaheartofgold

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I did receive a weird, angry message on one of my Xmen fics because they didn't like a fight that had happened between two characters but didn't read till the end to see it resolved so the bitched at me for the fact that the fight was mean? Which made no sense. But other than that, nope.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes! Though it's not as much as my non-smut. I didn't write smut for so many years because I didn't think I knew how. I tried to write some out a few years ago and kept it to myself until one of my tumblr friends read it and said it was really good! So shout out to @salexectria, you're the reason why I write and publish smut!

I write all kinds of smut, from dub con to vanilla, from f/f, m/m, and ace spectrum characters. Its all about the characters and what would fit them/the situation more than it is about a specific type of sex.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

If I have, I don't know about it.

What's your all time favourite ship?

Ummmmmm, that's hard. I don't think I have an all time favorite. I will say that Charles/Erik (Professor X/Magneto) was my first ever "otp" that I got completely obsessed with. Actually, I have never been that obsessed with another pairing. I write pairings that I enjoy or that I want to see a certain dynamic from, but that doesn't make them my favorite above all others.

I do really love Solas/Cadash and I prefer Solas rare pairs like Solas/Dorian, Solas/Cassandra, and Solas/Josephine over Solavellan.

What's a WIP you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

I will never not finish a WIP. I hate it when it happens, even though I know IRL gets in the way, but it's so frustrating for me as a reader. So I will finish all my fics. However, I am very slow and very busy so it may take a while.

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue and character voice. I also am really good at developing friendships and platonic bonds or the slow burn get-to-know-you part of a romance. Apparently I write good smut, though its very hard for me lol.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Descriptions and transitions and pacing.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

The only thing that bothers me is if they never put in a translations somewhere and you have to just kind of guess. I don't care about reading something in another language and having a footnote or a note at the end of the chapter. I do it all the time in DF. I do think that putting "said in {insert language here}" is a bit of a cop out.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

The first ever fandom I wrote for and never published was Harry Potter at 13. I wrote a story about a muggle neighbor who had to emergency babysit the baby Weasleys and was shocked by the magic. But I tried to submit it to a website that only published fic by application and it didn't get in and I was like "whatever, I'll just read fic" and then didn't touch fanfic again until I was . . .24 or 25 lol. I mostly focused on my original fiction.

What's your favourite fic you've written?

I can't possibly have one favorite. I do really love my Peter fics, especially The Sun Will Shine When Morning Comes. I love my ACO fic with Apollo!Alkibiades. I love my Solas/Cassandra friendship fic Time Does Not Bring Relief. And I love Dear Fen'harel, of course, because it has so many things I wanted to change for Solavellan or didn't find, as well as a good analysis of myself and how I deal with anger and sorrow and homesickness, ect. through Ellana.

#asks #fanfic #writing #dear fenharel

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nanoland · 3 years ago

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new chapter (lucifer fic)

(earlier parts are here; whole thing is here)

Ponder on the Narrow House, part 3

Mazikeen + Eve + Michael, gen fic (for now), warning for gun violence

Along the California coastline, the cruise ship Illustrious Voyager bore four thousand three hundred and ten passengers, one thousand two hundred and ninety-six crewmembers, and two guide dogs.

Five thousand six hundred and eight souls, in total.

At around 4pm, without anyone noticing, that number became five thousand six hundred and nine.

Hands clasped behind her back, Eve strolled down the promenade, admiring the vessel’s size and beauty. This fresh new millennium’s wealth astonished her. Sickened, sometimes. Entranced, sometimes. But always astonished.

Back in the garden, they’d slept on and under rocks. When it rained, they got wet. When large animals came by, they hid. No weapons. No shelter. No blankets. The only resource they’d had in abundance was food. Good grief – so much food. God had been so proud of all the different fruits and nuts and mushrooms he’d made available to them, and Adam had been so grateful. Eve supposed she had been, too.

It hadn’t stopped her from one day approaching her husband and the plump rabbits resting in his lap – two of several dozen pets – and asking if he didn’t think the cold nights would be much more endurable if they each had a warm pair of fur slippers.

Then she’d met Lucifer. Fallen in love. Bitten the apple. Learned how powerful he and his Father truly were. That was when the real questions, the sticky, prickly questions, had come bubbling up.

If Lucifer has such a vast family, with so many siblings, why can’t I have even one? she’d asked the sky. Why is Adam all I get?

And later: If You can simply bring people into existence, why must I scream and bleed and shit myself in order to have children? Am I doing it wrong? Is there another way? If there isn’t, why not?

And later: Why is nothing fair?

And, most recently, after meeting Mazikeen: Why isn’t everything at least equally unfair? Why do humans get a world of options while Maze and her family are expected to serve angels from birth to death? Why isn’t Maze allowed into Heaven, even after an eternity of loyalty and hard work?

“Sorry,” she said, flashing white teeth at a passing crewmember. “I’m trying to find a friend of mine. Can you tell me how to get to Room 835?”

Half an hour later, there was a splash and the ship’s population dropped to five thousand six hundred and seven.

Before binding his arms and legs, Eve had secured Andrew Bismarck’s lifejacket and gagged him. Furious and helpless, he bobbed alongside her as the ship moved on and Mazikeen rowed up in her inflatable raft, wearing a sunset-orange swimsuit.

“Should I be worried about those, babe?” she asked as she gripped Bismarck’s lifejacket and hauled him out of the water.

Eve smiled at the dolphin pod swimming in playful loops around her, and patted the nearest one’s nose. “No. They’re my friends.”

The inflatable wasn’t big enough for three people, so Eve held on to a friend’s dorsal fin and let him drag her back to The Choronzon.

Michael stood on the deck, looking bored. As they climbed aboard, their prisoner slung over Mazikeen’s shoulder, he drawled, “Seriously? This sad specimen’s worth two million dollars?”

“Actually, his net worth is eight hundred million,” said Mazikeen, dumping him down. “Two million is just what his ex-wife is willing and able to pay.”

Wringing out her hair, Eve added, “She took half his money in the divorce but she gave almost all of it to a chimpanzee shelter. I really like her!”

His lip curled. “How delightfully sordid. Isn’t this all a little beneath you, Ms Mazikeen? I mean, you’re a big deal in Hell. High Commander of Lucifer’s legions, head advisor to the king himself. Aren’t you worried taking jobs like this diminishes you?”

Busy handcuffing Bismarck to the railing, Mazikeen said, “Eve, honey? Do me a favour?”

“Boop!” Eve chirped, having already snuck up behind Michael, and pushed him overboard.

“I know it’s your whole gimmick,” Mazikeen called down as he splashed and spluttered, his face red with princely indignation. “And I know you don’t have a lot else going for you. But the next time you try that on me, I will stop being nice. Kapish?”

“Kapish,” he muttered.

The Choronzon had barely travelled a mile before Eve spotted Bismarck’s henchmen coming after them.

“Someone gimme details!” shouted Mazikeen, busy putting a bulletproof vest on over her bikini and opening up the box she’d told Dan contained a fishing rod, not a halberd.

Eve peered through her binoculars. “Two speedboats. Twelve guys on jet skis. Guns everywhere.”

“Heh. Awesome. Mickey – move that tight ass to the front and make like a nice juicy target.”

“Wait, what about-…” Michael began, trailing off as Mazikeen dove gracefully into the sea.

Bouncing from foot to foot, Eve shot him a grin. “Don’t look so glum, sourpuss. This is the fun part.”

She’d never spoken to Michael in Heaven, despite the millennia they’d both resided only two miles apart, her in a lakeside cottage on the outskirts of the Silver City, him in the crystal palace in its centre.

Granted, she’d not exactly had a warm and fuzzy relationship with any of Lucifer’s siblings. They all knew what had happened in the garden. Some had been nice – Amenadiel had visited often, even though he’d never had much to say and they’d spent their time together skipping stones across the lake’s surface. But the others had kept her at a distance. She was a bad influence.

Michael, however, was the only angel she’d not ever said one word to.

She’d seen him, now and then, in the early days, when she was the only human in Heaven and, as such, grudgingly invited to divine family get-togethers. On those occasions, she’d spent too much time feeling awkward and out-of-place to pay attention to the sullen figure lurking in whatever shadows were available. The one time she’d glanced his way, it had been to marvel at the stories of people getting the twins mixed up; beyond the raw basics of bone structure, Michael couldn’t have looked less like her old lover.

Bullets sprayed across the hull. Humming, Eve stepped daintily into Michael’s shadow, seconds before they started bouncing off his shoulders and chest.

“It is beneath her,” he muttered.

She made an ambiguous noise. “How d’you figure?”

There came a shout and a splash from the nearest jet ski. The bullets stopped.

“C’mon. She’s Mazikeen. Everyone in the Silver City knows about Mazikeen. Ordinarily, we couldn’t give two dry shits about Lucifer’s minions, but her? She’s a minor celebrity. The power behind Hell’s throne. Christ, it’s no secret my beloved twin couldn’t govern his way out of a paper bag.”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling fondly. “He’s kind of bad at everything. Except music. He’s a great musician.”

More shouting. More shooting. More bullets bouncing off Michael’s torso. Mazikeen rode by, one hand gripping her newly-acquired jet ski’s throttle lever, the other clutching her bloodstained halberd. Watching her circle the enemy, Eve was reminded of a sheep dog.

Michael went on: “And then there’s the fact that for a while, everyone thought Lucifer was going to marry her. It was all anyone could talk about. Jophiel was taking bets on when the proposal would happen. She’d have been High Commander and the Queen of Hell. Instead? All of a sudden, Lucifer takes an indefinite vacay to the mortal realm, drags her with him, and next thing anyone knows, she’s working behind a bar.”

The remaining jet skis and their terrified, wounded riders had been neatly rounded up, which meant it was time for Eve to open her purse.

“Um – how long have those been in there?” asked Michael, watching her take out three grenades.

“You want one?” she offered. “Don’t forget to take the pin out before you throw it. I did that my first time.”

One thing to be said for millions of dull, dull years spent sitting next to God’s Greatest Warrior, skipping stones across a lake; your aim got good.

The first blast was a warning, not close enough to actually kill any of Bismarck’s men, though the resultant waves did knock several into the water. They tried to retreat, turning their vehicles around, only to remember Mazikeen, corralling them single-handed and now armed with machine guns she’d confiscated from those already bested.

When they saw the second and third grenade incoming, they gave up and abandoned the jet skis, jumping into the sea and swimming for their lives.

“Fuck!” Michael yelped, blocking his ears at the concomitant explosions.

Gazing past the debris and smoke, Eve saw Mazikeen head for the nearest of the two speedboats. Its occupants, preoccupied with aiming a rocket launcher at The Choronzon, saw her coming far too late.

“I get your point,” said Eve, as her girlfriend and her halberd made short work of the crew. “But that’s a really… how can I put this? It’s a really angelic way of looking at things. Maze doesn’t consider anything ‘beneath her’.”

“Wow. Sick burn. You’re basically admitting she has no pride.”

“Oh, she’s got pride. Tons of pride. Her pride’s just dependant on how well she does a job, not on the type of job she has. She wasn’t happy working at Lux, but that wasn’t because she thought bartending was ‘beneath her’; it was because she prefers doing things she’s good at. Customer service isn’t really one of her strengths.”

The second speedboat was abandoned by its crew mere seconds before Mazikeen rammed the first speedboat into it, cackling victoriously.

“Actually,” Eve said, moving from Michael’s shadow to where Mazikeen had earlier set a crate of peach soda – her favourite – out on the deck, “now that you mention it, I guess I’m the one with no pride. Haven’t really ever had anything to be proud of. Your Dad never gave me the chance. I was never meant to do things. I was just meant to be.”

Michael snorted. “Lucky you. Trust me; he may have softened in his later years, but back in the day he never, ever stopped riding our asses. You think Lucy really rebelled because he had better plans for how the universe should be run? Because he was an innovator? Nope. Lazy dick just hated being told to do his chores.”

By the time Mazikeen swam back to them, saltwater had washed off the blood and her ponytail had come loose.

“Oh, hey,” said Eve, gripping her hand and pulling her up. “A mermaid.”

After pressing a rough kiss to her cheek and taking a swig of peach soda, Mazikeen asked, “You okay? He did his job?”

Eve patted the angel’s shoulder – the one that wouldn’t hurt. “He was terrific! Awesome addition to the team.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Michael mumbled.

Ignoring him, Mazikeen snatched up a towel to dry her hair. “Glad to hear it. Alright! Let’s get Bismarck back to shore, get paid, and find a place to have dinner so we can toast Team Hellrazor’s first successful mission.”

“R-A-Z-O-R,” Eve informed Michael. “To make it cooler.”

#lucifer #mazikeen #eve #michael demiurgos #demons #lucifer morningstar #amenadiel #michael #fanfic #my fic

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