#but I was four hours into an eight hour shift and we had thrown out all the watermelon salad because no one was eating it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mostlymash · 4 months

Text

Here’s the entirety of my new fanfic that has like 13 hits on Ao3. Read it here if not there—I know you’ll like it!!

—————-

The Utility of Cigars

Synopsis: Staff Sergeant Luther Rizzo has Major Winchester in his garbage truck, and he's also got some unfinished business to work out with him. (Post-canon, references s11e15, written for #a day in the limelight challenge 2023

—————

He was losing his touch. Why he’d not made sure to check that he’d brought more cigars along for this last trip with Major Winchester was beyond him.

Everyone else had gone home. He’d watched Klinger get hitched, watched as the nurses, surgeons, and enlisted men scattered like cockroaches in the light, and now he was bringin to Kimpo a man he only lately felt real different about, the only person who had ever been willing to die for him.

Rizzo had only meant for it to be a joke when he pulled the pin of the fake grenade and dropped the damn thing on the ground right in front of Winchester. And that damn arrogant Yankee from Beantown had then thrown himself down on the grenade, preparing to blow himself to kingdom come so that he might live.

Yeah, it was awkward as hell, knowing that he was eternally in Winchester’s debt, even though he knew full well that the grenade was a fake. Didn’t hep that he was tired as hell and he still had another hour or so remaining on the 25-mile drive to the damn airport, not counting the time needed to refuel the garbage truck and unload all the barrels of trash loaded in the back. The others was headed for the 8063rd first, but Winchester was set on gettin the hell out of dodge and already filed his paperwork; yeah, can't say he blamed him none.

It was both a waste of diesel and what remained of his usual coolheaded nature; Kimpo was only for the major. Sure, he’d tole the gang that he’d be headed back to Louisiana to breed frogs, but he knew damn well that he’d already signed on for four more years in the army. Yeah, four more years to be a bum and get paid for it, four more years away from his toothless wife Zola, not to mention the rundown trailer they called home and the chance to make a second check-eater. Little Billy Bubba was more than enough.

“I, ah, sense that we are now downwind,” Major Winchester complained with a cough, waving his hand in front of his face. It was then that Rizzo attempted to dig in his pocket for a cigar once again, finding the same empty pocket. He wondered if Winchester thought of that day, that day that he’d almost died for him. What had it meant, if anything? Was Winchester just a good guy, or was he just a good guy to him?

“Eh, we’ll be upwind soon enough,” Rizzo replied, smacking his lips irritably as he attempted to lick the taste of his last cigar off of his teeth. “Just one of the benefits of ol’ Betsy here,” he added, patting the dashboard for emphasis.

“Do you know when the next flight is out of Korea?” Winchester asked him in a nasally voice, his hand now clamped over his nose. “Can old Betsy not break thirty miles per hour?”

“Not on this terrain; no, Sir,” Rizzo replied. “Why, you fixin’ to get hit in the back of the head with a barrel? Or better yet, an avalanche of medical waste?”

Now Rizzo could see Winchester turning around to frown at the metal barrels behind them as they banged around noisily on the flatbed. The truck they sat in was a large diesel truck, nearly eight feet tall from the ground to the top of the windshield. The tarp that normally covered the Conestoga-like flatbed had been removed, allowing the reek of the garbage to waft wherever the hell it wanted to.

“’Course not,” Winchester said, sinking lower onto the wooden bench seat. Even though he cringed, the major still towered over the cigar-free Sergeant Rizzo.

They continued on in silence for another several minutes, their vehicle rumbling along, the barrels shifting to and fro. If a genie could appear this very second, Rizzo would wish for nothin more than a cigar, if only to keep his own big yap shut. He didn’t have to know. Really, though, he could go the rest of his life without knowin why Winchester done what he done.

What was really killin him right now was that the major had nothin to say to him, preferrin to stare out at the hilly terrain. But why had Winchester held back and not shoved Major Houlihan out of the way for a nice jeep ride? Why had this blue-blooded man said okay so damn fast when he’d offered the garbage truck, the last ride out of Uijeongbu? What was the guy’s angle here, anyway?

“You, uh, got somethin’ to say to me?” Rizzo asked, swallowing. He took his eyes off the road for a moment, glancing at the major as Winchester turned back to face him, confused.

“I beg your pardon?” Winchester asked, not even giving Rizzo the chance to reply before facing front once again.

“You know damn well what I’m talkin’ about,” Rizzo blurted, licking his teeth again. “The grenade, Major. Why’d you do it?”

Now Winchester was staring at him, an odd, confused little stare.

“You tellin’ me you don’t remember the dud grenade?” Rizzo said. “Y’know, the dud.”

The major blinked a couple of times and then there was a spark of recognition.

“Right, the dud,” Winchester said. “Right.” And with that, he shut his mouth in a strange little tight-lipped smile.

“That really all you gotta say about it?” Rizzo pushed. “I mean, no offense, Sir, but I don’t think that’s somethin’ people just do, you know what I’m sayin’?”

Now Winchester looked offended.

“What are you talking about, Rizzo? Did you not see me with your own eyes?”

“Oh, I did, Sir, but what I gotta know is… why?”

And with that, Rizzo let off the gas, the garbage truck rolling to a stop. All that could be heard now was the rhythmic rumbling of the garbage truck’s massive engine, the two men now silently looking at each other. Rizzo studied Winchester’s earnest blue eyes, thinking on all the times these past couple of years he’d presumed the major to be nothing more than a gullible but aloof giant, no more connected with these people than he’d been when he got here. In a way, they were kinda similar. Rizzo had his motor pool and his wife and bouncin baby boy waiting for him at home, and the major had his money and some hotshot job waitin for him.

Did the major take this ride with him on purpose? If he had done it on purpose, what did he expect was gonna happen here today? Sure, he was eternally in Winchester’s debt, that he knew, but what did that mean, exactly? And just why was the major content to stare out at the damn hills the whole time, when he could be askin for more?

Rizzo attempted a sheepish grin, being as the major still hadn’t said anything back. Instead, the major appeared to be thinking. Yep, he was thinkin, alright, his eyes narrowin and then goin back to normal again, mouth twitchin then and again. How long did it take these damn surgeons to think, anyway? Docs got more roads in their brain, or what?

“Ain’t you gonna answer me, Major?” Rizzo said, his eyes now pleading with his superior officer. “I got all day to wait. Got nowhere to be ‘til tomorrow.”

“Speak for yourself,” Winchester snarled back. “Now get this hunk of metal going again. By the time it gets back up to speed, it will be nightfall!”

“Please, Major,” Rizzo pushed yet again, shrinking into his seat. “I know you got somewhere to be, but why’d you choose me?”

“Choose you?” Winchester shot back arrogantly. “What are you blathering about, Sergeant?”

“I mean, it’s really a two-fold question,” Rizzo said, licking his lips. “Why’d you throw yourself on that grenade, and why’d you pick me as your ride?”

Winchester again fell silent, his eyes narrowing once again. He looked out past the vehicle and then at his wristwatch, sighing with exasperation.

“Listen, I’m not goin’ nowhere until you answer me tha—”

“I had no choice,” Winchester blurted. “Now, Sergeant, might we continue towards Kimpo, you know, before the armistice ends?”

Rizzo was floored by the major’s terse answer. How could he go from being okay with gettin his guts blown to smithereens by a grenade, to demandin he go pedal to the metal in ol’ Betsy?

Wait a minute… how hadn’t he seen it til now?

“You like danger,” Rizzo said, now grinning toothily at his superior officer. “That what it is, ain’t it? Gettin your kicks livin’ on the edge.”

Winchester didn’t even know what to say and could only stare at Rizzo’s odd statement.

“I mean, first you take your chances with the grenade, and now you wanna take your chances with ol’ Betsy here,” Rizzo explained. “That why you come to Korea?”

Winchester wrinkled his face in distaste.

“Yeah, I think I get you now,” Rizzo said in a low purr, his smile only growing as he pointed at Winchester with a tobacco-stained finger. “You’s a thrill seeker, ain’t you? Bet you’d get a kick outta Mardi Gras. Like I tole you before, you got an open invitation to swing by our place…”

“As I said before, I had no choice,” Winchester said again, enunciating his syllables as he crossed his arms. “Might I drive? I don't have time for your newfound existential crisis—”

“Listen, Major, I know I’m in your debt, but no one but me drives ol’ Betsy. I hear you keep sayin’ you had no choice. That all you got in your repertoire?”

Now Winchester looked almost angry.

“As your superior officer, I demand you drive this damn truck to Kimpo as fast as it will go!”

Rizzo licked his teeth yet again. There it was. The major was a thrill-seeker, and only he knew the real Winchester. He’d got him all figured out.

“Now, you may be a thrill-seeker, Major, but I ain’t. I aim to get home in one piece,” Rizzo cautioned, slowly depressing the accelerator pedal as he attempted the sharp turn back onto the packed dirt road.

“Thrill-seeker?” Winchester huffed. “Surely you jest.”

“I took your tellin' me you had no choice to mean that your daredevil nature rules your decisions. What, you tellin’ me that ain’t it?”

“I do not have a daredevil nature, Sergeant. Now, if I’d known I would be questioned in perpetuity by you, I would have opted to ride in the back of this truck, inside a garbage barrel.”

So he was wrong? Nah, that couldn’t be it.

“Well, then why’d you fall on the damn grenade for me?” Rizzo blurted. “You know how much that screwed with my head? I used to sleep some sixteen hours a day and now I can only manage twelve, on accounta you!”

“Your guilty conscience is not my problem,” Winchester snapped back. Now Rizzo was visibly angry, and smacked the steering wheel for emphasis as he replied.

“You’re not answerin' my question, Major!”

“I saved your life because I supposed there to be some iota of utility for your continued existence,” Winchester replied, looking bored. “Clearly, I was mistaken.”

Damn, those was some big words. Rizzo frowned, letting each turn of phrase enter his brain one at a time.

“What kinda utility, Sir?”

“The ability to drive to Kimpo in silence, for one.”

Rizzo’s shoulders slumped.

“Yes, Sir,” he muttered, crestfallen.

Biting his lip now, the staff sergeant managed to get ol’ Betsy firmly back on the tamped dirt road and up to speed yet again. The major said nothing more, his eyes stuck on some treeless mountain somewhere.

————————————

They arrived at Kimpo airport before nightfall, Winchester quickly climbing down from the large vehicle with his single piece of remaining luggage. In fact, the major didn’t even have anything to say about the slimy running boards, landing firmly on the ground and turning away from Rizzo in silence. Naw, that wouldn’t do at all.

Anxiously biting his lip, Rizzo turned the engine off, pushing the brake pedal to the floor as he applied the parking brake with an effortful yank. Satisfied that it would hold ol’ Betsy at bay on the gentle slope, the staff sergeant jumped down from the driver’s side, watching the taller man steadily make his way for the hangar without so much as a look back.

“Major!” Rizzo called out. Was he lettin a real-life angel walk away, one who truly expected nothin in return? He ran around the front of the major, pulling the hangar door open for him.

“What is it, Sergeant?” Winchester said, clearly taken aback by Rizzo’s act of kindness.

“You want my home address or somethin’?” Rizzo said, a sheepish grin on his face. “Mind you, I got four more years of service afore I—”

“And why, pray tell, would I want that?” the major interrupted.

“I mean, ‘cause I still owe you, Sir. It’s not like me to let such a debt go unpaid for. You really done something special for me, and I—”

“Let it go,” Winchester snapped, finally in a safe place to reveal the truth. He set his piece of luggage down before crossing his arms over his chest. “You know damn well that that grenade was a fake.”

Now it was Rizzo’s turn to stare at him, eyes narrowed and lips curled into a kind of upside-down bow. As it hit him, he started blinking on overdrive.

“Wait—what’re you sayin’, that you knew—?”

“Yes, Sergeant, I knew. Do you not presume that I am able to communicate effectively with others—like Hunnicutt, for example?”

Rizzo recalled first using Igor’s fake grenade to scare a naked Captain Hunnicutt out of the showers that same morning, gettin his revenge for the surgeon waking him up from what was a peaceful nap at the bar. He’d gotten quite the eyeful of the guy racin out onto the compound, nurses laughin their heads off. He’d expected a similar reaction from the major—watchin that blueblood launch himself face-first into the dirt outside sure woulda been somethin to see.

Rizzo’s eyebrows were low over his eyes, half-obscuring his own vision.

“You mean, Captain Hunnicutt tole you what happened?”

“We surgeons do occasionally speak now and then, you know.” With that, Winchester straightened his trousers, looking back up at the staff sergeant. “Is that all, Rizzo?”

What nerve! Now Rizzo was scowling, pointing as angrily as he could at the man who’d been wreckin his sleep for some time now.

“You mean to tell me you let me walk around here for weeks believin that you saved my life, just for the hell of it?”

“Yes.” Winchester seemed to straighten his posture even more now, towering over Rizzo. “I may not be a thrill-seeker, Sergeant, but no one gets revenge like a Winchester.”

Rizzo’s frown deepened.

“Why’d you tell me all this?”

“Because I didn’t think it fair to hang that over you in perpetuity, Sergeant. Or perhaps it was simply because I was tired of your asking. What matters is that you are no longer beholden to me. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Rizzo’s eyes went wide with anger as he glared up at the major.

“Did you really just say you’re welcome?”

Now Winchester took a step to the side in preparation to move past Rizzo and into the hangar, never to be seen or heard from again. Rizzo’s act of revenge had not only been turned against him, but Winchester had allowed it to eat at him for weeks. The major was nothin but gutter scum, playin mind games with some poor enlisted man.

Rizzo gave the major a half-hearted salute, face sour as the taller man picked up his piece of luggage once again, and suddenly, there was a sound of a metallic click and now ol’ Betsy was in gear, starting to roll forward down the slope, right towards them. The major did not turn around at the sound, but Rizzo knew just what that sound meant. Apparently he’d heard the end of ol’ Betsy’s parking brake, the third in so many years. Her huge tires would make short work of both him and the major if he didn’t do somethin, and it would be near impossible for him to get his footing on the gunked-up runnin boards to throw on the parking brake and stop it before it hit the hangar.

“Watch out, Major!” Rizzo bellowed, and he launched his stout body like a linebacker into Winchester’s flank, shoving both himself and the major into the dirt and out of harm’s way. Rizzo looked back to see ol’ Betsy rolling past them now, her tires coming within inches of the bottoms of their boots, the major covered head to toe in powdery dirt beside him. The massive garbage truck buckled the wall of the hangar as it began to lose momentum, rivets popping out like shrapnel and the domed roof puckering as the two men lie face down beside each other in the dirt, their hands over their heads.

In another ten seconds, it was over.

Rizzo and Winchester turned over and sat up with matching groans, the garbage truck’s enormous tires inches beyond their feet. Nothing could be heard now but their heavy breathing. His mouth hanging open, Rizzo looked at the hangar to his right; ol’ Betsy had made quick work of the corrugated steel wall, the domed roof buckled above it like a discarded can of beer. He gulped loudly, wishing he had a cigar to commemorate this moment; just one foot over and he’d be nothin more than a greasy spot on the cement. Rizzo turned his head to the left, to see that Major Winchester was now looking at him, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Rizzo, you didn’t—?”

“I didn’t what, Major?” Rizzo blurted.

Winchester was still panting with exertion, having difficulty finding the words to say. Gone was the arrogant asshole from only a minute or two before.

“What I’m saying, was did you know that that would—?”

“No, I didn’t,” Rizzo interrupted yet again. “What, you think I’d risk bein’ turned in to a pancake on the off chance that I save your life?”

Now Winchester drew his knees up towards his chin, the giant tire of the garbage truck casting a shadow over him and Rizzo. Something occurred to the staff sergeant, as if the shadow itself had imbibed him with a renewed sense of purpose.

“Well, how bout that?” Rizzo said, grinning toothily as he patted the dust off his clothes. Winchester remained seated as the staff sergeant quickly clambered to his feet. “Looks like I done saved your life, Major.”

“It would appear so,” Winchester muttered, his face still pale as a sheet as he remained seated on the ground.

“Are you two alright?” a man yelled, from the other side of the crumpled hangar wall. “I didn’t even realize anyone was out there.”

“We’re just fine, thanks to me,” Rizzo said, extending his hand to the major, who took it after a moment’s hesitation. Rizzo staggered as Winchester leaned heavily into his hand, pulling himself back to his feet and then dusting off his ruined drab green uniform. “Plane okay?”

“The plane is on the tarmac and is ready for takeoff,” the man replied. “Do you need medical attention? I could alert the—”

“Like I said, we’re both right as rain, happy to be alive, not to mention, eternally grateful for my fast thinkin’… In fact, I’d go so far as to say the major and I will never forget this day as long as we live.” Rizzo smiled up at the taller man beside him, a devious grin on his face. “Will we, Major?”

Winchester let out a sigh, losing at least three inches in height as his shoulders slumped in defeat.

“I, ah, imagine not.”

#fanfic #mash fanfic #charles emerson winchester iii #mash #mash 4077 #luther rizzo #a-day-in-the-limelight-challenge-2023

4 notes · View notes

felicitysmoaksx · 2 years

Note

Rereading all your Rheese stories cause they are gorgeous! Could you do, "Not said to me," from the I love you prompt list, for Rheese?

Aww thanks so much Anon! I’m so glad you enjoy them!

“I can’t believe they shut down the roads,” April was saying to Maggie as they walked into the doctor’s lounge. The Chicago winter had appeared seemingly in the middle of the day. (Not really. It had been cold all week. But it had been a dry cold for the most part. Today though Jack Frost had really out done himself) With the first blizzard of the year.

The ED charge nurse shrugged, “That’s Chicago winters.”

“I know. But it’s still crazy to me. They say that this blizzard has surpassed the worst one to date in 1967. We got 30 inches today. 30 inches in one day!”

The two nurses stopped short, when they saw Connor and Sarah sitting on the couch. Well, Connor was sitting, staring at his phone that he held in one hand, while his other hand in Sarah’s hair playing with it. While she laid with her head in his lap. Connor’s coat thrown over her body as she seemed to be sleeping.

“Did she bully you out of your coat Rhodes?” Maggie asked quietly in a teasing tone, so as not to wake the sleeping resident. Connor sighed, stretching his legs. Then a smirk grew on his face as he chuckled. “And she made me be her pillow.”

April snorted, walking over to the counter to pour herself a coffee.

“No, Sarah had a headache so I suggested she lay down with our break. I’m about to wake her up though, so we can go grab dinner.”

“How long of a break do you have?”

“Four hours”

With the roads being shut down, none of the night shift was able to come in. So the board of the hospital asked the day shift people to cover since they were stuck here anyways. With fairly long breaks to recharge-whatever your shift was, you got half of that as a break. Connor and Sarah had both worked eight hours today. So they got four hours in return.

“Is it still her allergies?” Maggie asked. Remembering the way, allergies had taken Reese down before.

Connor shrugged.

“You love her,” April said quietly, watching as the surgeon shushed the resident when she started to stir slightly, “I mean I know you do. But its something when you actually see it demonstrated with actions than with words.”

“Yeah, I do love her.”

send me a ship and a way to say i love you

#Rheese #Sarah Reese #Connor Rhodes #Chicago Med #answered #my writing #Married But As Friends Fic Series

24 notes · View notes

apprenticestanheight · 2 months

Text

I hate not knowing how much I'll get per my payday next week so fucking much el oh el.

bc--I'll have worked 74-ish hours in the pay period by that point maybe more (time is discounted from pay bc we get thirty minute breaks three times a day and theres one eight hour shift in every rotation) and outside of it, have four hours of training I'll be paid for, seven and a half hours of more training that I had to do outside of work that'll be added to my paycheck, and there are so many fucking variables. I don't know if I'll be getting more than $900 or less but honestly??

I hope its more bc I have so much shit that I need to budget for lol. I need to set aside, at a minimum, $550 for my laptop, which will take a good chunk from it, and then I wanted to get a couple of other things. I have so little clue about anything and it's so frustrating having to wait another week and a half bc I had all of it calculated (relatively well too!!) and budgeted out (down to the CENT. I WAS METICULOUS) but now it feels like all of that has been thrown completely off kilter and I hate it. I LOATHE IT ENTIRELY.

#mikey works in a seniors home #mikey vents

1 note · View note

honeyblockm · 2 years

Text

before we cut to Alexandria (Manberg era cabinetduo)

Between you is a desk and, an hour later, a wall, and your brother- let’s call him your brother, because you do not have to like your brothers, but you have to have them. And he is here, your brother.

Between you and your brother is a desk and on the desk, paper that you pass over the distance, seventy centimeters, ten seconds each to write until the things you say to one another to hide what you really mean fill the page from corner to corner, side to side.

Learning how to read between the lines is a lot like learning how to make bullets, or how to stop a baby from crying, or how to stop your friend from crying when he looks like he’s about to: you don’t, really, but one day you find yourself just doing it, probably doing it wrong. I’ll keep you safe: I’ll (I) keep (will) you (fail) safe.

Here's your brother sitting on the windowsill with his heels tucked in, staring at the smoke he blows into the wind like he wishes that were him. He does, but it's just one of hundreds whispered into dandelion seeds that will invariably land on barren asphalt. Your brother is someone whose wants are countably infinite and does not realize it.

You know three ciphers in total. One's for babies, one you teach your friend, the last you show your brother. It's numbers all the way down, signaling lowly your prevailing existence. Three, one, seven, eight. Shadows in the hallway. Five, five, four, nine. Shift. Lights under the door.

Your brother finds a radio. Has a radio. Had, a radio. It’s yours on Sunday mornings and in the afternoons on weekdays. You spin the dials until you’re sure there’s only static, then you take it all apart, slowly. The sound travels through the air, unseen and unfelt. You leave a whisper in the transmitter.

And there’s a memory, his lanky arms tucked between his knees, head against the open door of the van with a cigarette between his teeth; this other not-brother of a man who has never promised safety in so many words as the walls he built says I don’t do it inside because it’s not good for the baby. Says you (I) keep the (don’t) bad shit (want) outside (them) the walls (to) because it’s (see) not good (this) for who you love.

Between you and your brother and the desk and the walls is not enough space. Too dark, too hot, choked out and the wallpaper too sticky. Too many shadows without form nor sight. You know, I don’t care if you smoke inside. He definitely doesn’t. The sunlight in the window feels solid, like it could hold your brother when he shrugs, stubs the cigarette out on the stone exterior, and looks down like he’s thinking of jumping.

He won’t do it, you know. Your brother doesn’t look at you, looks at where the smoke has disappeared, wishing he could be like that: something with less of a heart and not so much desire. Something that doesn’t hit the ground when it’s thrown out a window. He won’t jump, even though he’s always thinking about it. You have to push him. Or better yet, leap and watch him dive after you.

10.

You conclude the fear comes from the lack of escape, because everything else has begun to slide over you. A boy holds the door open. A man. Whatever. On paper your brother draws a blueprint you can’t understand. He draws the lines tender, the way you make a bed when you’re waiting for someone to come sleep in it. Slides it over. The pen he holds out is an open question.

11.

We can have something better than cheap takeout every day and we can go out to eat on our lunch breaks and you know, I can always learn how to cook and teach you, too. It’s a good thing to know.

12.

Is it love? Do you throw someone from two stories up and watch their bones break below you and shout at them I love you? Do you need to? Don’t they know? Looking up at you. They know. They know. The only difference is who of us got here first.

13.

Say the building's on fire. Say the doorknob's melting. Say you take to the heat better. There’s a hand in yours, paper crumpled in your palm. Take it, smooth it out, do the math in your head. One, two, three, four, nine. I struck the match. I’m sorry. Suddenly it’s just you, and the window is gone.

14.

He turns the bitterness over, splits it apple-seed white at the core. Did you notice he’s no taller than you? Not even a little bit. Between you is a desk, and you trace the ring of water damage on its surface and wish you were the type of person who could crack it. For a long moment that is your only wish. Place your fist in the center of the ring. It fits. Now imagine swinging.

15.

It’s a summer night and you can’t hear the buzz of the flies in the room over all the shouting. It’s summer, so there’s always flies. You don’t even know where they come from, just that when you’ve finally managed to kill the two there’s a third hanging around your leg. Like they know where the rot is. Like they’re born here, young larvae chewing their way out of the wallpaper, tasting blood.

16.

He’s your brother, which you are comfortable with because you do not have to like your brother. You do not have to love him, and neither he, you. You have to have him. You have to not blow smoke at babies (who can bear nothing). You have to buy food when there’s none and you have to make the necessary phone calls. You have to be quiet, and be loud, and quiet again. You have to lock doors, turn off the lights except the one in the hallway. Until you don’t. Until you’re gone.

17.

One more thing. If you jumped, he'd jump after you. And if you walked through the front door?

Wake up every midnight for three years straight to unlock the front door. Wake up every morning at six to lock it. Wait until it gets unbearable, then wait until the unbearable becomes easy, becomes nothing. This is how we survive, long past the moment we think we should have.

18.

Your brother has one leg over the windowsill and he leans back, telling you to come look. Look at the wide ledge jutting from the side of the house. The air is so still. He holds your hand when you follow him onto the ledge. Streetlights start to come on. You can see all of them, signals pointing to far and distant places. Further than your sight goes. There’s a car downstairs and soon there will be nothing between you, and that car. What (where) will (will) you (you) do, (be?) then? Your brother is on your left.

This, this is what I can give you.

#cabinet duo #cabinetduo #c!tubbo #c!quackity #tubbo underscore #quackity #yens #my writing #i feel WACKY!#and tired. i think i will throw this at ao3 maybe and then tap out #its also very much title pending lmao

426 notes · View notes

whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

a kiss from the moon | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: All these years, all these summers, Jeon Jungkook has loved you. His problem? You have no idea. Mostly because he has always said it far too platonically and thrown up in your lap after saying it. Drunk. Fuck. Oh, yeah, and you're also Park Jimin's best friend since preschool. Shit.

warnings: language; alcohol consumption; pining; JK gets distracted by (your) tits during his quest, typical; non-idol!BTS - purple-haired!Jungkook x sleepy af, noona!reader, ft Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung radiating big soulmate energy; childhood friends-to-lovers

yes, it's JK from the 'Butter' beach photos

“I love you!”

You lifted your head out of the mountain of pillows, groggy and hazy, squinting at the moonlight filtering through the floating curtains. The night breeze was warm, drifting in softly with the low hum of cicadas. But what was that other sound? That other sound was familiar, wasn’t it?

You heard your name being shouted, followed by, “Wake up!”

You made a face and stumbled out of the bed, sticking your head out of your bedroom window, your own hair flying back and smacking you in the face.

“Yah! Jeon Jungkook, are you trying to wake up the whole damn neighborhood?!”

“Get down here!”

You put on your best disgruntled expression and peered down at the form on your front lawn, shoving your own hair aside.

“What are you going on about?” you muttered, seeing Jeon Jungkook looking up at you, puffing his cheeks, long wet purple hair fading to gray because of the chlorine from swimming all night at that party Park Jimin had invited you to earlier today, to which you had responded, no thanks, I’m going to sleep all day, I worked three double shifts in a row and I have zero desire to be flung into your family’s swimming pool at this time, but I will acknowledge that your offer is very generous, and then promptly passing out for a good – you glanced at your phone with the pink bunny case Jungkook had given you two summers ago – ten hours and it was still not enough for you to comprehend why your best friend’s best friend was standing on your front lawn yelling at your parents’ house that you were watching for a month while they were in Italy getting drunk on far too expensive wine and eating cheese they probably couldn’t pronounce.

Jungkook was shirtless, clad only in orange swim shorts and sandals like a fucking hooligan. He was clutching a plastic red Solo cup and he threw it at the house, yelling your name again.

“Oh my fucking God, don’t litter, you idiot!” you bellowed back, throwing yourself away from the windowsill and crawling on the floor to your bedroom door like the evolution of mankind, making it from all fours to two legs by the time you got to the stairs – good thing too, you might have broken your neck if you were still disoriented – and you dragged yourself downstairs, yanking your white slip dress straight. Not your choice of pajamas. Your mom’s, who told you to be more ladylike, whatever the fuck that meant, and who also informed you in the same breath that it was your only choice of pajamas since they donated all your clothes from high school.

Awesome.

You go to university and your parents yeet all evidence that they had a child and go vacationing.

Good for them.

You wrenched your front door open and shoved your feet into your dad’s giant brown sandals and clapped your way over to the pink-faced, mildly drunk, shirtless man in swimming trunks on your front lawn.

“It’s two in the morning. Why are you standing here drunk and professing your love like some kind of deranged Romeo?” you sighed, rubbing your eyes. “Why aren’t you at Jimin’s?” You spied the red Solo cup and picked it up, whipping your head back to Jeon Jungkook.

He was staring at you with his mouth open.

Charming.

He didn’t say anything for a good ten seconds.

“Alright, fine, let me call my loser of a best friend and tell him to pick up his loser of a best friend, so I can go back to sleep,” you muttered, about to turn around.

Jungkook seemed to sputter back to life. “Wait, um, noona–”

“He speaks! He’s not dead.”

“A… Ah… Um…”

You squinted at him and reached up to knock the side of his head. “Hello? Anyone in there?”

Jungkook blurted out, “I love you.”

His breath smelled a lot like alcohol.

“Yeah, I got that. You also said that when I got you through your Chemistry and World History exams. Both times. You also say that to like, what, six of your guy friends? Don’t get me started on the amount of times you’ve said it and thrown up in my lap right after. Don’t do that this time,” you added sternly, prodding at his chest. “I’ve got one set of pajamas because my mom forgets that human beings change clothes, so throw up on the grass.”

“Uh… that’s pajamas…?”

“Lady pajamas,” you grumbled sarcastically, lifting the lid and chucking the crumpled Solo cup into your parents’ trash can. “Since I’m not lady enough apparently according to my mom, even though I’m ninety-nine percent sure giant band t-shirts are completely unisex but, whatever, it’s just a dress, not a big deal.”

“Um.”

You looked at Jungkook, who looked back at you, who put your hands up and gestured him to say something, who in response rose his hands and flapped them in confusion, giving you absolutely zero helpful communication. The movement reminded you he had gotten his right arm and hand tattooed in the last couple years, the black ink standing out against tan skin. You hadn’t seen him too many times during your university years, too busy completing research papers and staying late nights in laboratories, only to now end up working on hospital software and sitting on your ass all day. Life, eh? These past three days were spent on working through bugs for the next software update and you had maybe lost all social skills as you attempted to unravel lines of code that you stared at for forty-eight out of the past seventy-two hours.

Fun!

“Do you need a cookie? A shower? The Bible?” you offered, waving your hands. “Maybe tell me why you’re here, yes?”

He was staring and you realized you were slightly bent over in your gesture, your breasts firmly pressed into the cups of the slip dress. You straightened and Jungkook’s wide dark brown eyes went back to your face.

“I… I didn’t realize you had come back, noona.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about? I told Jimin last week. He said he was hanging out with you and Taehyung. I figured he’d just tell you guys then.”

Jungkook shook his head quickly, gray-purple hair flying about. He pointed to the left, where Jimin’s house was several blocks over. “He only mentioned it just now, when he was throwing up in the bathroom from doing eight shots in a row because Taehyungie dared him.”

“…. Maybe he needs the Bible…” you muttered, shaking your head.

Then the realization hit you.

“Did you walk here from Jimin’s and straight up abandon the party?”

Jungkook tilted his head and thought about it. “Yeah.”

You looked around to find the camera and see if you were being pranked, but there was no camera because this life wasn’t purely for entertainment, right? Nah, this wasn’t The Matrix.

Mhm.

“Hah, well, what’s wrong? Are you upset I didn’t go to the party or something? I had three double-shifts this week, I wasn’t going to be any fun passed out before actually drinking–”

“Yoongi-hyung was passed out before drinking.”

“In some ways, I swear that guy and I are the same person,” you laughed, shaking your head. “Anyway, I’m sorry I didn’t go and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I really banked on Jimin not being an airhead, but once again he is, so maybe I should reconsider him as my best friend…”

“Noona, I…”

You looked up from your mental consideration of Park Jimin’s pros and cons, the first pro being he punched that ex of yours that cheated on you with some Tinder hookup and that was already enough to stop contemplating, so you blinked at Jungkook curiously, looking into wide brown eyes, long strands of ash-purple floating around his handsome face from the night breeze, brushing against his parted lips, highlighting the mole underneath them, placed perfectly in the center like a kiss from the moon itself.

“Can I take a shower and sleep it off here?”

You tilted your head. “Yeah, sure. You can borrow my dad’s clothes. You should call Jimin though. You don’t want him to panic that he lost you.”

“Y… Yeah, okay…”

Jeon Jungkook really thought he could say it this time.

Collected all his courage and ran, ran as fast as he could, couldn’t believe Jimin had neglected to say she was coming home over the summer for more than a day, days without her reminding Jungkook that he was a coward for not saying it when he could have, having lost his most important person in the world because he was too afraid of telling Park Jimin that he was in love with his best friend.

He remembered that smile wearing nothing but a large t-shirt, sitting on Jimin’s bedroom floor, crushing all of them at UNO and cackling as Jimin blew up for ending up in last place for the third time in a row, yelling that the game was rigged, and Jungkook remembered thinking, I should tell her tonight.

And he didn’t.

He remembered her saying to Taehyung that she just wasn’t into girly things. They were having this argument over pizza and Taehyung was waving his around saying she should at least try a dress on every once in a while, never know, might actually like it, and her rolling her eyes as she shot back that she didn’t have to do anything just because it was stereotypical for her gender. Taehyung told her to stop using big words and waved his hands, accidentally flinging his pizza slice into her lap, and Jungkook remembered thinking, I should tell her after we clean up.

And he didn’t.

He remembered seeing her prepare to leave for university once again, holding a small package from the internet and handing it to her, a small but practical belated birthday gift, both of them surprised when she opened it, not the matte black phone case he had ordered, but somehow mixed up with a pink bunny phone case that had no business being owned by someone who didn’t like girly things.

“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry, I didn’t order this–”

And she laughed, shaking her head. “That’s okay, I gotta go, thanks anyway, Jungkook!”

The years went by and every year Jungkook told himself, this is the one, and every year he just couldn’t say it.

He thought he could say it now, drunk and furious at Jimin for not preparing him for this moment, but on his way here Jungkook figured that perhaps this was preferred, that maybe it was better that he couldn’t sit around nervously overthinking what to say.

But, of course, the problem was…

He had already said it in a platonic way.

Shit.

He really fucked himself throughout the years.

Jungkook sighed, now wearing borrowed clothes, holding the note of her handwriting as he rubbed his hair with the towel.

I washed your shorts and they’re hang-drying now. You can sleep in the guest room. I left a glass of water and some hangover meds. If you need anything, I’ll be asleep but you can attempt to wake the dead if you want.

He walked down the hall, towel around his shoulders. Her bedroom door was open. He stood outside the entrance, sighing, seeing her sleeping form and her bedside table, her phone sitting on the charger.

His breath caught in his throat as he recognized that pink bunny phone case.

“Where’s Jungkook?”

“Probably at her parents’ place, confessing his love,” Kim Taehyung snickered, picking up the beer bottles left behind next to the pool.

“Hah, of course he would leave without cleaning up,” Park Jimin grumbled, pushing the recycling bin along as Taehyung tossed each bottle inside.

“You think he’s gonna tell her?”

“He didn’t even tell me,” Jimin muttered, shoving used napkins into the bag hanging off the side of the recycling bin that he was going to toss into the trash later. “I had to find out from you. I think he’s hopeless. Why does he like her anyway? She’s fun to be around, yeah, she’s good at school, yeah, knows a lot of random facts, yeah, if you get into philosophy with her like Namjoon-hyung does, you begin to question humanity and reality, yeah, but other than that…”

“You hitting on your best friend, dude?”

“I mean, she’s kinda hot, she wouldn’t say no to me.”

Taehyung snorted.

Jimin smacked him in the ass with the recycling bin.

“Anyway, he’s probably just standing in her bedroom creepily watching her sleeping.”

Jungkook stared down at her sleeping form.

He looked up, looking out the window into the late, late night. He was tired, and yet he couldn’t sleep, too busy wondering.

I don’t deserve her if I’m not brave enough to say it.

“Jungkook?”

You squinted at the large form in your bedroom.

“Why are you just staring moodily out the window?” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. “Is something wrong? Are you hungry? I can make you a snack…”

“Noona, do you know what the worst feeling in the world is?” he asked softly, still looking out into the warm night.

You grunted and scrunched up your face. “Stepping on a Lego?”

You heard Jungkook laugh and you smiled a little despite your groggy state, hearing a little bit of his old self, the younger Jungkook hanging out with you, Jimin, and, later, Taehyung, the four of you getting up to no good. Somehow, in the past few years, he had gotten quieter and quieter, at least around you, but then again you only came home to visit for a day or two before going back to university.

“Have you ever been in love, noona?”

“Yeah, with the red bean popsicles they used to sell at the ice cream trucks, but then they stopped, those assholes, I’ve never been so heartbroken in my life,” you grumbled, remembering the day where the ice cream man told you they were sold out and your young teenage heart shattering.

“I love you, you know.”

Was this a fever dream? Why did he keep repeating himself? You looked over to his back, still looking outside onto the street, the street where you all used to run and laugh every summer, pretending you were surviving in the wild and not in the middle of a suburban neighborhood, sitting around sipping lemonade and complaining about the heat even though you all could have gone inside, lighting sparklers at night and seeing whose would last the longest even though such a thing was only based on chance anyway.

“Is that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?” he added quietly.

“The worst thing I’ve ever heard was accidentally hearing Jimin jacking off. Twice.”

Jungkook finally turned around, giving you a disgusted look. “What?”

You placed a hand on your face and sighed heavily, trying not to remember. “For some reason he thinks the bathroom isn’t echoey or something, like, at least do it in the shower, so the water masks the sound…” You chuckled, shaking your head. “Anyway, I would much rather hear you say you have love for me than listening to Jimin getting off.”

“I don’t have love for you.”

You raised your hand from your face and shifted your gaze to him, half-smile lingering on your lips from remembering Jimin’s carelessness. You made eye contact the second the words left his mouth, those brown eyes shrouded in shadows, but still so clear, a little helpless, a little sad.

“I’m in love with you,” Jungkook whispered softly.

Your eyes widened.

A soft breeze swept through the window, lifting the purple-gray strands from Jungkook’s face, revealing his lost, desolate expression.

The cicadas hummed.

A car alarm honked loudly, screeching through the night.

Both you and Jungkook jerked to face the window. You bolted out of bed and you both threw your hands onto the edge of the window, yanking it shut, wincing at the loud noise.

“Ah, jeez… what the hell…?” you groaned, slumping to the ground.

“What’s with people…?” Jungkook muttered, falling to the floor beside you, yanking the towel off his shoulders.

“Fuck, I pressed the wrong button!”

“Taehyung, what the hell, turn it off!”

“I was just trying to put the tangerines your parents gave me in my car!”

“I don’t care what you were doing, turn it off!”

“Anyway, sorry, you were saying something important and you got interrupted by some dumbass,” you sighed, nudging Jungkook with your shoulder.

“Uh… well, that was it…”

You blinked at him, tilting your head. “What, that you’re in love with me?”

“Y… Yeah?”

You blinked some more.

“Not the, want to go to the arcade and see who can get the highest score in PAC-MAN or go watch shitty action movies and rate the unrealistic plot lines or dare each other to eat whatever expired delicacy is in Taehyung’s fridge, kind of love?”

Jungkook made a repulsed face. “I regret eating that tofu. Don’t think I can ever look at uncooked tofu without gagging a little now…”

You leaned over and caught his eye.

“Do you mean the… want to date and get married and make babies, kind of love?”

His lips parted and the moonlight lit the small mole placed perfectly underneath his lower lip.

A delicate kiss from the moon itself.

Then you realized he was staring at your tits.

You yanked the neckline up a little and Jungkook started, looking back up at you with wide eyes.

“Sorry, I’m just not used to you in a dress, sorry, I’m being really rude–”

“It assures me that you’re at least interested in the making babies part,” you chuckled.

His ears turned red and he reached up to cover them, trying not to look down. “S… Sorry…”

“So…?”

He chewed on his lip, messing with his earrings with his fingertips. “Um… yeah, that kind of love. The latter kind.”

You lowered your hand. “You’re not messing with me, right? I swear, if this is one of Taehyung’s elaborate ideas to mess with me, I’m going to ki–”

Jungkook shook his head quickly, purple hair flying about. “I’m not joking around. I wanted to tell you for a long, long time, but…” His eyes darted about, panicking a little, before looking back to you helplessly. “You’re Jimin’s best friend, besides Taehyung, and what if… what if you thought I was gross or something and then I don’t think I could hang out with you guys anymore, but then you went to that prestigious university far away and I thought, I’m so stupid, I should have said something, anything, but every time I could even think about it, I didn’t know what to say, nothing seemed right…”

He let out a big sigh and tapped his head against the windowsill, closing his eyes.

“Also, I said it before and threw up in your lap right after, so that kinda fucked me up.”

“Can’t say I was really feeling the romance, yeah.”

He groaned and covered his face with his hands.

“I’d date you though. For real.”

Jungkook removed his hands and blinked at you. “What?”

You chuckled. “Why are you acting so surprised? I’m not going to date Jimin, blergh, I’ve known that guy since I was in preschool. I’m not dating Taehyung, I’m pretty sure he’s on a different brainwave than other human beings.”

You smiled at him and turned around to pick up your phone, holding it up.

“I don’t like girly things or cute things very much, but I kept your gift because it was from you and, funnily enough, I think it made me realize that I was rejecting femininity because society puts such a negative connotation on things young women like and because my friends growing up were primarily male, thus I wanted to seem cool or relatable so I rejected stereotypically feminine concepts…”

“… What?”

Now it was a confused what.

“Uh, never mind,” you laughed awkwardly, putting your phone back on your nightstand. “Anyway, Jungkook, you made me realize things about myself, and I love being around you, but I thought a handsome guy like you would want to date a pretty girl, and I’m not really that.”

Jungkook furrowed his brows. “What are you talking about? You’re the prettiest girl in the world. No one could ever be prettier than you.”

You felt your neck heat. “Yo, don’t inflate my ego when it’s not the truth,” you chuckled sheepishly, waving a hand. “You’ve been drinking anyway. Alcohol makes everyone prettier.”

“It’s the truth.”

Was he drunk or were you drunk? Why was Jeon Jungkook getting closer?

“Would you really date me?”

You stared into those chocolate eyes and smiled.

“Yes, I would.”

And you leaned forward and kissed him.

His eyes widened, staring at you and you closed your eyes, pressing your lips to his, inhaling his scent, memories of hot summers and mirthful laughter filling your head, standing beside Jungkook and kicking Jimin and Taehyung’s ass at table tennis even though Jungkook was doing most of the work, finishing a movie together after Jimin and Taehyung had passed out on the couch on top of each other and talking excitedly about it until you both fall asleep, getting lamb skewers after Jimin and Taehyung went off to eat ramen in a huff, unable to agree on the same meal as a foursome, but it was fine, no, better than fine, perfect even.

Because you were with Jungkook.

You broke the kiss and opened your eyes, smiling at him.

He blinked slowly, looking down at you.

“Noona…”

His hand raised, fingers spreading out longingly. You quickly reached up and pushed it back down.

“Jungkook, I swear, I do want to touch you in a less than holy way, but maybe not when you’re wearing my dad’s clothes, including his underwear, because that’s really fucking weird.”

Jungkook looked down at the brown t-shirt and beige shorts. “Oh. Yeah. Right.”

“You know, come to think of it, I feel like Taehyung has slowly stolen Jimin from me over the years, so maybe this was fated…” you mumbled, remembering at the moments you had shared with Jungkook were because your other two friends had abandoned you.

“I feel you, sometimes I feel like a third wheel…”

“I’m so sleepy.”

“I’ll tuck you in first, but I’m going to get us some water so we don’t die tomorrow morning.”

“Ugh, Jimin, bring another pillow please.”

“Hah, fine, but you’re buying breakfast tomorrow…”

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #jungkook x you #jungkook x noona #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

375 notes · View notes

gojo-x-reader · 3 years

Text

Not So Special Now

Relationship(s): F!Reader x Gojo Satoru

Warnings: canon-typical violence

Tags: fluff (at the end), reader-focused

AO3 Link: here

Words: ~4k

Request: “hello there, i love ur soulmate and marriage life hc 🥺 can you make scenario/hc/drabble whatever u prefer where his fem/gn so is also a sorcerer and gets hurt/injured on a mission? thank you!”

“Are you sure you’ll be fine?” Your boyfriend, Satoru, asked you. His hands were on your biceps, giving it a worried, yet comforting squeeze.

“Yes, Satoru,” you answered, a little annoyed at how he was treating you. It’s been several years since either of you were in high school; this wasn’t your first mission.

“I can’t help but worry, you know. It’s your first ever special grade assignment.”

“Just because I’m not the same rank as you, Mr. Special Grade, doesn’t mean I’m weak. Besides, there are two others going so I’m not doing this alone.”

“I know, I know.” Satoru pressed his lips gently onto your forehead, then gazed into your eyes lovingly. In a rare instance while on the job, his blindfold was replaced with dark sunglasses. You reached up to shift them down, allowing you to gaze into his bright blue eyes. They were breathtaking no matter how many times you saw them. You moved your hands from his glasses to his shoulders, forcing him down so you could reach up to leave a chaste kiss on his lips.

“I’ll see you tonight,” you promised.

The two of you embraced one more time before you joined your other group members for the mission. You turned back and waved at him as the three of you entered the car to be driven to the location for your mission.

“Sure wish Gojo-san was coming with us,” one of them mused. “He could handle this mission single-handedly and we could just stay home.” He sighed deeply, then put in headphones and stared out the window.

“Why isn’t he taking this mission?” your other group member asked. She stared at you, eager to know.

You had just met these two today (not even knowing their names, except that they were both Grade 1 sorcerers like you) and you weren’t sure how well this mission would go. “Well,” you began, “for one, he works best alone. Second, Satoru fights best when he’s away from civilians.”

The girl hummed, then crossed her arms in thought. The three of you awkwardly rode in silence for about five minutes, before the girl grabbed your arm suddenly. “Soooo, how long have you been dating Gojo Satoru?” She asked eagerly. There was something about her that seemed familiar, but you just couldn’t put your finger on it.

You weren’t sure why this was any business of someone you just met, but you decided to indulge her to hopefully make this awkward car ride, well, less awkward.

“Two years, almost three,” you answered. The two of you had known each other since high school, but it wasn’t until almost four years ago that you had reconnected after you moved back to Tokyo, and almost three years ago when you started dating. To this day you still had no clue why he would get a crush on you over all people. There were much prettier girls he had spent more time with, why you?

“Annnnd? A ring soon?” She gushed, gripping your arm harder.

You shrugged. Satoru and you had discussed marriage at some point, but both of you were busy at the moment, especially with Ryomen Sukuna being somewhat revived into the world. While Yuuji was still technically “dead” to others, Satoru had trusted you enough to tell you about how his student had pretty much been revived from the dead. On your days off, you often visited your boyfriend and helped out with Yuuji’s training regime. He was a nice kid, despite his circumstances and being thrown into the jujutsu world suddenly.

The girl let go of your arm and got out her phone, furiously typing to someone. “Oh, my little sister won’t be happy to hear about this.”

“Little sister?”

“Yeah, my sister Momo goes to Kyoto. She’s pretty close with another girl, Kasumi, who I consider almost like another younger sister. She was super excited to meet Gojo-san a week ago. She’s like a superfan of him or something. I like to indulge her sometimes. I think she even made a fan club for Gojo-san or something. Anyways, Momo, even though she’s friends with Kasumi, she often gets annoyed with her talk about Gojo-san.”

You vaguely remember Satoru mentioning a girl from Kyoto that asked him for a picture. It wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence for your boyfriend to be asked to take pictures with, from the jujutsu world or from civilians; he had devastatingly good looks, so you couldn’t blame any of the people who asked for pictures. Besides, you knew his heart belonged to you and you only, so you were fine with others recognizing his allure.

“Oh, Kasumi’s calling me,” the girl said. She answered her phone, only for a younger voice to scream over the speaker. It was loud enough that you could hear it. Your teammate held her phone away from her ear.

“What do you mean he has a girlfriend?”

“Oh, come on Kasumi. You know how handsome he is. Besides, he’s like, what, twenty-eight? Twenty-nine?”

“Twenty-eight, twenty-nine in December,” you confirmed.

“Way too old for you, ma’am,” the girl relayed to Kasumi.

“I don’t like him like that , Sumi-san! I j-just really admire him, okay! W-Who wouldn’t? World’s strongest jujutsu sorcerer in all.”

“Mhm. Anyway, I’ve got a mission today with the said girlfriend of Gojo Satoru. Want me to get you an autograph?” Sumi joked.

“...Could you?”

You let out a tiny laugh. This girl was funny, so you decided to humor her and leaned toward the phone. “One autograph for Kasumi?”

“M-Miwa Kasumi!” the voice on the phone squeaked out. She told you what kanji made up her name as you rummaged for a scrap piece of paper and pen from your bag. You made out the autograph, laughing a bit as you handed it to Sumi.

After you told her you signed an autograph for her, Kasumi said goodbye, hanging up the phone before Sumi could reply goodbye back. She seemed embarrassed about the ordeal.

“You were right, she seems like a good kid.”

“Kasumi is nice. She really balances out how serious my little sister Momo is,” Sumi responded.

For the rest of the car ride, you and Sumi chatted. Apparently, this was also her first Special Grade mission, as well as her first mission after graduating from Kyoto. Their other group member was also from Kyoto; he was two years Sumi’s senior. His name was Takahashi Daisuke. She didn’t know much about him since he tended to keep to himself. But she did know this wasn’t his first Special Grade mission. That relieved you substantially since you were nervous about this mission (as much as you didn’t want to admit to Satoru).

Eventually, the roads transformed from paved to just dirt. The driver turned onto a road on a hill, then began briefing the three of you on your mission. This was a Special Grade, suspected to be awakened by a Sukuna finger. This was just based on speculation, since the last Special Grade to pop up was from a Sukuna finger as well. The Special Grade had taken over an abandoned shrine, supposedly terrorizing the local village just down the hill (which had been evacuated just hours before). As the driver parked the car, the three of you exited the car. The air was crisp, with a distinct chill in the air. You could sense a particularly strong cursed energy in the premises, on par with Satoru’s cursed energy. You shuddered; this was not going to be an easy task.

The driver placed a curtain around the area, the sky darkening. It only made the situation seem even more grave. There was something in your gut telling you to run, not from being scared of the Special Grade, but because something bad was going to happen.

Sumi grabbed a wand from her belt. Her family was a pretty small sorcerer family on her mother’s side, as she had told you in the car. She and her sister have cursed techniques similar to “witches”; hers involved spells while her sister’s involved levitating a broom, among other objects.

Your cursed techniques, however, involved nature. There was a reason why you were selected specifically for this mission; the shrine was in the middle of the forest, the perfect place for you to go wild. Cities like Tokyo were incredibly constraining for you to use your cursed techniques, so you almost exclusively were assigned missions out in the country where nature was plentiful.

Neither you nor Sumi knew what Daisuke’s cursed technique was, but you assumed it was pretty strong considering he had been on missions with Special Grades before.

The mission started off fine. The three of you approached the shrine. It wasn’t particularly impressive, nothing that you would expect to house a Special Grade curse. The stone torii at the entrance was standing tall, unbothered by neither age nor the moss and vines growing on it. The shrine itself, however, was crumbling. One of the pillars holding up the roof was destroyed, so the roof was lopsided. The shimenawa knots were cut in half, the ends completely frayed. Definitely not a good sign.

After crossing the torii , you felt the Special Grade’s presence. It was overwhelming, unlike anything else you had experienced before. It possessed near-equal amounts of cursed energy as Satoru, but unlike your boyfriend, it held malicious intent within its cursed energy. To your left, Sumi was shaking. You held out a shaky hand onto her shoulder and squeezed. While you yourself didn’t feel confident about this mission now, you had a duty as the oldest member of the group here to be strong, for their sake.

The shrine began to shake, then the roof was suddenly blown off. You used your cursed technique to form a barrier of tree roots that erupted from the ground. Slabs of wood hit the roots, then bounced off. After the rain of wood subsided, you controlled the roots back into the ground in their original position.

You finally got a good look at the Special Grade curse. It was humanoid, but only in form. Its flesh was midnight blue, with eyes covering every centimeter of its body. Great, it had no blind spots. The curse had no apparent mouth, yet you were able to hear it let out an intimidating roar.

Daisuke made the first strike. He quickly pointed a handgun at the Special Grade and pulled the trigger. Out came a burst of his own cursed energy instead of a bullet. The blow just grazed the Special Grade enough for it to let out a screech of pain. Interesting, so this was his cursed energy. You wondered if it was limited to guns, or if he could apply it to a bow as well and use his cursed energy for arrows. You’d have to ask him later after this mission was completed.

It was apparent after Daisuke revealed his cursed technique that all of you were primarily distance fighters. There wasn’t much Sumi could do if her cursed technique focused on spells through her wand apparatus and Daisuke seemed to only have a gun on him. So, that meant you had to switch to a melee approach.

You weren’t the biggest fan of hand to hand combat. You weren’t very strong, preferring to assist from a distance. Recently, Satoru has been helping you learn new ways of fighting in close quarters. You decided to take the risk and make an attempt at using this still relatively new technique. You reached out your hands, summoning leaves from the trees. They surrounded your fists like boxing gloves, your cursed energy reinforcing the leaves to be almost as hard as the bark from the trees they came from.

You sprinted toward the Special Grade, preparing to land a blow. As you reared back for a punch, the Special Grade disappeared from in front of you. Then you felt a blow land on your back and you were sent through the forest until a particularly thick tree stopped your projectile body. Luckily, you reacted quickly enough to reinforce your front with cursed energy. If it wasn’t for your quick thinking, you probably would’ve been knocked out immediately.

You picked yourself up from the ground, but the world was spinning. You leaned against a tree to collect your thoughts and rest a bit. The Special Grade was insanely fast and had no blind spots. You were panicking; this was well out of your skillset. Perhaps Daisuke was right; Satoru should’ve joined in on this mission. But you knew that wasn’t possible, as he also had his own Special Grade mission to handle today.

You brought a hand up to your face and gave yourself a hard smack. This was no time to doubt yourself or panic. You had two comrades out there fighting a Special Grade curse alone. There was no doubt that the Special Grade would notice you if you tried to rejoin the fight, at least on the ground. Your best bet would be to get the high ground; there would be fewer eyes on the top half, so the chances of you being noticed would be less than if you arrived by foot.

Okay, you had an idea. Now, to get an idea of how the fight was going. You kneeled down to the ground and placed your hand onto the ground, closing your eyes. You sent a minimal, hardly detectable pulse of cursed energy toward the fight through the ground. From what nature informed you, the fight was mostly one-sided in favor of the Special Grade. Daisuke was pretty beat up, and Sumi wasn’t in good shape either.

You got up then hurriedly began climbing the nearest tree. As you climbed up, you manipulated the bark to form grooves for you to place your hands and feet on. As you reached a decent height, you created a bridge with the overlapping tree branches sturdy enough for your weight. You sprinted across the bridge, ignoring your double vision. You definitely had a concussion, but now was not the time for you to worry about that. You didn’t wanna lose your comrades on this mission. Not again.

You wiped the tears that were threatening to fall from your eyes. In your final year of Tokyo High, your two classmates were killed right before your eyes on a mission. You escaped out of pure luck, but was determined to get stronger to avenge their deaths. If you let those two die… well, then, that meant you hadn’t gotten strong enough to protect anyone else.

Once you were just out of sight range of the cursed spirit, you closed your eyes to sense the battle again. Sumi was sitting on the ground, back to a tree as she watched the fight between Daisuke and the Special Grade. She was barely conscious, and it seemed like she had lost a lot of blood. You had an idea, but in order for it to work, you needed her help.

Using thin vines, you sent a message within her sight: I am still alive. I’m going to trap the Special Grade curse with branches. Use a fire spell on it when it’s bound.

All you could hope was that she was able to read the message and had enough cursed energy to cast the spell. You began moving branches from distant trees close to the Special Grade, as fast as possible without your cursed energy being detected. Once they were close enough, you waited for the right moment.

As Daisuke finally landed a hit with his cursed energy, moving the curse to the center of the shrine remnants, you launched your attack. The branches extended as fast as you could make them move. The hit Daisuke landed had temporarily slowed the Special Grade, enough for your branches to immobilize it. As the branches gripped the curse, Sumi sent a fire spell toward it, just as planned.

The branches (and the cursed spirit) caught on fire. But something was wrong; normally, you could extract cursed energy from a curse with your cursed technique to exorcise, but that wasn’t happening. Was it resisting? You felt a tug on the branches.

Without thinking, you acted on your own. You re-equipped the leaves cursed technique, as you jumped from the trees above. As gravity brought you closer to the Special Grade, you reared back to prepare the punch you had wanted to introduce it to earlier. As your fist landed on the curse, you allowed the leaves to leave your fist, sending it into the curse’s body. The leaves caught on fire before they entered the curse, imploding it.

So, you managed to exorcise the Special grade. But, doing so took all of your cursed energy and you had no more left to cushion your fall. Luckily, you managed to adjust your fall so that you slid on your stomach parallel to the ground instead of falling headfirst. It still hurt, and you definitely broke a few ribs doing that.

You somehow had enough energy to turn yourself onto your back, looking up at the starry night sky as the curtain was released. Your first Special Grade mission. Everyone lived and you exorcised it without Satoru’s help. Ha. He would be so proud of you.

You began to fall into unconsciousness right as you felt familiar arms lift you up.

When you woke up, you were in Shoko’s infirmary. There was a thin blanket covering your bottom half. Suddenly the events came back to you.

You sat up, gasping for air. Where were Sumi and Daisuke?

“You might want to lay back down,” a familiar voice told you. “Shoko healed you, but the pain might still be there.”

You did as the voice said, laying back at the elevated position you woke up in. You look over and blinked a few times, seeing your boyfriend sitting in a chair next to your bed. He was in his work uniform, including his blindfold. You winced as you felt a pain in your chest; Satoru was right, there still was residual pain.

“I exorcised a Special Grade,” you croaked.

“I know. I’m proud of you.” He grabbed your hand and squeezed it, giving you a soft smile, showing off his tiny dimples. His smile quickly turned to a frown as he lectured, “However, what you did was risky and crazy.”

“Aren’t you the one who says that jujutsu sorcerers have to be crazy to survive?” you argued.

“Yes, but there’s a difference between crazy and throwing your life away.”

“You saw that?” you asked, much more awake than you were a few seconds ago.

“I hurried as fast as I could with my own mission to come assist you if you needed. I got there right as you pulled that stunt of yours.”

You pulled your hand from his and placed your face in both of your hands, embarrassed that he saw you launch yourself from several meters high, use up all of your cursed energy, then make a hard landing onto the ground.

“How’s the other two?” you asked, refusing to move your face from your hands.

“Alive and doing well. You’re the most beat-up out of everyone.”

You removed your hands, clasping them together in your lap. “Thank goodness…”

“There wasn’t a Sukuna finger either,” Satoru reported to you. “The villagers’ fear of the shrine must have caused it to grow to a Special Grade. Now, come on. Shoko said you could come home once you woke up.” Satoru stood up, then scooped you up from the bed. You screamed in protest, now wide awake.

“Wha--Put me down!”

“No can do, honey. Doctor’s orders. Nothing strenuous for the next week.”

“Satoru, I don’t think walking counts as strenuous!”

He smiled his signature shit-eating grin, then gave you a kiss on your forehead. No fair, he knew forehead kisses were your weakness. You melted into his arms at how tender his kiss was, now docile and less likely to argue with him.

In a flash, he teleported the two of you to his apartment, setting you on the bed in front of him. After placing you on the bed, he yanked off his blindfold and began rummaging through his dresser, looking for a set of his clothes for you to wear. He tossed the shirt and pants toward you, not even bothering to turn around while you changed. You’d been together for so long (or at least, it felt like a long time) that there wasn’t anything particularly embarrassing about changing in front of each other.

You winced while lifting your hands up to take off your shirt, so Satoru was by your side in an instant, helping you take off your shift without much pain. He even helped you out of your bra and put on his shirt.

“You don’t need me to help you with the pants, do you?” he teased.

“I think I can handle it on my own,” you replied, standing up and shuffling out of your pants. Satoru’s pants were much too long for you, so you had to roll not only the waistband but also the cuffs so that they didn’t constantly drag on the ground. Not like you minded doing that; there was just something about his clothes that was infinitely more comforting than your own, and he knew that more than anyone else.

As you adjusted the pants, Satoru left the bedroom to head toward the kitchen, no doubt to start cooking some of your favorite foods. You laid down on your shared bed, happy to be home. It was a long day (Days? How long were you even unconscious?) and you were glad to have such a caring boyfriend, even if he was being a little annoying about this.

About an hour later, Satoru came into the bedroom with a tray of food. He wouldn’t let you even touch the chopsticks, insisting on feeding you food because he didn’t want you to “strain yourself.” You thought he was just being a little too overprotective, but you allowed him to feed you anyway. The look of satisfaction on his face was just too cute for you to deny him this tiny pleasure.

After dinner, you immediately wanted to go to bed. Satoru quickly ate his portion of dinner then changed out of his work clothes into something much more comfortable to sleep in. He joined you under the covers, using his cursed energy to turn off the lights. You felt his arms gently snake their way around your waist, pressing you into his front. You sighed in contentment; he was warm, but not too warm.

After a few seconds of silence, you piped up, “Satoru?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for taking care of me. I love you.”

He placed a gentle kiss on your neck, just behind your ear. “Anything for you, my love,” he breathed onto your neck. You could feel him smiling gently. “Maybe we should just get married.”

You grumbled something, not even quite sure what you said or even what he said completely. Before sleep overtook you, you mumbled out one last final “I love you,” incredibly happy to be in your boyfriend’s arms at the moment.

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

537 notes · View notes

tennessoui · 3 years

Note

i really am just so excited for part two of the roadtrip au and knowing it might be from obi-wan's perspective??? seeing obi-wan fawn over anakin while anakin dotes on him?? i'm losing my mind.

hey!!! bless!!!! i know i said it would be part 1, part 2, part 3, but i started writing part 2 and it's like already 2.2k long and they're just in Pennsylvania so i think we should all start thinking of this story as part 1 (finished, posted), ARC 2 (very long, is in segments, depending on what people wanna see and what road trip shenanigans i can think up), and part 3 (tbd)

anyway here's the 2.2k (squick: a/b/o, mpreg)

“Uh, sir? Are you...alright?”

That’s the gas station attendant. Obi-Wan barely resists the urge to thunk his head on the side of the bathroom stall. The only thing stopping him is how absolutely unsanitary it would be, and he already feels dirty enough. He pulls a few more squares of toilet paper from the dispenser and wipes at his mouth.

Of all the pregnancy symptoms he hates, he thinks morning sickness is the one he hates the most. And it’s the one that seems to be, for some reason, sticking around the longest.

He’d never even known how much of a misnomer morning sickness is, but it’s not like it’s only happening in the morning. He’ll feel nauseous halfway through the day, mid-afternoon, early evening.

His doctor and close friend at the hospital, Bant, had assured him this was normal and nothing to worry about. But it’s hard not to worry about it, especially when he lives with an Alpha who worries about everything.

“Just fine, thank you,” Obi-Wan says politely as he flushes the toilet and leaves before he can watch his breakfast spiral down and disappear. That’ll only make him feel even more sick.

The girl wrings her hands as she watches him wash his, and he has to take pity on her. She can’t be older than eighteen. “Morning sickness,” he tells her, placing a hand on the virtually unnoticeable swell of his belly.

“Oh!” she says. Obi-Wan fights the urge to grimace when he sees her eyes dart down to his unmarked neck. He knows how it looks. He knows how it sounds. “Sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to--”

“It’s quite alright,” he says. It’s not, but it is. Obi-Wan doesn’t want to have this conversation, doesn’t want to talk to this girl anymore. They’re passing through a small town in central Pennsylvania. He’s a pregnant, unmated, thirty-eight year old male omega. A rarity. A talking point. He doesn’t want to talk to her, he wants--

There’s a loud knock on the door to the bathroom. “Obi-Wan? Are you alright? Is there someone in there with you? I thought I heard voices. Obi-Wan? I’m coming in, Obi-Wan.”

Anakin.

Obi-Wan gets halfway through drying his hands before Anakin’s there, crowding him against the sink and nosing at his face and neck.

“Sir, this is a bathroom for omegas only!” the gas station attendant protests, but Anakin growls at her.

As much as the pregnancy has made Obi-Wan lose parts of himself to his Omegan side, it’s been ten times worse for Anakin for some reason. As far as Alphas go, Anakin’s always been a thoughtful, respectful one. Quick to anger, perhaps, but never violent or suspicious.

Now it’s like everyone in the world has done something to personally offend Anakin. Everyone but Obi-Wan.

If he didn’t feel such a burning, unignorable need to get to Seattle, Obi-Wan would have called the whole trip off weeks ago.

But he couldn’t then and he definitely can’t now, not when they’ve both taken the time off of work and Obi-Wan’s let his doctor know he’ll be out of the state and they’re already in Pennsylvania.

He’ll just let Anakin do whatever he needs to do to feel alright with taking a pregnant, unmated omega across the country. It’s not as if it’s a hardship to put up with all the scentings and hugs and looming and protectiveness.

Quite the opposite, actually.

Which just makes Obi-Wan feel even more guilty, the way he’s using Anakin like this. His dearest, closest friend, who is helping him in such an amazing way, and every time he touches him, it’s all Obi-Wan can do to not arch up into the touch.

He wishes he could blame it on the pregnancy hormones, the way his instincts are going haywire to keep an alpha--any alpha--close. But it’s not. It’s Anakin. It’s the fact that Obi-Wan is hopelessly, irreversibly in love with the alpha.

The touches and the scenting don’t mean what he wants them to. It doesn’t mean anything, the way Anakin pushes his shirts and sweaters to Obi-Wan’s chest and watches him put them on. He’s an observant man, his alpha. He knows Obi-Wan likes wearing his scent now that he’s pregnant. It’s comforting.

So even though it doesn’t mean anything at all, the way Anakin’s hands roam over his waist and stomach and hips as he growls at the poor gas station attendant, Obi-Wan has to fight to not push back into the touches, to not scent him in return.

He’s afraid once he does, he won’t be able to stop. The thought of it, of marking the beautiful, strong, virile alpha with his smell, is too addicting to ever risk trying.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. It’s just a bit of morning sickness,” he says lightly, touching Anakin’s chest gently. “She was just checking up on me.”

Anakin glares at the girl and starts to herd Obi-Wan out of the bathroom. “Not hers to check up on,” he mutters, hands latching onto Anakin’s hips and guiding him through the aisles of brightly colored chips and candy.

Obi-Wan thinks that for both of their sakes he should remind Anakin that he’s not his to check up on either, but he doesn’t want to, not when he can pretend for a little bit longer.

“I think I would like to lie down in the back for a bit,” he says, holding his stomach. “Just until we get out of this state.”

Anakin agrees immediately, like he knew he would. “Okay, Obi,” he murmurs, opening the car door for him. They’d laid down their suitcases in the wells behind the two front seats, and Anakin had thrown a couple of blankets over the entire area to make a sort of makeshift nest for Obi-Wan to sleep in should he want to.

They’ve only been driving for four hours, but Obi-Wan already wants to. He’s painfully on edge.

He hadn’t understood how hard it would be to convince his hindbrain and body to leave the safety of their apartment, but all he wants now is to nest somewhere safe for him and the baby. It would have been impossible to do this without Anakin.

“Alright,” the alpha says. “Um. Wait. Here.”

He shucks off his sweatshirt, a faded college one that Obi-Wan’s been coveting with his eyes since Anakin had put it on this morning. “Oh, dear one, no,” he forces himself to say anyway. “It’s December. You need a sweatshirt.”

“I’ll turn up the heat,” Anakin holds it out insistently, stubbornly. “Take it, come on.”

Obi-wan can only make himself hesitate for a second more before he’s snatching the soft fabric that smells like sunlight linen honeydew out of his hands and holding it greedily to his chest. “Alright.”

Under the weight of the alpha’s watchful eyes, Obi-Wan crawls into the backseat and curls up with his head diagonal from the driver’s seat. He thinks it’ll be nice to wake up and see Anakin’s profile whenever he wants to without additional shifting.

“Oh shit,” Anakin curses suddenly. “I was going to buy a coffee.” The alpha pauses, clearly torn between going back inside and not wanting to leave the omega alone in the car. But Obi-Wan knows Anakin, and he needs his coffee.

“Oh,” he says as if he’s just remembering something himself, “can you get me one of those bananas on the counter? I think they’re good for babies.”

That, obviously, changes everything for Anakin who straightens instantly. “Bananas are good for babies,” he declares, nodding his head before narrowing his eyes. “Would you...can I lock the door? I won’t be long. Just for safety.”

Obi-Wan blinks and purses his lips to stop his little smile. His alpha can be so silly. Safety. In the middle of the afternoon in rural Pennsylvania. “Okay, alpha,” he agrees before he even realizes that he really shouldn’t be calling Anakin alpha. Especially not when the other man always reacts so strongly to it.

Case in point, he thinks to himself sadly as Anakin’s hand spasms on the car door handle before he slams it and hustles away, almost at a run.

With a long sigh, he flops back down into his nest and squirms until he gets comfortable. There’s a pillow close to his hand that he hugs to his chest when he realizes it’s Anakin’s pillow from his bed at home. It smells amazing, a mix of both of them together.

Ever since he’d told the alpha he was pregnant, Obi-Wan’s fallen asleep in Anakin’s bed more often than not. It’s a comfort thing, one that Obi-Wan feels intensely guilty about. Surely if he keeps being so clingy and whiny and Omegan, Anakin will get sick of him.

And this is just the beginning of the pregnancy. He knows rationally that Anakin loves him as a friend, a brother, but how long is that love going to last if Obi-Wan can’t get a handle on his goddamn hormones? Anakin hadn’t signed up for any of this. It’s not even his pup. How much is Obi-Wan willing to put him through just because he can’t imagine a life without the alpha in it?

Wouldn’t it be the best thing for the both of them to cut their losses now? Bail and Breha had told Obi-Wan he could move in with them for the duration of the pregnancy if he needed to. The only thing that stopped him from saying yes immediately had been the hope that Anakin would be willing to stay with him, keep living with him even after he’d fucked up so much.

And the alpha, by some miracle, hadn’t left, hadn’t moved out. But Obi-Wan can’t shake the thought that he will soon, that this will all get to be too much. Obi-Wan’s omega whimpers at the back of his mind at the idea that one day the alpha will be gone.

The scent of distressed omega fills the car as Obi-Wan feels his bottom lip start to wobble.

Alright, the influx of hormones that are wreaking havoc on his emotions is probably the pregnancy symptom he hates the most. But morning sickness is still up there, too.

He sniffs into Anakin’s college sweatshirt and tries to think happy thoughts. He shouldn’t make Anakin worry about his emotions when he’s already spending so much time worried about his physical health.

How much is Obi-Wan going to take advantage of Anakin’s kindness?

The doors unlock with a beep, signaling his alpha’s return to the car.

It doesn’t take Anakin even a second to catch onto Obi-Wan’s recent spiral of emotion, but at least he won’t know why unless Obi-Wan tells him.

“Obi?” he asks frantically, as soon as he opens the car door. “Obi, are you alright? Did something happen? Did someone see you--?”

“Put the coffee down before you spill it,” Obi-Wan instructs after peeking out of his sweatshirt haven. “I’m alright, Anakin. It’s just the hormones. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Anakin shakes his head. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

The statement pulls a wry smile from Obi-Wan. “Oh, I can think of a few things,” he murmurs, touching his belly with a pointed, gentle hand. Before Anakin can say anything about that, he continues quickly. “I was just wondering about something, I’m fine, really. Really.”

And then, knowing he shouldn’t but also knowing it’ll distract Anakin enough from this line of questioning, he tilts his head back to expose his neck and says, “Can we drive, alpha?”

The coffee cup still clutched in Anakin’s hands bursts open under the force of his grip. He really should have put it down.

Anakin curses up a storm as he shakes the hot liquid off of his skin, and Obi-Wan sits up worriedly. Anakin was bothered so much by Obi-Wan calling him that that he accidentally hurt himself. No more, the omega resolves. He can take a hint.

“Are you alright?” he asks, grabbing at Anakin’s hand to examine the red skin.

“I’m fine!” Anakin yelps, jumping away. “I just--I’m just going to go wash this off. Um. And get more coffee.”

He slams the door shut, and Obi-Wan wilts as he watches him go. He can’t even follow after him because Anakin’s locked the doors with his car key. He’s done enough already.

“Oh baby,” he tells his stomach. “I don’t think I’m ever going to have that alpha figured out.”

The baby is still and, of course, silent, but Obi-Wan takes comfort in their presence anyway. They can’t leave him. Not yet, at least.

Gingerly, he maneuvers his way out of his nest so he can reach his messenger bag he’d left in the foot of his passenger seat. It takes some finangling, but finally he’s able to fish out his headphones. As he resettles into his nest, surrounded on all sides by Anakin’s scent, he notices the bunch of bananas thrown in the driver’s seat.

Obi-Wan snorts at his silly alpha, but can’t deny that he’s touched at the same time.

It’s extremely easy to find the track he wants to listen to, what with how often he listens to it these days. Sometimes, it’s the only thing that can get him to fall asleep.

He pulls up the downloaded homemade album Anakin had given him for Christmas four years back. When he presses play, his alpha’s deep melodic voice spills into his ears.

“Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote, the droghte of March hath perced to the roote…”

Of course he can’t be sure, but he’s fairly certain he’s asleep by the time Anakin comes back to the car.

#asks #squick tag: a/b/o #squick tag: mpreg #prompt fill #roadtrip au #oh?? its somehow MORE angsty now that obi-wan's POV is being explored???#is ANYONE surprised??? lmao #(no)#also yes at the end obi-wan is listening to anakin recite the general prologue of the canterbury tales with the original english #that anakin learned how to pronounce correctly so he could make obi-wan the best christmas present ever #was it going to be a love confession too but he chickened out at the last second??? yah #will anakin get jealous obi-wan's always lsitening to something on his phone and demand to know what it is??? yah #poor dumb men

61 notes · View notes

allyouneedisbuck · 3 years

Text

Sole Survivor -> I

[eighteen plus blog and this fic holding eventual eighteen plus scenes mean minors should not interact with this story]

summary -> your first week on the island. alliances are made, rewards are won and tribes fall apart before they can even come together. [bucky barnes x female!reader]

word count -> 4.5k

warnings -> reality tv, some cursing, survivor references (tribe, tribal council, idols) past steve rogers x reader, non-enhanced marvel characters, jeff probst (please don’t sue me) some steve slander (steve i love you i’m sorry it was just so easy to make you the sweetest person alive and therefore a target)

notes -> there are more in-depth notes at the end! just want to say this is all for fun & not meant to be a serious fic!! just some fluff & humor as a break to any serious fics out there that you may be reading!

series masterlist here.

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

Chapter I 𓆉 OUTWIT -> NEXT

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

Bucky isn’t sure how he ended up on reality TV.

That’s all he can think about as his hand grips the side of the speedboat and he glances around at his fellow contestants.

His first application to Survivor had been a dare; One of his friends back home had made a drunken joke that Bucky wouldn’t last a day and well- Obviously, Bucky can’t really take a joke.

How was he supposed to know he would actually be selected? How was he supposed to know he would be a fan favorite...villian? Saying yes to this season was a no-brainer.

He wants the million dollars. He came so, so close last time. Runner-up wasn’t good enough.

He had been handed a dark, red buff long before they had even stepped foot on the boat. He had wrapped it around his wrist, just like everybody else on this boat with him. His eyes move around slowly as he studies his new tribe members.

The bright red hair catches his eye first, Natasha Romanoff, was considered the original Black Widow; It’s no shock to Bucky that she had been considered a villain. Her starting point was aligning with the men on her tribe and helping pick who she wanted out. It worked for awhile, she had them under her thumb, until she got a little too abrasive and was voted off shortly after the merge.

Clint Barton who Bucky knew was notorious for promising on his kids then stabbing his allies in the back; In the final tribal he had laughed and said they gave him permission. Somehow he had won. Him and Natasha had worked together, but he had been unable to save her after the merge.

His eyes find Tony Stark next, an original player, meaning had had never played a game with idols or tricks. Tony had won it all on the third season after betraying his number one ally in the vote that decided who he brought to final two. Bucky didn’t need to ask why he was a villain, it was obvious.

Bright red lips catch Bucky’s eyes next as he checks out Darcy Lewis. Bucky wasn’t actually sure if he considered her a villain, but he can see how it played out that way. She had kept her immunity idol secret from her alliance members and had jumped ship when it became clear her alliance wouldn’t win the numbers. She made it all the way to final three after winning puzzle after puzzle in the immunity challenges, she was more impressive than villainous, but sometimes they just needed some people to fill the cast.

Loki was the king of snake gameplay, but even Bucky could admit it got him far. His ability to tell people exactly what they wanted to hear is what handed him the million dollar prize. Bucky wonders if they called Thor too, they had been on the last season, Blood versus Water together.

There’s Stephen Strange who was probably considered a villain for his dry commentary, blunt confessionals and inability to keep his thoughts to himself. He was from the first few seasons too and he had rubbed a lot of people the wrong way, but Bucky found his blunt delivery humorous.

And then there’s you. You had originally appeared on Brains, Brawns and Beauty. Unshockingly sorted onto the Beauty tribe and gravely underestimated. Bucky thought you were definitely the prettiest he’d seen in that season and early on he could tell you would be a power player. No matter how many confessionals men did saying your charm wouldn’t work, they all fell for it, and you picked them off. Your tribe only lost one immunity challenge and you had controlled who had gone home.

Steve Rogers had fallen in love with you that season and you had taken a page from Natasha’s book. When the merge had happened, you aligned quickly with the few girls left from the other two tribes. Then knocked the men out one by one. Steve, poor Steve, so kind hearted and trusting and it had been his downfall. When you had sobbed to him about the last three girls whispering about voting you out, he had given up his earned individual immunity. The four of you girls had laughed as you wrote his name down and Steve went onto the jury.

That was the moment that coined you one of the most notorious, and your unanimous win later had marked you down in history as one of the best to ever play.

Call Bucky an idiot, but you’re who he wants to work with. He needs to work with people who will make it to the end with him. His original season he had come off too cocky to win. He had made the mistake of taking who he thought was a floater, but apparently had built friendships with everyone, and lost in a three to six vote. Bringing someone who knew how to play the game like him gave him a far better chance at winning.

The heroes tribe are already on their blue mat when the villains disembark and make their way onto the beach. Bucky almost laughs when he sees Steve standing in the back, tall and broad as ever. Of course the fans loved Steve. Sweet, loyal Steve. He nudges your calf with his foot and you spin to look at him in surprise.

“Your lover is here.” He nods over to the mat, where Steve is staring straight ahead at Jeff Probst. You laugh with your head thrown back like it’s genuinely one of the funniest things you’ve heard.

“Didn’t you hear? It was a nasty divorce.” You smile before stopping in front of Bucky on the mat. Bucky snorts and drops his bag by his feet as Jeff calls for everyone’s attention.

“We’ve been doing Survivor for thirty seasons now. Fifteen years. Hundreds of people have played the game, yet the sixteen of you have made your mark as either hero or villain.” His eyes scan over the group before landing on Bucky.

“Bucky. You played this game six years ago. Season 18. How does it feel that even though it’s been that long, you’re still considered one of the most well known villains?”

“I’m a villain?” Bucky asks sarcastically as he looks around the beach. The crowd laughs and you look up at him with amused eyes. Bucky tries to ignore the flutter in his heart, damn you were good. “It’s all in the perspective, Jeff.”

Jeff laughs and nods before his attention shifts to Loki standing a few people away from you. “Loki, you’re our newest villain. Coming out of last season, how does it feel to be here with all these iconic names? Intimidating?”

Loki laughs and nods. “I guess so, yeah. I’m just so happy to actually play with people who love and respect the game the same way I do!” He looks over the group in a far more calculating manner than friendly.

“And heroes! Peter, you’re our newest hero on the tribe. Coming off a win that you got through heart and loyalty.” Jeff explains, like everybody here didn’t already know how much of a blatantly good guy Peter Parker was. Three years ago when given the decision to choose between a floater and his ally who was an equally as strong competitor, he had chosen to bring Ned to the final two. It had won him a million dollars. “You intimidated at all? Or should they be?”

Peter looks around bashfully. “Yeah! No, I’m intimidated, you know? I’m not the only winner here. These are all some strong people, I definitely will have to work hard to stay.” He answers humbly.

Bucky resists the urge to roll his eyes at the answer. “Okay. Anybody think we got it wrong? That you’re on the wrong tribe?” Jeff asks and immediately half the villains raise their hands.

The heroes and Jeff laugh. “What did we do, Jeff?” You call out in a flirtatious tone. “What’d we do that was so bad?” Bucky can’t see your face, but he would bet his life that there’s a pout there.

“Come on, Y/N.” Jeff says your name incredulously. “You are definitely one of the best, but you single handedly led one of the greatest all female alliances in the history of this game and picked off who you wanted one by one.”

You turn your head to look and the heroes tribe and Bucky can see Steve, Sharon and Shuri, all from your season, watching you. Bucky isn’t sure who made the worst move, Steve giving up his immunity and sending you to final three or Shuri for bringing you to final two with her. Loyalty could be your downfall or saving grace in this game, Bucky’s learned, it just depends on your jury. “Steve!” Jeff calls out. “Y/N. Hero or villain?”

“Villain.” Steve answers quickly with a forced laugh. You shrug and turn to look at Jeff. “I outwitted him. Is that being a villain or playing the game of outwit, outplay, outlast?”

Jeff laughs. “Okay, guys. Do you want to get to your first challenge?” The group looks around at each other extremely confused. It was rare a challenge was played the first day on the island, normally tribes were sent to begin working on shelter before it got too dark.

It’s a physical game. There are eight lanes, each lane has one weighted bag buried in it. In pairs of two, each tribe would go out to the selected lane and dig. Whoever brought the bag back to their tribe won a point and it was first to four points to win.

After an hour, it’s tied, three to three and the only pair to have not gone twice is you and Natasha. You’re against Shuri and Carol, Bucky is a little nervous, but he thinks you two can win this. Shuri was known for her agility and Carol for her strength, but Bucky had faith in your ability to play dirty. “Go!” Jeff’s arms drop down and all four women are darting through the sand.

Bucky can’t stop his eyes from trailing over your body, knelt down in the sand as you quickly dig. You had stripped off your shorts and long sleeve now only in your bikini top and bottoms, the red buff wrapped around your wrist.

He knows why it had been so easy for the men of your beauty tribe to fall at your feet. The way your legs look in the sand and sun has him wanting to kneel for you. He just hopes you want to work with him too.

Natasha pulls the bag out. Carol dives for her legs and sends her face first to the ground. Shuri follows soon after and both of them are fighting with Natasha as you stand back.

Good. Bucky thinks. Let them tire themselves out, then you have the strength to get it away and get the point.

Shuri gets the bag in her hands and makes a mad dash down the lanes, but your arm wraps around her waist and yanks her back into your chest as your other hand moves to yank at the bag.

Natasha gets up and holds Carol back with two hands around the waist. “Push, Shuri! Push!” Steve screams out. Bucky rolls his eyes at the nonsensical advice.

“Sweep her feet out!” Bucky’s voice overpowers the rest of his tribe. Your eyes meet his briefly. “She’s tired! She’s burnt out. She won’t get up quick enough!”

Your hands grip at the bag tightly and you swipe a leg underneath Shuri’s feet. Her knees give out and the bag is easily yanked away from her weak grip.

“Yes!” Your tribe screams as you reach the mat and Jeff calls out. “Villains win first immunity!” Bucky’s hand lands on your lower back and you turn to look up at him happily. He hopes you can see the praise in his eyes because that performance? That’s why he wants to work with you.

You - Villain Tribe

“Looking at my tribe, we’re pretty stacked. We’re good. Heroes don’t have a chance.” You throw your head back in a laugh. “Is it awful I’m excited to take a million dollars away from Steve again?”

Steve Rogers - Hero Tribe

“It uh- It sucks to lose. I hate losing. It sucks even more that we lost to the villains. I don’t want to vote any of our people out yet, we all deserve to be here. It just sucks.”

Day Two

You had underestimated how tense camp would be with men who had been used to leading their tribes in the past. Tony wanted to build shelter on flat land and Bucky thought sturdy trees for a sturdy base was more important.

Bucky was right, of course. You knew he was in construction, you had watched his season, and had seen the impressive shelter he had helped build. Tony just couldn’t get over himself, but that was no shock. You would use his pride as a chance to move forward in this game.

“They’re just being idiots.” You say softly as you and Bucky try to start a fire. Nothing is really working and the sun will set soon, defeat settles between you two. “Don’t let them get to you.”

You eye his metal arm. It had been what made him a favorite early on, way before he even got his villain marker. His story of a car crash that had resulted in the lost of his left arm and a generous doctor that had worked to give him this new age prosthetic.

“‘M not.” He mutters angrily as the smoke blows out and chance at a fire slips further and further away. “Just… fuck… Just annoyed at myself for not being able to get this.”

You look over your shoulder. “And at the fact that we’ll be sleeping in a shit hole tonight.” You shake your head. Bucky snorts and nods before falling onto his back and dropping the kindle that he had been attempting to light on fire.

Your eyes trail over his abdomen, put on display by his shirt that has ridden up in his new position. You bite down on your lip as your eyes trail over his thighs before you remember that the camera men are only a few feet away and caught every second of your staring.

You clear your throat and move to sit next to him. “I think we’d work well together.” You say just above a whisper. You glance over your shoulder again, but the rest of the tribe is too busy arguing over the shelter.

Bucky looks up at you hesitantly. “Yeah?” He asks just as softly. “Not gonna break my heart right?” He gives you a teasing smile that makes your breath catch.

You shrug and stand up, offering a hand to him. “No promises. I can’t stop you from falling in love with me.” You giggle, partly for the show of it but also because Bucky’s hand is huge in yours and makes your stomach flip.

He laughs and the two of you turn back and begin walking towards the shelter. Right before you reach it and have to go your separate ways, Bucky taps your back. “I think we would too.”

You - Villain Tribe

“Getting my claws on Bucky first is the best thing for my game. He’ll be loyal to me longer than anybody else.” You smile. “And Bucky is the best guy here. Tony may be an OG but he played like thirteen years ago. Strange is kind of cold. Clint and Natasha played together, he’ll be loyal to her before me. And Loki plays a game too similar to mine.” You shrug like it’s a no brainer.

Bucky Barnes - Villain Tribe

“I came to win this time, okay? No more aligning with underdogs. No more just physicality getting me to the end. I need strategy and she’s the best strategist to ever play this game.” Bucky smirks. “Just ask Steve Rogers.”

Day Three

It’s pouring rain by the time both tribes get to the challenge. Bucky had been right, of course he had. The shelter was weak and the rain was destroying it. It would need to be rebuilt when you returned to camp and he could only hope the rain stops long enough to allow him to build a real shelter.

“Heroes will be with me at tribal council.” Jeff explains. “So, today, you are playing for reward. Wanna see what you’re playing for?”

The entire tribe is huddled together in an attempt to keep warm as Jeff explains the challenge and reward. He lifts a cover to reveal a tarp, blankets, pillows and flint. Bucky almost groans at the sight. They needed this win. “I’ll give you a minute to strategize.” Jeff waves them off.

It’s almost every type of challenge in one. Physical, logical and strategical. Six members would build a boat from the pieces given then sail out to retrieve all the puzzle pieces from where they were clipped on buoys. Then bring them back to the remaining two members who would work on the puzzle. First to solve it wins.

“Darcy and I can work on the puzzle.” You say quickly with Darcy nodding along. Bucky and the rest of the tribe agree and get to their starting places.

It’s a crazy adrenaline rush when Jeff yells for everyone to go. “Heroes take an early lead!” Jeff narrates as they push their boat out onto the water. Bucky can feel his tribemates settle in defeat.

“Let’s fucking go!” He urges, forcing the last piece of the boat into place. He and Clint push the boat out before climbing in beside the rest of the villains. Bucky tries to drown out Jeff’s commentary, but it’s hard when every few seconds he’s pointing out the major lead the heroes are creating. “Nobody panic. They’ve got Steve on the puzzle.”

That gets a small, tense laugh out of the group as the heroes boat reaches shore again and the villains remain collecting puzzle pieces.

Hope fizzles in Bucky’s chest when he hears your’s and Darcy’s cheers and the arguing of Steve and Carol, both placed on puzzle and both having different tactics.

“The villains are coming from behind!” Jeff says in an impressed tone as they finally push their boat to shore. “The heroes just can’t figure out this puzzle and are losing their huge lead.”

“Yeah, thanks!” Shuri calls out annoyed from the sidelines as Bucky hands off the bag of puzzle pieces to you. You dump them out and you and Darcy immediately start to spread them out to look.

“Wow! Heroes just cannot get this puzzle figured out!” Jeff shakes his head. Steve and Carol continue to argue and yank pieces away from one another. “Villains have made a remarkable comeback!” You and Darcy seem to be communicating amazingly and pieces just fall into place.

“Jeff! Jeff!” You scream out excitedly as Darcy stuffs the last piece into place and you two step back. Jeff looks at the puzzle for a moment before throwing his arms up. “Villains win reward!”

Everybody screams in excitement and Bucky immediately turns to you. “Fuck!” He says excitedly as you jump up, legs wrapping around his waist. He wraps an arm under your thighs and tries hard to ignore how good they feel wrapped around him. “Darcy!” He waves her over into a half hug. “Puzzle queens! Puzzle queens!” He cheers, the tribe following in suit.

They’re allowed to celebrate for a few more seconds as the heroes groan until producers force them back onto their designated mats. “Villains. Take your tarp and flint, pillows and blankets will be delivered once the rain stops.” Everybody rushes forward as you take the tarp and flint into your hands.

“Heroes I got nothing for you. Except your trip to tribal right now.” Bucky glances over his shoulder as the heroes stare at Jeff in shock. “Yep! You lost immunity on day one and have had two days to discuss, grab your stuff and follow me.”

Bucky and you laugh with each other as you make your way back to camp.

Shuri - Hero Tribe

“I’m just so… I told them to put me on the puzzle. Put me! Who won three puzzle challenges her season? I’m just so angry. We had such a good lead and we lost it because nobody wanted to listen to each other and everybody wanted to be a leader. Now somebody who deserves to be here has to go home while the villains live lavishly.”

Day Five

Your tribe wins reward again.

After the shocking reveal of Carol being voted out at the first tribal council, villains are perplexed. Carol had been strong, furthest from being the weakest link who was usually voted off first.

You know that’s what being on the wrong side of the numbers will get you.

This time it’s fishing gear. It sends a morale boost throughout the tribe. You grin as you watch Bucky reluctantly walk ahead with Tony.

Tony had latched onto Bucky after Bucky had helped create a better shelter. And once they had secured the tarp and loaded in the blankets and pillows, it was like a five star resort to the already tired and hungry tribe.

You can see Natasha fall in line with you in your peripheral vision and try to hide your smirk. “You’re good.” She murmurs.

You look straight ahead and shrug. “What makes you say that?”

“You and Bucky almost never go off together. Barely talk outside of groups at camp. Really only interact during challenges.” She says quietly. The group is far ahead and most likely couldn't hear if you spoke in normal tones, but you appreciate her caution. “He’s wrapped around your finger though.”

You almost stop, but refuse to let her see you stumble. She was right, you and Bucky were exceedingly cautious when it came to associating with each other at camp. “You think so? He has a crush?” You ask softly. “He’s cute, right? Not too bad.” You feign ignorance.

Natasha smirks. “Yeah.” Her hand wraps around your arm and pulls you to a stop with her. “Listen. It’s Tony and Strange on one side. You and Bucky on the other. We’ve been winning, so nobody is going to admit their alliances, but I’d rather be prepared for our first loss.”

You nod. “What are you saying?” You knew Tony and Stephen would team up. They were both considered original survivors, coming out of the first few seasons and still working on understanding this new version of the game.

“Clint and I can be numbers.” She says steadily. You lick your lips. Clint and Natasha had done Micronesia together. He had been the only one to not write her name down when she was eliminated. She had voted for him to win. It’s not a surprise they had fallen into working together again. “We protect each other. Final Four, after that we’re on our own.”

“I’ll have to speak with Bucky.” You begin to walk again. “But that sounds like a good deal to me.” You give her a small smile.

Natasha Romanoff - Villain Tribe

“I’m not an idiot. I know Y/N plays this game loyal to herself only. But I’m playing a strategic game. Clint and I make it to the merge with her numbers then we can flip of we need to.”

You - Villain Tribe

“Final four?” You scoff. “Please. Two person alliance versus two person alliance in the final four? I’m not trying to draw rocks. Four people is good and then we’ll make the merge and I’ll work my magic.”

“I’m gonna get some firewood.” Your foot knocks against Bucky’s ankle. When he looks up from his spot on the ground, you subtly nod your head in the direction of the jungle.

“I can help. It’s getting dark, better two than one.” He stands up. Nobody acknowledges your exit but Nat, who smirks at you before looking back at the rice cooking over the fire.

You two walk in silence, making sure to be out of earshot before stopping to talk quickly. “Natasha and Clint want to work with us. Final four.”

Bucky looks over his shoulder in the direction of camp before looking back at you. “We can promise them the merge. Final four with a two person alliance as solid as their’s is suicide.”

You look up at Bucky and laugh. Did he think you were dumb? “I know that.” You say slowly. “We should just agree to the final four then get rid of them after the merge.”

Bucky huffs out a breath. “That’s smart, but how do you know we won’t be turned on if we vote them out? How do you know Darcy and Loki aren’t already four with Strange and Tony?” His nerves are reasonable, but they make you want to laugh.

You shake your head instead staring up at him with reassuring eyes. “They won’t be. I’ve talked with Darcy a little bit. Plus, Loki works the swing vote angle as long as he can. You watched him last season, it’s how he made it so far.”

“Okay.” Bucky agrees slowly. “So, we work with Clint and Natasha and work on getting Loki as a swing vote? What if they turn on us? These people’s word means jack.” Bucky’s arm shifts and your eyes immediately trail over it curiously. Did it do that when he was nervous? Was it normal?

“Don’t worry.” You place a gentle hand on his arm, you wondered how the metal didn’t heat in the sun the same way a metal slide would. Questions for a later time. “There are hidden immunity idols, Buck. We just have to find them.”

You walk past him then, picking wood up as you go. The cameras stay on Bucky, who you can feel staring after you.

Men were so easy.

Bucky Barnes - Villain Tribe

“She’s… She’s got it all mapped out. To the end. She’s not playing this bullshit tribe first, individual later game. She’s here to win. It’s hot.” He blushes before his eyes widen in realization. “I could win this.”

Day Six

The immunity challenge is grueling. Large crates in the tribe’s color have to be rolled from one end of the field to the other by two people. Six crates in total and Jeff had evened the teams out so each tribe only had six people playing, meaning each pair would go out twice no matter what.

Tony and Darcy had opted to sit out, and each pair had to go out twice. Bucky knew this would kill everyone, it had looked downright brutal long before Jeff shouted Go.

Bucky can be the first to admit maybe the team didn’t strategize correctly when choosing pairs. While he and Loki were able to bring the first crate back before the heroes, Clint and Stephen slow the group down. Once the heroes build momentum, they’ve got the lead. You and Natasha struggle to catch up.

By the sixth crate, everybody is downright exhausted. Bucky can’t even comprehend how the heroes had gotten through all six crates so fast.

“Villains start your puzzle.” Jeff calls out. Bucky thinks this is worse than the running. These crates are almost as tall as he is and definitely weighed damn near close too.

Setting the first two in place would be fine, the last four? Pure hell. They had to be lifted into place and Bucky wasn’t sure his tribe could do it. Not when Steve was already lifting crates up for the heroes and sticking them in place like it was nothing.

“Heroes with a huge lead!” Jeff narrates excitedly from the sidelines. “Can the villains catch up?”

“Fuck this.” Bucky mutters taking a step back. His back hits something soft - you. You nails trail up his spine and he shivers before turning to look down at you. “That piece then that piece?” You point out and Bucky turns to look.

Loki and Clint have the first piece in place. Natasha and Strange are pushing the second. Two pieces have to be lifted next and you seem to have cracked the code.

“You’re so smart.” He punches your shoulder affectionately before yelling out. He starts calling out directions and suddenly everything seems to have fallen into place. The villains tribe is quiet and works together easily while the heroes fall apart, again.

“Villains win immunity!” Jeff calls out again and the heroes fall into dismay. Yelling and arguing with one another even more. “That means the heroes will once again see me at tribal council. I’ll give you the afternoon to discuss, head on out.”

Bucky carries the immunity trophy back to camp with a bright smile. These first few days couldn’t have gone any better. A winning streak, set alliance, and final two plan?

He was winning this time. No doubt about it.

Peter Parker - Hero Tribe

“It just sucks because… because now they’re talking about sending Steve home instead of like - Sharon. She’s smart, but she’s just not the strongest person here and we obviously need a stronger tribe.”

Steve Rogers - Hero Tribe

“A line was drawn in the sand last tribal. Scott, Wanda and I on one side. Shuri, Peter, Sharon and Thor on the other. Now it’s just who they want to go home and I hope it’s not me.”

Thor Odinson - Hero Tribe

“There’s talk of Steve going home, but I… I don’t know if that’s what will be best for us. We need our strong players and he’s strong! I’m gonna talk to them and see what I can do. We just… We just can’t lose strong people. We’ll get our asses handed to us.”

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

notes // you can probably tell, but until the merge, you won’t get inside on the heroes tribe. the focus of this is bucky & reader on their tribe. the confessionals are really you’re only hint to anybody else’s train of thought! i’m excited to explore this, it’s really just for fun & not meant to be a super serious fic. a break from harsh angst and all that! i hope you enjoy it, even just a little! the next part will have more to it & it will get more interesting! this is meant as an introduction, a season premiere if you will. :))

& if you’ve watched the real heroes vs villains season you’ll notice a lot of this follows after that set up, like the challenges and eliminations, but i’ve written it around these characters and personalities!

my writing is free & will remain free! but if you have the resources and enjoyed it, consider donating to my ko-fi :) & if that’s not possible consider reblogging or leaving comments! spreading my work or letting me know you enjoyed it means the world to me & lets me know i’m not shouting into the void!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes au #james bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #survivor au #bucky barnes x fem!reader #steve rogers

86 notes · View notes

bartistic · 3 years

Text

Bruce Goes To The Market!

knife tw, food cw, incredibly dumb self-indulgent concept cw, outsider (oc) pov

It is universally acknowledged that a cashier possessing free time, will be in want of an extra task to fill that free time. At least, that’s what James’ managers seemed to think. Privately, he agreed, as he found restocking the shelves to be a most agreeable pastime, one that could in fact suck up hours of his eight hour closing shift.

He was in the soda aisle, debating whether sparkling water belonged with seltzer or with the rest of the store brand items, when he noticed a broad-shouldered man in sunglasses and a Gotham University sweatshirt, inspecting the selection of diet tonic water and looking utterly flummoxed. Customer in need of assistance!

“Hi, how are you doing tonight? You need help finding anything?” Mentally, James winced at the preppy-ness of his ‘customer service robot voice’ as his favorite coworker Stephie liked to call it. Luckily, he’d thrown his voice out enough screaming to Queen karaoke the night before that his voice stayed in the normal octaves rather than shooting into the stratosphere. The man straightened up and looked down towards James, who suddenly felt very short in all of his 5’9” glory. (Well, 5’8 3/4” but who’s counting.)

“Yes, actually. I’m new to the store, could you direct me to where the soap is?” Oh god. Of all the things it had to be the one item James swore was never in the same aisle twice.

“Of course!” He lied through his teeth. “Here, right this way.” Turning, he set off towards the general direction of where the soap tended to lie, with a variation of four different aisles. Luckily, the first aisle was correct, and he watched, intrigued, as the customer gave a thorough inspection to at least 14 different bars of soap. “Anything else I can help you with?” He added, as the man finally selected a bar and placed it in his basket. The man looked sheepish.

“This is actually the first time I’ve been in a grocery store. I’m not usually the one doing the shopping. My—the person I live with gave me a list, but I honestly don’t know where or even what half of these things are.” He held out a grocery list, scrawled in an elegant cursive. It was double-sided. James checked the front of the store, where the other cashier was engrossed in his phone while trying not to appear engrossed in his phone. It was an hour and a half until they closed, and he was pretty sure there was only one other customer in the store at most.

“Sure! Alright, so our first step should probably be to hit the deli, seeing as they have the longest wait times.” After walking the man through ordering Roast Beef, Prosciutto, Pastrami, Swiss, Havarti, Gouda, and Picante Provolone (what) they moved on to the canned goods. “We should probably grab a cart, I don’t think that basket’s going to be able to hold all of this.” Turning into the canned goods aisle, James sighed.

“Caution: Hazard Detected! Precaución, ¡Peligro Detectado!” The store’s resident useless robot assistant was stuck in place, screaming at a small bit of an onion peel that had fallen to the floor.

“Batsy, I swear to god.” James went over and kicked the peel under one of the shelves, pressing the button on the robot to reboot it.

“...Batsy?” The customer sounded somewhere between bemused and amused. Perhaps just ‘mused.

“Yeah, it’s our obtuse robot that only sees what’s right in front of it and makes a big fuss over literally nothing. It can’t even clean anything up, and the few moments there actually is a spill it just skids through it and makes it worse. Technically corporate calls it Patsy, short for Patrick, because we’re Patrick’s, you know? But since this is Gotham, we call it Batsy. Short for... Batrick. I’m not the one who came up with the name, that honor goes to my coworker Stephie. She’s, uh, not working tonight.” James internally began banging his head against the shelves. Why. Was. He. Like. This. “So, do you know what brand of chickpeas your... roommate wanted?”

/ / /

Finally, after another 45 minutes of shopping, they were ready to check out. James noticed the shift had changed while he was away. “Alright, so I can actually take you at this register over here, ‘cuz I’m still logged in and all.” He gulped as the customer began to load up onto the belt. This was... a lot of food. He’d scanned around a quarter when he officially ran out of room, turning to bagging instead. “Let’s get you another cart, actually, so we can load into that without squishing what you haven’t unpacked yet.” He moved to go grab one, but the customer was faster, jogging back with another cart before he could even finish bagging all the protein shakes. There were, admittedly, a lot of protein shakes.

Scanning the meat-substitutes, James scanned his own mind for an avenue of conversation. “So, you mentioned that it’s your son who’s the vegetarian. How old is he?”

“He’s 13. It’s not religious or health-wise or anything, he just really loves animals. Our house is practically a zoo on a good day, and that’s not even counting all his siblings.”

“Oh, how many kids do you have?” It had to be a fair amount for it to be ‘all’ his siblings. The customer opened his mouth as if to answer, then shut it again. He seemed to be thinking. Did he... not know how many kids he had??

“Legally I have... fffffour? Five? Yeah... that sounds right.” James tried to hide the bewildered expression in his own face, but he must not have been doing it well. “That makes me sound like such a bad father. No, I promise, I love them all, I just have quite a few of their friends living with us as well, and I’ve known those kids long enough to feel like they’re my kids too. Not to mention the whole difference between the ones I’ve adopted, the one who was my ward who I then retroactively adopted, the one I’m fostering, and the one who is legally an emancipated minor. And... the one who. Is no longer with us.” James blinked. That was indeed complicated.

“You must have a lot of love in your heart,” he settled on, finally.

“I just h— Oh, #%*$.” The blueberry container had burst open, all over the floor. James internally groaned.

“Oh no! Sorry about that, that’s the third one tonight. The packaging is just... not great. Do you want me to go get you another one?”

“No, I can get it. Thanks though.” The customer gingerly stepped through the minefield as James power walked to go get the clean up supplies. Six feet away, Batsy was screaming at a blueberry.

“Eat your heart out, Mister Miyagi,” he aimed a light roundhouse kick at the button to reboot the robot. Batsy got two feet before it encountered another world-ending-threat, danger level blueberry. James sighed and went to go clear that area first.

/ / /

Finally, almost everything was scanned. James was scanning the bread and rolls as the customer fit all the bags into the two carts, like an expert game of tetris. There were a few hiccups where James had had to explain that you probably shouldn’t bag Raid with milk, or that it was a good idea to double bag heavy items, or that you should wait until the end to put the eggs in (and there were a lot of eggs. Gaston-levels of eggs. Probably to be expected with that many kids in the house. Hah. eggs-pected.) But by the end they were working like a well-oiled machine. James bagged the last item, hit the button to total it, and watched as the customer realized he forgot his deli items.

“I’m just gonna— gonna run and go get those real quick. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Can you fill out the charity question real quick though? Th...thanks.” The customer was gone before James could question him on the fact that he’d used the custom amount option to apparently donate $1k to Gotham General’s children’s ward. It was... probably a mistake, but he’d wait around to check. He turned as he heard the beginnings of a commotion behind him, from the one other customer in the store. This guy’s whole aesthetic just screamed gross, from the white-boy dreads to the Blue Lives Matter gaiter mask. It looked as if he was having trouble at self-checkout. James was about to head over to help when his coworker passed him. He turned back to keep an eye on the clock. 10 minutes until closing. Please come back with the deli items soon. He heard an aggressive murmuring that sent chills up his spine, a distinct feeling of Not Right Bad. He turned back to where his coworker was engaged with helping the other customer. His coworker who was... very pale. Frightened. The customer whose hand glinted silver with... oh #%*$, that’s a knife. Not Good Very Bad... oh hell no, you are not hurting my coworker on my watch.

“HEY #%$&FACE, EAT BEANS!” As the aggressive customer turned to meet the container of garbanzo beans that was currently hurtling towards his face at the maximum speed a theatre-kid-who-never-did-sports could throw, the world seemed to throw down. Faintly, James could hear rational thoughts pounding at the door to his mind, begging to be let in. Thoughts like ‘They’re definitely going to fire you for attacking a customer’ and ‘They’re definitely going to fire you for cursing in front of a customer’ and ‘They’re definitely going to fire you for damaging the merchandise’ and ‘You can’t even throw a ball to save your life, there’s no way that’s going to hit him.’ Praying to Freddie Mercury, Elton John, and all other things holy, James watched as the beans sailed through the air and struck their target true— albeit a little lower than planned.”

Grossface automatically brought his hands down to protect his nethers, apparently forgetting that their was a knife in his hands. He let out a second agonized howl as he stabbed himself in the balls. Blindly, James groped around for more ammunition. Holding out a zucchini as threateningly as he could, he watched as the would-be aggressor ran out of the store as fast as he could with both hands clasping his junk. “Are you okay?” He asked his coworker, feeling his voice echo through the suddenly very-quiet-sounding store. She nodded mutely. He nodded back, then turned back to his register and oH shit there’s His Customer, holding the deli items.

“Nice shot.” Okay, this time he definitely sounded amused.

“I... am so sorry about the beans, I can get you a refund on those or I can go get you some more or—”

“No need, they definitely went to a good cause.” The customer grinned and held out the deli items. Faintly, James began to wrestle with the bag to get to the barcodes. Finally, everything was scanned, for good.

“Alright, will that be everything?” The clock read two minutes until closing.

“Yes, that should be everything. Again, thank you for all your help.” James watched as even with the membership points taken off, the total soared to over $750.

“Alright, your total is... $754.33, here’s some coupons and a survey slip. If you fill that out you get entered for a drawing to win a $500 gift card. Which... I don’t know that you’d need, but. Why not.” The customer reached into his wallet and counted out 5 $100 bills. Then he pulled out a black card. He paid off the total with the card, then handed the bills to James.

“Here you go, I wasn’t sure how much you tip cashiers.” James opened and closed his mouth a few times, like a fish.

“People don’t normally... tip cashiers...” and especially not HUNDREDS OF DOLLARS.

“Oh. Well, you were a good cashier. You deserve it. And here—” at this he pulled a crisp business card out of his wallet. “At Wayne Enterprises we could use quick-thinkers like you.” Pulling down his sunglasses, he gave a quick wink. James waved absentmindedly as BRUCE #%*$ING WAYNE walked out of the store. He looked down at the business card. Written upon it were the words: “Call here for an interview, mention Malone and they’ll know I sent you. Best of luck with the current job— BW”

James sat down. The clock was 10 minutes past closing before he remembered to look at it. There were a million thoughts running through his head. Oh my god I joked around to a billionaire. I cursed in front of a billionaire. I chucked a can of beans into a man’s nutsack in front of a billionaire.

But oddly enough, the only question that remained at the top of his mind was this:

This is because I have black hair and blue eyes, isn’t it.

#batfam #batman #bruce wayne #crack fic babey #my writing #written over the course of 2 hours following an 8 hour shift #shameless self-insert time

122 notes · View notes

claybrownie7566 · 3 years

Text

Tides and tails

Legend uses his mermaid tail to help Wind get everyone to shore after they fall into the Great Sea. (Basically Legend is too tired to be snarky so he is really sweet)

Air whipped through Hyrule's clothes as he tumbled through the air. There were shouts around him, but his confusion and lack of bearings had his full attention. Somewhere in the chaos he heard a single clear word.

"DIVE!" Wind shouted, "DIVE DIVE DIVE DIVE-"

The sailor's words turned into a spluttering followed by eight splashes.

Then nine.

Hyrule hit the water like a brick, his chest and arms screaming on impact. The icy water jolted his nerves awake, and his stomach lurched at any attempt to find a way up. He reflexively opened his mouth, recoiling at the bitter sting of salt on his tongue.

The tides were far too strong, and Hyrule was thrown back and forth under the waves.

His body slammed into another, and he felt cold metal slide across the back of his hand. He reached out, trying to steady himself any way he could. His lungs began to ache, and he scolded himself for turning down those swimming tips from Wind.

Suddenly there was a flash of pink to his left, and two strong arms hauled him upward. His head broke the surface and he heaved air in and out of his lungs. His chest rattled, and his muscles burned with effort. He kicked weakly, attempting to assist his rescuer. His eyes were unfocused and hazy, and his head lolled. Minutes or hours later he felt sand beneath his fingers, and a smaller pair of hands dragging him onto the shore.

"Roolie are you good?" someone asked. The traveler, exhausted, gave a pathetic thumbs up in no particular direction. His eyes focused just enough to see a blue shirt disapear into the rogue waves, followed by another pink flash that looked remarkably like a tail.

Hyrule let his head rest against the damp sand, the coolness helping ease the pounding in his ears. His fatigue won out, the sand leeched the energy out of him, and his vision dimmed.

...lie?

...rule?

"Hyrule!"

Hyrule's eyes fluttered open. His head ached and his body shook. He lifted himself on all fours, a wave of nausea washing over him. Water poured from his mouth onto the ground in front of him. He hacked and coughed harshly, his breaths wheezing from him like a broken bellows.

A firm hand landed on his back, patting gently. The remainder of the water spluttered out, and Hyrule's mind cleared as his breaths came easier and easier. He sat, rubbing his head with his hand, feeling slightly better.

"Are you with me Hyrule?" Wild's now recognizable voice asked. Hyrule looked up at his friend and nodded.

"Where's everyone?" He breathed. Wild nodded to the side, and Hyrule felt relieved and terrified at the same time. Twilight was helping Sky undo the sailcloth around his neck, the fabric must have shrunk in the water and gotten tangled. Other than those two, it was just Wild and himself. None of the others were anywhere to be found.

"Legend is out there trying to drag everyone to shore" Wild said, "Wind is with him, but I don't think he can swim much longer. We fell from pretty high up and really far from shore. Without those two helping, a few of us might've drowned. You included."

Hyrule rubbed his eyes, then put a hand up to shield them from the harsh sun. Out in the distance he could see waves lapping at the shore, and three figures swimming toward it. Legend's pink hair was visible almost immediately, and he was dragging a very waterlogged Warriors through the water, with Wind on his other side.

There was a startling cough next to them and Wild and Hyrule whipped around. The movement made Hyrule's head pulse. Twilight had gotten the cloth around Sky's neck untied. The rancher helped their friend roll to the side as he coughed and choked the same way Hyrule had. Twilight looked over at the shore, his eyes widening in surprise. Wild and Hyrule turned back to see Wind dragging Warriors ashore, but Legend remained in the water.

"Wind, you need to take a break, you're going to swim yourself sick" Legend said. Wind had plopped himself next to Warriors. Their chests heaved, and Hyrule felt his lungs ache in sympathy. Wind looked like he wanted to protest, but one look at him said he wasn't going anywhere. He was as pale as the sand beneath him, and he shivered, looking more waterlogged than Hyrule had ever seen him. The sailor couldn't even speak he was so exhausted. Hyrule wondered how many trips he had taken with Legend. After a moment Wind gripped his chest, trying to catch his breath, and nodded weakly. He looked like he might be sick.

Legend didn't look much better, but he nodded, expression full of resolve. He hesitated for a moment before reaching up from the water and ruffling Wind's hair.

"You did good buddy. I'll take it from here."

Hyrule smirked at the reluctant show of affection from his friend.

Legend must be exhausted.

"Legend" Hyrule said, "if Wind is that wiped out you must be too. Maybe Wild-"

The vet shook his head, "there's no time. The others are still out there, and I'm the best swimmer. I'm going to go get Time, be ready to help him. His armor is dragging him down. Four is with him. I'll be back soon. And besides...I've got a little extra help." Before Hyrule could protest, Legend dove under the waves. A glittering pink tail crashed up from the water, then smacked back down. Legend sped toward the others, ready to assist the last of their group.

Hyrule gasped and stared until Legend was a tiny sparkling speck.

"Someone wanna explain that?" Warriors croaked, jutting a thumb toward the merman in question.

"The suit" Hyrule said, a smile creeping onto his face, "he actually used it...I thought he'd be caught dead before any of you found out about that."

He could feel bewildered looks land on him, but he didn't care. He pushed himself to his feet and wobbled to the water. He could see Legend in the distance, slowly swimming back with Time. Hyrule cupped his hands around his mouth,

"YEAH GO LEG!" he screamed, a wicked smile taking over his entire face, lighting up his eyes.

The others looked at eachother for a brief moment before smiling themselves. Slowly they all got to their feet and made their way next to Hyrule.

Without hesitation, Warriors and Twilight began to shout.

"YEAH LEGEND LETS GO!"

"WAY TO BRING US HOME!"

Wind whooped next to them, and Sky clapped and whistled enthusiastically as Legend and Time neared the shore.

Legend looked very confused when they got there, but was more focused on handing Time over to Twilight. Their mentor was exhausted and barely able to get himself out of the water. Twilight dragged him out quickly, and Legend panted. Hyrule noticed the subtle tremble in the vets hands.

"What the heck are you doing? What are you all yelling at me for?"

Hyrule rolled his eyes, "you literally helped get all of us to shore idiot. Let us hype you up a little bit. And I know you never wanted to use the mermaid tail but you did, and I'm proud of you."

Legend narrowed his eyes, but a small smile appeared on his lips, "alright Roolie whatever you say. I'm going to go grab Four, I'll be back." Once again he disappeared into the water.

Thankfully Four wasn't extremely far off like the others had been. The smithy was a decent swimmer and had covered quite a bit of ground on his own. When they both finally got back, Four was shivering and Legend was quickly trying to remove his tail.

That may be the strangest thing I've ever seen him do Hyrule thought.

He smirked and shook his head.

Actually no it's not.

Legend finally had his legs back, but he stayed laying on his back, half in, half out of the water, too tired to move. Hyrule knelt next to him,

"Hey Legend great-.....Legend?"

His friend was starring blankly at the sky, his arms stretched out to the sides. His chest rose and fell deeply, and he looked like he was barely staying awake. He gave Hyrule a pathetic wave with his hand before it dropped back into the sand.

"Hey 'Roolie" He slurred.

Hyrule beamed down at him. There was a light shout of greeting, and Wind dropped next to them. He looked better after being on the shore for a bit, some color had returned to his cheeks and his breathing was normal again.

"Legend" he breathed, "that was amazing! I've never seen anyone ever swim that well! Where in Din's name did you get that tail?"

Legend's eyes were closed, and his chest began to heave a bit more urgently. Hyrule could see the tremor in his muscles.

"Hey Wind I think he needs a minute" he said. Wind smiled apologetically and nodded. As he shifted to get up, Legend shook his head slightly.

"No Wind.....s'okay......got it.....fourth.....venture....I think. Cool isn't it?"

Wind lit up, and settled back in the sand, "yeah" he said, "it's really cool. I bet you would leave Time and his Zora mask in the dust if you raced."

Legend puffed air out of his nose, "I don't know about that."

Wind slung an arm over Hyrule, and the traveller smirked at him.

"You did a great job vet. I'm proud of you. Both of you" Hyrule said.

Legend sat up slowly, sitting forward and taking deep breaths.

"Wind you did great" he said after a moment, "I don't think I would've been able to help everyone myself. I didn't know you were that strong! You lugged Sky to shore all by yourself." He nudged the sailor playfully.

Wind shrugged nonchalantly, but Hyrule could tell he was bursting with pride at Legend's praise. "I have one job in situations like this" he said, "and I'm glad you helped too. I think Roolie over here had the worst time for sure." He looked at Hyrule, "I'm not taking no for an answer on swimming lessons anymore."

Hyrule nodded in defeat, "that was pretty awful. I don't want it to happen again."

Legend and Wind both seemed happy with that answer. The vet smiled weakly. Suddenly he exhaled, and his eyes slipped closed as he tilted to the side. Hyrule barely managed to catch him.

Wind got up instantly and grabbed Twilight. The rancher followed him back to their little group, and got to work hauling Legend up.

"Sorry" Legend slurred, "took....everything outta me."

"You're alright vet" Twilight said easily, slinging one of his arms over his shoulders for support.

Wind and Hyrule followed them through the sand toward the others who had camped up shore. The group was discussing their untimely portal dump.

"I fell right on top of Wars" Sky cringed, "not that I could help it, but we hit the water like a ton of Hylian bricks. And then my sailcloth got wrapped around my neck" he shook his head, "not good."

Warriors chuckled softly, "yeah that wasn't fun for any of us. Time's armor really screwed him over. But hey Four, you and Wild did great."

"I'll say" Legend said with a weak laugh, startling the others and drawing their eyes, "Wind and I didn't have to lug their sorry butts as far as yours." His companions looked relieved they were all back, and they shared greetings and pats on the back.

Twilight helped ease Legend onto a piece of driftwood next to Warriors, and the rest of their party sat amongst the others.

"Legend you and Wind really saved our skins. Thank you" Four said.

"Yeah that tail really came in handy" Warriors added with a smirk, "you really can't escape the pink can you?"

Legend laughed. Really, actually laughed.

"Apparently not" he chuckled, "please don't ask."

Everyone asked.

Legend didn't mind.

#linked universe #lu #linked universe fic #lu fic

80 notes · View notes

chicgeekgirl89 · 3 years

Text

The Hoodie

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: Carlos Reyes, T.K. Strand, Mateo Chavez

Summary: “...hoodies are what you wear when you want to be comfortable and feel at home. So I thought you needed one, considering the circumstances.” A little post-ep for 2x13.

A/N: I found it VERY interesting that Carlos was the one in a hoodie at the end of 2x13 since hoodies are definitely a T.K. thing. Isn't it amazing how one, teeny tiny detail can be enough for me to write an entire fic?

AO3

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Carlos had been on the phone for six and a half hours. Six hours and thirty-four minutes if you were being exact. And that wasn’t including the other two hours he’d spent online, trying to search up insurance information.

There had been a long call with the arson investigator, then the insurance agent, then his bank, another hour with the arson investigator, his mortgage lender…he was exhausted.

“Hey babe!” T.K. said brightly as he and Mateo returned from their shopping trip, bags in hand. Mateo had offered to drive and T.K. had taken him up on it. It was all well and good to borrow t-shirts and sweatpants, but underwear and shoes were a whole other matter. T.K. stopped and pressed a kiss to the top of his head where was sitting at the kitchen counter.

“Hey,” Carlos said scrounging up what he hoped was a convincing smile. “Looks like you were successful.”

“We got everything,” Mateo assured him. “And I mean everything. I didn’t know T.K. was a shop until you drop kind of guy, but I think he bought out the entire men’s department at Zara. And J Crew. Honestly we kind of emptied out the whole mall.”

“Did you see the texts about tonight?” T.K. asked as he rooted through a bag from Aldo.

Carlos shook his head. He’d felt the continuous buzz of the group text as he’d slogged through his conversation with the insurance agent, but hadn’t had time to look.

“We’re hanging at the firehouse. You down?” Mateo asked.

Just the thought of it made him tired, but Carlos tried to rally. He’d fallen apart enough, it was time for him to move on, even if all he wanted to do was curl up in T.K.’s arms and cry. Again. “Yeah, sure, sounds good,” Carlos said, careful to keep his tone bright and cheerful.

T.K. shot him a quick look but didn’t say anything, so Carlos assumed he’d been successful in hiding his exhaustion. A night out with friends would be good for T.K., a distraction from all the stress of the last two days.

“Come upstairs and try some of this on,” T.K. said, gathering up all the bags.

“I’ll be up in a minute,” Carlos said. “I have a couple emails I need to send.”

It was more like half an hour than a minute because the insurance agent called back again, but eventually Carlos made his way to the guest bedroom. T.K. was standing by the bed, a new button-up hanging open as he held up and compared two belts. “That’s all yours,” he said, nodding toward a pile on Carlos’ side of the bed. “Just figure out what fits, we can take the rest back.”

Carlos was definitely not in the mood to put on a fashion show, but he took a quick look through the clothing and pulled out a polo shirt and jeans to try on. “How did the calls go today? Any progress?” T.K. asked.

Carlos sighed as he stripped off his borrowed t-shirt. “Not as much as I would like. Turns out having your home and all your worldly possessions burn up in a fire isn’t exactly the easiest insurance situation. They want copies of all the paperwork, proof that the home is burned beyond repair, a copy of the police report, the fire report, and I have to secure the site so nobody loots it. Not that there’s anything left to loot.”

T.K. had gone over in the morning with his dad and Judd to sort through some of the wreckage, while Carlos started his calls. There had been very little that was salvageable and everything that was had been sent off to be professionally cleaned. Yet another phone call Carlos had had to make.

“We’ll get it figured out,” T.K. said. “I can stay home tomorrow and help.”

Carlos shook his head. “No, it’s kind of a one person job. And my name is on everything so they probably won’t talk to you anyway.”

T.K.’s face softened as he took in Carlos’ frustration. “Are you sure you want to go tonight?”

“To hang with the 126? Yeah of course,” he said.

“Carlos…”

“I’m fine, really. It’s…just been a long day. It’ll be good to blow off some steam,” Carlos told him.

T.K. didn’t quite look convinced but he let the matter slide for the moment. “That looks good,” he said, nodding toward the polo Carlos had put on.

“Yeah, it fits fine.” Carlos reached for the next thing in the pile. “Oh, here, this must be yours,” he said, holding out a blue sweatshirt.

T.K. looked up and shook his head. “No, that’s for you.”

“You bought me a hoodie?” Carlos asked.

T.K. set down the pants he’d been refolding. “I know they’re not really your thing,” he said. “But hoodies are what you wear when you want to be comfortable and feel at home. So I thought you needed one, considering the circumstances.”

Carlos ran his fingers over the soft fabric. It was touching gesture and he felt tears prick at his eyes again for the thousandth time in the last day. “Thank you.”

T.K. smiled and nodded toward him. “You should try it on.”

Carlos slipped it over his head and pulled at it until it fit around his waist and hips. “How do I look?”

T.K. reached up and fixed a few of his mussed curls. “Hoodie hazard,” he said with a smile. “You look great.”

An hour later they headed over to the firehouse, coolers and snacks in hand. Carlos felt good, ready, maybe even a little excited to be out and put the day behind him.

But he was not prepared for how sense memory would assault him. The firehouse smelled like smoke and fire and destruction, causing his shoulders to tense immediately. And the gentle teasing about their lack of home to hang out in stabbed a sharp blade into his stomach. Marjan was just trying to make light of a bad situation, but it still hurt.

But T.K. looked so happy surrounded by his friends and his dad that Carlos couldn’t bring himself to ask to leave. Instead he smiled, sipped his beer without tasting it, laughed when it was called for, and answered any questions thrown his way. He and Paul even went a round together at the foosball table. Mostly he stayed by the counter, shifting food around, refilling bowls, getting people drinks, and just generally keeping up the pretense of being a good party host.

He thought he was doing a pretty decent job hiding it; of pretending that he didn’t feel like the walls were closing in on him with their dark, smoke stained plaster. He was trying very hard not to think about the fact that being in this space felt like being back in his burning bedroom, absolutely certain that he was about to not only die, but also lose the man he loved with all his heart.

He was rearranging the snack bowls for probably the twelfth time when he felt arms go around his waist and T.K.’s lips found his neck. “Let’s go back to my dad’s,” he murmured.

Carlos frowned and continued his very important cheeseball work. “It’s only eight o’clock.”

“But you’re tired and don’t want to be here,” T.K. said softly.

“I’m fine.”

“Carlos.” Lips pressed against his neck again. “You can say you’re not okay.”

“You’re having a good time,” Carlos tried again.

“If you’re not having fun, I’m not having fun,” T.K. told him.

Carlos turned in his arms so they were facing each other. “It’s just been a really long day and I—” he swallowed hard. “Being here is kind of like reliving the fire all over again.”

T.K.’s eyes clouded. “I am such an idiot. I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think about that.”

“It’s fine,” Carlos told him. “I’m fine. Really.”

But T.K. was already on the move. “Hey guys?” he called to the group. “Carlos and I are going to call it a night.”

“T.K. we didn’t drive,” Carlos reminded him. They’d caught a ride with Mateo since his Camaro was toast.

“You can take my car,” Owen offered.

“Yeah I’ll drive the Cap home,” Mateo volunteered as he defended his goal against Nancy.

“See?” T.K. said. “All good.”

“Who’s going to clean up the mess?” Carlos asked as T.K. tugged him toward the door.

“Any of the other five people here at the moment. Just because you never let them help doesn’t mean they’re not capable,” T.K. informed him. “Night guys!”

“Night!”

“Goodnight!”

“Drive safe!”

“Stop feeling bad,” T.K. ordered as he climbed into the driver’s seat of Owen’s car. “You’re not making me leave, I chose to leave.”

“I don’t want to pull you away from your friends.”

“They’re your friends too.”

“I know but…I just thought you needed this. To get your mind off everything.”

“The only thing on my mind is making sure you’re okay,” T.K. said as he flipped on the blinker and turned them left, streetlights ghosting over his face. “I knew something was going on. I shouldn’t have dragged you out tonight.”

“You didn’t drag me out.” Carlos shook his head. “I thought maybe it would be good for both of us. I didn’t realize…I didn’t know that being at the firehouse would make me feel this way.”

“I’m just so used to dealing with fire and smoke I didn’t even think about how it might take you back,” T.K. said. “But I should have. I’m sorry.”

Silently T.K. reached for his hand, threading their fingers together over the car’s console. The small gesture made Carlos’ throat grow tight.

They finished the drive to Owen’s in silence. The place smelled blissfully free of smoke and Carlos felt the muscles in his back loosen just a little bit. “Come here,” T.K. said, pulling him toward the couch.

Carlos ended up sitting between T.K.’s legs, back pressed against his chest as T.K. flipped on a Netflix documentary. He’d just gotten settled when T.K.’s fingers slipped inside the neckline of his hoodie. “T.K. you don’t—”

“Shh,” T.K. said softly as he began to work loose the knots in Carlos’ neck and shoulders. “Just relax.”

Slowly Carlos felt his shoulders begin to unwind, his body relaxing into T.K.’s as his boyfriends fingers dug deeply into his muscles. “Better?” T.K. asked a few minutes later.

Carlos nodded, eyes feeling heavy. “The hoodie helps too,” he mumbled.

“Yeah?” T.K. pressed a kiss to his curls.

“It feels like you,” he said, semi-aware that his words were slurring as sleep pulled at him.

He could feel T.K. smile against the top of his head. “I’m glad it’s working.”

As Carlos drifted off, sweatshirt and boyfriend cocooning his body in comfort, he felt the deep, reassuring sense of home.

#911 Lone Star #Tarlos #Carlos Reyes #T.K. Strand #Tarlos Fic #911 LS #Soft Boys #Fluffy Boys #The Hoodie

90 notes · View notes

ridiculousn3sswrites · 3 years

Text

A Ball to Remember - My Princess Pt. 12

*Zendaya x Reader

*Summary: At long last, the Ball is being held in hope that Prince Thomas finds a potential match.

*Warnings: Swearing, anxiety, Kardashian/Jenner slander. Let me know if I missed anything!

*A/N: Outfits are based off of Met Gala 2018 looks for all the celebrities I name drop lmao. It’s fitting since Zendaya’s Met Gala 2018 look inspired this entire thing. Also I seriously fell in love with the dress inspiration for these chapters. Next chapter may have a little smut piece just for fun :)

Tip Jar

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five || Part Six || Part Seven || Part Eight || Part Nine || Part Ten || Part Eleven || Part Twelve

Dress Inspiration 1 || Dress Inspiration 2

**********

At long last, the night of the ball had finally arrived. The remaining foreign royals had been arriving throughout the day, and the castle was a mess. Different handmaidens and servants were running through the halls, helping with last minute decorating, fetching thing for their employers, anything that would need to be done in the hours leading up to the beginning of the ball. The other royals would be announced as they arrived to the ball, but you were on a schedule. You and Prince Thomas were to be announced last, so you would have a bit more time to get ready than the others.

Zendaya was by your side for most of the day as you were shuttled from appointment to appointment in preparation for the night. She made sure that you weren’t getting too overwhelmed with all the activity that was going on, sneaking you snacks and water throughout the day as you went about your business. You’d tried to set it up so you’d be put into your dress first and then sent to hair and makeup, but for some reason (that the handmaidens had described as ‘wanting you to get the full effect’), you were first sent to makeup, then hair, and then getting put in your dress.

Every step of the process, your handmaidens were gushing over your transformation into a properly formal Princess. You would look to Zendaya for help, but all she could do was smile and shrug her shoulders. Getting your hair and makeup done took a few hours on their own, and then there was the whole matter of getting you into your dress. Corsets, hoop skirts, you were convinced they were all torture devices in their own right (even though you had to admit your waist looked good in the corset). When your handmaidens put the dress on you, however, you understood what they meant about letting you get the full effect.

With your hair pulled back and up, a few pieces framing your face, your makeup light but still giving the right amount of a dramatic look, you already could see things coming together. But then there was your dress - the bodice a navy blue with stars and moons trailing down your sternum, stopping just shy of your navel, the skirt a deeper navy closer to black, the two pieces sewn together with stars accenting your hips.

“Wow,” you gasped, unable to help the little swish of the skirt you just had to do. You looked over at Zendaya, smile bright. “Z, look!”

“I see, my Princess. You look great.” That hint of fondness was there in her eyes and her smile, letting you know that she would tell you the true extent of her approval when the two of you were in somewhat privacy.

“You still have the cape, Princess!” One of your handmaidens reminded you as the other two brought forward the exact piece she was talking about. They secured it around your shoulders, one securing the front clasp while the others worked about making sure it fell perfectly around you. You suddenly understood the seamstress’s frustrations about the detailing she would have to do on the cape, small and large stars spanning pretty much the whole of the cape. You would have to give the seamstress your profuse thanks after the ball was over.

“I think I’m in love,” you said, now doing a full spin to get the full effect. The detailing sparkled underneath the lights, and you could only imagine how it’d look in the candlelight of the ballroom at night. “This is amazing.”

“And to think you didn’t want to go to your fittings,” Zendaya teased. You just looked back at her, pouting.

“Right, we just need to go get your heels and then you’ll be ready,” one of your handmaidens said, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You really do look amazing, Princess. You’ve grown to be a fine young woman and the land of Xerin will do well to have you as their queen.”

You were thrown back into the reality of the situation. You weren’t just dressing up in a pretty gown for a ball that was being thrown for no reason, no. You were dressed up for a ball that was acting as your engagement announcement, while you were trying to get your fiance to put his attention towards another eligible princess. You gave the handmaiden a small smile, trying not to let your sudden wave of sadness overtake you. “Thank you. I’m glad to have done you well as your Princess.”

The handmaidens left the room for a few minutes to retrieve the heels, and Zendaya was immediately at your side. She took your hand in hers, rubbing her thumb over the back of your hand. “What’s wrong? What’re you thinking about?”

“What if tonight doesn’t work out? I want to stay here with my people, with you,” you admitted, your breathing starting to pick up as you began to overthink things.

“If it doesn’t work out, then we find another way. Even if I have to go to Xerin with you.” You looked up at Zendaya with wide eyes. You’d never discussed that, and you would never make her leave her home for a foreign land just to follow you.

“You would do that?”

“I would, my Princess. I want to be with you for the rest of my life,” she admitted, looking away for just a second. You could tell she was a little embarrassed at the admission, but it was out there.

“I want to be with you for the rest of my life as well,” you told her. “Can I have a kiss?”

“I wouldn’t want to ruin your lipstick.”

“Please?” Zendaya rolled her eyes but gave in, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. It was enough to satisfy you for now, but you’d be asking for more kisses later when you were alone. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Zendaya stepped back, releasing your hand just as the handmaidens returned.

“Princess, we’re going to need you to sit while we put these on,” one of them directed you as another pulled up a chair.

“I need to get ready for the ball as well. My replacement will be here soon,” Zendaya told you as you sat down.

“Lady Zendaya, are you going to be attending as a guest or on duty?” the third handmaiden asked.

“A little bit of both,” Zendaya said with a small smile. “I have duty at the beginning of the night, but after shift change I’m welcome to stay at the ball.”

“Per the Princess’s request, I assume,” the handmaiden teased, looking down at you. You looked away, trying to ignore the heat rising in your face. Sure, she was right, but she didn’t have to call you out like that. “Relax, Princess. It’s nice that you want your friend to enjoy the night as well.”

“Right, yes,” you trailed off, lifting your foot for the handmaiden to slip on the heel. She secured it, repeating the same process for the next heel. Zendaya was the one to help you stand, and you were pleasantly surprised at your newfound height. “Zendaya, I’m almost as tall as you now.”

Zendaya rolled her eyes. “You wish. I’ll see you later.”

Sure enough, as she finished her sentence, there was a knock at the door. She went to answer it, and her replacement was there. Zendaya gave you a nod before leaving the room, leaving you to the whims of your handmaidens. Now that they didn’t have to do anything else to get you ready - only waiting for someone to retrieve you to be announced - the handmaidens went about their gossip. They were talking about people they’d seen arriving - royal families, princesses accompanied by other nobles - just enamoured by the glitz and glam of all these people coming into the castle at once.

“The High Priestess pulled out all the stops for the guest list, I wonder how she managed to convince everyone who came.”

“It’s because she’s the High Priestess. Do you know anyone who could say no to Rihanna?” You were amused at their conversation, knowing how right they were. There were two people you could never say no to - excluding your parents - and that was Rihanna and Zendaya. Rihanna just had that kind of personality that you wanted to go along with her plans.

“You’re not wrong there. Princess, do you have plans with the Prince after the ball?” The little smile the handmaiden gave you made it obvious what kind of plans she was thinking of. You could feel your face getting hot at just the implication.

“No! I don’t know what you mean,” you mumbled, trying to ignore the heat in your cheeks.

“But you’re being formally announced tonight, aren’t you guys going to celebrate?”

“You should know the Princess isn’t like that, we haven’t even heard anything about them holding hands,” the oldest handmaiden said. “Perhaps they’re more low-key than we’d hoped.”

“He’s a handsome young man, you could have done worse. Enjoy your youth. Perhaps the ball will provide the right circumstances for the two of you.”

“Perhaps,” you agreed, knowing fully well you were lying. You just hoped the Prince would find someone else to suit his fancy. Before the handmaidens could go any further into their prying, a knock on the door saved you yet again. Instead of Zendaya, as you’d been hoping, Rihanna stood there in her High Priestess formal garb.

“(Y/n), they’re ready for you in the holding room. Most of the others have been announced already,” she told you. “Lady Zendaya and Prince Thomas are already waiting for you there.”

“Thank you,” you told her. The handmaidens helped you up, leading you over to Rihanna. Before leaving, you turned to them. “Thank you for all your help this evening. I greatly appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

“We’re more than glad to help you. Enjoy your night.” With that, Rihanna led you out of the room and down the hall.

“Look at you! You look like a proper Princess now,” Rihanna gushed as the two of you walked. “Wow, the seamstress really outdid herself. It’s amazing what she’s done. And look at your cape! Amazing.”

“And yourself? I always forget how amazing the formal garb looks on you,” you complimented right back. Rihanna just waved off your compliment.

“Zendaya’s already seen you, right? What was her reaction?”

“She couldn’t really have a huge one seeing as we were with my handmaidens, but she did compliment me,” you said, looking away with a slight blush.

Rihanna sighed but looked down at you with a smile. “Young love is so cute. Anyways, after you’re announced, find me and I’ll point out our notable visitors.”

“Thank you for all of this, Rihanna. I know it was a lot of work for you.”

“Shush, party planning’s fun,” she said, opening the door for you. Immediately you saw Zendaya there in her formal armor. A couple other guards were stationed around the room - understandable since there were two heirs to the throne to be held there - and then you saw Prince Thomas and Harrison. Prince Thomas had his hand held over the bottom of his face, doing nothing to hide how red his face was.

“He thinks you look great, Princess!” Harrison called out with a smug little smile. Prince Thomas smacked Harrison’s arm, but it did nothing to faze him.

“Thank you,” you said with a laugh. “Though I don’t know if I should thank you or Prince Thomas.”

“Either works,” Harrison said. You went to join Zendaya at her side, highly amused by the two men still bickering.

“See? You look amazing,” Zendaya whispered, using the lessened height difference to her advantage. When you looked up at her, you saw her smug little smile at your flustered state.

“Lady Zendaya, how’s this gonna work? I know they’re gonna be announced together, but what about us?” Harrison asked, dragging the Prince with him.

“Well, you have a choice. You could be announced on your own, or you could walk behind them with me and not be announced,” she told him. “It’s a safety thing that I watch their backs.”

“Alright, so either announce to everyone that I’m single or just relax,” Harrison said. “I’m fine walking with you.”

“Lady Zendaya, it’s time,” one of the guards said. She nodded before looking at you and the Prince.

“Are you guys ready?” You nodded, and despite his face still being pink, Prince Thomas nodded as well. Zendaya led you to where you knew the top of the steps were, and quickly set you and Prince Thomas to be presentable in front of the guests. Prince Thomas offered his arm to you, and you accepted it.

“Announcing for the first time, Princess (y/n) of Xaya and her betrothed, Prince Thomas of Xerin,” the herald bellowed into the hall. The doors opened up in front of you, the soft lights of the candles throughout the room glittered off of the chandelier and the gems throughout the room. Though you couldn’t necessarily see the eyes on you, you could definitely feel them. You put on a bright smile, looking up at Prince Thomas for a moment just to find his gaze already on you. You needed to play the part of the happily betrothed, after all.

As soon as you and the Prince descended the stairs, the chatter rose back up and filled the room. Prince Thomas dropped his arm, just to take your hand in his. You looked at him, wondering what his play was but you couldn’t just take your hand back without someone seeing. “Would you care to dance?”

“I’m sorry, but I need to find the High Priestess. She requested for me to join her after we’re announced, but please, enjoy yourself,” you told him, gesturing towards the festivities. He hesitated, but nodded nonetheless. Zendaya appeared at your side, a hand on your elbow, as soon as he walked away with Harrison.

“I found Rihanna. Are you ready to go with her?” You nodded, and Zendaya led you through the crowd to where Rihanna was. Rihanna had a glass of champagne in hand, watching the ball from the side. You could tell she was just basking in the success of the event so far. “Rihanna, I have the Princess.”

“I see that. Congrats on being officially announced,” Rihanna teased. “Right, come here. You want a drink?”

You nodded, figuring you could have one drink for the night. Rihanna handed you a champagne flute from the table beside her, and you took your spot next to her. “Okay. First we have the most important guests, Queen and King Beyoncé and Shawn Carter.”

“Wait, how’d you get them here? Also, isn’t their Princess still a child?”

“It’s not a party without Bey. And you don’t want to disrespect them by not inviting them here,” Rihanna explained with a smile. “Alright, that over there is Sir Michael B. Jordan, he’s not super important but he is attractive.”

“Rihanna,” Zendaya chastised with a roll of her eyes.

“What? It’s true. There’s King Kanye West,” Rihanna pointed out. You tilted your head in confusion.

“Wait, where’s Queen Kim?”

“They’re having issues at the moment. Like, finding a new Queen type of issues,” Rihanna added in a whisper before pointing out other people. “Lady Cardi, she’s always a blast. Queen Sza, Princess Ariana, Princess Selena, Prince Jaden, Princess Taylor.”

“Wait, who’s that?” you asked, nodding towards a woman laughing and joking with someone.

“Princess Letitia Wright,” Rihanna explained.

“I thought she wasn’t seeing anyone?”

“She isn’t. She’s accompanied by Sir John Boyega since her parents couldn’t make it.”

“I like her. I think she may get along with Prince Thomas,” you said. Rihanna looked at you with a raised brow.

“And how do you suppose that?”

“I just have a feeling. She seems… joyous,” you told her.

“Alright, I’ll see what strings I can pull. Enjoy yourself, anyone else will introduce themselves to you.” Before you could walk away, Rihanna pulled you back. “Watch out for Queen Kim’s siblings, they’re here and you know they cause trouble.”

“Noted.” With that, you and Zendaya ventured back into the crowd. Zendaya wasn’t supposed to be by your side for the time she was on duty - trusting the guards posted around the event to ensure your safety - but she wanted you to at least be with someone before she left your side. You were stopped a few times to congratulate you on your engagement, recognizing some of the people Rihanna had pointed out to you. You were in awe when Queen Beyoncé stopped you with a kind smile, complimenting your dress. As soon as the Queen walked away, Zendaya teased you about your starstruck gaze.

“(Y/n)! Where’d you go off to?” Harrison called out, dragging along Prince Thomas.

“I guess I can leave you with them,” Zendaya said as soon as they were close to you. “I do have to get back to duty.”

“Okay, I’ll see you as soon as you’re off, right?” Zendaya nodded.

“I expect you to save a dance for me,” she told you before turning to the two men approaching you. “I need to get to work, I expect you two will keep her company.”

“Will do, Lady Zendaya!” Harrison readily agreed. Zendaya gave you one last look before going to join the guards at the perimeter of the room. “Princess, you look amazing! You and Thomas should go dance, enjoy your engagement!”

You were shocked at Harrison’s insistence, especially since he knew your plan for the evening, but you didn’t see the point in disagreeing with him. Once again thinking of your image, it would appear odd if you didn’t dance with your betrothed at least once. “I would love to, if the Prince would ask me.”

“Wait, really?” Prince Thomas asked, brightening up at your teasing. You almost laughed at his reaction, but then he came to his senses. He dipped his head down, extending his hand out to you. “Princess (Y/n), would you care to dance?”

“I would love to,” you accepted, taking his hand. Prince Thomas led you to the dance floor where other couples were slow dancing, the string players providing the perfect atmosphere for them. You put your hand to rest on his shoulder, his going to rest on your waist (still at a respectable place).

“You do look amazing tonight, (y/n). I’m sorry for my reaction earlier, but you really just… wow. You’re gorgeous,” Prince Thomas told you, looking away as the blush returned to his face.

“I’ll take your reaction earlier as flattery,” you laughed. Prince Thomas gave you a sheepish smile as he led you through the motions of the dance. You knew there would be people watching you - your first public presentation as an engaged couple would serve as a fair source of entertainment for the others - but you couldn’t say it was bad. You and Prince Thomas were joking around, talking about your memories from the festival and just hanging out with him and Harrison over the past few weeks. One dance flowed into another, and then another, the songs flowing together as you just enjoyed your time with the Prince. Harrison would steal you away for a song or two, but you always ended up with Prince Thomas again.

“I heard you’re leaving after the ball,” you said, wanting to address the rumor.

“Haz and I are going to be leaving in a couple days. We’ve been away from Xerin for quite some time,” Prince Thomas joked.

“It’s going to be quiet around the palace without you two.”

“You know, I do really like you. I know this was arranged, but you’re a wonderful person and I would like to marry you,” Prince Thomas admitted as another song finished. Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped open the slightest bit, not sure where this was coming from.

“Thomas, I… I don’t know what to say,” you told him, guilt beginning to bloom in your chest.

“You don’t have to say anything right now. Thank you for the dances, (y/n).” He stepped back with a bow, letting you and the others know that you were done dancing with one another for now. You watched as he disappeared into the crowd, unsure what to do with yourself now. He’d actually fallen for you. You hadn’t led him on, had you? Would Rihanna be able to direct him towards Princess Letitia like you’d hoped, or would this just complicate things further?

You were beginning to spiral just the slightest bit, the people surrounding you not helping. You began making your way through the crowd, trying to find something to drink and just calm your nerves. You brushed off Princess Kylie as she tried to greet you, only focused on grounding yourself. Once you found a nice secluded corner, you leaned against the wall, resting your head against the cool stone.

“Princess, are you okay?” someone asked after a few minutes of you taking the chance to just breathe. Opening your eyes, you saw the one person who could always help you. There, in her formal armor, the lights creating a soft halo around her silhouette, was your beloved, worry evident on her face. You shook your head, trying to maintain your calm. Zendaya immediately stepped forward, taking you into her arms. You rested your head against her chest plate, and though it wasn’t the most comfortable thing, you treasured it.

“I’d rather not talk about it right now.”

“Okay. I’m here for you now.” Of course Zendaya knew what you needed to hear.

**********

Tag List: @uncookspaget, @ddesert-rosee, @gangganggg

Permanent Tag List: @treatallwithkindness, @laic2299, @delaber

#zendaya x reader #zendaya coleman x reader #zendaya imagine #celebrity imagine #my princess series

32 notes · View notes

passivenovember · 3 years

Text

And Everyday was Overcast.

Part One : Hammers and Nails

Billy needed someplace to go when the grave was desecrated.

When his eyes unglued themselves, peeling off eyelashes in their wake, when the earth was overturned, torn and left hanging like shreds of old fabric; Steve had been there. By some miracle he had been consumed like he always was, sat thinking by a plot that had grown yellow flowers to blanket Billy in his eternal sleep. And maybe it was those small visits sheltered between morning runs and eight hour shifts stocking the horror section that Billy had come back.

From the grave. From the brink.

The Earth started vibrating, spidery cracks turning volatile, and Steve was met with ocean blue. Red rimmed eyes locked on his face, hands reaching and gripping. Nails digging in as Steve wrapped Billy's grime covered shoulders in his own jacket. Rubbed the chilled skin of his arms, looked in his eyes, and took him home.

Someplace Billy could wash the day from his skin.

The blonde haired boy who had turned from human to creature and back again deserved something more than what he was left with. He deserved warm meals, and sunshine on his skin, and soft bed sheets that opened like a celestial sky when Billy felt like shelving the enormity of what he had discovered. What waited after death.

Steve wanted that for him.

Not happiness, not closure, exactly, but something close to it.

At the root of it all, Steve knew Billy should feel safe. Welcome and warm and comfortable, in the house that Steve’s father had built for his mother all those years ago when she was plump and round with child. Steve felt like his father that day as he carried the last box over the threshold and took in the rigid, tense line of Billy’s shoulders.

He let the moment rest. Let it breathe, as his father always instructed. “Do you think you could feel safe here, Billy?”

The air sat heavy. Cold and wet and warm, somehow, like the morning after a night of heavy rain. Billy sucked in a sharp breath and pivoted slowly, face reverent, as if standing barefoot in a cathedral among gods and heroes. Met with divinity.

Instead he got Steve.

Just Steve, trying not to stare at the lone curl hanging over Billy’s forehead when he offered a tight, controlled smile. “It’s fine.” Billy said, only.

Steve tore his eyes away. Focused on the second story banister to stop his gut from falling through the floor. ”Fine? As in, I would rather eat my own toenails than live here, fine or, like. It's okay, I don't mind it here, I might even like it someday, fine?"

Billy adjusted the strap across his shoulders. “It’s just what I expected it would be.”

Steve shook his head. “What’s that mean?”

"Relax, Harrington, it's." Billy turned again, eyebrows scrunched together. “Its. Pastel. And huge. Obscenely decorated—“

”My mom had it professionally done before they—“

”It was built for a happy family with lots of kids. Lots of love, but now it's. It feels. Lost.”

Billy had started saying things like that.

Heavy, saturated, impossible things that left Steve scrambling. Wishing for the intelligence to absorb the meaning rather than question it. Steve rested the box at the foot of the stairs and offered a smile to the second story. Runoff for the pools of blue that looked on.

"That's a lot of adjectives. I can get you a hotel, maybe. Or an apartment. I could cosign, I know they gave you a pretty penny and you could probably afford your own, but. I could. I would." Steve said harshly. "For you. I would."

"It's fine here. It's okay."

Steve felt like a science experiment. Egg boy with three heads and ten legs or something. Suckers on the tips of his thumbs, the way Billy studied him. Steve counted the freckles on Billy's nose--one, two, three, four--trying to stay afloat.

Dinner was made every night though Steve never saw it happen.

The cookbooks sat alphabetized over his mother's antique bar cart on that little periwinkle blue shelf. He'd come home, every night, at six on the dot, to a set table. The mixing bowls were always clean and put away, counters wiped and ingredients stored neatly on the shelves his pantry, but the wooden spoons spelled it out for Steve, still shifting from dark to light as they lay drying on the dish rack.

"You don't have to make dinner, you know." Steve took another bite of Salisbury steak, furious that it tasted so good. Like love soaking into his skin.

Billy shook his head. "I want to."

"I know, I'm saying it's okay if you decide not to, one day. Like if you get caught up reading. Or if you can get Max to drive you to the history museum, or if you--"

"It's the least I can do."

Steve hated that. He let his fork clatter to the table. "I'm not expecting repayment for this."

"I'm not a freeloader."

"And I'm not an asshole." Steve deadpanned, lifting a finger that sewed Billy's smug lips together. "Don't say it."

"Say what?"

"Whatever you were thinking, with that clever glint in your stupid blue eyes."

Billy cracked his knuckles, clearly fighting a smile. "Never thought you noticed the color of my eyes, Harrington."

"Yeah, sure." Steve stood, gathering the plates and forks and knives from the table, his own eyes counting primary threads. "Can see those things from space, Jesus." He finally looked up, at Billy's curiously pink face.

Pink lips, cheeks, nose.

Steve gripped ceramic. Swallowed against a swell of guilt. "You don't owe me anything, Billy. I like having you here. I want you here."

Billy gave a simple, controlled nod.

Steve got used to it.

The shack wasn't built until the doctor told Billy that he'd probably wouldn't remember all of what happened. The big things would stick out, neon greens and blues against the forest head, but Billy shouldn't be too hard on himself if the important things got thrown away.

And some of those jagged little pieces were there. The bad things. Anger and hatred, both for self and world, left hanging on the cliff of who he was now. Everything that had formed Billy Hargrove--the person he was, the person Steve had pretended not to notice--were packed away. Soft, silky emotion covering knives left dull and rusted in their drawer.

Billy remembered like flashes of lightening across the summer sky--sudden and then gone. Here and away. He remembered Hawkins high and Max who'd grown six inches in three years. Dustin who had been wearing that stupid shirt when the mall burned down.

And Steve.

Always Steve, sat next to him. A foot away at first and then holding his hand, later, when Owens said Billy should be kind to himself. Gentle.

He wasn't.

And he didn't come out of his room for three days after that, after the wall was placed in front of him. The crack under Billy's door always keeping Steve at bay. Trapped behind the starting line. He paced around on the carpet, lifting his fist and letting it fall again, never breaking up the silence.

Billy was crying.

Billy never cried, anymore, but he cried that night and Steve felt helpless. Pathetic and stupid and useless, locking himself in his father's study and trying to formulate a plan, just like Owens had told him to when the sun fell on a world without Billy Hargrove and then suddenly rose again, set anew.

Set crooked when Billy stormed from the hospital room, slamming doors that echoed like rolls of thunder in his wake.

Figure out a way to help him.

Sterile, eerie white walls stared back at him as Steve shrugged his shoulders on the third day, aluminum hospital chair groaning beneath his weight.

I'm not sure how to do that.

You don't have to do anything. Owens said. Just help him get the emotion out. Let him write, draw, sing, dance, whatever he needs to assist in telling us his story.

Potato casserole and red wine bore witness to Steve's leap of faith. Billy turned away from the novel he had tucked under his arm when Steve got home from work that day, eyes curious. "Spit it out, Harrington."

"I'm not sure what you--"

"You've been giving me the side eye since you got home." Billy turned the page in his book, still managing to read both it and the room as he urged, "Tell me what's wrong."

And nothing was wrong, and.

Everything was wrong. Steve leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Do you want to come with me to the art store tomorrow?"

Billy frowned. "I don't need anything from the art store."

"It's not always about what you need," Steve reasoned, patting his mouth with a napkin. "We could get stuff you want. That's all, just pretty things. Nice things. It could be a treat."

"Paper and scissors are considered a treat?" Billy cocked an eyebrow. "I do love touching shit, it's one of my favorite hobbies."

Steve scrubbed at his mouth, swallowing down against a big, fat, crooked smile dripping with affection. "C'mon, it'll be fun. We can get whatever you want; clay, oil pastels, acrylics--"

"I wanted to check out the library tomorrow."

"You go everyday, blue, you're a regular bookworm."

"So?" Billy demanded, taking another bite of casserole. "I like to read. Just 'cause you can't doesn't mean the rest of us have to hold back." He grinned, low and slow. "Don't let your jealousy turn you into a tyrannical landlord, pretty boy."

"God, you're the absolute worst."

Billy turned back to his novel. "The art store will just inspire me to paint nudies."

"So paint them." Steve challenged.

Bait. Hook and line.

"You gonna pose for me if I let you buy out the joint?"

Steve shrugged. "Maybe once, if you look at the easels while we're there."

"No shit?" Billy leaned forward, biceps flexing in his cutoff as he stuck a polaroid of a smiling blonde woman between the pages of his novel. "The fuck is this about, Harrington?"

"I'm worried."

"That you'll take me to a crafts store and I'll put you out of house and home? Reasonable concern, I guess."

"About the diagnosis, dipshit. About you." Steve gulped down the rest of his wine. Made sure every last drop had seasoned his words before any were said aloud, where they might do damage. He let the glass rest on the table between his fingertips, stem rolling from pad to pad. He took a deep, steadying breath. "You haven't been the same since--"

"I got hijacked by a space demon or crawled out of my own grave?" Billy shrugged, picking at something in his teeth. "Be more specific."

Steve fiddled with the handle of his fork. Hand picked his words. Refined the meaning. "Yes, and. Both."

Billy didn't say anything for a while and the room finally settled. Falling fast asleep, thick with inertia and silence until the book was opened once more and Steve went back to digging through his casserole, picking at the spring onions.

Letting the moment breathe.

Until, finally. "I feel like I could crawl out of my own skin."

Steve tripped over himself to get those blue eyes on him once more. "That's understandable--"

"I feel fucking useless." Billy snapped, voice cracking in two, and. Suddenly Steve couldn't look at him. Couldn't bare to see his face. "I'm trying to replay what happened. Every second, I'm trying to figure out why. Why me."

Steve counted the primary threads in the table cloth. One, two, three. "You can't go on asking yourself questions like that."

"I can do what I--"

"It wasn't your fault, Billy. Any of it."

"I'm not talking about the Fourth of July, I'm talking about. Death. I'm talk about what comes before and what comes after and how they're the same." Billy turned the page in his novel furiously, eyebrows scrunched together. "I never thought they'd be the same. It's like I've started over."

Steve couldn't possibly understand, but.

He watched pools of blue scan the page. Took measured breaths, never pushing until Billy was ready to share more. Until he tossed the book on the counter and sighed, head buried in his hands. "I don't understand how I got here."

"Easy," Steve whispered. "That's easy. You were born from love--"

"My parents aren't in love anymore."

"But they were, once." Steve shook his head. "When you were made. They loved each other, and they loved you, and your life was full of love that never made sound but it was still there." Steve willed Billy to look at him. Willed the skies to turn blue again.

They didn't.

Billy sighed, low and slow. "Did love bring me here again?"

"I guess so."

"Who's love?" Billy demanded, leaning forward into the table and crushing his novel where it lay against light oak tabletops. "Who loved me enough to bring me back here? To wish for me."

And.

There were a lot of things Steve wanted to say. Lines he wanted to map out, directions that lead from A to B and back again, but it didn't seem useful. Didn't rest important, as Steve took the novel from its place on the table and smoothed worn pages, tucking the polaroid in its place. "I'm sorry things feel weird for you." He said softly.

Billy grabbed the book, staring down at his casserole. "'S not so bad, I guess."

And, for Steve, that wasn't good enough.

Billy worked mostly in charcoal. He painted nightmares, and doorways into the past, delicate, swirling lines telling a story that made Steve's heart ache to see. To hear, with every drag of material across fruited canvas'.

Steve asked him about it, once. Over dinner, with the lights turned low. "Why do you paint such horrible things?"

And Billy had smiled. Bright and true. "How's that?"

"Y'know. Black scabs and eyeballs melting out of skulls and sliding down the ridge of people's faces, and--"

"It's what I see." Billy replied, voice soft. Measured. "It's what follows me around."

So Billy spent every hour locked in his shed, curls tucked over a growing body of work. Fingers turned rotten with charcoal soot as he made sense of what happened.

Steve liked to watch him work.

Liked to see the tension ease more and more from the strong shoulders that travelled beside him up the stairs each night. Steve felt the dig of each pencil in the crevice between his ribs when Billy finished masterpiece after masterpiece.

Still, it wasn't enough.

Along the ridges of creation, therapy lay half buried in the sand. It was state mandated, that Billy go and learn how to deal with the things charcoal couldn't straighten out for him. Like the nightmares, and the migraines that kept him from eating dinner at the table when June gave way to July.

Steve worried. Constantly, fervently, but Billy refused to go, always wiping his hands on the powder green apron Steve got for him at the art store, and insisting, "This is a form of therapy." Billy gestured around the room. To the mountains of loose sketch papers and half finished canvases that lay strewn across every surface. "This is how I cope."

And it was.

And it happened the same way every time.

Things got bad for him and Billy would disappear into his shed. Steve would come home from the office to find that his mother's prized Thomas Kincaid collection had been replaced by Billy's work. It was haunting. Sick and twisted and so, so beautiful.

He found himself standing and staring at it for hours, eyes tracing over the swirling lines of purgatory.

It made Steve feel helpless, but.

Still, Billy refused to go. Still, he buried himself in his work. Still, he painted himself into a hole.

The path toward recovery was littered with charcoal drawings until it wasn't.

Until Steve came home one afternoon to find Billy talking with a little boy who had his throat cut open.

#harringrove #psychological horror #idk man i just needed to get the words OUT #for Lis <3 #happy birthday honey bee

34 notes · View notes

here4theheartbreak · 3 years

Text

An Inconvenient Attachment (myg+jjk+pjm)

AO3 Link Here!

Relationships: Jimin x Jungkook x Yoongi, Jimin x Jungkook, Jungkook x Yoongi, minor Hoseok x Seokjin Genre: smut, fantasy/supernatural au, fluff, enemies to lovers, roommates to lovers, friends to lovers Final Rating: Explicit Word Count (Chapter): ~15k

Tags (more added as needed): werewolf Jungkook, vampire Yoongi, human Jimin, kumiho Seokjin, selkie Hoseok, snowed in, handcuffed together, friends with benefits, polyamory, past violence, past murder, past abuse, discussion of murder, semi-graphic descriptions of violence, blood drinking, threesome, sharing a bed, multiple partners, dirty talk, oral sex, coming untouched

Summary: When Yoongi agreed to go on a two week winter getaway to the mountains with his roommates, he expected peace, quiet, and plenty of alone time with his roommate with benefits Jungkook. What he did not expect was to be handcuffed to his worst enemy for the duration of the trip. He figured it couldn't get worse... Until it did.

A/N: This fic was written for the @thebtswritersclub Fic Exchange for sujigguk! Sorry it was so late, I hope you enjoy it! | This fic also fulfills the July Prompt for X to Lovers! A/N 2: Banner made by @imyourhobiii - thank you so much! A/N 3: This also fills the square Road Trip for @bangtanwritingbingo

As a vampire, one would think the worst thing about living with a human would be the temptation, the bloodlust. But for Yoongi… The worst part of living with Jimin was that he was the most fucking annoying, ridiculous human that Yoongi had ever had the misfortune of meeting in sixty years of life. Draining him would be a welcomed reprieve.

However, the man Yoongi had – rather surprisingly – fallen in love with was also in love with the trifling human and his stupid pretty mouth and his horribly adorable hands, and – no. Yoongi was not wandering down that path again.

Jimin was the son of vampire hunters. Murders of so many of Yoongi’s kind. And though Jimin had sworn that he had renounced their way of thinking and was estranged from them… Born into a family of killers made him just as untrustworthy, in Yoongi’s mind. Certain crimes simply could not be repented for and yes, sometimes the son did need to bear the crimes of the father.

Yoongi tolerated Jimin for Jungkook’s sake, the dopey wolf boy that had wriggled into his undead heart; and for their fourth roommate – Jin – a Kumiho with an odd affection for the human. In fact, Yoongi often felt like he was the only one that didn’t like Jimin.

And recently, more and more, Yoongi was starting to wonder if Jimin hated him as much as he hated Jimin. Especially lately; it seemed like everything Jimin did was done specifically to annoy Yoongi.

Which is likely why Yoongi ended up in a car, sitting next to his mortal (literally) enemy, on the way to an isolated cabin that Jin’s boyfriend, Hoseok owned. Jin had suggested it a few days after a particularly aggressive fight between Jimin and he, where he not only showed his fangs, but may or may not have thrown an open bag of blood at Jimin.

The trip hadn’t been so bad so far, Yoongi had to admit. They were driving straight through, and the drive was two days away from the city. Jimin was forced into a seat next to Yoongi, but was keeping to himself, reading and staring out the window or talking to Jungkook. Jungkook was in the front with Jin and was, at that very moment, pestering the hell out of the fox shifter.

Normally Yoongi would jump in and soothe the excitable wolf’s mood, but at the moment… Let them both suffer. This diabolical idea to get him to play nice with Jimin was likely both of theirs, so they could deal. Even immortality could not cure Yoongi’s sense of petty revenge.

Yoongi reached into the small bag next to his feet, withdrawing a bag of chilled blood. He grimaced. A microwave would have been nice; but they weren’t scheduled to stop for quite some time – and only really to let the more humanlike ones stretch their legs. He pinched open the tip of the bag, tilting it back into his mouth. The sticky, sickly sweet fluid hit his tongue. Cold or not, it was the most refreshing thing he’d had in hours. He was able to go quite a number of days without blood, but dammit if it wasn’t uncomfortable.

As he drank, he glanced over at Jimin from the corner of his eye. Jimin was reading a book, paying him no attention. How could a human pay someone no attention when they were drinking blood right next to him? Yoongi righted the bag, scowling down at it. Why did he want Jimin to pay attention to him? He hoped to disturb the human, perhaps. That’s what it was. Make Jimin uncomfortable and prove he secretly hated vampires just like his parents. Maybe then Jin and Jungkook wouldn’t love him so much.

“Jiminie,” Jungkook whined. He turned in his seat, leaning into the back. “Yoongi…”

“What?” Jimin and Yoongi answered at nearly the same time.

“Will you two go for a run with me in the woods next time we stop? I’m itchy.”

Yoongi scoffed. “Why bother asking the human? He can’t keep up with you like I can.”

Jimin shifted a little. He smiled softly. “He’s right.”

“So? I’ll let you ride on my back,” Jungkook offered.

“That’s not running with you then. Yoongi can go with you.”

Jungkook pouted a little but nodded. He wriggled himself further between the seats, grabbing for Jimin. Before he could get him, Jin’s hand emerged. He grabbed the collar of Jungkook’s shirt and yanked him back. “Stop distracting the driver!” He snapped.

“You bully,” Jungkook complained, smacking at him despite his warning. The two very quickly fell into another playful bicker, leaving Yoongi in peace with his thoughts. Next to him, Yoongi felt Jimin shift, and then again, before hearing him sigh. He looked over. Jimin had curled up onto the seat, bunching a hoodie under his head against the window to rest. He was getting on toward nighttime, Yoongi supposed. Day and night blended for him these days – and Jungkook was naturally nocturnal. It must have been hard to be where Jimin was, he thought as he watched Jimin sleep. A home with three creatures so different from himself. And in love – or at least lust – with one of them. A pang of sympathy shot through Yoongi’s chest. He grimaced at himself. What was he doing. Maybe there was something in the car, poisoning him. Pitying the rotten human? Never. Yoongi scoffed to himself. He nuzzled himself into the other corner of the seat, pulling his legs up under him. He “accidentally” let one slip, kicking Jimin squarely in the thigh. Jimin shot upright, grimacing. From his mostly closed lids, Yoongi could see Jimin look down at his leg where he’d been kicked, then over at Yoongi. Instead of getting angry, much to Yoongi’s surprise (and discomfort), Jimin smiled. He shook his head and laid back down, snuggling against the hoodie.

Being technically undead, Yoongi didn’t require sleep. He had periods where he needed to rest, usually early in the morning around sunrise, but not necessarily sleep in the human sense of the phrase. But boy, did he like it. Sleeping was great. Six to eight hours of just not existing, having fun dreams, waking up to a new day – Yoongi couldn’t ever imagine willingly not sleeping like some of his vampire friends. However, much like a human who slept away a third of their hours, sleeping made Yoongi absolutely ravenous upon waking. Which wasn’t normally a problem.

Except when he was in a car. With a living being that was filled with his only food source. And somehow in his sleep had wound up snuggling against said obnoxious human’s stupidly soft neck.

Yoongi felt his fangs poking his bottom lip before he realized it. He inhaled sharply. Oh, that smelled delicious. His mouth watered in response, and he inhaled again, opening his mouth instinctively.

His eyes fluttered open and he shifted, hunting for the source of the bittersweet, rich aroma. Instead of a particularly juicy steak or even a cup of blood warmed thoughtfully by Jungkook, Yoongi’s gaze fell on Jimin. The human’s shaggy black hair had fallen over his eyes as he slept, his plush lips wet and parted. His pulse was throbbing firm and steady by Yoongi’s ear.

He shot up, nearly hitting his head on the roof of the car.

Jin glanced back. “Maggot bite your ass or something?” He teased.

“I’ll bite you,” Yoongi grumbled. He wriggled as far away from Jimin and his stupid sweet smelling blood as he could before digging into his bag and pulling out the other satchel of blood he’d stored in it. It should be all he needed until they reached the cabin, and once there they had packed a solid supply of blood bags for him. Good too – because based on the weather as the car climbed into the mountains, Yoongi wondered if they might not be snowed in for a few days.

The final rest stop was only a few more miles. Jin pulled in, stepping out to stretch his legs. Jungkook bounded out himself, taking a quick peek to make sure they were alone. He stripped shamelessly out of his clothing, piling it on the seat and seemingly unaware of the brisk chill in the air.

“Yoongi!” He called, nearly bouncing with excitement and wiggling out of his skin.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Yoongi grumped, crawling out of the car himself. He watched Jungkook shift from a two-legged ball of energy into a massive four legged one, unable to keep from smiling. In wolf form, Jungkook was just as stunning as his human form. Dark black fur streaked with blonde, massive paws and bright hazel eyes that shone in the light. He barked sharply before taking off toward the tree line. Yoongi followed, catching up and keeping up easily as they darted through the trees.

The two ran for a solid twenty minutes, looping through the woods and back toward the rest stop. As they neared the tree line, Jungkook skidded to a stop, his large paws kicking up dirt and leaves as he did. Yoongi stopped next to him, walking at a slower pace out of the trees. The rest area was still empty, save for their vehicle. Jin was nowhere to be found; probably had taken the time to have his own running session in the woods.

In the fading light of the sunset, Yoongi could see Jimin. He’d wandered a few yards from the car and was lying on a picnic table. His shaggy hair flopped back from his forehead, toned arms up and bulging just a little as he cradled the back of his head against the cold wood. One knee up, leg of his shorts falling back to reveal his smooth thigh, thick with well-defined muscles. He had to be freezing, lying outside in shorts – but they all had weird temperature mechanics after living with Jungkook so long

Next to Yoongi, Jungkook shifted, and Yoongi scoffed. “All that working out the human does, and he still can’t begin to keep up with you.”

When Jungkook didn’t answer, Yoongi glanced over, a little surprised to see Jungkook scowling.

“What? I’m not wrong. He’ll never give you all you need – You love running.”

“What makes you think I need a running partner to have a happy relationship? Jimin can’t run as fast as you or me, but he supports me in other ways.”

“A relationship now, huh?” Yoongi sniped. “Since when was he more than your human toy?”

“Yoongi—” Jungkook hesitated then shook his head. He grabbed his clothes from the car and began tugging them on. “You know I’m fucking both of you. It’s never bothered you before.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Fine. You’ve never been so malicious about it before. Why are you so mean to him anyways? Jimin’s never done anything but try to be kind to you.”

“You know why, Jungkook. If his family were wolf hunters, maybe you’d understand.”

“He’s never hurt one of your kind.”

“Sins of the father, just like his family believes.”

“And he disowned his family because he believes all creatures, living or undead, deserve a chance to be happy. Jin would have never let him into our house if he sensed even a whisper of hatred from that man. And I’m not as stupid as you think either. I may not be some wise old vampire but I am half canine. And we can sense intentions pretty well. You’d do better to try and get along with Jimin.” Jungkook yanked his shirt on, patting his hair down. “Never know, maybe you’d learn something you didn’t expect about him.”

“Oh, like what?” Yoongi grunted, leaning against the car.

“Not my place to say,” Jungkook said simply. “But you’ll never find out if you keep being a needless jerk.”

He blinked in surprise at Jungkook’s unexpected snap, watching him pad off toward where Jimin was lying. Yoongi opted instead to get back into the vehicle, sensing that he’d pushed his annoyance a bit too far with the younger this time.

When Jin returned from his own jaunt in the forest, Jimin and Jungkook returned to the car. Jimin slid into the seat next to Yoongi, offering a soft smile at him. Yoongi remained stone faced. Did he feel a little bad for what he said? Not that he’d ever admit.

Jungkook wriggled in next to Jimin, forcing him over closer to Yoongi.

“Wh—” “Wanna sit back here for a bit,” Jungkook said simply.

“I can move up front,” Jimin offered.

“No. I wanna sit by you both.”

“Then get between us.” “Jin’s about to start driving. I’ll crawl over later. I can reach you both.” Jungkook reached over and grabbed Yoongi’s hand for emphasis. Yoongi frowned but said nothing more, though he did twine his fingers with Jungkook’s, squeezing firmly once.

Yoongi let his mind wander as they began to drive once more, staring out the window as the last rays of the day slid down below the horizon. He felt Jungkook’s hand shift away from his, resting on his thigh for a moment before disappearing. There was a slight shuffle, and then Yoongi felt something thin and cold hit his wrist and click. He looked down, brows shooting up when he realized his wrist now had an accessory… A steel handcuff. And said handcuff was attached to someone else… Park Jimin.

Yoongi looked over at Jungkook, who was grinning in his sheepish, bunny-rabbit way.

“Kook…”

“What did you do?” Jimin asked, lifting his wrist gently. He tugged Yoongi’s wrist up as he did.

“Well, you two avoid each other unless you’re fighting. And you’d do that even while we’re up in the cabin. Which is the literal reason we’re going up there, to try and help you two find a common ground. So, now you have no choice but to play nice or end up not being able to do anything.” Jungkook crossed his arms, looking smug as he spoke.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Yoongi grumbled. He grabbed the bracelet of the cuffs. “I can’t just snap—” As he spoke, he tugged and twisted at the metal, expecting it to bend open in his grip.

“I can break—” He tried the chain.

“No, you can’t,” Jungkook said simply. “I got monster proof cuffs. Amazing what you can find with a little clever digging these days.”

“Jungkook,” Jimin whispered. He shook his head. “Don’t do this to him.” He offered his wrist as well as he could. “This isn’t funny.”

“It’s not meant to be, Jimin,” Jungkook said, his smile fading. “You’re my best friend. So is Yoongi. And you both know my feelings run much deeper than that for you both.”

“Then let yourself have those feelings, you don’t need to stress him out like this.”

“I can’t. Even though we may share those feelings… I can’t date one or both of you knowing you hate each other. It doesn’t feel right to me, and I’m not going to have a peaceful relationship knowing that.”

“Date?” Yoongi perked up. “You want to date us?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Maybe. I guess it’ll depend on how this goes. How hard you’re willing to try to get along. I won’t lose either one of you. Whether it progresses from our current sort of friends with benefits deal to more…” Jungkook drifted off. “I’ll unlock the cuffs when we’re back in the car on the way home. Not a minute sooner.”

Jimin sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging.

Yoongi bit back a sharp remark about how disappointed he looked – he was disappointed too. Despite the true point of this trip, Yoongi had been looking forward to a little quiet time with Jungkook. Perhaps even, yes, pushing the idea of taking their relationship from friends with benefits to a little more. He knew Jimin felt the same – or at least very similar – he wasn’t blind. He also knew Jungkook was unlikely to choose one over the other. He hadn’t in the three years they’d kept up this quirky triangle.

Yoongi tugged at the cuffs once more, weakly, pulling Jimin’s wrist along with it.

Jimin looked over at him, his plush lips stuck out in a bit of a pout. “I’ll try not to be too much of a bother,” he mumbled. Rather demurely, given what Yoongi knew of his normal sparky attitude.

“I’ve got a vampire hunter hanging off my wrist,” Yoongi snarked. “It’s already a bother.”

Jimin’s cheek twitched as he clenched his jaw. He ground his teeth for a moment, eyes darkening. He wanted to say something. Yoongi almost wished he would. Let them start to fight – Jungkook might see this was a stupid idea if he did and take off these god-awful cuffs sooner.

But Jimin’s jaw released at the same time his shoulders relaxed again. He faced forward, holding his cuffed wrist delicately on his leg, as close to Yoongi as possible without touching him. Probably to give him more freedom of movement; not that the six-inch chain offered much room for that at all without yanking on one another.

Yoongi huffed, glaring around Jimin at Jungkook, who looked far too smug for what he’d done. He offered a wide, crinkly nosed grin and wriggled down in his seat, snuggling up against Jimin’s shoulder and burying his nose in his neck, his preferred sleeping position with anyone.

Yoongi slouched as far away from Jimin as he could and glared out the window. The weight of the cuff on his wrist made it impossible to relax, sleep, or even let his mind wander to anything except that. And the stupid human. He hated how calm Jimin was about this whole thing. And his pleading. On Yoongi’s behalf. What the hell was that?

Don’t do this to him.

Yoongi didn’t need the human defending him. He was able to stand up for himself. Why did Jimin sound so genuinely stressed out? Oh.

Yoongi scoffed. He looked over at Jimin. “You don’t have to worry. I’m not gonna fucking eat you.”

Jimin blinked at him owlishly. “What?”

“You panicking about the cuffs. I’m sure you think I’m gonna lose my mind and become some blood lust crazy monster just because I’m in proximity to a human.”

“No?” Jimin frowned. “You live with me and have never acted like that. Why would I think that?”

“You know why,” Yoongi tried to cross his arms, only succeeding in tugging Jimin’s wrist onto his lap.

Jimin let himself be tugged, still frowning in confusion at Yoongi. “I really don’t,” he finally said.

“It’s the reason you people kill my kind. You’re scared of us.”

“Maybe,” Jimin said. He shrugged. “I can’t say why humans kill vampires. Or wolves or selkies or any creatures. It’s not for food. Maybe it is fear. Maybe it’s sport.”

“Why don’t you just go ask your dad?”

“Yoongi…” Jimin’s voice was soft, gentle – as if he were talking to a scared animal. “I understand why you hate me. I would too, if I were in your place. I know you’re not happy with this.”

“Can say that again. Can’t even itch my fucking nose. At least your dominant hand is free, what am I supposed to do?”

“Well, what do you actually do that you can’t do with your left?”

Yoongi turned a glare onto Jimin, who grinned. “You weren’t intending to jerk off with me right next to you, were you?” He teased.

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed. “Like I could get it up with you breathing down my neck, hunter,” he muttered.

“I told you I’d try not to be much of a bother, and I will do my best. I know you love Jungkook. We just need to keep it together for the week up here, for him. That’s it. Then we can go back to comfortable avoidance.”

Yoongi looked out the window. Jimin was right – he knew that much, but he refused to give him the satisfaction of hearing Yoongi say it. So, he said nothing. They were climbing in elevation now, the trees thickening around the road as it became progressively bumpier. Patches of snow began to appear along the sides of the road and through the trees, and – entirely unsurprising to Yoongi – flakes began to drift down around the car.

The flakes were coming down in far larger clumps, piling a few inches thick by the time they pulled into the cabin. Jin sighed heavily, letting go of the steering wheel. He shook his hands out, rubbing at his palms.

“Those last few miles were hell,” he commented.

“We’re not going to be able to get back down if this keeps up,” Jungkook agreed.

The cabin door burst open as he did, and out rushed Hoseok. Jin climbed out of the car just in time to catch the leaping man, pressing a deep kiss to his mouth. Jungkook leapt out as well, grabbing Hoseok in a tight hug the moment Jin released him.

Yoongi watched the trio, his heart giving an uncomfortable little clench. All shifters. He and Jimin were the oddballs out in this group. He looked through the window. The trees were thick, and heavy with snow, obscuring the view almost entirely around them. Behind the large cabin with a friendly tendril of smoke rising from the chimney, was a stunning, still lake. Despite the grey coloring of the slowly rising sun, it was breathtaking. The water was crystal clear, nearly mirror like. A crust of ice had formed a few feet from the shore toward the center, and Yoongi assumed it would nearly encompass the lake within a few days if the snowfall kept up.

“You should probably get out first,” Jimin mumbled, pulling Yoongi out of his admiration of the scenery. He yanked open the door and climbed out, his left arm trailing back as he waited for Jimin to climb out behind him.

This was going to be dreadful. Everything would need to be done at a snail’s pace, compared to his normal speed, having the human hanging off his wrist.

Hoseok came around the side of the car, stopping short. His eyes drifted down to the cuffs connecting their wrists. Yoongi opened his mouth, about to warn or threaten the seal shifter away from a tease, when Hoseok began to laugh, nearly doubling over in pure joy at the predicament the two had found themselves in.

Jimin sighed heavily. “Lay off, Hobi,” he said, speaking loudly enough to be heard over Hoseok’s cackling.

Hoseok righted himself, still holding his stomach and wiping tears. He shook his head, small titters of laughter emerging even as he tried to contain them.

“What a situation, eh?”

“It’s not funny,” Jimin stepped forward. “This isn’t fun for us. The least you could do is not laugh at us.”

“Oh come on, you won’t mind it all that much,” Hoseok slapped Jimin on the shoulder. “God knows you’ve been fond of living dead boy for ages.”

Yoongi looked over fast enough to see Jimin’s eyes bulge. He swiped at Hoseok with his free left, baring his teeth in the universal sign for ‘shut it’.

Fond of the living dead boy? Well the only undead here was Yoongi… But Jimin wasn’t fond of him. Jimin could barely tolerate him, in the same way he could barely tolerate Jimin…. Right?

“Let’s just unpack the stuff,” Jimin said quickly. He turned to circle around the car, jerking Yoongi’s arm.

Yoongi glared, and Jimin winced. “Sorry. This is… Taking some getting used to.”

“Why don’t we take out the luggage,” Jungkook offered. He and Jin had come around behind Hoseok. “You two go relax.”

“When you pull out the cooler, I need to get a bag. I’m starving,” Yoongi said. He stepped up to Jimin and looked at him numbly. “You need to walk now too.” He tried to sound patronizing, but it came off as far more gentle than he intended.

Jimin obeyed, walking with Yoongi toward the cabin. Yoongi could feel him shiver, and scowled.

“You shouldn’t have worn shorts,” he scolded with no venom, pulling open the cabin door. “You knew it was snowy.”

“I didn’t figure I’d be outside much without Jungkook,” Jimin said, entering. He headed immediately toward the fireplace, once more yanking Yoongi, who’d stayed behind to shut the door. Yoongi hissed, baring his fangs.

“Would you stop that?!”

“I’m sorry!” Jimin snapped back. “This is an adjustment for us both. Stop yelling at me and learn to work with me, dammit.”

Yoongi smirked. That was the Jimin he knew better.

“Now,” Jimin continued before Yoongi could speak. “I’m cold. I want to go sit by the fire and warm up. Is that okay?”

“Fine.” Yoongi nodded. He walked with Jimin toward the fire, taking a seat on the ground with him. Jimin wrapped one arm around his knees, resting his chin on them. He let his other arm hang outward awkwardly, trying not to disturb Yoongi’s positioning.

Yoongi frowned. “You can put your arm down, it’s okay.” He tugged lightly as he spoke, setting his arm on his leg. Jimin let his arm drop to the ground. He continued to stare at the fire. Yoongi took the opportunity to look openly at the human. He really was quite striking; neatly sculpted brows and soft, plush lips, a gentle, sloping jawline that had just enough definition to trace. Light shadow and contour decorated his nearly flawless skin; Yoongi knew he spent quite a good chunk of time perfecting a casual makeup look despite not needing it. He must have touched up during their last rest stop. A simple earring – some dangling gold chain, sprinkled with tiny gems on each link. And – despite a two-day drive – smooth, perfect hair, shaggy enough to fall over his brows, but currently brushed back from Jimin’s own nervous twitch of carding his fingers through his locks. His throat was smooth – and Yoongi could trace the patterns of his strong veins and along the curve of his neck. How soft the skin looked behind his ear, how strong and dark that one particular vein looked…

Yoongi’s fangs poked his bottom lip, snapping him out of whatever fantasy he’d fallen into. He drew in a sharp breath and straightened up, drawing Jimin’s attention.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Yoongi mumbled, covering his mouth.

“Something wrong? Do you feel sick?” Jimin paused. “Can vampires puke?”

“We can,” Yoongi mumbled. “But I don’t feel sick.”

“Oh.” Jimin gasped then. “Oh!”

“What’s that oh for,” Yoongi mocked, glaring over at him.

“Are you hungry? Your voice is muffled – your fangs. We should see if Jungkook has grabbed your cooler yet.”

Jimin rose into a crouch. “Come on.”

“You can’t go back out in shorts,” Yoongi argued, letting his hand drop. He saw Jimin’s gaze drop to his mouth, where his canines poked from his top lip. He had always hated his fangs – their size was almost comical in his small mouth. Jimin’s heartrate picked up.

“I’m not going to bite you.”

“I trust you. I’ve just never been so close when you’ve had them out,” Jimin confessed. “They’re… Big.”

“All the better to eat you with, as the big bad wolf would say.” Yoongi hissed, but Jimin only laughed.

“That’s our Jungkook. You’re a little less intimidating.”

“How is a vampire less intimidating than an overgrown puppy dog?” Yoongi asked, offended.

“Because you won’t hurt me. Jungkook could hurt me accidentally just jumping on me too hard when he gets excited. He forgets his own strength. You’ve had years to practice control.”

“How do you know I won’t hurt you? I eat your species.”

“You drink human blood. But I know damn well that doesn’t mean you eat or even hurt humans. You drink bagged blood.”

“Oh, do you think they had easily accessible bagged blood when I first turned? So, what, that I woke from my grave and trotted to the local monster shop and ordered a pint of A positive over a sundae? No. I woke up and I ripped out the throat of the nearest human I could find.”

“You were newly turned. You were ravenous. Nobody would blame a hungry bear for attacking.”

“Oh, so I’m nothing more than an animal to you?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. I’m on your side, Yoongi, when will you see that?”

“Do you know how to kill a vampire, Jimin?”

Jimin seemed to freeze at that, his lips parted just a bit. He looked over at Yoongi, who sat still, waiting.

“I—”

“Answer me honestly. Do you know how to kill a vampire?”

Jimin hung his head. “Yes, I do.”

“Not so easy, is it?” Yoongi pressed. “Not like the movies. A stake to the heart, sunlight. We don’t die easy, do we, Jimin?”

Jimin shifted, pulling his knees tighter to his chest. “It’s horrible,” he choked.

“Oh, is it? Have you seen it done?”

“Yes.”

“And did you have any part in it?”

Jimin looked over. “My father brought me hunting on my sixteenth birthday. It was his gift to me. He handed me a knife, and he told me that I was going to become a man.”

“I bet he did.” Yoongi looked away.

“She only looked about twenty,” Jimin continued, staring at the fire. “Gorgeous, honestly. Her eyes were big and dark, and her hair was long – it looked so soft. I was meant to be the bait. I was so scared, when I went up to her in the cafe. I grew up hearing the tales about how even the smell of a human could make a vampire go crazy. I thought for sure she’d try to rip my throat out.”

“What happened?” Yoongi asked. He looked over at Jimin. He wasn’t sure why he asked. He knew what happened. She died. And Jimin and his father killed her. Maybe a sick pleasure, knowing firsthand how brutal the human attached to his wrist was. Jimin continued to stare at the fire.

“She bought me a fucking soda. To this day, Cherry Coke makes me nauseous. She bought me a soda and she talked to me while I drank it. She offered to walk me home, because it was getting late. So, I let her. I figured now. Here is where she’ll try to rip my throat out. Dig her claws into me and show me her fangs and hurt me.”

“And did she?”

“No.” Jimin swallowed hard. “She walked me almost all the way home, polite as can be, when my father came up to us. She knew, I think. When she saw him – what he was. She looked so… Scared. She tried to run. Not attack – run.

I stepped between her and my father. I knew it was wrong, right then. But he shoved me down and told me I was a disappointment. That he’d give me one more chance. And then he caught her. She was fast but he… He had a bow. It was dipped in –”

“I know. A paralyzing agent.”

“Yeah. She went down and he caught her and dragged her back to me. She was pleading for her life. Swore she didn’t eat humans. He didn’t listen. He grabbed me and he dragged us both into the woods where he’d set up his work space. Tied her down to a bench… And told me to start cutting.”

Yoongi’s stomach lurched. He wanted to scream, to run, to strike. He looked over at Jimin, ready to snap a cruel comment, but froze. Jimin was still staring at the fire. But as Yoongi watched, he saw wet streaks running down Jimin’s cheek. He was crying.

“I told him no,” Jimin choked. “I told him I couldn’t. She wasn’t a danger. She was nice.” Jimin sniffled. “He hit me. And he shoved me against a tree. And he told me if I was too big of a pansy to do it, I could watch it.”

Jimin wiped his cheeks with his free hand. He sniffled again and looked over at Yoongi. “The night of my sixteenth birthday I watched him cut her to pieces with a knife. The sound of her flesh and muscles tearing still haunts me. I tried to stop him over and over, and all he did was push me back. Hit me. Tell me to man up. Remind me of how monstrous your kind is. And then he handed me the matches. To burn her body. I threw them into the woods and I ran.”

Jimin smiled weakly. “The fact that I couldn’t save Siyeon still haunts me.”

“What happened after?” Yoongi asked.

“I got a bus ticket to Seoul. And I found a nice couple that took me in. Let me finish school, gave me a space to hide. They were vampires, Yoongi. Ages sixteen and seventeen, I lived with vampires – and I thought of them as parents. A—” Jimin swallowed hard. “And then my actual parents found me. And I watched… Once more… The brutality of hunting your kind. And once again I couldn’t save them. I was too weak. But I disowned my parents at that very moment. I told them I supported vampires and I would never pick up a weapon against them. And that I wasn’t their son anymore. Oh… They thought I’d been turned, even tried to prove it. For two weeks they waited for my fangs to come out. And when they didn’t… They left me. I’ve been on my own ever since.”

Yoongi remained silent, unsure how to respond. Part of him wanted to pop off with something smart and sassy – but he could feel the waves of emotion coming from Jimin. His story wasn’t a lie to gain sympathy. He believed what he was saying. So Yoongi said nothing.

Jimin looked over. Despite his eyes, red rimmed from the tears that streaked his cheeks, he was still stunning. “I’ve never told anybody the whole truth. Not even Jungkook knows.”

“Why?” Yoongi asked. His mouth had gone strangely dry.

“Because it’s not something I like to relive. It’s not something I want people to know. How weak I was. How helpless… To save them.”

“Hunters are brutal,” Yoongi said. He shrugged. “If you’d done more to interfere… Parents or not, I don’t know that you’d be here now.”

“Probably not. My father always said I was too weak to be his. So that’s my story, Yoongi. That’s why I’m here, living with Jin and Jungkook and you.”

“Why did you tell me? We aren’t friends. We aren’t even that close.”

“Well, for the next two weeks – maybe three – we’re literally stuck together. I know you hate me. And that’s fine, I get it. But I wanted you to know what really happened.”

Yoongi opened his mouth to respond when the door burst open. Jungkook entered, lugging the cooler that housed Yoongi’s meals for the next few weeks. “That snow is intense,” Jungkook commented, shaking the snow from his shaggy brown hair like cold dandruff.

“It is,” Jin agreed, lugging in a pile of bags. Hoseok followed after and kicked the door shut, his own arms full of bags.

“You three are gonna be out here at least three weeks based on this – it’s cold enough in these mountains that we don’t melt fast.”

“Will you have enough food?” Jin worried, looking at Yoongi. He nodded.

“The supply I gave you to put in there should last comfortably two and a half, and I can go without for about a week without losing my mind, so I’ll just space the bags out. Would you put it in the snow outside though? The ice is probably melted by now so you’ll wanna keep it cold. And I don’t think Hoseok wants gallons of blood in his fridge.”

“Rather not,” Hoseok agreed, padding past them into a bedroom with some of the bags. “So Jin will sleep with me, and I did have two rooms set up for you and Jimin, but seeing as you’re sharing,” he smirked at them from around the door, “Jungkook can take the extra room as needed.”

“Do you wanna get some?” Jimin asked. Yoongi looked away from the cooler and nodded. “Yeah, a little.”

“Let’s go. Jungkook, hold on a sec,” Jimin called. He and Yoongi rose and headed over. Jungkook turned around, setting the cooler on the ground with a thud.

Yoongi crouched and opened it, scowling. Inside – rather than his pint bags of blood, floating in a pool of water, he saw nothing but vacuum sealed packages of… Meat.

“Jungkook…”

Yoongi reached in, pawing through the meat. Jimin crouched with him, reaching in as well.

“Jungkook, you didn’t—” Jimin whispered. Jungkook looked down. His eyes bulged.

“No—Oh no.” He sank down next to the others and began yanking the meat packages out. “No, no… Jin!” Jungkook whipped around. “You grabbed the wrong cooler!”

Jin turned from where he’d been talking with Hoseok, his smile slowly fading. “No – The red one. Yoongi said the blood was in the red one by the window.”

“The living room window, Jin,” Yoongi hissed.

“My meats – My dried and cured meats – they were in the other red cooler by the kitchen window,” Jungkook said, holding up one of the bags.

Jin’s smile disappeared completely. “Oh no,” he whispered. He looked at Yoongi. “We have to go back down.”

“You can’t,” Hoseok said, grabbing Jin’s arm. “Look at that snowfall. You’d wreck in a heartbeat.”

“He can’t go without food, Hobi,” Jin cried.

“I’ll be okay,” Yoongi said. Truthfully, he didn’t know if he would. The very thought of starving sent a chill down his spine. He knew what happened to vampires who were too deeply starved.

“I can head down the mountain,” he suggested.

“You’d freeze to death,” Jimin argued.

“I’m already dead.”

“You’d still never make it. Dead and immortal doesn’t make you immune to dying in other ways. And freezing solid and shattering is a pretty shitty way to go.”

“Jimin,” Yoongi said softly. “You know better than anyone…”

“We might not be up here three weeks. Maybe the snow will melt faster, and we can get you back to the city.”

“Can’t you eat an animal?” Hoseok offered. “Surely Jungkook could catch something—”

“I can’t drink animal blood. Old vampire myth to make us seem less scary. It makes us very sick. Monster blood is worse, so don’t get any ideas there either.”

“But you drink human blood,” Jimin said softly.

“From a bag.” Yoongi looked over as he spoke, his voice firm. He hated the way Jimin was looking at him. “I’m not even that hungry right now. Jungkook…” He looked to Jungkook, who looked close to tears himself. “I promise I won’t fight with Jimin. Would you please unhandcuff us?”

“Well that takes the fun out of it,” Jungkook pouted.

“Jungkook… You need to uncuff me from him.”

Jungkook scowled at that, looking between Jimin and Yoongi. “But—”

“Jungkook,” Yoongi strained. “I am a vampire. Who is in an isolated cabin with no food. Potentially for multiple weeks. You need to uncuff me from this human.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened a little as the pieces seemed to fall into place. “Oh God, of course. Right, hold on.” He scrambled to his feet and rushed to where his bags were, beginning to dig around in one. “Yoongi…” Jimin reached over, setting his free hand on Yoongi’s upper arm. “You won’t hurt me. I trust you.”

“Jimin—”

“I was going to offer anyways. You know… If you were hungry…”

“Don’t.”

The small smile that had been curving Jimin’s mouth disappeared immediately at Yoongi’s tone. Yoongi looked away, hating the way his heart did a little flip at the idea. Sinking his fangs into Jimin’s smooth neck… Tasting that sweet blood… Hearing Jimin’s breath pick up… Yoongi shook his head slightly to knock the image from his mind. He was supposed to hate the stupid human, not want to feed off him.

He hadn’t bitten a living human since he was turned. The shame he felt even now, after all these years, when he thought about what he did when he first turned… Once he was in his right mind he swore he’d rather die than feed from a living human. And he’d kept that promise to himself all these years. Easily, really. Even when blood was hard to come by – the simple thought of feeding on a person was enough to turn his stomach.

So then why did his mind keep drifting to Jimin? The way his veins painted delicate, abstract art on his neck… The sweet, rich scent of his life fluid just… There, right under the surface. The way it made Yoongi’s mouth water, his fangs slipping down, his own pulse – slow and lethargic most of the time – picking up like a horny schoolboy…

“Jungkook,” Yoongi snapped. Jungkook looked up from where he was digging in a second bag. His hair was plastered over his forehead, a look of desperation in his eyes.

“Still looking, it’s a small key. Give me just one more minute, no worries,” he said. Though, any monster in the room could hear his panic… There was a definite need to worry.

“What if we drove down slow?” Jin offered. “You and me could go, Yoongi. You won’t bite me, and even if you get… very hungry—”

Yoongi nodded. “That could work… But if the car gets stuck, you’ll die a hell of a lot faster than I will. It’d be safer for me to creep down on my own.”

“Except the the gas station on the way up the mountain will be closed and you’ll use far more than usual creeping. You’d be on empty long before you get to civilization,” Hoseok argued. “Not to mention, when you get around people again, then what? You eat the first one you see?”

“Hey!” Jimin’s sharp tone surprised Yoongi. He looked over.

“He’s not going to go feral.”

“Jimin…”

“You won’t. You guys keep talking like you have no food.” Jimin tilted his head a little, exposing his neck. “Hate me or not, I’m still a perfectly viable meal. And you can easily feed from me without hurting me. I know you can control yourself.”

“No.” Yoongi shook his head. “I won’t eat live meals.”

“You’re not eating me. You can just drink a little… Every few days, just enough to take the edge off.”

Yoongi scooted back as far as he could, his arm jerking forward with the cuffs. “Jungkook!” He snapped.

Jungkook made a small noise and flopped back on his butt. “I can’t find it.”

“Can’t find the key?!” Yoongi cried. He rose, grabbing Jimin’s wrist and lifting him up easily to drag him over. He sank down in front of Jungkook’s bags, beginning to dig through the piles.

“I’ve looked three times now,” Jungkook said softly, looking near tears. “I can’t find them. I—I must have lost it or left it at home or… Something.”

“Then we pick it!” Yoongi said. He looked to Jin and Hoseok. “Pick it for us.”

“I can’t pick locks,” Hoseok chuckled. “You have far too much faith in me.” “I could try,” Jin said, “but I’m not very good.”

“I don’t care. We have time.”

“Yoongi,” Jimin tried as Yoongi hauled him up once more, dragging him over to where Jin stood.

“Why aren’t you more panicked?” Yoongi asked, seeing Jimin looking incredibly calm… And a little sad.

“Because there isn’t a reason to panic.”

“You’re tied to a thing that fucking eats you.”

“Who I’ve already offered my neck to and he won’t bite. Literally. Yoongi, I’m not scared of you. I’ve said it once and it still stands. I would, however, like you to stop hauling me around like I’m luggage. I can walk. And while I enjoy being manhandled at times, we are both far too clothed for the type I enjoy.” Jimin tugged their cuffed wrists for emphasis.

A series of titters erupted from the other three in the room, and Yoongi scowled. “You crack jokes as if this isn’t serious.”

“Just lightening the mood.” Jimin shrugged.

“As if you’d be able to handle me in bed anyways. Or would want to.”

Jimin shrugged. “Says you.” He looked to Jin. “Wanna try to pick it?”

“Sure. Do you have something I can use, Hobi?”

“Lemme look.” Hoseok headed around the counter into the kitchen and began digging through the drawers.

“Go sit down,” Jin said. “It’ll be easier.”

Yoongi moved to walk, but stopped. He motioned for Jimin to lead the way, feeling a little guilty for dragging him around. It wasn’t his fault they were in this situation, after all. And yeah, Yoongi thought as he walked with Jimin and settled onto the couch with him, after learning the truth… Maybe he was beginning to feel some sympathy for the human. Not that they could ever realistically be friends. They couldn’t stand each other. Jimin was scared of him, or hated him… And he disliked the human. It was just how it was… Or how it should be. But maybe, now that Jimin had shared something with Yoongi about his history, they could at least become tolerant of one another.

Yoongi tried to pretend Jimin wasn’t sitting far too close to him. He wasn’t all that hungry. He’d gone about twelve days without food before, and it was uncomfortable, but he wasn’t feral. So, there was no real reason why he couldn’t seem to focus on anything other than Jimin’s pulse. His infuriatingly slow pulse. How could someone so soft and breakable be so calm hanging off the arm of a predator? And so eager to offer his throat?

Jin came around with a handful of slender items. He crouched, grabbing the cuffs and beginning to try the different things. Brows furrowed, Yoongi could tell he was trying. But as the minutes passed, the pile of untried items grew smaller, and the pile of useless, bent, or broken items got larger and larger.

Jin sighed, picking up a steak knife – the last item in his pile. “There’s no way,” he said.

“Just try it,” Yoongi mumbled. He knew Jin was right, no way would a steak knife open the cuffs. Jin did as he said, jabbing at the hole in the cuffs, trying to get it to release. Nearly a minute of fiddling, and he finally sat back, shaking his head no. “I’m sorry guys, I can’t.”

“It’s okay,” Jimin said. “You tried.”

Yoongi grabbed his cuff and yanked, grimacing when it tugged the skin of his hand. “Did you have to make it so tight?” He growled at Jungkook.

“I wanted to make sure you couldn’t pull it off,” Jungkook said. He came around the side of the couch, looking sheepish. “I know I have a spare key for it… It’s just in my room.”

“Well that won’t do any good up here!” Yoongi snapped. Jungkook flinched, his eyes widening a little.

Yoongi took a steadying breath, closing his eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s my fault. I deserve it.”

“No… You were trying to make us get along. It would have been funny, honestly, if things didn’t turn out like this,” Yoongi said. There is a final option… I just would like to not have to try it until things get… Bad.”

“What are you thinking of, Yoongi?” Jin asked, trepidation clear in his tone.

“Hoseok has a wood stove. A fireplace. Which means he has an axe.”

“No.” Both Jimin and Jungkook spoke in unison. “We’re not cutting any body parts off.”

“Well if I go feral and am still attached to Jimin, you’ll be doing a lot more than cutting off something. You’ll have to put me down.”

“You aren’t a dog!” Jimin cried. “If it gets to that point, we can just dislocate my thumb. It’ll hurt like a mother but the cuffs can come off. But you could prevent getting to that point if you’d just drink from me.”

“I will not let you hurt yourself for my sake,” Yoongi argued.

“Why not? You hate me, don’t you? A stupid hunter’s son.” Yoongi should have said yes. His brain told him that he should say yes. Yet the word wouldn’t come out. Instead, he just shook his head, looking down. “I just won’t let you,” he muttered.

“Hopefully it won’t come to that,” Jin said. He rose, setting his hands on their shoulders. “Come on. This is a setback, but we’re still up here, let’s try to have a good time, right?”

Yoongi smiled softly, nodding. “You’re right. Hobi, how long until the lake freezes over completely do you think?”

“A day or two, why?”

“I know Jungkook’s been dying to take a swim in ice water. Mostly because he’s a lunatic. Want to?”

Hoseok grinned brightly. “I’d love to. You know me, never turn down water.”

“What about you?” Jin asked. He looked at Jimin. “He won’t have the same tolerance to cold…”

Yoongi glanced at Jimin, who’s smile - which had grown at the mention of a cold swim, was sinking.

“Yeah, maybe not, but I don’t much like the cold either. I’m sure I’ll be ready to be done when he is. We can still have fun. I won’t let you drown.”

Jimin looked at him, that sweet smile returning. He nodded. “Deal.”

Yoongi regretted that deal the second they hit the water. Not at any fault of Jimin’s, oh no. But more because Yoongi had forgotten just how much he hated the cold. He was shuddering nearly instantly. Jimin laughed brightly next to him, a high, tinkling sound on the cool wind. Yoongi looked over. Jimin was shivering just as hard as he was.

“This can’t be safe for humans,” Yoongi worried.

“A few minutes is fine. It’s good for the body,” Jimin assured him. “Can we go deeper? I wanna try to get to where Jungkook is.”

Yoongi looked across the lake. About fifteen feet ahead, closer to the center of the unfrozen part of the water, were their three friends. They’d jumped in as humans – but now Yoongi could see a wolf, a fox with many tails, and a seal, all bobbing along the water.

“We’ll try – but remember they are all furred animals. You may not make it that far.”

“I still wanna try.”

Yoongi nodded. He and Jimin set off carefully, their swimming motions needing to be perfectly aligned due to the cuffs. They made it nearly as far as Jungkook when Jimin whined softly. Yoongi glanced over, concern furrowing his brows. Jimin was shivering less, but his arms were covered in gooseflesh, and his lips were turning a startling shade of purple-blue.

“We need to go back,” Yoongi said.

Jimin nodded, not bothering to argue.

“Can you make it?”

“I c—can t-t-t-try,” Jimin chattered.

“Ah, you soft humans,” Yoongi teased with no real venom. He got them turned around. “Here, go over my head so you’re hooked around my shoulders.” He brought the hand with the cuff across his chest. Jimin moved his arm over Yoongi’s head, dropping it against his back.

“Good, try to help me paddle a bit with your free hand okay? And kick some.”

Jimin nodded. Yoongi could barely feel heat from his skin despite their closeness; a rather concerning feeling. He swam them back as quick as he could manage, Jimin doing his best to help. When they reached the ice patch, Yoongi moved to dislodge himself from Jimin’s arm. “Okay, get out.”

Jimin nodded. He braced his hands on the ice and hoisted himself out, spinning around and crouching as he helped Yoongi up and out.

Unfortunately – their wet skin on the ice did nothing in terms of support, and as soon as Yoongi was out of the water, a single step sent them both flying. Yoongi landed on top of Jimin, clearly knocking the breath from his chest. Snow that had puffed up around them in the fall now drifted down, speckling Jimin’s face like glitter. They laid nose to nose for a moment, Jimin’s eyes wide as he looked up at Yoongi.

“I—”

“Sorry,” Yoongi whispered, though he couldn’t bring himself to move. Not because of the ice… But mostly because Jimin felt so good under him.

“It’s okay,” Jimin breathed. His eyes darted down to Yoongi’s mouth, and Yoongi froze. Was he about to kiss him? He jerked back, panic bubbling up in his chest. This was all wrong. He wasn’t supposed to be okay with that idea. Carefully, he moved off Jimin and rose, helping Jimin to his feet. Jimin clung to him, shivering harder than ever.

They entered the cabin. “You should strip,” he said.

“S—” Jimin’s eyes bulged.

“As we melt we’re gonna soak the floor. And it’ll be easier to warm up if you’re in just a pair of dry pants than if you’re in soaking wet clothes.

“Right…” Jimin glanced down. “Shit.”

“What?”

“The cuffs. How am I gonna get my shirt off with the cuffs?”

Yoongi looked down as well. He swore under his breath, glaring in the general direction of the lake. “I’m gonna kill him.”

Jimin laughed a little. “Didn’t think that one through, did he?”

“Let’s get to the bathroom. We’re dripping.” Yoongi led him through the cabin into the bathroom. He guided Jimin into the tub. “Okay, so we could cut them off, but then we’d be shirtless for the next three weeks and I’d like to go outside at some point, so…”

“Yeah, no.” Jimin tapped his chin in thought. “What about just letting them hang over the cuff chain to dry? If we set a towel under them, squeeze them out as much as we can here, they should dry in front of the fire too, and we can put them back on?”

Yoongi thought for a moment, his eyes darting from Jimin to their cuffs as he tried to determine if it would succeed. Finally, he nodded. “I think that’ll work. Try it?”

Jimin nodded. He pulled his left arm free, apologizing softly when he tugged Yoongi over so his right hand could be used. Over the head, over his right arm, it dangled on the chain, as predicted, dripping into the tub.

“Perfect!” Jimin said.

Yoongi nodded. He wasn’t sure what he was nodding about though, as he couldn’t seem to pull his eyes away from Jimin’s bare chest. Though Jimin was slender, under his clothes he was very clearly hiding a lot. A toned chest and firm muscles, the cold water had tightened his dusky nipples to hard little points. His belly was slim, with the faint outlines of muscles that Yoongi knew were probably far tighter than a quick glance. And his hips – cut almost ridiculously perfect into a v shape, visible over the top of his waistband. Though he was clothed from the bottom down, Yoongi could imagine very clearly where that v pointed.

“Yoongi?” Jimin’s voice drew him out of his staring. He looked up, clearing his throat. “Right. Perfect. I’ll do mine.” Yoongi moved a little quicker, yanking his off and adding it to Jimin’s dangling from the chain. After seeing Jimin, he felt a little self-conscious. Though strong – it was all his inhuman nature; he was far less fit and chiseled than the human.

“We should wring them out now.” Yoongi grabbed his own shirt and began to ring it out, twisting it this way and that to get as much water out as he could. Jimin did the same, the water splashing between them like a mini waterfall.

“Great,” Jimin said when they could wring no more water from the shirts. He moved to step out, but Yoongi grabbed his wrist. “Shorts and shoes too – you’ll drip everywhere.”

“Oh—” Jimin hesitated, looking down and then up at Yoongi. “Uh… Naked?” He squeaked.

“Well, yeah.” Yoongi chuckled. “What, you shy about something?”

Jimin looked away, his cheeks pinking up delightfully. “Well, no, I just…”

Yoongi sighed and grabbed a towel from the nearby rack. He turned away from Jimin as well as he could and hung it over his shoulder. “Here, just change and wrap it around your waist. I won’t look.”

He heard a shuffle and felt a tug on his wrist. He was distinctly aware of the fact that if he shifted his right hand at all he would likely be brushing against Jimin’s bare skin. His wrist was pulld again, and this time he felt a towel skim past his fingers.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

“Alright, I’m taking mine off now,” Yoongi said. He pulled his hand back, quickly tugging his shoes, socks, jeans, and boxers off. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his own waist.

“Okay, come on.” They stepped out of the bathtub and walked into the room where their bags had been dropped, the wet clothes dangling awkwardly between them. Yoongi let Jimin grab clothes first, looking away politely while he pulled on sweats. He pulled on his own sweats and handed Jimin their towels. Out into the living room, he grabbed a blanket from the chair as they settled onto the loveseat nearest to the fire. He slung the blanket over their shoulders.

“The wet—” Jimin began. “I know, here, just wrap them up with the towels.” They worked together with surprising efficiency to wrap the clothes. Jimin relaxed a bit, pressing closer to Yoongi to get further under the blanket as they sat.

Jimin’s body was warming quickly, radiating heat into his own normally barely lukewarm bones. It was… Comfortable, if Yoongi was being honest. Yoongi felt his head drooping, soothed by the sounds of the fire and the warmth. Jimin shifted, snuggling next to him and resting his head on Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi quirked his brow, peeking around Jimin’s head. Sure enough, the human was sleeping. Yoongi smiled a little. Yeah, Jimin wasn’t so bad, maybe…

Yoongi was amazed at how much he could simultaneously adore and hate a singular person. If Jungkook hadn’t been a werewolf, Yoongi may have considered feeding on him.

“I’m sorry, I can’t have heard that right.” Yoongi repeated for the second time, staring at Jungkook in the dark bedroom. Jungkook pouted, his bottom lip sticking out and making him look far younger than his twenty-three years would imply.

“I said I’m bored.”

“And you proceeded to grab my dick.”

“Well, what better way to solve boredom?”

“Jungkook, we’re cuffed.”

“Which makes it less sexy how?”

Yoongi’s face remained stoic. “I’m not gonna fuck you, Jungkook. I’m still upset with you.”

“For what?!” Jungkook cried, seemingly offended that Yoongi would dare.

Yoongi blinked at him before lifting the cuffs, inadvertently dragging Jimin’s arm up and making Jungkook’s head hit the pillow where he’d been cuddling between the two of them. He gave it a shake.

“Also for losing the key. And for whatever other harebrained ideas you get while we’re up here.”

Jungkook’s pout returned full force. “Well fine. Your loss.”

“My loss?”

“Jimin will keep me company, right?” Jungkook turned to look at Jimin, his grin broadening.

“I—I can’t say no,” Jimin mumbled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry Yoongi.”

Yoongi gaped at Jimin.

“So what, you two are just gonna fuck next to me? Could you be any more obscene?”

“Oh it’s not like you’ve not seen it before, you prude.”

“I haven’t! Not with Jimin.”

“Just go to sleep then.” Jungkook stuck his tongue out at Yoongi. He rolled over, facing away from Yoongi. A shift on the bed, and Yoongi heard the soft sounds of kissing. He scowled at them for a moment. He hated the way his stomach was making those nasty little knots, the way he wanted to reach out and card his fingers through Jungkook’s hair, pull him back from Jimin and kiss him until he couldn’t breathe. Hated the way he wanted to feel Jimin’s mouth too. Sink into his tight heat and find out if his moans were as pretty as his laugh. The days spent cuffed together had done a number on Yoongi. More and more he found himself enjoying Jimin’s company, laughing with him, conversing with him willingly. And more and more he found himself staring at him, wondering more about him, noticing his subtle (and obvious) beauty.

Yoongi shut his eyes, trying to block out the sounds of their kissing, the soft breathy sighs from them, and the shift of fabric as they moved together, slowly stripping.

It worked, for a while. Yoongi managed to remain feigning sleep (how could he actually sleep?) through Jungkook very clearly giving Jimin some amazing oral sex, and through Jungkook prepping Jimin’s soft body for sex. He even managed to feign sleep when Jungkook slid into Jimin, but felt Jimin’s hand grab his own for the briefest second, paired with a sharp, pleasured cry from the human.

But Yoongi’s strength only went so far. He could feel a stirring in his groin as the bed shifted rhythmically, hearing the slick sounds of their skin slapping together as Jungkook thrust into him, their muffled panting.

He opened his eyes the tiniest bit. They wouldn’t notice, not so caught up in their lovemaking. Jimin was covering his mouth with his free hand, muffling his soft whines as Jungkook thrust into him.

From his viewpoint, Yoongi could see Jimin’s hips bent up, his cock hard and leaking onto his belly. Jungkook reached up, pinching Jimin’s nipple and tugging. Jimin moaned, shoving his head back into the pillow and grabbing the sheet. “Jungkook—“ he whined, strained.

Jungkook glanced over, catching Yoongi’s gaze. Yoongi tried to shut his eyes, but knew it was too late. He glanced again, seeing Jungkook lean down. He was whispering, but Yoongi heard it clear as day.

“He’s watching us,” he whispered, “and you’re making him hard.”

Jimin looked over. Yoongi met his gaze openly, wetting his lips. Jungkook wasn’t wrong, his cock was hard in his sweats, pushing up the blanket a little. Yoongi reached down, palming himself as he watched Jungkook make love to Jimin. He could feel his fangs poking his bottom lip, and knew as soon as he spoke they’d be just as obvious as his erection.

“Want me to take care of that?” Jungkook teased. “Or maybe you wanna see if Jimin feels as good as you think he might, hm?”

Yoongi swallowed hard. “Ride me, Jungkook,” he demanded.

Jungkook smirked. He pulled out of Jimin, his cock slick with lube. He pushed the blanket down and tugged Yoongi’s sweats around his ankles. He licked his lips, staring at Yoongi’s dick.

“Come suck him with me, Jimin.”

Jimin obeyed, sitting and moving down. He and Jungkook set to work immediately, dragging a surprised shout out of Yoongi. Their mouths were everywhere, tongues sliding over his sensitive cock, sharing kisses. Jungkook leaned back to grab lube and Jimin took advantage. He sank down on Yoongi, swallowing his cock to the root. Yoongi’s hips jerked up, his tip bumping Jimin’s throat. Jimin swallowed, looking up at him. He began to suck and lick, bobbing his head slow.

Yoongi grabbed his head, his lips parted. He began to guide his head, unable to tear his gaze away from Jimin’s mouth, his perfect lips sliding over his cock like silk.

“Amazing, isn’t he?” Jungkook purred. He was fingering himself open, watching the two. “I don’t know how many times I’ve come just from his mouth when I didn’t plan to.”

Yoongi wanted to answer, but all that came out was an incoherent moan. He had had a lot of blowjobs in his time but none like this. He fisted Jimin’s hair, tugging to pull him off. Jimin obeyed, moaning happily. His eyes rolled back when Yoongi pulled, cock jerking between his muscular thighs.

“Jungkook—” Yoongi strained. He let go of Jimin before he hurt him, grunting when Jimin immediately began to nuzzle and kiss over his thighs and hip.

“Aw, are you that close?” Jungkook teased, pressing kisses along Yoongi’s jaw. Yoongi nodded.

“You sure you don’t wanna see what he feels like? He’s so tight, and warm, and wet inside…”

Yoongi whimpered, looking down at Jimin. He bared his fangs almost instinctively, the sound of Jimin’s blood pumping nearly overwhelming him. Jimin’s breath caught audibly. He crawled up Yoongi’s body, until they were nearly nose to nose.

“You can,” he whispered. He straddled Yoongi’s hips, settling onto his crotch until Yoongi’s cock bumped his hole. “If you want to… And…” Jimin touched Yoongi’s chin, pulling his bottom lip. “This too…” He bared his neck, leaning closer to Yoongi.

Panic bubbled up in Yoongi’s chest when he realized he’d moved forward, mouth opening instinctively. He snapped his jaws shut hard enough to hurt, piercing his own bottom lip with his fangs.

“Jimin—” He gritted. “Get off me.”

Jimin sat back, disappointment clear on his face. He obeyed though, slinking off Yoongi’s hips and laying next to him.

“Yoongi—” Jungkook began.

“Don’t.”

“We don’t have to stop,” Jungkook continued anyways. “Let me finish you off. Or you can watch Jimin and I—”

Embarrassed, shameful tears burned the back of Yoongi’s throat. He closed his eyes, trying to stave them off as long as possible. And he was cuffed – he couldn’t even escape this horribly awkward situation.

“Just go back to what you were doing. I’m sorry I bothered you,” he mumbled. He sat up and yanked his sweats up one handed before rolling to his side, facing away from the two. His cuffed arm twisted back uncomfortably, but he ignored it. He deserved a little discomfort… He nearly bit Jimin – and for what? A fucking orgasm. Nearly broke his vow with a moment of sex. Shame colored his cheeks as he glared at the door.

“Jungkook—” Jimin’s voice was barely above a breath.

“It’s not you,” Jungkook assured him. He had to know Yoongi could hear them. No way to prevent it – his headphones were in the other room.

“I didn’t mean to…”

“I know, baby. He’s just scared. He’s…” Jungkook drifted off. “He isn’t mad at you.”

“Do you still want me to…”

“Are you still in the mood?”

Jimin chuckled. “I can get into the mood again.”

“No.” Yoongi heard them kiss. “I’m not into it either. I feel bad. I pushed you guys into it. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

Guilt clenched Yoongi’s heart. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t Jimin’s either. It was Yoongi’s. He wished he had the nerve to roll back over, to apologize and tell them they were okay, but he couldn’t. So, he laid still, staring at the door as he listened to them pull on their shorts and cuddle, sharing quiet kisses as their breath evened out and they drifted to sleep.

They didn’t talk about it the next morning, or the morning after, or the day after that. In fact, Jungkook and Jimin didn’t bring up that night for the remainder of the week, or the following week. Yoongi was relieved, but also… A little stung. He had wondered if maybe they would want to talk about it, bring it up in some way so he could assure them that it was him, not them. Specifically, not Jimin. But, as the days progressed, it seemed like things were no different, and Yoongi let the situation slip to the back of his mind. He had more pressing things to worry about anyways.

Like, for example, the fact that the snow was showing no signs of melting enough for any sort of safe moving off the mountain. And the fact that it was now day thirteen without blood and he was feeling the effects of hunger. And the fact that Jimin was still stuck to his arm and he smelled so damn delicious that he was fighting the urge to show fang every ten minutes.

And to top it all off, Jin and Jungkook had decided this afternoon was the perfect time to go for a run in the woods. And Hoseok, in his own infinite wisdom, decided to go find a patch of thin ice for a swim in his own animal form. Which left Jimin and Yoongi entirely alone.

Which wouldn’t have been so bad, really. They often spent time just sitting on the couch together, reading or listening to music, talking or just sitting, watching the fire in comfortable silence. Even after the incident in bed the week prior, this feeling of ease and comfort didn’t fade. If anything, it continued to grow.

“I wish you could’ve gone out with them,” Jimin said softly, gazing into the fire. Yoongi glanced up from his notebook.

“Hm?”

“Jin and Jungkook. I’m sure you wanted to run with them.”

“Nah, it’s too cold for me,” Yoongi said. “I’d rather chill with the fire.”

Jimin chuckled. You don’t need to be lazy for my sake.”

“Not for your sake,” Yoongi assured him. “I really j—” A sharp pang in his stomach cut Yoongi’s words off. He doubled over, his fangs slipping out as he cried out.

Jimin reached for him, grabbing his hand that was cuffed together. “Yoongi—”

Yoongi turned, baring his fangs and hissing, nearly catlike.

Instead of shying away, Jimin’s face drooped. “Oh, it’s getting bad, isn’t it?” He asked.

Yoongi dropped his head again, drawing in a deep breath. He felt like he was sweating despite an inability to do that for many years.

“I’m fine,” he huffed.

“No, you’re not. You look sick. And I know you’re in pain. Please, I know you’re scared of hurting me, Yoongi but… Please.”

“It’s more than a fear of hurting you,” Yoongi muttered. He sat upright, closing his eyes for a second as he waited for the pain and nausea to fade. When it did, he drew in another breath and nodded.

“Then what is it, Yoongi? Please trust me to understand.”

Yoongi hesitated. He sat back on the couch, considering. Jimin had shared his story… Maybe it was time for Yoongi to do the same. If they were to be… Friends.

“I was turned about sixty years ago. I was twenty-eight. I don’t know… If you know much about how vampires are turned?”

“Not the details, but I know it’s a big process, death and burying and a whole ordeal.”

“It is. And generally, usually… The one who turns the new vampire stays around, it’s like giving birth to a child when all is said and done.”

Jimin nodded in understanding. Yoongi hesitated, another wave of nausea slipping over him. He remained silent until it passed before continuing.

“I did not have that grand bringing into the world. I never met the person that turned me.”

Yoongi heard Jimin make a small, sympathetic noise. Though he would have normally made a snarky comment, he had to admit, at that moment… It felt kind of nice.

“So, I crawled out of my grave one night… I was… God, I was so hungry. The last thing I remembered was being grabbed, and a pain in my throat. And then… Just dizziness and then darkness. I was so confused and scared and… So hungry. So thirsty.”

Yoongi shuddered despite the warmth, his stomach knotting painfully again. He curled his knees up, grimacing.

“Yoongi,” Jimin whispered. He shifted their hands, holding Yoongi’s tightly. “I’m here.”

“Oh, I know… You smell so… Fucking good, I can’t even pretend you aren’t,” Yoongi muttered. Jimin giggled a little at that.

“I’ll take it as a compliment.”

Yoongi chuckled. The knots in his stomach released a little, allowing him to continue. “So I stumbled around the graveyard for a bit. I was looking for… Something, I didn’t know what at the time. And this young guy comes up. He was so handsome. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen or seventeen. Dressed very poor. But he comes up to the gat of the graveyard and calls to me. I was so happy to see someone. Someone who could tell me what happened, or help me somehow. I ran up to him. I knew I must have looked horrid. I mean I just climbed out of my damn grave, but he barely blinked. He was instantly worried for me. Helped me find the entrance gate and started walking with me and checking on me as we headed toward the village for a doctor.

And then the hunger hit again. And it was so much stronger… God, it was like someone was hitting me in the face with every delicious food I’d ever eaten at once. My entire body and mind seemed to ignite. I couldn’t control myself. I can’t tell you exactly what I was thinking at that moment except feed.”

Yoongi hesitated once more. He swallowed hard, not due to his stomach, but due to the painful memories. Jimin moved closer to him, setting his other hand on Yoongi’s thigh. “I’m here,” he whispered again, his head nearly on Yoongi’s shoulder.

“I—I ripped his throat out, Jimin. God, I can still remember the sounds of him dying. The smells, the feeling of the blood and… The taste. The power. I was drunk on it.”

Yoongi paused as another wave of pain hit him, shivers running down his spine. “I came to my senses a few hours later. I was in the woods, covered in blood. Everything hit me then. What I was, what I did. I tried to kill myself. But it… It didn’t work. So instead I swore I’d never place my teeth on another living human. I didn’t care if I starved to death. I’d lock myself up in a cave and wait to die if the only other option was biting a person. Risking doing what I did to that boy… I have kept that vow for sixty years, Jimin. That’s why I won’t bite you.”

“I understand,” Jimin said softly. “I do. What you went through was traumatic. But Yoongi… You don’t have the option of locking yourself up in a cave right now.”

Yoongi closed his eyes. “I know.”

“So if you do reach that point… You will kill me.”

Yoongi grimaced. Jimin squeezed his hand tighter. “I would rather have you drink some now… When you can control yourself. When you can take care of me… When we can both feel good maybe… Than die that way. Because I know you’ll hate yourself afterward.”

“I’ll hate myself either way,” Yoongi whispered.

“Fine. But at least I’ll be around to help you let go of that hate this way. And so will Jungkook.” Jimin’s lips brushed over Yoongi’s cheek. “I keep thinking about last week. How good I felt on your lap… How nice it felt to see you relax. I am sorry I offered my neck, and not just my body… But I am offering both again.”

Yoongi looked over quickly. Jimin smiled softly. “Yoongi, please let me help you.”

“Help me?” Yoongi breathed. He could hear Jimin’s heartbeat, and smell his arousal. He chuckled. “You’re propositioning a hungry vampire to have sex with you.”

“I am. I’ve heard it makes the bite feel better. Do you… Want me? That night, I wasn’t sure. I felt like we pushed…”

“No, no, I wanted you that night.” Yoongi pressed his forehead against Jimin’s. “I still do. I don’t know what changed, I—I can’t stop thinking about you these days.”

“I’ve liked you for a long time, Yoongi,” Jimin confessed. “But you hated me for my parents…”

“I was wrong.”

“No. You just didn’t know. Now you do.”

“And I do like you. I… God, I fell for you.”

Jimin pulled back this time, his mouth quirking up into a grin. “You did?”

“I did,” Yoongi muttered. “Don’t let it go to your head.

“I won’t.” The two sat in silence. Yoongi’s shudders were coming more regularly, his body edging closer and closer to starvation, rather than hunger.

“Yoongi,” Jimin finally whispered. “Please take me to bed.”

Yoongi’s breath puffed out of his lungs. He nodded. Jimin rose and Yoongi let himself be pulled toward the bedroom. They were so used to the cuffs now that they moved as a unit, knowing how to twist and turn to move fluidly. It would be weird to have them off, Yoongi realized.

Once in the bedroom, Jimin turned, pulling his shirt off. He let it dangle from the chain and smiled shyly. “Do you… Want me to…”

“No,” Yoongi pulled his own shirt off. He stepped forward, going almost chest to chest with Jimin. “The last time we stripped… You made me look away when you took off your jeans… You gonna be shy on me again?”

Jimin laughed. “Not this time.”

“Good.” Yoongi undid Jimin’s jeans, pushing them to the ground for Jimin to step out of. He kicked his own sweats off, and then his boxers, before setting his hands on Jimin’s hips. He caught the band of his boxers. “You sure about this?”

“I’m sure.”

Yoongi pushed them down, stepping back to look Jimin up and down. He reached out with his free hand, palming Jimin’s cock. It twitched and hardened further in his palm, and he gave it a firm stroke. “I didn’t get a good look at you that night… I’m glad to now.”

“Like what you see?” Jimin asked. Yoongi nodded slowly. He let go of Jimin to cup his cheeks, pulling him into a sweet kiss, despite the fire raging in his veins. Jimin wrapped one arm around his shoulders, holding onto his wrist with the cuffed hand. They moved toward the bed in unison, and Jimin let himself fall back onto it. Yoongi went with him, nudging open his smooth thighs.

Jimin looked up at him, his lips wet and full from the kiss, his cheeks rosy with life. His eyes were dark, hair brushed back from his forehead.

“How do you—” Jimin swallowed. “Now? Or…” He touched his neck.

“Not quite yet,” Yoongi said. He reached over to where he knew Jungkook had stashed the lube, pulling the bottle out and opening it.

The two shared soft kisses while Yoongi prepped Jimin, determined not to hurt him any more than necessary. None – if he could have his way. He could smell Jimin’s blood so strongly, his teeth aching like a sweet tooth, mouth watering as they kissed. And Jimin – oh, the creature under him couldn’t be a human – Jimin had to be an imp. Playing with fire, Jimin would scrape his tongue over Yoongi’s fangs, sometimes almost hard enough to draw blood. Each time he did, his cock would jerk against Yoongi’s hip, and Yoongi would have to refrain from giving in and biting Jimin then and there.

He resisted by some miracle, however, and pulled back, lining himself up to Jimin’s body. “Are you ready?”

Jimin nodded, spreading his legs wider. Yoongi laid over him, bracing himself on the hand that was cuffed. Jimin twined their fingers together, meeting Yoongi’s gaze as Yoongi pushed into him for the first time.

Jimin’s lips parted, a sharp gasp breaking the silence of the room. Yoongi bared his fangs, his own vision going a little hazy at the tight heat of Jimin’s body.

“Yoongi…” Jimin’s voice was soft, muffled. Yoongi forced himself to focus, offering what he hoped was a comforting smile – though he knew the fangs probably made that difficult.

“I won’t hurt you,” he whispered.

“I know. It feels good,” Jimin assured him. He reached his free hand down, gripping Yoongi’s ass. “You can move. I want this.”

Yoongi nodded. He began to thrust at an even pace, mindful of not going too hard. Jimin moaned under him, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. Curious, Yoongi reached out, pinching his left nipple. Jimin shouted, gasping.

“Please—“

“Oh, you are sensitive,” Yoongi teased. “And responsive.”

He pinched again, this time tugging. Jimin shouted, squeezing Yoongi’s cock almost painfully tight. Yoongi continued to thrust, leaning down to gently suck and bite at each hard nub. As he did, he fisted Jimin’s cock, using his ample precome to jerk him in time to his own movements.

He was already so close, he wished it could last longer. He wanted to stay like this, hear Jimin’s sounds of pleasure, for eternity. He moved back up, nuzzling Jimin’s neck.

Jimin’s breath caught, his throat clicking. He let his head fall, baring his neck to Yoongi.

“Yes—“ He whispered. “Please, Yoongi… Do it…”

Yoongi pulled his cock free of Jimin’s hole, chuckling when Jimin whined.

“Don’t stop, please—“

Yoongi began to tease him, prodding and bumping his opening with his tip. Not enough to get any real stimulation, but feeling Jimin’s body open for him, so receptive - and the sounds of his voice as he begged for it… If Yoongi didn’t have other plans he may have come then and there.

He lined himself back up and nuzzled Jimin’s neck once more. A moment to steady himself, and then…

His teeth penetrated Jimin’s soft neck at the same moment he drove himself into Jimin’s body once more.

Jimin screamed, his free hand rising and scratching down Yoongi’s back. He began to pump his hips quickly, swallowing the sweet, hot blood that filled his mouth as he sucked. He ran his tongue over the puncture wounds, his saliva working to clot and slow the blood already so Jimin wouldn’t bleed too much.

Jimin’s entire body jerked, nearly dislodging his mouth. His release spilled, hot and sticky, between their stomachs as he moaned against Yoongi’s shoulder.

“Jesus— Yoongi!” Jungkook’s voice startled Yoongi. He felt Jungkook’s hand on the back of his neck, so he released, afraid he’d drunk too much. But Jimin was grinning brightly, looking all too fucked out.

“Hey Jungkook,” he signed, moaning softly when Yoongi thrust in.

Jungkook looked between the two, letting go of Yoongi’s neck.

“Oh.”

“Sorry we didn’t wait for you,” Jimin teased. “You should join us now.”

Jungkook looked at Yoongi, smiling softly. “I think I will.” He began to strip, grabbing the lube to ready himself.

Yoongi looked back down at Jimin, leaning down to lick a stray dribble of blood on his neck. He thrust in, and Jimin winced. He pushed Yoongi’s chest.

“Too sensitive after I come,” he whined. “Finish with Jungkook. Oh—“ He laughed into Yoongi’s mouth when Yoongi kissed him hard, gently pulling out. He flopped next to him, still holding his hand.

Jungkook straddled his hips, dick hard. He lifted Yoongi’s cock and settled onto it, both of them gasping. He began to ride him almost immediately, leaning down to kiss them both.

Jimin sat up, shifting over to begin sucking Jungkook’s cock as he moved, the soft wet noises punctuating the rougher ones.

Yoongi’s eyes went fuzzy as he watched the two, his toes curling against the mattress.

“I’m close,” he warned Jungkook, who only nodded. His fingers were buried in Jimin’s hair, guiding him along his length.

Jimin coughed and Jungkook grunted, his body shuddering and beginning to clench and relax - a sure sign of his release… Directly down Jimin’s eager throat if the soft gulping was any indication.

Yoongi moaned softly. The pressure around his cock and the absolutely stunning image in front of him became too much far too quickly. With a deep grunt, and a firm hand on Jungkook’s hip to hold him still, Yoongi came, spilling inside Jungkook.

The three ended up in a haphazard cuddle pile as they all came down from their climaxes. Though Yoongi was sure he’d taken less than a pint from Jimin, but he still felt calm and full and strangely sated. Maybe it was due to feeding live. But maybe it was due to the two men snuggled up against his body, warming him from the outside in.

“Any regrets?” Jimin asked sleepily, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

“None. You okay?”

“I feel great. How often do you need to feed?”

“Just every few days. I won’t need much, just enough to take the edge off… I don’t want to force you—”

“Shh,” Jimin kissed his mouth to silence him. “I’m offering. You already look better. I want to help. I told you things wouldn’t be like they were sixty years ago.”

Yoongi nodded. “Thank you.” He sighed softly, looking between the two. “I have a question for both of you.”

When they looked up, he smiled. “Jungkook – you mentioned… Changing your relationship with us. And that… I believe… Implied dating.”

Jungkook nodded.

“Do you still feel that way?”

Another nod. “Of course I do.”

“Then… I think now is a good time for me to formally ask you… Both of you… If you’d like to make this situation an official one.”

Jimin made a small noise that was a cross between an ‘oh’ and a giggle. “Are you asking out the vampire hunter’s son, Yoongi?”

Yoongi smirked. “Guess I like to live on the wild side. It’s only fair after I’ve had my teeth in your neck.”

Jimin laughed brightly, nuzzling against Yoongi’s neck. Yoongi glanced at Jungkook, noticing he’d remained silent.

“Jungkook?”

Jungkook smiled softly. He met Yoongi’s gaze. “I never expected… When I cuffed you two together, I didn’t expect things to actually work out.”

“Are you okay with how it did?” Yoongi confirmed.

“You really do care for Jimin? This isn’t some effect of drinking his blood or… Or sex or… For peace in the apartment?”

Yoongi chuckled. He nodded. “I mean, it’ll be nice to have peace in the apartment, but no… And we aren’t affected by blood drinking or anything like that, it’s just like sitting down and having a good steak – No offense.”

“None taken,” Jimin answered.

“So, yeah, I… I’ve really developed a fondness for Jimin over these few weeks. Spending more time with him, learning to work together. I don’t know if it’s love but it’s… Definitely more than tolerance. I do care for him a great deal. Just like you.”

“Were you not wanting this, Jungkook?” Jimin worried. “Like… I know you want me and you want Yoongi, but us… Together.”

“It’s not that.” Jungkook sat up. “I do. This is a dream, all three of us together. I just didn’t expect it. To be honest, I… I keep expecting to wake up.” He looked to Yoongi. “You really don’t hate Jimin?”

“No. I don’t… I don’t think I ever did. I was blaming him for his parents, for hunters who have killed my friends over the years… He was the face of it.” Yoongi paused, brows furrowed as he thought. “But he’s been just as much a victim to vampire hunters as anyone else. Has still been hurt and traumatized by them, in a different way, but… It’s there. I was just too stubborn to hear that until these weeks. And I regret that. Because getting to know the real Jimin these past few weeks has been so fun. I just hope that I can keep learning more about him.”

“And you don’t… Resent him, Jimin? For all that he’s said to you?”

“Not even a little. I wish he’d given me a chance earlier – but I understand fully why he didn’t. And I don’t blame him. I can’t say I would have either, in his shoes. And I’m glad that we’ve gotten over that bump and can move forward with our friendship and… Relationship.”

Jungkook seemed to relax a little, a small smile crossing his face as he looked at the two.

“So, what do you say, Jungkook?” Yoongi pressed. “Is this— Are the three of us… Okay?”

Jungkook remained silent a moment, looking between the two. He nodded then. “You two make a cute couple.”

“And we three will make an adorable throuple,” Jimin said. Jungkook’s soft smile widened then, crinkling his nose and exposing his front teeth.

“We will, won’t we?”

Yoongi grabbed for Jungkook with his free hand, pulling him down into a kiss. After, he turned, kissing Jimin gently. “Amazing how comfortable that feels,” he commented.

“Guess we shoulda been doing it this whole time,” Jimin said.

Yoongi nodded, kissing him once more. “I guess so. We’ll just have to make up for lost time.”

“What a trio we are,” Jungkook said. “A vampire, a human, and a werewolf.”

“Unique and fun, I’d call it.”

“You know,” Jungkook said, nuzzling against Yoongi’s neck. “I’d like to point out that none of this would have happened if I hadn’t thought to cuff you two together.”

Jimin snorted, but Yoongi chuckled. “You’re not wrong… I’m gonna kinda miss being cuffed to you when we get home, Jimin.”

Jimin grinned broadly. “It’s okay, I know you like holding my hand is all. I promise to hold it all the time, even if we’re not joined at the wrist.” He shifted, taking Yoongi’s hand and twining their fingers.

“Only if Jungkook holds my other hand,” Yoongi said, holding his free hand out. Jungkook grinned brightly and grabbed it, lacing his fingers between Yoongi’s before letting it rest on his stomach.

Yoongi closed his eyes, sighing softly. He could hear the steady, firm heartbeats of his boyfriends, and smell their comforting scents. The taste of Jimin’s blood was still present on his tongue, but it didn’t frighten him in the way the thought of it had. It felt safe. He felt safe. Even as a vampire – deadly and near unkillable – there had always been something missing in Yoongi’s world. Something that made him feel exposed, and scared, in a way even he couldn’t pinpoint.

And now, for the first time in his life, he didn’t feel that fear. Instead he felt warmth. And he felt happiness. And he’d spend the rest of his time on earth protecting that happiness, no matter what.

48 notes · View notes

angelicyoongie · 4 years

Text

desolate (6)

— summary: you just wanted a cute little normal cat to keep you company. so, you're not really sure how you ended up with the grumpiest hybrid on earth that seems hellbent on making your life difficult.

— pairing: cat hybrid yoongi x human reader

— genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut

— word count: 5.3k

— tag list: @mrcleanheichou @ladymidnightt @cheese123344 @xanny91 @dinorahrodriguez @best-space-boy @dulcaet @moccahobi @keijaycreates @staytrillswag @xsmilebitesx @serendipityoreuphoria @jiminot7 @beyond-the-swag @nananaum1 @mult1wh0re @ditttiii @faithsummers11 @twomilkmen-gocomedy @theonewholovestoread @karissassirak @veryuniquenamegoeshere @hd-junglebook @yourlipssoirresistible @ayoo-bangtan @murderyoursoul @btsxdoll @see3milyblog @gukiyi @officialcarly9701 @mtgforall @narcissism-iskey @sp3ak-yours3lf @cesthoney @imluckybitches @sugarrimajins @multifandomgirl29 @beach-bitch-bitch-beach @bangtansleftnut @theresa-nam-nam-me @angeltothecore @ghostkat23 @deathkat657 @awixxx @httpmedxsa @veronawrites @bubbletae7 @serious-addiction @chogiyeol-utopia

Part one Part two Part three Part four Part five Part seven Part eight Part nine Part ten (M) Part eleven Part twelve Part thirteen Part fourteen (M)

You can only see a swirling mass of black and gray in front of you, the hues moving so fast it’s hard to get a grip on what’s happening. Your whole body feels heavy, and you find that it’s impossible to move no matter how hard you try to.

You try to call out for help, but no sound leaves your lips. There’s a sudden weight on your chest, the pressure knocking the air out of you as it grows heavier and heavier for each passing second. Your lungs are burning, and just as you think you can’t handle it anymore, your eyes snap open into the darkness of your room.

You take in a shuddering breath, your body hot and overheated. You can feel the hairs around your face clinging to your skin, and judging by your still racing heartbeat – you just had a nightmare. Although it’s much lighter than in your dream, you can still feel a pressure on your chest as you gulp down air. You peek down, breath getting caught in your throat as you find golden eyes staring right back at you.

Yoongi is lying down on your chest; tail flicking back and forth quickly behind him. The moment he realizes you’re awake, you feel his head bump against your skin, soft fur tickling your chin as he rubs his head back and forth. He doesn’t let up until you pet him in return, your fingers running down his back as you wait for your terrible feeling in your stomach to lessen up a bit.

The shrill sound of your alarm makes you jump, and Yoongi makes a low grumbling sound as you pick him up and place him down beside you on the bed. You curse under you breath as you realize you must’ve slept through the first two alarms. You’re running late, and you know your boss won’t take kindly to that.

You quickly snatch up some clothes from your closet and bring them to the bathroom; trying to clean up the best you can while not making yourself even more behind on time. You stumble into the kitchen still half-asleep, making sure to prepare breakfast for your Yoongi before you leave. You snatch up a few granola bars for yourself, hoping that it will be enough until lunchtime.

You’re about to run out the door when you pause, quickly turning back to the bedroom and peeking your head in through the door.

“Yoongi, I’m going to work now. See you later tonight!” You don’t hear any response, but you see something twitch in the darkness, and that will have to be good enough.

By the time you make it to the bus you’re wheezing, and it’s not until you’re halfway to work that it slows down enough for the morning to fully hit you. Yoongi must’ve realized you slept through the first alarms, and that’s why he had tried to wake you up. Resting your head against the cool window, you stare mindlessly at the passing stores and people. You try to reason with the fluttering in your stomach that he probably only woke you up to make sure he got food before you left, not because he was worried about you showing up late.

You sigh as you step off the bus, hurried steps carrying you into the high-rise building you work in. Your plan had been to talk to him before you left for work, but with how the morning played out, you suppose it will just have to wait until later. You can feel the tense atmosphere the moment you step out from the elevator and onto your floor, hushed whispers carrying through the hallway. You can’t see your boss anywhere, and so you barely manage to sneak into your seat unseen before you hear raised voices coming from an office.

“Thank god you’re here,” Jihyo shoots you a look over her computer.

“What’s going on?” You whisper back as you shrug off your coat. You see your other coworkers muttering quietly between themselves around the office with grim expressions on their faces.

“Some files had been breached yesterday,” You suck in a breath. This is really bad. Even if it’s an old case, it could put the hybrids involved severely at risk.

“Which ones?”

“I’m not sure, but I think one of them might be an older high-profile case,” You wince. This might get really bad for the company if the perpetrator isn’t found and punished for it. While your company is private, it’s still closely linked to the official sector in providing guidance and research for when they’re understaffed or need extra hands on a case. While you love your job and have never been in it for the money, you surely thought the pay would have been a little better based on the amount of work you do. But alas, you can't find it yourself to leave either.

You feel like your shoulders are touching your ears by the time it’s lunch. Your stomach has been growling on and off for the last hour, and it’s with pink cheeks that you and Jihyo hurry out of the building to find some food.

“So, how’s the kitty doing?” Jihyo asks as you walk down the street, carefully avoiding bumping into other people milling around. Coming from a smaller town, you don’t think you’ll ever quite get used to the hustle and bustle of living in such a large city.

“Oh uhm, Yoongi is doing okay,” You wince, quickly adverting your eyes down to the ground as you realize the name slipped out.

“Yoongi?” Jihyo’s eyes are burning into the side of your face.

“Oh, I did one of those .. name generators! Yeah, I used a name generator to find something to call him. It was totally random,” You laugh nervously.

“Okay,” Jihyo drags out the word, obviously not quite believing your little lie.

“Either way, do you mind if me and Sana stop by tonight to hang out a little? She has been nagging me to see you again, and you know I don’t mind hanging out with you one bit,” She bumps her hip into yours.

You’re about to nod when you remember why you absolutely can’t. Sana knows Yoongi is a hybrid, and you’re sure she won’t let it go if she comes over one more time. You feel bad for keeping it secret, but Yoongi was adamant about you keeping it for yourself, and you don’t want to say anything until you know what to do.

“No!” You blurt out, Jihyo sending you a weird look at the outburst.

“I mean, I think Yoongi was really shaken up last time and I think it would be best if she doesn’t come over for a while,” You give her a faint smile.

Jihyo stares at you for a second before she gives you a nod, a small sigh leaving her lips, “I guess you’re right. It’s probably not the best idea.”

You continue walking in a comfortable silence down the street, sparing a moment to admire the vibrant colours that have started to spread through the trees. It probably won’t be long until everything is painted permanently in yellows and red, and you’re definitely looking forward to it.

“How about I come visit you instead?” You offer as you step into a quaint cafe, mouth watering at the sugary smells that hits your nose.

“That’s a great idea!” Jihyo grins. “You can come home with me after work tomorrow!” You hope she doesn’t hear the soft sigh of relief that brushes past your lips.

“Sounds good,” You give her a grin of your own as you start picking out the pastries you want. Crisis adverted, for now.

It still takes your brain a while to catch up when you walk into the living room and find a very human Yoongi sprawled out over your couch. He’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday, but you have no idea just how long he’s actually been using it. Despite the lightness in your wallet, you decide you’ll need to go out and pick up some stuff for him soon.

You watch him for a second as he sleeps. His lips are parted in a soft pout and he has an arm thrown over his eyes, blocking out the setting sunlight through the windows. You would’ve figure he would have preferred to sleep on your bed while you were gone, but as you reach out a hand into a sliver of light, you can feel the warmth on your skin.

It’s obvious that he enjoys snuggling up in the sunlight in either form, and you hate to admit that you find it all kinds of adorable.

“Yoongi?” He doesn’t stir when you call out for him. You walk over to the couch, hesitantly laying your hand on his arm to make him wake up. You give it a little shake, and Yoongi grumbles in his sleep as he finally removes it. You see his eyes dilate much more than a normal human’s would when he opens them, a shift of gold passing through them as he blinks sleepily up at you.

“Oh, you’re home?” His voice is husky but soft, cheeks a little puffed out as he reaches up to scratch his ear.

“I just came back,” You resist the urge to coo at how endearing he looks. It doesn’t matter how cute Yoongi looks though, you still need to have the talk that’s been weighing on your mind for the whole day.

“Do you mind if we talk?” Yoongi watches you silently for a few seconds before he shifts on the couch, giving you room to sit down. You collapse against the pillows, reveling in how nice it feels on your back compared to the stiff office chairs.

“First of all, I’m not kicking you out,” You ignore the tiny voice that whispers not yet in the back of your mind. Yoongi tries to give you a disinterested look, but you can see the tension drain out of his shoulders at your words.

“But if you are going to keep living here, we’ll need some rules,” You tuck your knees up to your chest, picking at a loose thread. This is the part you’ve been dreading all day.

“Rules?” Yoongi’s tail flicks irritably, obviously not pleased at the direction the conversation’s going.

“Yes, rules. Just .. I don’t know, clean up after yourself. Let’s give each other some personal space. And tell me if there’s anything you need,” Yoongi tilts his head, the corner of his lips twitching.

“Those are rules?” He snickers. To be honest, you had no idea what you were going to say. You had hoped you would come up with something great, but this is why you never improvise anything. It doesn’t end well.

“Oh!” You suddenly remember the most important part, the rule he already broke yesterday.

“You have to sleep on the couch when I’m in bed.” Yoongi’s laughter stops abruptly.

“Why? It’s big enough for the both of us,” Yoongi glares at you, ears nearly hidden by his hair by how low they are against his head.

“What?! It’s not!” It really isn’t.

Your bed is only slightly bigger than a twin sized bed, and it’s definitely not big enough for you to sleep at a comfortable distance. The only way it would work would be if you were, well, cuddling. You shake off the mental image as soon as it arrives, but the idea is enough to make a pink flush rise in your cheeks.

“So you’re saying I can’t?” Yoongi asks again, a displeased frown on his lips when you shake your head.

“Yes Yoongi, you,” you gesture to the man in front of you, “can’t sleep on my bed when I’m in it. You can use it when I’m at work, but otherwise you’ll have to stay on the couch.” His ears suddenly perk up again; the low annoyed rumbling sound that was slowly building his chest disappearing completely.

“Fine,” He grumbles, but you notice the way his dark eyes seem to glimmer with the same mischief you’ve seen in videos, when cats purposefully knocks something off a table. You’re not sure you’re going to like whatever he’s thinking about.

“Oh right, before I forget! I’m heading back to Jihyo’s tomorrow after work. I won’t stay very long, but I wanted to let you know,” You smile gently.

You understand that he might not like the dog hybrid considering she did run into the apartment barking and snarling at him, but what you don’t understand is why his whole body stiffens up so much at the mention.

“Okay. I don’t care,” Yoongi snaps at you before you can ask, a harsh glare settling on your face. You feel yourself shrink from the look before you catch yourself. If Yoongi wants to be unfair and mean, then that’s on him, you’ve done nothing wrong.

It stings of course, when he’s so back and fourth and acts like he would much rather be anywhere else but here. But, you know there is more to it than that, so for now, you just bury down your hurt feelings and move on.

“Are you hungry?” You clear your throat at the awkward mood in the room.

The narrowing of Yoongi’s eyes tells you all you need to know, and you find yourself dishing up a quick dinner in no time.

You do make sure to make a little extra, putting it away in the fridge with a note explaining that he can have it for dinner tomorrow while you’re gone. He might be a little mean, but you’ll never let him go hungry if you can help it.

“Sana was so excited last night, she could barely sleep!” Jihyo laughs as you slip on your coat. You wrap one of your older scarves around your neck as you follow her outside. The edges are a little tattered, but it’s one of the softest scarfs you own, and you’re struggling to just throw it away.

“She’s so cute,” You grin.

Truth be told, you had considered cancelling tonight’s plans. Yoongi had been acting ever more distant yesterday after you told him you would be coming home late, and when you found him curled up on the couch this morning, you felt bad.

It’s obvious that he doesn’t like the dog hybrid, and you don’t want to push him away even more by meeting up with her. But at the same time – you want to be able to hang out with Sana and Jihyo, and you can’t just cut off the only friend you have because Yoongi got off on the wrong foot with them.

You quickly climb into the car that’s waiting for you, sinking into the expensive seats with a soft sigh. Your feet have been aching for days from all the extra walking, and getting to rest them for a little while is heavenly. Even though the break is nice, you can’t help but feel a little misplaced in Jihyo’s pricey car. The difference between you is staggering, and you always feel like someone will pop out of thin air and tell you off for enjoying something you obviously don’t have the money for.

Your eyes can’t help but grow little big every time you pull up to Jihyo’s house, the pristine white building probably more of a mansion than anything else. You can see something moving by the front door through the tinted windows, the car pulling to a stop in front of the stairs leading up to it.

The moment Jihyo steps out of the car, Sana is wrapped around her like a koala.

“You’re home!” She squeals, burying her face in Jihyo’s neck while your friend pats her back lovingly. You swallow down the lump in your throat, tearing your eyes away from the display of affection as you climb out of the car on the other side.

The moment you round the black vehicle Sana collects you into a tight hug too, tail wagging furiously behind her.

“I’m so glad you came to see me!” She rubs her head along your chin, the furry ears tickling your skin as she tries to bury down into your neck like she had with Jihyo. She whines when the scarf is the in way, and Jihyo playfully rolls her eyes at the hybrid’s pout when she pulls back.

“Come on girls, I’m starving,” Jihyo takes a step towards the house, and Sana quickly follows her, tugging you along.

The food is delicious, but of course, you didn’t expect anything less from the chefs Jihyo has working in her kitchen. You eat until you’re full and then some, the savory dishes better than anything you’ve had in months.

“I’ll have the them wrap some up so you can bring it home,” Jihyo hurries out of the dining room before you can protest.

Normally, you would refuse to bring home anything, but now .. Now you have another mouth to feed at home. You know Yoongi would love the chicken dish that even made your own mouth water, and you don’t have the heart to deny him that experience. Especially not since you know the fridge is starting to become awfully empty, and there’s still a week until your next paycheck. You feel awful for accepting the food, but you would also feel awful if you didn’t. Mostly, you just feel like you’ve .. failed.

“Do you wanna see my room?” Sana jumps up from her chair the moment you put down your fork, her fluffy ears standing up straight in excitement.

“Sure, I would love to,” You smile and Sana doesn’t waste any time before she grabs your hand, leading you up the stairs to the second floor.

You’ve been to Jihyo’s house many times before, but not after Sana moved in. You’re surprised when you see Sana leading you towards what used to be Jihyo’s art room, but as she pushes the door open, you can see that it has been converted into a beautiful bedroom instead.

“Sit here,” Sana steers you towards her bed, gesturing for you to move to the middle of it. It’s soft and bouncy, and you’re pretty sure your mattress at home would feel like rocks in comparison. The dog hybrid shuffles close, her knees knocking into yours as she sits crossed legged in front of you.

You see her nose twitch repeatedly, her eyebrows furrowing in concentration as she leans in closer.

“Is he still at your apartment?” Her normally soft voice sounds vaguely like a growl as she locks eyes with you.

“W-who?” You stutter. Of course, you know she means Yoongi, but you didn’t realize she would smell him on you. You didn’t even touch him yesterday!

“The cat – the hybrid,” She snarls, the hairs on her tail rising as she sniffs out the mixed scents.

“Yes, my cat is still at home. But he’s not a hybrid!” You honestly feel silly fighting with Sana when you both know he isone, but you promised Yoongi you wouldn’t expose him.

“We went out for lunch today, I probably bumped into a hybrid while we were out,” You pat her hand, trying to settle her growing uneasiness.

You can tell Sana doesn’t believe you, her keen scene of smell telling her otherwise, but you just need her to get off your back for a little while, just until you know what to do.

“There you are!” Jihyo enters the room just as Sana is about to say something, her lips falling shut with a cute pout at Jihyo’s interruption.

“Where did all your art supplies go?” You ask Jihyo as she climbs onto the bed too. Sana scoots over until she’s cuddled around her, arms around her waist and head resting on her shoulder. You ignore the upset glare Sana is giving you. You can’t really say anything to make it better without exposing yourself and Yoongi.

“Oh, my dad built me a little gallery out in the garden instead!” Jihyo rambles excitedly about her new supplies, and you try your best to follow along even though you don’t really understand much of what she’s talking about. You watch Sana look up at Jihyo with such open fondness that you almost feel like you’re intruding. It’s not hard to see that both of them are just as infatuated with each other as the other, and it makes your heart ache with want.

The whole reason you wanted a pet was to come home to someone who actually wanted you there – someone that would be excited to see you after a long day at work and give you some companionship. With Yoongi however, you’re not sure if you can even refer to him as an acquaintance. To think of him as a friend seems way too farfetched.

“- right?” Jihyo looks at you with a big grin, and you shake yourself out of the thoughts you got lost in.

“Right,” You confirm with a nod, desperately trying to figure out what you actually agreed on. Sana whines as you take Jihyo’s side, and it isn’t until five minutes later that you find out that you actually agreed with Jihyo that chasing squirrels isn’t a fun hobby.

The girls keep bickering for a while, and you resign to leaning back on the bed and watching them until they’re done. The atmosphere at Jihyo’s house just feels so lively compared to your own, and you hate that you don’t know how to make it better. You feel your smile slipping as you watch Sana cling to Jihyo, the hybrid using her puppy dog eyes to win argument.

You love spending time with your friends, but lately, all it seems to be doing is reminding you of what you don’t have, and what you can’t provide for the cat hybrid waiting for you at home.

You clear your throat; the guilt that’s building up in your stomach is making you feel a little sick. Jihyo and Sana stop their little play fight immediately, turning to you with big smiles.

“You guys, I think it’s time for me to go home. I’m still exhausted after Sunday,” It’s technically not a lie, you are tired, but you still feel bad for cutting the night so short.

“Of course! I’ll go get the food, I’ll meet you downstairs in a minute!” Jihyo calls over her shoulder as she hurries out of the room.

You feel a hand on your shoulder stop you as you’re about to follow her, Sana’s big eyes looking at you uncertainly.

“Are you okay?” Her nose twitches, and you see her ears flop down, “you smell sad.”

“I’m okay,” You reach up to pat her head, forcing through the best smile you can muster. You’re only being upset over things you can’t change, there’s no reason to make the hybrid feel bad because of it.

It’s still a little weird that certain predator hybrids can faintly smell your emotions, but you’ve encountered it enough through your work that it doesn’t throw you off too much when you’re reminded of it.

Sana frowns, shaking her head as she moves closer.

“You’re not. I’m gonna cuddle you until you feel better,” The dog hybrid wraps herself around you much like she did with Jihyo earlier, shoving her face into your neck and rubbing her head under your jaw. You chuckle as her breath tickles your neck, and although you feel like it’s probably more for her than it actually is for you, you still welcome the hug. You only extract yourself from her grasp when Jihyo calls out for you, Sana whining as she loses her cuddle buddy.

“I’ll see you soon okay?” You give her nose an affectionate bop.

“You better.”

Your arms are shaking as you finally make it inside your apartment, the bags of food Jihyo gave you weighing far more than you ever anticipated.

“You’re back,” You startle when you turn around and find Yoongi standing there, arms hanging loosely by his sides as he watches you. His voice sounds bored and disinterested, but the small twinkle in his eyes at your return gives him away. Maybe he is a little excited that you’re back after all.

“Help,” You grunt out as you try to slip off your shoes, trying your best to not fall over.

Yoongi takes a step forward to help you before he freezes, eyes narrowing in you as he inhales. His delicate features twists into disgust as he takes in the smell, his nostrils flaring as he glares at you.

“You stink,” He hisses as he quickly scoops the bags away from you, stalking into the kitchen before you can even make a sound. You feel a little dumbstruck by the interaction, leaning down to get a whiff of your coat and the sweater underneath it. You don’t smell anything out of the ordinary, but maybe you should change just in case.

You end up quickly changing into something else; joining Yoongi in the kitchen to help him put away the food you got from Jihyo. You can see that the food you prepared for him last night is gone, and you’re sure he must be hungry by now.

Yoongi shoots you another disgruntled look as you come up next to him, his tail flicking back and forth behind him. You focus on folding and putting away the bags you got the food in, ignoring the annoyed puffs of air coming from Yoongi every other second.

He suddenly takes a step around you to grab another bag, his chest rubbing up against your back as he grab the handles. You suck in a breath in surprise, unconsciously holding it until Yoongi returns to his spot. You can still feel the phantom warmth cling to the back of your shirt, your heartbeat speeding up from the sudden contact.

Yoongi’s irritation seems to calm down a bit after that, but your heart surely doesn’t. The cat hybrid keeps randomly brushing up against you as you move around the kitchen, hands grazing your arms and shoulders as he reaches for something above you, or a firm grip on your waist to move you out of the way.

You finally usher him into the living room to get some space, confused by the unusual amount of contact when he normally wants you to stay out of his way.

You take a deep breath before you bring the heated chicken dish into the living room, placing it on the table in front of Yoongi.

“Jihyo gave us some leftovers,” You explain, and he only raises an eyebrow in return. You know it’s definitely not just leftovers, but you’re too tired get into it, the whole day a whirlwind of different emotions.

“Just eat,” You mumble as you sit down next to him on the couch, reaching for the remote to turn to the TV on.

“Wait,“ Yoongi’s pale hand shoots out to wrap around your wrist. Your eyes snap up to his face in shock. His jaw is clenched, ears flat against his head as he looks down at you.

“I just .. It wasn’t enough – You still stink,” He hisses and you barely see his eyes narrow in on your neck before he pulls you close. Your words get caught in your throat as you feel Yoongi’s nose rubbing along the skin, his harsh breath making goosebumps rise all over your body.

His arms are locked around your back, gluing your arms to your side as he moves his face all over your exposed skin. You hear a low rumbling sound coming from his chest, and it reminds you of those broken purrs he made the evening Sana and Jihyo came over.

“Yoongi?” You squeak as the shock finally settles. You can feel his soft locks brushing against your face as he moves to the other side, hands digging into your back to pull you closer.

“You still reek of her,” His fangs lightly scrape against your shoulder as he hisses out the words, and you bite down harshly on your lips to hold back a gasp. Sure, maybe you’re a little touch starved, but this is Yoongi. Weird thoughts aren’t allowed.

“Her?” Your mind feels muddled as the sounds from his chest grows louder. You can almost feel his body vibrating from the force of it from where you’re pressed up against his chest.

“The dog,” He growls.

Sana.

You want to smack yourself. Of course Yoongi would think you smelled bad after Sana had been all over you with hugs and close proximity. Her scent was probably still lingering strongly on you. He most likely didn’t want the smell in his territory, and that why he’s .. scenting you.

If there was something you never expected that would happen between yourself and Yoongi, it was this. Territory and scenting goes hand in hand, and the fact that he was scenting you? He was practically marking you as his. The realization makes you blush, your face growing redder and redder for each broken purr that sounds from Yoongi’s body.

You try to reel in your thoughts. This is Yoongi. He’s definitely not marking you or claiming you in any way, he’s just getting rid of what he deems a foul smell that’s lingering on your skin. You’re sure of it.

Yoongi’s purrs suddenly stop, his face freezing against your skin as it finally smells like it’s supposed to do. He abruptly pulls back, and you almost tumble of the couch with the force he pushes you away with. He practically runs to the bathroom with small curses muttered under his breath.

You fan your face, the cold evening air outside suddenly sounding very tempting in comparison to the stifling heat inside your living room. When Yoongi doesn’t emerge after five minutes, you realize he’s probably as embarrassed as you are. It was most likely his instincts that made him scent you, and based on the hot and cold attitude he’s been giving you, you’re sure this is a blow to his pride.

A glance down at the table reminds you that he hasn’t eaten yet, and you doubt he will if you stay on the couch. You decide to sneak away into your room, not minding going to bed a little early.

As you settle into bed, you hear soft footsteps out in the hallway fading away into the living room. After some mindless scrolling on your phone, you hear those same footsteps moving into the kitchen.

You make sure to set your alarms, snuggling down under your covers as you stare up at the dark ceiling. Your chest flutters as nothing in the darkness can distract you from the memory of Yoongi’s skin against yours, and his surprisingly strong arms caging you in.

It felt .. nice, and the realizing that you wouldn’t mind if it happened again makes you quickly hide away under your comforter.

Go to bed, you scold yourself, quickly blocking out any thoughts that reminds you of golden eyes and slender fingers.

It definitely takes longer than normal to fall asleep, and you barely have even a thread of consciousness left when you hear your door creak open.

It’s silent for so long that you think you’ve dreamt it, but slowly but surely you feel the side of the bed facing the door dipping as another weight settles on top of it. The presence next to you feels bigger than the nights before, and you swear you feel another persons’ heat seep through the covers.

Again, everything grows so quiet and still that you don’t think much off it, sleep pulling you under quickly.

You dream of silky hair brushing against your cheek and strong arms wrapped around your waist, the soft echo of a husky voice whispering Mine burying itself deep in your heart.

- - - -

Hello! Hope you enjoyed the sixth chapter of desolate! I mean .. we're getting there lmao 👀 IMPORTANT: I have three big papers due at the end of May, and while I've been distracting myself nicely from writing them so far, I've reached a point where I can't ignore them anymore if I want to actually pass my classes lol. Therefore, I won't be updating this story weekly anymore. I will be updating this bi-weekly, so that means that Abundance will be updated the weeks when this is not. This will also give me some time to make the chapters longer and I'll get the chance to plan more ahead, so it's honestly for the best! The faster I'll be able to finish my papers, the faster I can go back to updating both stories weekly. :) Hope you understand, and thank you all so much for the support so far, it makes me so happy! <3 I have a posting schedule on my page that will be updated as soon as I figure out the best day for updating, but I'm guessing it might end up being tuesdays or wednesdays. I will also post small sneak peaks of coming chapters as a little something extra. Hope you’re all well and my inbox is always open if you want to chat about the story or just fics or life in general! See you all soon! <3

#yoongi #cat hybrid yoongi #hybrid au #hybrid bts #bts au #suga #bts fanfic #hybrid!bts #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #fluff #smut #scenting #angst #romance #min yoongi #jihyo #sana

2K notes · View notes