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barnesandco · 3 years

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Little Hands (V)

Series Masterlist

Bucky treats you to a day out.

This is an entry for @star-spangled-bingo 2021. Word count: 1625. Square filled: “Lucky (Clint’s dog)”

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Police. Sad child.

A/N: This is so late and I am so sorry. Let me know what you think! And massive thank you’s to anyone who is still reading this disaster.

Morning brings a new perspective, a new ease in the way Bucky moves around Ana. He pretends he doesn’t know that you witnessed the way they bonded last night, and for that benefit you don’t bring it up. It’s discussed and laid to rest with the intelligent smile you give him, one that he lets dissolve through his sternum and curl around his heart. Tendrils of soft hope, wisps of quiet connection, strengthening the friendship you’ve established and glinting with promise of something more.

Something more might have to wait, but Bucky thinks you’ve made it clear that it is there, on the horizon, awaiting you both. A future, one that, on his part, also involves the little soul that sits on top of the kitchen island, swinging her legs into the cabinets. Children are early risers, and so are superheroes, but today, on this cool morning, Anastasia has them beat.

So, it’s just the three of you. Bucky, and Anastasia, and you. You’re cutting up fruit and washing berries for the pancakes he’s making while you also remotely monitor the tea. A minty brew, warm, topped with honey and lemon, sharp enough to wake lingering drowsiness while still soothing, syrup-soft. You know your stuff, and Bucky’s glad to have a change of pace after a fast week of too much too strong too sweet coffee, even if he chooses to have it that way.

This particular change of pace would give him whiplash if not for the fact that he got a good night’s sleep, Anastasia’s nightmares notwithstanding. It has strengthened his resolve to find her a child psychologist, somebody who can help her better than he can, once this ordeal with Tobias Zola is over and they are all safe.

He needs to keep her safe. It was her mother’s – no, her final caretaker’s – last wish and request, and now that they are tied by blood, it has become his. She really looks so much like him. Her hair hasn’t developed the same brown yet, it’s still a shade lighter, with hints of golden for the lesser age, the summer sun bleaching that has yet to pass. It’s curly like his never was, likely an affectation of whatever female contribution is in her genetics.

Her genetics. Bucky shakes his head at the frying pan. He doesn’t want to sound like one of the scientists that put her into this situation, into this cruel, cruel world.

A clearing of your throat breaks him out of the thought bubble, and he flips the last pancake out of the pan and onto a plate, much to Anastasia’s delight. The ensuing giggle is the closest thing he’s heard to laughter from the kid. That’s not good. Children need laughter. He makes himself, and Ana, a silent promise to be more uplifting.

“Do you think we could leave the Compound, today?” You ask, out of nowhere, as you place the assorted fruit on the table. Ana, whose hands is halfway to the strawberries, stops as she waits on Bucky’s answer. Clearly, this is something she wants, too. Who is he to deny them?

“Sure. Fury might want us to take some security measures, but we should be fine.”

-----

That’s how they wind up at an ice cream parlor by 10 am, after the security has been cleared with Fury and Sam, and the only addition to their little team is Lucky, a dog apparently shared by Clint and his protégé in the city, one Kate Bishop. They’ve been told that while not a trained security dog, Lucky has sensors that will let Kate know if they’re in danger, and she can provide and send further backup. The rest of the Avengers are busy with tracking down leads to Zola.

Bucky knows he can protect you and Ana just fine, should need be, and isn’t worried about the fact that the only bodyguard they’ve been provided with is canine. Ana has bonded with the dog and walks with one hand in the fur by its shoulder and the other in his own hand, her eyes flitting between the sights of the city and her companions. Her caretakers. Her guardians.

The ice cream place is a little business that another one of Steve’s children is working at on weekends. is a head shorter than Bucky, and terrifies the living wits out of him. She’s one hell of a people watcher, she has a sweet tooth and a thing for Jane Austen, and the world is lucky her foremost interest is in dessert making and not something far more nefarious, like say, espionage.

She greets Bucky at the door with a hug and shakes both your and Ana’s hands, and lets you all sit outside so you can be with Lucky. The rusty fall sun makes Lucky’s fur shine like spun gold and light Ana up in hues of ruby and topaz, and you turn your face to the light and sigh.

For a moment, the world is quiet. For a moment, the scent of sugar crystallizes on his face like the sensation of rightness does. And when it ends, it’s not with a crash landing. It’s a gentle reorientation. You open your eyes, look at him with immeasurable affection. Ana pets Lucky. Vivien says, “Let me know when you’re ready to order, Uncle Bucky,” and puts a menu on the table.

You decide on a mango ice cream shake, Bucky wants an Oreo sundae, and Ana, of course, demands the largest dish on the menu, the one whose picture is emblazoned across a good quarter of the laminated card. A massive ice cream and berry split.

When your order arrives, Anastasia laughs for the second time. Bucky thinks he should say something, make a joke, conversation, but in this moment, nothing else could feel so forced. He’s a man of few words and many services. That’s how he chooses to love, and Ana can see that. You can see that.

It's why you nod affirmingly when he meets your eyes over Ana’s mountain of ice cream. You carry entire sentences in your glances, words of silent confidence, the fuel he is feeding on right now.

-----

Ana is happy. The world, if for a few hours, is right. He knows it cannot last, even now, walking back to the car after a morning and afternoon of joy, arms laden down with bags of new things, treats he never had but can now provide. Despite the resignation that has started to weigh on him, he reminds himself: his daughter has a home. She will be safe, and he will take care of her, no matter what it takes.

-----

The car ride back is louder than he anticipated. You give the music a go, playing something by Raveena, a sweet voice he likes but that Ana talks over, making quite the chaotic symphony that he likes even more. Lucky contributes the occasional bright bark that makes Ana laugh, pausing her incessant chatter, if momentarily.

Mostly, she talks about what she saw, the things she has now started to process, asks questions about the stores she did not previously have the luxury to, presumably because her previous guardian didn’t have the means, and besides, they were on the run.

He’s grateful to her. Irene. Before he was confused but now it is obvious: Ana is his daughter, and he wants her as much as any other parent does their child, even if the way she was thrown into her life was unconventional, to say the least.

Looking at her in the rearview mirror as she twists in her seat to reach Lucky in the back, he knows he will move heaven and earth to remove the threats in her path. It makes him dangerous. It makes him a father.

“You okay?” You ask, following his gaze, and Bucky smiles, eyes returning to the road.

“Never better.”

Your hand finds his where it takes a break from the steering wheel to rest on his knee. He twists your joined hands until he can hold yours. Squeezes it, as if to say, thank you. As if to say, we’ll all be okay.

-----

Turns out, he’s wrong, and this is why you should never rely on routines. Promises are made to be broken. When they get back, the NYPD is waiting, and not to update them on the case. He sees the waiting handcuffs, and he knows you do, too.

You make the right move, trying to usher Ana out of the room with some excuse or other, but it’s too late. Her instincts have latched onto the fact that something is very, very wrong.

The DA says, “James Buchanan Barnes, you’re under arrest as a suspect in the murder of Irene Orlov,” and Ana screams, and screams, and screams.

Bucky tries not to close his eyes, knows it’s too late to put his hands over his ears as cuffs close around his wrists. Besides, he needs to show that he understands the charges, and yes, they’re reading him his Miranda rights, and yes, he understands.

He’s innocent. And his team will prove it. But it’s no use arguing with these people, so he goes silently, even as he hears Sam, Steve and Nat going at it with the police chief in the dull background of Ana’s roar. It’s no use. The police wouldn’t be here without reason, and they’ll let him go when his team finds them reason to.

Everything is going to be okay, he tells himself. It has to. Because he doesn’t know what he’ll do if it isn’t.

Bucky sees you, tear-sodden and holding onto a distraught Ana, in the reflection of the glass doors before they slide open.

#SSB2021 #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #avengers #avengers fanfiction

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jikookiekosmos · 3 years

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Classified & Confidential || kth (Part 1)

➥Pairing: detective!taehyung/reader

➥Summary: It’s been years since your close friend passed away, case going cold due to lack of evidence. You never once believed the story the police gave you, since they classified it under an ‘unfortunate accident.’ Now that there are telltale signs of something similar at play regarding someone else you hold dear, you decide to take things into your own hands. You hire world renowned private detective, Kim Taehyung. And he goes above and beyond everything you expected.

➥Genre: strangers to lovers (kinda slow burn), detective au, mystery, angst, eventual smut, fluff

➥Rating: 18+

➥Words: ~7.1k

➥Content Warnings: detective/mystery au, (tw: mentions of death, brief mention of suicide in relation to a criminal case, implied foul play, stalking behavior, non-graphic detailing of a crime scene), slight forensic talk, mentions of nervousness and anxiety, some cursing, mentions of cops/police, unhelpful law enforcement (like they’re kinda terrible with the whole solving this case thing), feelings of unease and tension, we get bestie hoseok, tae is kinda extra but for good reason, no suggestiveness/smut in this chapter but it’s still 18+ due to it involving some of the aforementioned warnings

A/N: This will be a multi-part series that explores some darker themes, and each part will have appropriate content warnings listed; please read at your own risk. This part touches on backstory and introduces the characters, things will start getting a little more intense in the following chapters. I don’t have any kind of specific update schedule but ideally I’d like to get updates out every few weeks at the latest! I hope you look forward to this, and if you wanna be added to a taglist, please let me know~

Thank you @dntaewithluv for your constant motivation and support (and for always beta-reading for me, even when we scream at each other about our ideas); hopefully I do Tae justice for you! I love you lots ❤️

taglist: @inlovewiththemoonn @mwitsmejk @bangtanhome

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5 Years Ago

The night sky was dark, blanketed by stars as it emitted a peaceful aura. There was no way to bask in the calmness of the night, however, with all the hustle and bustle that surrounded you outside of the apartment complex.

Crime scene tape marked off the area, and many onlookers had gathered to try and get a glimpse of what happened. You were one yourself, but you weren’t there out of sheer curiosity.

Your breathing was ragged, staggered, as you tried to hold yourself together and observed the scene in front of you unfold.

Police wouldn’t let you beyond the tape, despite knowing the person currently covered by the white tarp.

Minutes prior, one of the cops had been politely trying to hold you back as you thrashed around, mind muddled by the vision of your best friend’s face before the tarp concealed it.

“I’m sorry, we can’t let anyone unauthorized come past this tape, please stay where you are.”

“You don’t understand, that’s my best friend, please let me through, please-”

You couldn’t control the volume of your screams, prompting a few of the other bystanders to try and calm you down seeing as you were very clearly distraught.

An unknown amount of time passed before the thickest part of the crowd decided they’d had enough excitement for one night, retiring to their own homes. You stayed planted in your spot, prepared to not move until you got more of an explanation for what was going on.

You’d resigned yourself to the fact that if someone wanted you to leave, they’d have to do it by force, but you eventually complied after two cops convinced you to come down to the station and issue a statement, given your relation to the victim.

They didn’t grill you hard, which was something you appreciated at the time, since you were really in no state to handle a grueling interrogation. You knew you could be marked down as a potential suspect, but everything from their investigation pointed to them believing it had either been an accident or a possible suicide attempt, the latter of which would almost entirely exclude your involvement.

Over the next few weeks, you cooperated with the investigation and helped them with whatever leads you could provide; you were determined that foul play was involved, because you knew your best friend better than anyone, and the story the cops were feeding you wasn’t adding up.

The theory as you knew it was this: she jumped from her apartment window, which was up a significant amount of stories, more than enough to kill a person. A potential suicide note was found at the scene on the nightstand by her bed, typed on a sheet of paper, so handwriting analysis wasn’t an option. The apartment was undisturbed aside from the window having been open.

It almost seemed like a cut-and-dried case, aside from one other small factor: unknown DNA from a hair follicle was found in the apartment alongside the victim’s own.

This didn’t surprise you…at first. You knew Ky had been perusing multiple dating apps and would often invite people over to her place after successful dates. But as far as you also knew, Ky hadn’t recently been on any dates, so there wasn’t a clear reason for that DNA to show up.

Ky had told you in the weeks leading up to her death that she was afraid someone had been following her around, and it unsettled her so much so that she deleted all the dating apps on her phone until she felt safe again.

Sadly, that day never came, and this fact alone caused the nagging suspicion of foul play to burrow itself even deeper into your subconscious.

Since the DNA was unknown, tracing it would be no easy task, but that didn’t stop you. Anything you could do to shed light on what had actually occurred, you were going to do it, plain and simple.

Which is why when the police decided to close the file on the case and label it as an ‘unfortunate accident,’ you were floored.

You begged them to keep focusing on leads when there really weren’t any, offering to aid in any way you could because there was no way that there wasn’t something missing.

Their response?

“Go home, Y/N, there’s nothing else you can do.”

You left the station that day only after you had caused somewhat of a scene, arguing back and forth with one of the lead detectives until you were ‘carefully escorted’ outside. Enraged, you banged your hand against the glass of the door before you slid down the wall beside it, hugging your knees as you tried to compose yourself.

You weren’t sitting that way for long before you felt a gentle tug on your sleeve. You looked up reluctantly and were met with one of the softest pairs of eyes you’d ever seen.

The stranger offered you a kind smile, one that made your heart ache in the aftermath of everything you’d endured the last several weeks. You’d been tackling this situation all on your own, with barely any help from mutual friends or Ky’s family since she’d been estranged from them.

But now, this man stooped down in front of you and smiling at you like everything would be alright…

It almost made you want to believe it.

“Hi, I uh, couldn’t help but overhear about your situation,” he finally spoke up, sounding somewhat bashful. He had bright red hair that peeked out under a cap he wore, and he was sporting a rainbow colored sweater.

A tinge of embarrassment fluttered through you. “Oh. Sorry you had to witness that.”

So this random stranger heard you telling off the police by yelling at them in broad daylight. Way to make a first impression.

To your surprise, he simply shook his head, smile widening. “No, don’t be sorry! I was, uh – happy to be able to listen.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Ok…may I ask why?”

“Well,” there was that bashful tone again, hand flying to the back of his neck as he looked to the side, “I’d been coming up here for a while, hoping to hear something regarding this case specifically. Usually when I stop by, there isn’t much going on and it’s not like I can just walk in and ask for classified information-”

He stopped speaking immediately once you held up your hand. You didn’t want to be rude, but you were thoroughly confused.

“Is there a reason why you’re eavesdropping for information about this case?”

He nodded eagerly. “Sure is! See, I’m working as a crime reporter, and-”

You scoffed as you pushed yourself to a standing position. “Unbelievable.”

Without sparing another glance to the gentleman, you shouldered past him, earlier hopeful mood soured by the fact that he was just another person looking for a scoop about Ky’s demise.

He was quick to follow, almost jumping down the steps to catch up to you.

“Hey, wait! Please.”

The way he begged pulled at your heartstrings because of how genuine he sounded, and for reasons beyond you, you turned around to face him and decided to hear him out.

You crossed your arms as he sighed with relief.

“Thank you. Ok, to start with, I’m a crime reporter, but I’m not trying to report on this case as everyone knows it.”

Another eyebrow raise from you. “What do you mean?”

The man smiled shyly, brushing away the red hair in his eyes. “I want to bring the injustice of the system to the public’s attention.”

That got your attention. “You do?”

“Yes. And I think your story could help with that.”

“My story?”

He nodded again, this time more eager than the last. “You’re pretty adamant that what happened to your friend was no accident, am I correct?”

Any mention of Ky caused the dull pain in your chest to come back, but at least this time, she wasn’t being mentioned in a gruesome or negative light.

“Yeah, I really don’t think it was an accident. But no one believes me.” You looked down at your shoes, scuffling one against the pavement.

You only looked up again when you felt the stranger’s hand on your shoulder.

“I believe you.”

All of the breath was knocked out of you.

“You…you believe me?”

The smile he gave you this time was bright and sincere as he dropped his hand by his side. “I do. I’ve been following everything posted online or in the newspaper about this case, and some of it just really does not seem plausible. And then after hearing you today, it made so much sense as to why.”

It still bothered you a bit that you were loud enough in the station to be heard outside, but that worry was now being overshadowed by the possibility of having someone else who could stand by you on your conviction.

“It…really means a lot to me that you would even consider my side of things. Truthfully, I think the police only tolerated me this long due to protocol.” You wrapped your arms around yourself.

The red-haired man grimaced at your remark. “Yeah, no kidding. For as long as I’ve been in this line of work, I don’t think I’ve ever seen them take things as seriously as they should.”

“How long have you been doing this?”

“About a year. But trust me, I’ve seen a lot during that time.” His determined expression might have made you giggle under other circumstances because it clashed so much with the rest of his soft demeanor.

“I don’t doubt it.” You walked over to the nearby bench seated a few feet away and the stranger followed hesitantly, only sitting beside you when you didn’t give him any indication his presence was unwanted.

The both of you turned toward each other slightly before you spoke up again.

“So, how can I help you with what you’re wanting to do?”

He seemed pleased that you were on board, eyes shining. “For starters, do you think I could interview you? I’d have to ask some sensitive questions, but I feel like I could have a better understanding of the case that way…only if you’re comfortable, though.”

You swallowed as you thought it over. Your participation in the numerous interrogations during the investigation had now proved to lead nowhere, but maybe this time the outcome would be different.

“Sure, I don’t mind. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, to the best of my ability.”

The stranger beamed, looking happy enough to nearly jump out of the bench, despite the current subject matter. “Great!”

His cheerful nature was a little infectious, you had to admit, because you already started to feel a little lighter in his presence. A hand appeared in your line of vision.

“My name is Hoseok, by the way. We haven’t been properly introduced yet so that would be the next best step, I think.”

You did giggle this time at his action. “Nice to meet you, Hoseok. I’m Y/N.” You took his hand into your own to give it a small but firm shake.

“It’s my pleasure, Y/N. Now,” he regarded you with that same soft look he had in his eyes when you first saw him at the station, “what do you say we discuss some logistics over lunch? My treat, of course, since you’re agreeing to help me.”

For the first time in ages, the smile that graced your face was wholeheartedly genuine. “Sounds good.”

Thus, the beginning of a beautiful, long-lasting friendship bloomed that day outside of the one place you’d begun to loathe more than anything else. Over the next few years, Hoseok stood by your side in more ways than you could count, and he was now someone you considered to be one of the best friends you’d ever had.

One of the only best friends you’d ever had.

What you never expected was to be seated with Hoseok at the same diner that started your initial conversation about Ky’s case 5 years later, discussing something much too similar for your liking.

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Present Day

You sipped from your coffee mug, enjoying the warm beverage as you waited at the diner. The weather had been less than ideal, with rain pouring all day long and displaying little signs of stopping.

But Hoseok had been adamant about the two of you meeting up after your voicemail you left the previous night.

As you were thinking about your close friend, you heard the bell above the diner door ring, signaling his arrival. He spotted you across the room and quickly rushed over to your table, leaving rain droplets in his wake.

Hoseok shrugged out of his soaked jacket and tossed in into the booth seat beside him as he shook his head to – hopefully – rid himself of the water trying to slide down his face.

“Hey,” he finally breathed out once he was settled. His usual wild red hair was darker now thanks to the rain, stern expression plastered onto his face.

“Hey.” You responded meekly, attempting to give him a weak smile. Your stomach was churning with unease at the conversation you were about to have.

Hoseok took a deep breath before he folded his hands together and rested his elbows on the table. The coffee you’d ordered for him had been pushed to the side, momentarily forgotten.

He lowered his voice. “Are you sure the pattern of behavior is the same?”

You nodded slowly, going over all the details again in your mind. “I’m positive. The only difference is Yuri waited longer to tell me that she thinks she’s being followed than Ky did.”

Ky. Not a day went by where you didn’t think about her, seeing her smiling face when you would close your eyes at night and try to drift off to sleep.

Slumber came much easier these days than it did those first few months, but every now and then the same nightmare would plague you about the night you saw her on the sidewalk.

You shook your head to shrug the thoughts away. Now wasn’t the time.

“Shit,” Hoseok finally responded. “That doesn’t seem like good news for us.”

“My thoughts exactly. Who knows how long this has been going on. And she’s been receiving the same kind of ‘gifts’ Ky would get, too. Random text messages, voicemails from unknown numbers…she tries to brush it off, but I know this scares Yuri.”

“She doesn’t recognize who’s speaking in the voicemails?”

You shook your head solemnly. “No, they’re using some sort of voice modifier.”

Hoseok cursed again, this time under his breath. “Well, what do you want to do?”

You gulped. Truthfully, you didn’t know the answer yourself. On the one hand, everything currently happening to your friend mimicked what happened to Ky, almost exactly. But on the other hand, Yuri made it known time and time again that she thought you were too paranoid for your own good sometimes.

So, you were at a loss.

Yuri and you were close, in a sense. You’d been friends for the last 4 years, working at the same company after graduating from college and even getting transferred to a new one in the same division so as to not be separated. Outside of Hoseok, you considered her your dearest friend.

But at the same time, you knew that Yuri had those she held very dear in her own life that were there before you, and you’d never try to overstep.

Still…the events surrounding Yuri were too specific to be coincidental in your opinion, and if the hunch you had right now was correct, you needed to do something.

You wouldn’t – you couldn’t – let another person die. Not if there was some way for you to prevent it.

Something you didn’t do with Ky, and that would haunt you for the rest of your life-

Hoseok pulled you out of your thoughts by calling your name, frowning deeply once your gaze focused on him again.

“I…I don’t know. I feel like if I push too hard on this, I’ll also push Yuri away, and I don’t want that.” You worried at your bottom lip, your most infamous nervous habit.

“Be that as it may, this doesn’t seem like something you should ignore either. What’s worse: pushing her away but potentially saving her life, or not saying anything and she ends up in danger?”

A heavy sigh wracked through your body.

Your silence was enough for Hoseok to continue with his own line of thinking. “Well, we could consider going to the police-”

“Absolutely not,” you answered fiercely, with more emotion than you’d displayed the entire conversation, “not after how they handled everything with Ky and how they treated you.”

You and Hoseok had made a name for yourself throughout the town as ‘Public Enemies 1 and 2’ with the local police department. You, due to your persistent insistence that they were wrong in their deduction about Ky, and Hoseok because of the article he published that shamed their name.

The article was the first – and last – one that he published under the company that had hired him to be a reporter, seeing as the police department had enough sway to get him fired afterwards. He wasn’t able to find another reporting job anywhere within the town or those surrounding it.

There also weren’t any remaining records of the article anywhere online or in paper publication, but as a ‘fuck you’ to the department, Hoseok had a copy of it printed and hanging up on his wall for anyone and everyone to see. You had always admired how he handled the situation with grace even though it made your blood boil every time you thought about it.

Even so, some good had come from the whole ordeal. After failing to find another reporter job, Hoseok had made a somewhat notable career as a crime novel author, popular among locals because of how he came to be a novelist, and eventually rising to fame due to his own amazing writing skills.

He enjoyed his career and had a happy life, but that didn’t mean you had to forgive and forget the shitty events that happened to get him to that point.

Hoseok nodded in understanding. “Ok, so no police. Does that mean we try to tackle this whole thing by ourselves?”

“Neither of us have any legit experience with this kind of stuff, so that’s out of the question, too.”

Hoseok tapped his chin as he pondered another idea. The way his eyes lit up as it came to him made your lips curve upward.

“What if we go to someone who isn’t involved with the police but does have experience with that?”

“…not sure I’m following you.”

Hoseok huffed in an endearing way. “Have you ever heard of a private detective?”

The word ‘detective’ made you wince, considering your last encounter with one evolved into a screaming match…but it was also how you met Hoseok, so there’s a silver lining for everything.

“I’m not familiar with a private detective, but I’m open to listening to your idea.”

He grinned. “Perfect. Ok, so in my research for my latest novel, I actually ended up looking into some real-life private detectives.”

“And what did you find?” Your own curiosity was definitely piqued now, as it always was when Hoseok would talk about something so passionately.

“There’s one who’s basically world renowned, like he’s really fucking good. And his office isn’t too far from here, it’s basically in the next town over.”

You took another sip from your coffee, swirling the now lukewarm liquid around in your mouth as you contemplated.

“What else do you know about him?”

Hoseok’s shoulders slumped slightly at that. “Not much. The only information I have on him is his name and how you can contact him. From what I’ve read, he seems to be pretty selective with clients.”

“No idea what he looks like?”

Hoseok shook his head. “None. There weren’t pictures or anything like that, I’m not even sure how old he is.”

You hummed as you pictured this mystery man in your head, automatically defaulting to envisioning an older man, maybe in his 50s with already graying hair. A wise old soul who had seen so much in his long years of investigation work.

“Not like all that really matters, I guess. Do you think I should reach out to him?”

Hoseok nodded around his coffee cup before he tilted his head back to take a large sip. “That’s our best shot right now. And if it doesn’t work out, at least you tried.”

Such a simple statement but it made your stomach twist at the memory of Ky and how you weren’t able to save her because you didn’t know how. “Right.”

Hoseok pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through what looked like Google search results. When he found what he was looking for, he texted you the information.

“Kim Taehyung?” You said the name aloud, making sure you got the correct info.

“Yup, that’s him. If you do decide to contact him, let me know how it goes, ok? I’m already worried as is about you delving into something like this again.”

You patted his hand. “I know, Hobi. Don’t worry. I’ll be careful, and I’ll keep you updated as much as possible.”

He smiled brighter than the sunshine. “That’s all I can ask for, bub.”

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

You paced around your apartment, staring at the text that Hoseok had sent you earlier. The rest of your time with him at the diner had been calm and helped to quell your nerves, but now that you were alone again, you were riddled with anxiety.

You had typed in this Kim Taehyung’s number into your phone, ready to call him and just get it over with. The worst he could do is decline your ask for help, but you wouldn’t know unless you tried.

After a few more minutes of useless pacing, you finally hit ‘send’ and raised the receiver to your ear.

You were met with an answering machine almost immediately, wondering if maybe you typed it in wrong until you heard ‘you have reached the number for Kim Taehyung.’ The name had been uttered by a human voice, one that was deep and took you off guard.

You had barely enough time to ponder over the voice before you heard the tell-tale ‘beep’ signaling for you to start your message.

“Oh! Um, hello, Mr. Kim. This is Y/N- well my name is Y/N. I was referred to you by a friend of mine who said you may can help me with a situation I’m having. There’s…some suspicious behavior involving someone dear to me and I’m afraid they could be in danger, but I’m not sure who to turn to. I-If you’d like to give me a call back, you can reach me at this number…”

You finished your voicemail with your contact information before thanking him and wishing him a goodnight. Once you pulled away your phone, you checked the time.

10:36 PM. No wonder you got his answering machine.

The anxiety that had settled down while you were leaving your message started to come back, so to combat that you made the decision to go ahead and get ready for bed. There wasn’t anything else you could do right now, anyway.

You texted Yuri just to wish her a goodnight, and when you received a response almost immediately, you breathed out a sigh of relief. At least she was alright and that was one less thing to worry about for now.

You didn’t dream that night – which was a blessing in its own right – as you thought about the deep timbre of the voice from the answering machine. You’d only heard it briefly, but it left enough of an impact, that was for sure.

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

You awoke around 8 AM, your typical time no matter what day it was. It was the weekend, so you could get more sleep if you wanted, but a quick check of your phone had you sitting upright at a record speed.

[Unknown] 6:28 AM: I got your voicemail. If you want to discuss your case, meet me at this address.

Your heart thumped faster as you re-read the words over again. The following message had an address attached, and when you opened it, you noticed how it was for the neighboring town.

With all of the context clues, and taking into account everything Hoseok told you yesterday, you figured that it was Mr. Kim who had texted you. Obviously it would be from an unknown number, and he wouldn’t give out any explicit personal details to lead back to him; that’s just how he did things, as Hobi had mentioned.

And if he contacted you back, that meant he was interested in helping you!

Well…he was interested in hearing you out, at least. Still, you wouldn’t pass up on this opportunity. You quickly crafted a response before you started to make yourself presentable.

[y/n] 8:03 AM: Thank you! When should I meet you?

You had just finished brushing your teeth when you heard your phone chime again.

[Unknown] 8:06 AM: Whenever is best for you. I’ll be here all day and don’t have any other clients lined up.

You clutched your phone to your chest. This was really happening.

Once you were done getting ready to head out, it was just past 9 AM. You called Hobi to let him know what you were doing, and his excitement was tangible even through the phone. He urged you to keep him posted about all the details, which you assured him that of course you would.

The drive to the address you’d been given didn’t take too long, maybe around 20 minutes or so. What surprised you when you arrived, though, was the outward appearance of the building.

It looked abandoned, for lack of a better term, and you checked the text message 3 more times to make sure this is where you were supposed to be.

[y/n] 9:28 AM: I’m here…but I’m not sure if this is the correct place?

There was an eerie feeling settling in your stomach as you waited for a response. Maybe this had been some sort of trick? Had someone set you up?

The sound of a deadbolt clicking grabbed your attention, and the door a few feet in front of you opened up to display an older woman. At first, she seemed a bit disgruntled at having an unexpected guest, but before you could apologize for intruding, her gruff expression was replaced with a warm smile.

“I take it you’re Y/N?”

You gulped and nodded, placing your phone back into your jacket pocket.

“Follow me.”

She turned on her heel to walk back into the building, not bothering to wait and see if you would obey. You quickly scurried after her, only stopping once you were a foot or so behind.

You walked through about 3 or 4 different hallways, trying to remember the directions you’d taken but failing miserably. There wasn’t much to this building…you saw what appeared to be a few offices here and there but otherwise, not much else.

“Here we are,” the woman croaked, gesturing with her arm to a much nicer looking door that had gold lettering on the window.

The etchings were bold, and it was very evident where you were as you read the words:

KIM TAEHYUNG

Private Detective

The older woman rapped on the door 3 times with her knuckles before she walked off. You were standing there, dumbfounded, until you heard a voice softly telling you to come inside.

The doorknob clicked easily under your hand, and as you entered the room, you were in awe of how different everything looked.

The office was tidy and, dare you say, extravagant compared to what surrounded it outside of this room. There were two brown leather couches that had a decent sized coffee table seated in between them; further into the office, you saw the same type of leather chairs, one in front of and one behind a large wooden desk. You also spotted a few plants that looked to be well taken care of, one sitting in a windowsill and the other on a small table next to some black filing cabinets.

Whoever had designed this room clearly had a knack for matching furniture together, because it all meshed well and you appreciated the sleek look to everything.

Your eyes ended their scan as you looked over to the far wall, almost letting out a gasp when you noticed the figure across the room whose back was turned to you.

When you softly shut the door, the other person in the room turned around. It took you a second to start thinking properly again, because he was not at all how you pictured he would be.

For starters, he looked much younger than you thought originally, closer to your own age, which you thought was admirable considering his high status as a detective. He had brown hair parted down the middle that was slightly wavy, with bangs covering his forehead. He had very handsome facial features as well, some of the most handsome you’d ever seen, if you were being honest with yourself.

He was wearing dark jeans and a shirt with black and white print that was hidden underneath a black leather jacket. Everything about this man seemed to scream fashionable and it was throwing you for a loop. You weren’t trying to stereotype him based on your own experience with detectives in the past, but he was just…so not what you expected him to be.

You were wondering again if this might be a prank, until he finally spoke up and acknowledged your presence.

“Y/N, is it?”

You nodded dumbly, scrambling to walk across the office as he motioned to the chair in front of his desk. He sat down in his own once you were close enough, and you shrugged out of your jacket before following suit.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, you felt small under his scrutinizing gaze. He was leaning on one elbow, chin resting in his palm as he stared at you with intensity.

He spoke suddenly, almost making you flinch with surprise.

“So, you mentioned a friend of yours might be in danger?”

You nodded, not sure what to say or if you should say anything.

“Does this friend know you’ve come to a private detective about their situation?”

You opened your mouth, closed it, and opened it again. “Well…no.”

The man nodded, more to himself than you, it looked like. “Alright. That’s not an issue, just have to cover all the basics first.”

“What do the basics entail?”

He seemed amused by your interest as you took the initiative to ask questions now.

His fingertips drummed along the desk, a rhythmic sound that you found to be oddly soothing.

“It entails me finding out as much about your case as I’m willing to before I decide whether or not it’s something I can assist you with.”

He started twirling a pen with his unoccupied fingers, clearly waiting for you to speak first again before he continued.

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything you feel is pertinent to tell me.”

You sighed. “Well, to start with, I think my friend is being followed by someone-”

“Proof?”

You frowned. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Do you have proof? Does this friend have pictures or a video of them being followed, or is it just a feeling?”

“To my knowledge…no. It’s more that they sense it than have actually seen it.”

“And you want me to find out if this is happening or not?”

“Um…yes?”

It was his turn to sigh this time. “You don’t sound very confident in your answer, Y/N.”

His tone rubbed you the wrong way. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What it means,” he broke off to look away from the pen to your face again, “is that I need to know what it is you want from me before I can agree to help you.”

You were catching onto his game now. He wanted you to very specifically lay it all out for him, instead of leaving him to figure it out by grasping at straws.

“Well, Mr. Kim-”

“Taehyung.”

“Sorry?”

“Taehyung. You can call me that, if you want. I’m not super big on formalities for myself.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek. Why was his presence so overwhelming?

“With all due respect, Mr. Kim, I’ve never done this before. All I know is something isn’t right, and I don’t trust the police to offer assistance in the way I need.”

You swore you saw something flash in his eyes.

“Why don’t you trust the police?”

You crossed your arms and leaned more into the chair. “The last time I worked with them, it didn’t end well.”

“You’ve worked on the force?” He almost sounded impressed.

“No, sorry, poor choice of wording. I tried to help them with a case before.”

“Ah,” his eyes narrowed as he busied himself with the pen again. “Were you a suspect, or?”

“I was close to the victim,” you said softly, almost a whisper.

For a moment, his expression softened. “I’m so sorry.”

You shrugged, inhaling a shaky breath as you looked at your lap. “It’s fine. Just…there’s your answer. I don’t want to work with them again, so I came to you.”

“If I’m able to take your case, I’ll make sure you don’t regret that decision.”

His tone had you picking your eyes back up. You noticed a fire within his own, one that made you feel like he meant every single word he’d just said to you.

“Thank you.”

He carded a hand through his hair, the action drawing your attention to the silver watch that adorned his wrist.

“Can I ask…could you tell me about the case you were involved with?”

A slow nod from you. “If it’ll help, I can do that.”

He motioned for you to continue. As you started telling him the details, you noticed as his eyes widened. At one point, he politely interrupted you.

“Sorry, just – I remember that case. You were involved with that?”

“Yes.” You were twisting your hands together in your lap. “Ky was my best friend.”

“And the police just let the case go cold, without considering all traces of evidence?”

“I begged them not to, but there wasn’t much I could do. They made that known several times,” you trailed off. You thought you heard some semblance of a growl coming from the detective.

“I always knew something was weird about that…every report they published made no sense, and none of the pieces of evidence seemed to corroborate their theories.” His hushed tone suggested he may have been talking more to himself, but you didn’t question it.

“There were signs of suspicious behavior leading up to her death that they never considered, and any time I tried to bring it up, I was shut down immediately.”

“Are these ‘signs’ something you’re noticing now, with your other friend?”

“Yes, exactly.”

Taehyung hummed. “I see. You want to inspect this before it gets out of hand, so you came to me because the police are a lost cause.”

You nodded feebly, voice softer than ever when you spoke again. “I don’t want to see another person die.”

“You won’t.”

His answer startled you, even if it was as quiet as your own. Your eyes met briefly before he started looking anywhere but your face.

Another hush befell the room, and this one seemed more awkward than the last, considering Taehyung cleared his throat before he rifled through one of his desk drawers.

“Before you tell me anything else, I need you to look over something first.”

“Sure, whatever I need to do, I’ll do it.”

A crooked smile tugged at Taehyung’s lips. “You know, you’re a lot more obedient than most of my other clients.”

You…weren’t sure how to take that.

“I am?”

“Yeah. Most of the time they come in with demands and don’t like to listen when I push back on something. It’s part of the reason why I’ve gotten choosier about who I decide to do business with these last few years. But you,” he fished out a piece of paper from the drawer, “are proving much easier to work with. I appreciate that.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

He chuckled, the sound low. “You’re also way more polite than most people I encounter.”

You smiled at him for the first time. “I’m grateful you’re taking the time to hear me out.”

His eyes lingered on yours for just a second before shifting down.

“First and foremost,” Taehyung slid a piece of paper across the wooden desk that separated the two of you, “if we agree to do business, you’ll need to sign this contract. It lists my stipulations and services I can provide.”

You picked up the paper, not quite sure what to expect.

“Take your time to read over all of it carefully, just so everything is clear on both our ends.” He leaned back in his chair, the sound of squeaking leather breaking your concentration for a moment.

You scanned through every line, all of the contract terms seeming straight-forward and easy to agree to-

-but the last line caught your attention.

“Could you explain this last part, please?”

Taehyung leaned over to look at which line you were pointing to before he let out a soft chuckle. “Ah, that. My #1 most important rule. Never get involved with clients’ personal lives.”

“But don’t you have to sometimes?”

“For work, yes. But this is more referring to what happens outside of that. Things can get…messy.”

“You talk like that’s happened before.”

Taehyung smirked but offered nothing more to that specific conversation.

“So, are we in business?”

You didn’t have to ponder long before you signed the contract with a flourish. When you passed it back across the desk, Taehyung smiled.

“Perfect,” he stood up to shake your hand, “I’ll be in touch with you shortly, once I’ve reviewed your case.”

You returned the shake. “Thank you, Mr. Kim.”

He squeezed your hand once before letting it go.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

You waited to see if there was anything else he might need from you, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. He leaned down and sifted through his drawer once more, this time pulling out a Manila file folder.

“I use these to get the typical information needed for me to start my research. It just asks for client’s name and contact info, as well as a summary about what you’re wanting from me and other names of those involved. In this instance, it would be your friend. You can give me as little or as much info as you think I need.”

He handed the folder to you, and upon opening it up, you saw everything he had just mentioned to you on a sheet of paper stapled to the inside.

“I’d prefer you fill it out now so you can leave it with me, but of course I can’t force you to do anything.”

His tone suggested he was teasing, but you were quick to sit on one of the couches and begin filling out the paper. It didn’t take you very long, and when you were done, you noticed he was sitting on the opposite couch, elbows resting on his knees with his hands folded.

“Finished?”

You nodded as you slid the file across the coffee table, his pen placed on top. He accepted both and smiled at you.

“Alright, if that’s all you want to discuss, you’re free to go. As I mentioned before, I’ll be in touch with you after I’ve looked over everything and have some sort of plan on how to proceed. And of course, all of this information is strictly classified. You read that in the contract, but I always reiterate it anyway, due to some problems I’ve had in the past.”

“Of course.” You agreed with no hesitation. Honestly, you couldn’t fathom just how much he’s had to endure in his line of work, how many times he’s probably had to change locations and phone numbers.

Hell, Kim Taehyung may not even be his real name, and you’d never know.

“Any questions for me?”

You mumbled some form of ‘no’ as you shook your head. Taehyung walked over to the door to open it for you, and you certainly weren’t expecting the same woman from before to be out in the hallway, but there she was.

“Ms. Choi will show you out since this place is a bit of a maze,” his tone was light, a sheer contrast to the mood that had settled over the two of you from when you stepped into his office. “Don’t forget: I’ll contact you.”

“Yes, sir.” You couldn’t help the authoritative term as it slipped past your lips, and you walked through the door before you could see the look on his face. You thought you might have heard some sort of laugh from Ms. Choi as she escorted you back to the front, but your imagination liked to play tricks on you sometimes.

Besides, Taehyung said he wasn’t one for formalities, so it didn’t really matter that much, did it? He had to be older than you anyway…right?

You spent the entire walk through the building trying to justify in your head what had just happened, and Ms. Choi gave you a soft smile as she held the door open for you to leave.

When you settled back in your car, you gripped the steering wheel and took a deep breath, leaning your head back as you shut your eyes.

You still couldn’t quite believe that the last 30 minutes or so had happened. Taehyung had proven to be quite different than what you anticipated, but he was truthfully better than you could have hoped.

He seemed driven and motivated about his line of work, and the way he reassured you when you had your doubts-

-it made you feel…safe. Like this was a step in the right direction after all.

As you called Hobi to fill him in on everything during your drive home, you started to believe that maybe, just maybe, things would turn out alright.

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

➥Part 2

➥Series Masterlist

➥All Works Masterlist

#bts #bts smut #bangtaninn #taehyung angst #taehyung x reader #taehyung au #taehyung scenarios #detective!au

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justasimptm · 3 years

Text

The Bride C11

The next few minutes are a blur of screaming and begging that comes to a head when Heisenberg tosses her to the ground next to me. He hisses something at her that makes her whimper, but he doesn't give her a chance to respond before he grabs her arm and slices a quick line right under her elbow. The smell of fresh blood assaults my senses and within seconds I’ve latched on to her, sinking my teeth into her soft skin. Whether by sheer force or the sharpness of my teeth I don’t know, but biting into her is as easy as biting into a sandwich, minor resistance, high reward. The responses are immediate-she yells and tries to pull away, the sound is stifled in seconds by Heisenberg grabbing her face and holding his hand over her mouth, his other arm grabbing around her middle and forcing her to keep still. The flow of blood is steady despite her struggles, strong swallows forcing it down into my gut, warmth spreading through me.

She tastes like cinnamon and citrus, tastes alive and so so good. Part of me knows I could stop now, that I don’t have to keep drinking. I can already feel myself recovering, feel the odd tugging as my body regenerates around the wound, the stinging as it drives out the poison that was killing me, the small popping as it comes out in the form of small crystal shards. However, fair is fair. She was going to kill me, damn near succeeded. The least I can do is return the favor, so I keep drinking, gulping down the thing that sustains us both.

Keep going even as her fighting gets weaker and her arm starts getting cold. Keep going until she stops resisting and even moments after that when her body falls fully limp and there’s nothing more than drops left in her veins. Only then do I let go, letting myself flop back to the ground, sated and full of energy, my wound closed.

“Do you need more?” Heisenberg asks, tossing her now empty body to the side without a second thought and hoisting me up so I’m sitting, but leaning against his chest to keep me stable. The concern in his voice is kind, a nice contrast from the rough sound of his voice. Through my gluttonous daze I smile at him, the voice in the back of my mind says to close my mouth, knowing my teeth are certainly stained red. Logically I know it’s likely also smeared around my lips, I was nowhere near neat eating this time. I was more concerned with consumption than I was with manners. It doesn’t seem to bother him though, which is nice, as his eyes never stray from my eyes.

“She tasted good,” I hum, closing my eyes in relief, “That’ll be enough. Thank you for helping...Karl…” My head dips down, resting slightly on his shoulder. “I’m sleepy.” He nods, shifting so one of his arms is under my back, looping his other under my legs, pulling me into his lap and then up as he shifts into a squat and swings up quickly to stand.

“Rest. I’ll have these brutes clean this up. I’ll bring you back to your mother.” He instructs. I want to tell him not to, that she’ll be mad, but my tongue is too heavy and I can’t get the words to come out. I hear him speak lowly to the Lycans before I can feel him start moving. His steps are slow, calculated as not to jostle me too much. The walk back feels long, whether that’s because he paces himself out so it is, or because I’m too out of itl, I don’t know, but it feels like hours before the gates come into view. They rattle for a split second before flying open with a clang. I want to tell him to be quiet, to put me down, that my mother can’t see him here, can’t see me in his arms.

His arms, which make me feel safer than I’ve felt in ages, warmer than all my blankets ever could. I hear my mother screech my name, making me flinch and blink my eyes open. He shushes me slightly when he feels me tense, before replying to her. “Alcina.” He greets her as he makes his way up the path towards the front door. We get to the bottom of the stairs before my eyes truly focus. She’s stepped out from the frame, not leaving the radius of the door, and boy oh boy does she look furious.

“Put my daughter down this instant, Heisenberg.” She snarls, voice colder than ice, cutting through my post-feed-healing ditz and spearing my brain with a spike of awareness. He opens his mouth to protest but she cuts him off before he can, stating her demand again much more firmly. He sighs, looking down at me briefly before bending slightly to set me on my feet. He keeps his hand on my waist for a moment as I sway unsteadily, but despite my vertigo I extract myself from his grasp. “Come inside now, Y/N.” I nod at her, whispering my thanks to him almost silently before stumbling my way up the steps past her looming form. I vaguely hear her hiss out a threat before she follows me inside, slamming the door and latching onto my bicep harshly, not letting up any pressure even as I cry out from the pain. She drags me downstairs towards the dungeon, past the smug faces of my sisters, before throwing me into one of the empty cells on the far side of the castle, far from the girls we bring down, from the blood we store. “You’re going to stay in here until you learn to keep away from that slime. I don’t care how long that takes.” I want to scream, protest that I didn’t seek him out, that it isn’t my fault, but I know it’s no good, she doesn't want to hear it. Doesn’t want to hear how I almost died, how he saved me and that’s the only reason I was near him in general.

She leaves me there as soon as she locks the gate. My brain starts turning back on after a few hours, my wound fully closed, the blood I consumed finally settling into my body, the buzz it gave me calming. Not long after that I hear faint laughing, that grows closer and closer until my sisters are standing in front of the bars, all looking like the cat who ate the canary. Daniela approaches first, looking me up and down before cocking her head to the side.

“Why am I not surprised to see you three here, gloating over my fall from grace.” I muse, skimming over their proud forms. “Let me guess. You let her escape. You gave her the knife. Is that why you’ve been scaring the help off?” Her lips curl up higher, clearly satisfied with her work. “You do realize I could just swarm out of here right? Right out through the bars.” Cassandra tsks, moving to join her sisters side, looking rather pleased with herself.

“You certainly could try, sister, but we had mother coat the bars in salt ages ago when some of our experiments started coming back.” My stomach dips slightly. Salt? Of course they had her do that. They’ve been planning this, clearly, because alongside silver, salt is one of the only other things that can a. hurt me, and b. keep me from passing through gaps in either form.

“Have fun down here. Who knows when mother will stop being upset with you. You really pulled that for us. Chasing after the girl, we could have stopped her before she got out of course. But god, coming back in his arms? We really should thank you.” Bela teases, stepping up out of the shadows and I can’t stop the disgusted scoff that comes out of my mouth. The three of them quirk their eyebrows, wordlessly asking what’s funny. I take a dragging step up, keeping a few inches from the bars, but as close as I can be to the three of them. Cassandra and Bela look towards Daniela, both looking as if they want to step away but following her lead. Funny, I would have thought Cassandra planned this.

“You girls are very cute, you know that? Thinking I wouldn’t know you planned this. Imagine how interested mother would be to find out the girl had one of her silver knives? You know, the ones she keeps locked away in her office that only we know about?” I reply calmly, keeping my eyes fixed firmly on theirs. Daniela opens her mouth to give some witty retort, I’m sure, but I cut her off before she can utter a syllable. “You girls need to be very careful with how you want to keep playing this game. The longer you’re on her good side, the easier it’ll be for me to topple you. I’ll let you have this one, but if you ever try anything again to make me fall out of my mothers favor you will regret it. Because even if mother doesn’t like me, Mother Miranda does, and I don’t think she’d be pleased to find out you three are trying to torment the person who’s been so beneficial to her research. Watch yourselves.”

They huff indignantly, and I know they won’t take my threat at its full merit, but that’s fine. More satisfying for me if I have to burn them. This time, however, they find their graces not to continue poking at me and walk off deeper into the dungeons, leaving me in the dark with nothing to entertain myself. I want to ask for a light, but I refuse to give them the satisfaction of it, so instead I clumsily make my way to the bed, sitting on it with minimal error and resign myself to leaning against the wall until mother decides she wants to let me out.

@foggyturtleknightangel @beingviolentlyhappy @inesalexandra1995 @loveboldlywingedangel130

#re8 karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg #re8 #resident evil village #lady dimitrescu #heisenberg x reader

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teddy06writes · 3 years

Text

Do You Permit it?

{*wakes up in cold sweat* Failed L’manburg revolution Les Mis/Les Amis au}

Wilbur Soot x reader

Trigger warnings: yelling, swearing, character death, mentions of alcoholism

Premise: Wilbur, the marble lover of liberty wants nothing more than to gain freedom from the Dream SMP, You, the lowly drunk cynic want nothing more than to be by Wilbur’s side. When Wilbur becomes insistent that the only way to gain freedom is to barricade the few revolutionaries into the walls of what would one day hopefully become L’manburg you see all the flaws in the plan, but unwilling to leave your friends, nor you love that was never meant to be you stick with the foolhardy men, resigning yourself to your fate

{aka I wanted to make les mis content and this was the only way I could think of. also Wilbur = Enjolras but brunet and his revolution didn’t fail}

{Also Tommy/Tubbo as Gavroches but I can’t fully figure out this au, someone help}

{I had to dig out my copy of the brick for this one boys}

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“We will stand our ground! Fight for the freedom we deserve!” Wilbur yelled.

The men spread around the backroom of Niki’s café cheered in agreement, causing you to sigh, and tip down a portion of your drink, “You do realize Dream will never let you be free right?”

Wilbur glared at you, “(y/n) if we can fight, and we can prove to him that we deserve our freedom then we can have it.”

“Well sure, if you can fight,” You chuckled looking around the room at the men gathered, “I’ve never seen Jack Manifold pick up a musket. Fundy’s never had the chance to learn to shoot more than birds out in the forest. Tubbo shouldn’t be throwing his life away for something as foolish as this. Tommy just- Tommy just shouldn’t be given a weapon- period.”

“They know how to fight well enough,” Wilbur spat, venom lining his voice, “If your not going to be a part of this cause then I suggest you leave.”

You glanced around the back room again, “Well this is a free public space innit? I shouldn’t think I could be kicked out of a public place.”

Wilbur's glare was burning, yet you reveled in the heat, watching as he crossed his arms, “(y/n) if you don’t believe in this cause why do you bother to come here night after night? Do you find satisfaction in poking holes in our plans?”

“Perhaps I find more satisfaction in spending a night with my friends than drinking alone,” You challenged, taking another sip from your drink, “Perhaps I enjoy listening to your fantasies Apollo.”

“These are not just fantasies, (y/n)! This is our tomorrow! This is the future that we are shaping!” He yelled.

“This is your tomorrow?” You bellowed, standing up and gesturing around, “This plan of dying like a martyr? You are planning a future you will never see! You do see that this won’t work right? This revolution is doomed! Throwing your lives away for some stupid cause may not be a fantasy, but believing it will work sure as hell is!”

“You know nothing of belief,” He spat, “You believe in nothing.”

“I believe in you.” With that you plopped back down into your seat, having said your piece.

Wilbur sighed, turning back to rest of the group, beginning to give instructions to his men, making plans for the coming days, discussing how they would smuggle the weapons and munitions into the city.

Niki sat down next to you as she entered from the main part of the café, “Why do you do that? He could like you more if you didn’t always disagree with him.”

“There's no other way I can get his attention. Nothing else gets through to him.” You muttered.

“Have you ever tried agreeing with him? I know you dreamed of freedom once.”

“That was a long, long time ago.” You sighed.

As days went on Wilbur’s plans grew bigger, the day of reckoning grew closer, and your nightmares of fire and blood became more and more frequent; no matter how much you tried to warn your friends, or drink your fears away they still lurked in the shadows of your mind.

You watched as their plans continued to take form, never, no matter how much you urged, drifting from Wilbur’s plan of a barricade.

Many a night found you in the back room of Niki’s café, arguing against everything that they said.

Tonight, as you entered, the café was a flurry of activity, people running excitedly to and from the back room, some not even bothering to hide the muskets or cartage packets they were carrying.

You grabbed Tubbo’s shoulder as he started to dash past again, “Woah woah woah, what the hells going on here?”

“Wilbur says that this is it! Tomorrow it begins!” He said excitedly.

“Tubbo! Quit standing around we’ve got work to do!” Tommy yelled thundering out of the back room.

Tubbo smiled at you apologetically, “Well, I’ve got to go!”

As the two boys ran off you quickly made to move into the back room, immediately coming face to face with Wilbur, who grinned wildly, “Come to join the festivities (y/n)? I’d’ve thought you’d be off away from here by now.”

“Its happening then.” You murmured, slightly shocked.

“Of course it’s happening,” Wilbur spat back, “You come here to try and shut us down again? You gonna try and sabotage our victory?”

You sighed, starting to turn to leave, “Only a fool celebrates before the war is won Apollo.”

“Are you suggesting I am a fool (y/n)?”

You glanced back at him, looking around at the confident men and women around the café, at the people who were surely preparing to march to there deaths, “Never, but maybe, my Apollo, just this once.”

You had spent the rest of that night wandering around outside, skirting around Wilbur’s men, and moving through the gap in the walls where Wilbur would build a barricade come dawn, all with a bottle in hand.

Just before dawn came you returned to your lodgings, gazing around at the mess just long enough to make up your mind.

Somehow you found yourself going to your wardrobe, reaching far into the back, to where Niki and Eret had convinced you to stash your old flint locked pistol once you had figured to keep it, pulling it out and tucking it into your waist band.

Soon you were back on your way, cartages knocking together in your pockets as you strode down the streets, absorbing the all too calm energy of the city, a storm clearly brewing.

The time until Wilbur’s plan was to begin seemed to stretched on forever, and yet all the same you soon enough found yourself in a hive of activity, Fundy shouting at people to throw down their furniture, Tommy and Tubbo helping Eret, Niki and the others drag said furniture to form a barricade across the gap in the wall, Wilbur shouting orders and directing everything from the center of the storm.

Distantly you could hear Sapnap’s yelling, slowly retreating as the barricade rose higher and higher.

People began to cheer as it was finished, and Wilbur hoisted the L’manburg flag up to sit atop the structure.

“I need someone to go find out there plans!” He yelled, climbing back down, “Someone they wouldn’t except to be with us!”

“I’ll go!” Eret offered, “George trusts me.”

Wilbur nodded, “Good man, get going, and come back quickly, this is imperative to our success.”

Eret tucked their carbine into his jacket, nodding to Niki before heading off.

“(y/n).” Wilbur said, finally having seen your presence.

“Apollo.” You nodded.

“What are you doing here?”

You gestured around, at the Barricade, and the barrels of gunpowder being rolled out of the stores, “I am here to help.”

“Help?” Wilbur questioned.

“Something like that.” You nodded.

Wilbur's stare cut into you, “Are you good for anything?”

You leaned back against the wall of the café, “I have a vague ambition that direction.”

“What could you even do to help? You’ve hardly done anything in your life.”

You scoffed, “I wasn’t always a drunk. Used to have lofty aspirations and the like.”

“Be serious.” Wilbur demanded.

“I am wild.” You argued.

~~ The day wore on, and the barricade held some semblance of peace, even as Eret returned, quietly announcing herself to Wilbur.

“What have you learned?” He asked.

“They aren’t moving forward with any attacks tonight,” Eret reported, glancing around the barricade, “Dream has the badlands on his side, but they’re holding off until tomorrow, getting ready to attack from the right.”

Wilbur sighed, looking to his men and then back at Eret, “We will take the hits as they come. We can win this.”

Off to the side you watched as Niki bit her lip, standing up abruptly, “He’s lying!”

Eret opened his mouth, both in shock and to object, when Wilbur held up a hand to cut them off, “Niki?”

She took a shaky breath, “Eret has been spying for the enemy. Feeding them information.”

“That's not true!” Eret yelled.

“I’m sorry,” Niki took a shaky breath, “Check their pockets, Dream probably gave them extra cartages, or a better carbine.”

Wilbur turned to Eret expectantly.

Slowly, relucantly, Eret began to pull extra cartages from their pockets, letting them fall to the ground as Fundy and Tommy quickly grabbed his arms, pinning them behind her back.

Wilbur stared at them, disappointment in his voice as he said, “Put them in the café. We can deal with them later.”

Almost on que the sound of boots slapping the earth grew closer, and you quietly began to load your pistol as Dreams voice echoed up the barricade, “What the hell is this?”

Wilbur carefully scaled a part of the barricade , just enough to peak over the top, “L’manburg revolution!”

Dream audibly groaned, then turned to his men, “Open fire!”

Almost immediately all hell broke loose, and shots were exchanged over the top of the barricade as you rushed forward to drag Tubbo back, hissing, “Stay down.”

He frowned, but stayed put as you hurried back forward to rejoin the fighting, shoving George, who’d been attempting to climb the barricade, back down to the ground.

“Get back!” You heard Wilbur yell distantly, “Get back or I blow the barricade!”

Whipping your head around you found that the marble man had grabbed one of the smaller legs of gunpowder, and was now slowly lowering a torch toward the barrel.

“Wilbur no!” Tommy yelled, already trying to get to him to wrestle the torch away.

“And yourself with it?” Dream challenged.

Wilbur took a shaky breath, “And myself with it.”

Behind the mask, Dream wavered, slowly turning back to Sapnap, who shook his head, “Fall back!”

Tommy’s face changed as he jumped off the barricade, whooping as Wilbur laughed, slowly climbing down as various people scolded or congratulated him.

“My life is not yours to gamble Wil!” Niki yelled.

Wilbur waved her away, still looking somewhat relived that his plan had even worked as he started to address everyone again, “They may be regrouping! Hold yourselves in readiness, if we’ve made it this far we can take this victory!”

Tommy was still grinning and jumping around, grabbing your shoulder, “Did you see how they turned and ran! Ha! Cowards!”

“And so the war was won.” You scoffed, still looking to Wilbur.

Tommy rolled his eyes, muttering, “Cynic.” as he went to find Tubbo.

When night began to fall, and the barricade was still standing, you found yourself sitting next to Niki on the edge of the barricade, sharing yet another bottle of wine from the café.

“Should I have ratted him out?” She asked, craning her neck to look at where Eret was slumped against the wall of the café.

“If you didn’t we might’ve died sooner.” You mumbled, taking a swig before handing the bottle back to her.

“Well- I just- I guess you’re right.” Niki tipped the bottle back, taking a long drink.

Wilbur came out of the cafe, arms loaded with bottles that he began to pass out, Tubbo following behind, passing out bread, before taking his spot next to Tommy at the base of the barricade.

“Fundy! Take the watch. They won’t attack until it’s light,” Wilbur called, offering out the last bottle, “We’ll use this time to rest.”

Jack Manifold chuckled, holding up the bottle he’d been given, “Well, lets drink!”

“Yeah!” Tommy yelled, a little too enthusiastically, “To all the women I’ve had!”

Tubbo laughed, elbowing him, “You haven’t had anyone!”

Niki chuckled, “To the life that used to be!”

“To the life that is to come!” Wilbur added.

You rolled your eyes, the liquor you’d consumed that day coursing through your veins as you stood, scoffing, “Yeah, sure, to days gone by. Could it be you fear to actually die Apollo?”

You shuffled forward, reaching out toward Wilbur, “You think that they’re gonna remember you when you fall? Is your death going to mean anything?”

His attention was back on you, and even if he seemed pissed you lived for that attention so you pushed on, grabbing onto his coat, “Is your life just one more lie?”

Wilbur seized your hands, throwing you off of him, “(Y/n) that is enough!”

You stumbled away, blindly grabbing the bottle from Niki, who simply grabbed your arm, leading you back toward the café.

“What the hell was that?” She hissed.

“This is gonna fail, I know its gonna fail. How can they not see that Niki? How can they not see that?” You rambled.

Niki pulled you past Eret and up the stairs to the storage room, “Stay up here, I’ll come get you once we’ve won.”

“Not gonna win.” You mumbled, “Hey- you got anything to drink?”

“Wine cabinet’s over there, don’t hurt yourself.”

With that she was gone leaving you to your wine and your thoughts.

It was a warm day, and you watched as Wilbur and the rest gathered around the gap in L’manburgs wall, cheering as Tommy held his musket high.

Cheers of ‘we won’ fill the air, as your friends gathered around, cheering as the last of Dreams men fled, leaving L’manburg its freedom.

‘I guess I was wrong.’ Still, you smiled as you moved to stand next to Wilbur and the others moved away.

‘I suppose you were.’ Wilbur smiled.

You looked up at the pale blue sky, ‘it is nice to see freedom, I do have to admit.’

‘i knew you’d come around (y/n).’

Sighing you looked at him again, ‘what now, Apollo?’

Wilbur’s hand grabbed yours, ‘we dance.’

You froze, ‘d- d- dance? you want to dance- with me?’

‘why not?’ he chuckled, ‘i know you can.’

Slowly you took his other hand.

The day was warm, L’manburg was free, and you and Wilbur danced.

Distantly you heard a yell, “He’s the leader!”

‘Wil? what was that?’ you mumbled.

‘whats what?’

“Wilbur was the one who nearly killed George!”

You looked around frantically before turning back to Wilbur, whos face seemed to change, looking beyond you, “Shoot me!”

‘wha-’

Suddenly the day was cold, and not yet begun, as you bolted upright in the storage room of Niki’s café.

L’manburg was not free, and Wilbur was stood proudly, his back to the wall, barley visible beyond Dream, Sapnap and Sam, who all had the barrels of there rifles aimed at his chest.

Distantly, you felt yourself standing, “Long live L’manburg! I am one of them.”

Wilbur’s face fell to shock, “(y/n) what are you-”

The enemy still stood, frozen as you moved between there ranks, repeating, “Long live L’manburg! Take us both with one blow.”

Wilbur was still staring at you in shock as you turned to him, “Do you permit it?”

He smiled, understanding finally in his eyes, and then his hand was in yours as he turned back to face Dream, proud even in his last moments.

The day was cold and not yet begun, Wilbur’s hand was in yours, and you could not feel the bullets enter your chest.

All you could feel was his hand in yours, his smile still warming your face, until there was nothing more.

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagines #Wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot imagines #teddy06 writes

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winterscaptain · 4 years

Text

infirmity.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: part four of our 100 arc, covering 5x02, haunted! I forgot how much i love this episode, so i really leaned into this one. it’s a labor of love!! i can’t wait to hear what you all think (i crave feedback and affection) and if you reblog, i’d love to see your cheeky lil thoughts in the tags!!

words: 4.3k warnings: language, bad decisions

summary: “a friend should bear his friend’s infirmities” - william shakespeare, julius caesar.

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

You knock on the door at 8:30 sharp. Almost thirty seconds pass before he answers, and you note the hand on his holster as he opens the door.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” you chirp. “Ready to go?”

He turns, gathering his things. “What do we know about this case in Kentucky?”

Thrown a little by the lack of greeting, you follow him into the apartment. The sight of the Foyet files on his desk aren’t foreign to you, nor are they a surprise. They’ve been there every time you came over during his leave (in fact, you’ve sat on them more than once), so why you expected them to go away once he was back you had no idea.

“Um, no connection between Call and his victims. They’re canvassing, but no sign of him so far.”

“Start with his recent history. Find the stressor.” His voice is flat, impassive, and you frown.

He was just getting better…

You’re about to head back toward the door when -

“Don’t move.”

Right. The alarm.

He stands by to arm it. “Ready?”

“Are you?”

+++

You arrive at the tarmac, Hotch in the passenger seat of your car. He looks a little resigned, but straightens and takes a breath before he opens the door, settling into his role as he steps out and straightens his suit jacket.

It’s always a little funny to watch him transform. You’re honored you get to see it, even if he’s in rough shape.

Especially then.

You climb the stairs and follow him in, settling in your usual place.

“Good to see you,” Dave says as Aaron scoots down the aisle. It makes you smile.

“You, too.”

Aaron gets settled and you shift, trying not to hover but finding it difficult to be separated from him after his weeks of absence. He greets the rest of the team, exchanging pleasantries and checking in with Reid about his knee.

“Any other attacks?”

JJ shakes her head, while Spencer elaborates. “Call’s proven hard to track. He’s never had a driver's license so he’s probably still on foot.”

“Or public transportation,” Emily notes.

You hum. “He wouldn’t take the bus. His face is everywhere.”

“Has anyone found a stressor?” You weren’t sure if Aaron’s brusque affect was going to continue once you made it to the plane, but his tone just about answers your question.

Stepping back into authority quickly, there, Aaron.

“He just lost his job,” Garcia supplies. “He’s worked at a factory since 1990. Made appliances since forever and not a single promotion.”

Derek tilts his head. “That’s a long time to be bitter.”

“Or he doesn’t care?”

JJ looks at Spencer and shakes her head. “Not if he’s got a family to feed.”

“Actually, he’s of the hermit variety as far as I can tell. He’s got no one. No wife, no kids, no parents.” You watch Garcia’s eyes flicker around the screen as she talks to you, doing what she does best.

“Nothing to live for.” Derek’s looking a little too pointedly at Aaron for your taste, but your evaluation is interrupted.

“So why hasn’t he killed himself yet?”

Your brain sputters at Aaron’s offhand delivery. “What?”

“Sprees usually end in suicide. If he’s got nothing to live for, why hasn’t he ended it?”

The energy in the room grows uncomfortable, fast. Aaron’s voice is still flat - you might go so far as to say it sounds dead, but that inspires a kind of heavy sullenness in your chest you’d rather not subject yourself to.

You wish Haley was around for no other reason but to kick his ass.

You’re thankful for Spencer when he answers Hotch’s question. “Because he isn’t finished, yet. We know he has displaced anger. He took it out on the first victim.”

“Well,” Aaron continues, “the stock boy represents someone. We need to know who.”

You meet Derek’s eyes and you can tell he’s trying to read you - trying to see if you’re as concerned as he is. You don’t give him the satisfaction.

+++

Later, you corner Morgan on the plane before landing, keeping your voice low. The case is in your lap so there’s a valid distraction when you need one.

“What’s wrong with you?”

He stops and turns. “I thought Hotch was cleared to drive.”

“He is.”

“Then why did you pick him up this morning?”

You shrug. “I wanted to.” His eyes bore into the side of your head and you look up with an exasperated huff. “What?”

He sighs. “He’s only had a month off.”

“Well,” you say, aware that you’re being pedantic before you even get there, “thirty-four days. That’s a little more than a month.”

His stare is withering, but you’re impervious. “And you think that’s long enough?”

“Are you asking me as his coworker or as his friend?”

“Is there a difference?”

You shrug. “Maybe.” Yes. “But if you don’t think he’s had enough time, you should tell him.”

He scoffs. “No thanks. I like my job.”

“You like him more.” A little smile crosses your face. “Though, I know you don’t like to think so.”

“No. I like you.” Derek corrects. “He also happens to like you, so I tolerate him for your benefit.”

“Much appreciated.” You return to your work, but Derek’s eyes linger. You don’t look up as you ask, “What?”

“What if he has PTSD?”

Still writing, you answer with a general air of nonchalance. “He was evaluated.”

“Oh, come on. We wrote those questions. Hotch knows exactly -“

You slam your pen down and lean back with your arms crossed. You draw Spencer's eyes and lower your voice again. “So, what? Are you going to pick at me until you get me to say something you want me to say?” You let out a sardonic chuff, settling back to work. “If that’s the case, you’re gonna be here a while.” You tip your head a little toward the little table by the window. “Your coffee’s getting cold.”

You admittedly feel a little bad for being short with him, but everything seems to be testing your patience today.

And if you’re honest, you’re worried about Aaron, too.

After a few minutes of work in silence, you call out to him again. There’s the smallest of apologies in your voice. “Derek?”

He looks at you, dark eyes open and yielding - concerned and forgiving. “Yeah?”

“He’s back because he has to be. He needs to know we’re here for him.”

“He knows that.”

You offer him a small smile. “Don’t let him forget it.” You pause, your head wavering a little bit as your tone turns a touch facetious. “I can’t do all the heavy lifting around here.”

You get a laugh out of him - just a little one - and it’s enough. “Don’t push it, kid. I remember when you were dead weight.”

You roll your eyes.

That’s enough, for now.

+++

Even your seemingly-endless patience with Aaron rapidly wanes as you spend more time at the crime scene. It’s frustrating.

“He was on an antipsychotic?” You ask with a little frown.

The pharmacist nods. “Well, that’s why I wanted him to calm down. He’s been off of them at least a month, now.”

“And when were you going to tell us this?” Aaron asks, harsh and sharp.

You look at him, your frown deepening.

What the fuck is that attitude?

“He’s armed, he’s delusional. Who’s his doctor?” Hotch’s tone grows even pointier, somehow, as he pushes harder.

“I don’t remember - my computer…” She gestures behind the desk, where the computer has been fried by a bullet.

“Great. That’s great.” He walks away, already making a call.

“Excuse us,” you say in an attempt to recover. Derek echoes you and you try to avoid running after Hotch as he strides down the aisle.

Long-legged asshole. Slow down.

“Hotch,” you call. He doesn’t listen.

“Call JJ and tell her about the meds.” He’s still walking. You’ve caught up.

Derek chimes in, gesturing back at the pharmacist. “This is not her fault.”

Aaron turns on him. “Morgan, he’s in a psychotic break. It changes everything.”

“You want to talk about this?” Derek asks, taking another step closer.

Squaring up to Derek’s shoulder, you’re ready to pull them apart if they get really heated.

Wouldn’t be the first time.

In some ways, Morgan’s admission on the plane was truer than he let on. You are the link between Derek and Aaron, almost like a balm. You see things in them that they can’t see in each other. It helps.

With a pang, you think of Haley, for some reason.

You miss her.

“No.” Aaron’s interruption is sharp and it startles you out of your thoughts. “I want to find him - Garcia,” he turns, continuing on his warpath forward, “he’s been off his antipsychotic for a month. What else did you miss?”

Your mouth drops open and Derek’s about to deck Aaron while his back is turned. You push in front of Derek, getting between them to give him a chance to cool off. The last thing you want is to handle more wound dressings - for either one of them.

Aaron hangs up and walks out after what you imagine is a rather unilluminating update from Penelope. You turn, putting your hand on Derek’s shoulder and looking him in the eye.

Still think he’s alright? His eyes ask.

You grit your teeth. I don’t know.

+++

The psychiatrist and patient lay dead on the floor, Call nowhere in sight. Derek directs the local officers to check the perimeter, just in case.

You look at Hotch, who still doesn’t look completely checked in, himself.

Or maybe he looks too checked in?

I don’t know.

You’d be lying if you said his behavior didn’t freak you out. Though he’s standing beside you, you miss him.

Come back to me.

You miss the man who pliantly sat under your hands as you washed his wounds and brought him takeout and forced him to take naps in the middle of the afternoon on a weekday.

You miss the man who fought you for the remote and stole far too many of your fries, who would change the channel if you made the mistake of going to the bathroom on a commercial break.

That man was with you as late as Saturday. Returning has brought something else out in him, the part of him that spent (often very) late nights looking for Foyet has risen to the forefront.

“We’re too late.”

Before the rest of you can do anything, Aaron leaves the room, pushing past Dave in his haste to leave.

Emily calls after him, but he’s long gone down the hallway. They look at you.

All you can do is shake your head with a downturned curve of your mouth.

+++

After a little while, you go downstairs and find Hotch outside. Before you can say anything -

“I should have seen the blinking on the video.”

You huff at him. “Hotch, it could have been a nervous tic. You couldn’t have known - none of the records were available, yet.”

“But it wasn’t a tic. It’s a classic sign of long-term antipsychotic use, and I missed it.”

You step in front of him, squarely meeting his eyes. “We all missed it.”

He’s got another pessimistic jab that you choose to ignore just before Emily and Dave arrive with news from Garcia.

Oh, Aaron.

+++

The officer huffs. “I don’t care why he took him.”

Aaron had, once again, escalated the situation with local police. Tensions are high, and you only hope he can get his shit together at some point. “You should.”

Goddamn it, Aaron.

He continues, advancing on the police captain. “Call’s memory is no longer suppressed. He’s reinventing his past and unless we understand how, we’re not going to find either of them.”

“Well, I’m not gonna just sit around and speculate.”

It’s an old-fashioned Western standoff, now.

Who’s Clint Eastwood?

Well, Hotch has the looks but -

Quit.

Fine.

“Then don’t.”

The captain turns to you, Emily, and Dave. “You don’t think we should chase him either?”

“We need to get ahead of Call,” Dave answers evenly.

The captain looks at Aaron once more before storming off. The rest of you approach Hotch, and Emily’s a little frustrated when she reminds him, “There’s a kid missing.”

“They don’t need the extra manpower.”

You squint at him. “Since when?”

“If we had studied Foyet’s initial crimes -”

Oh for the love of fuck.

“- we would have known that a survivor didn’t make sense.”

“What does he have to do with this?”

Great question, Emily.

“All we had to do was stop and look at Foyet’s history. But we didn’t, and we lost two couples and a bus full of people. I am not making that mistake again.” He leaves the three of you stunned in his wake. After a moment, you follow him.

You always do.

+++

“Let’s go.”

You’ve got the address to the unsub’s home and you take the car with Aaron, the rest of the team following behind you.

He drives fast, but that’s nothing new. He throws the siren and floors it. You call SWAT yourself, getting Derek prepared for staging.

When you get out of the car, you throw your vest on, helping Emily with the straps across her shoulders before she can reach them themselves.

“Prentiss,” Aaron says, putting his earwig in. “Check in with the lieutenant, see if there’s anything we can use.”

She nods. “Yes, sir.”

“You good?” You ask, looking over at him.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

You throw your head to the side, and he takes your flank as you get closer to Emily. Her briefing with this particular lieutenant could go sideways, but you don’t want to leave him feeling trapped.

“...The kid’s in there. We got this. Tactical teams are covering the exits. He’s still focused on the old man.”

Emily squints, adjusting her comm. “For now, but we’re gonna have to figure out the safest way to get that kid out.”

“I’ve got a team in the back and one on the way. We’re going to infiltrate.”

“You do that and someone else dies.” The balance of firm and collaborative rests delicately on her tone. She’s doing well.

“Either Call or a child murder. Flip a coin.”

His tone frustrates you, but you leave Emily to her devices, checking your magazines for the third time. Your sidearm is in place, as is your backup.

“It doesn’t have to end like that. We get a confession out of Jarvis and he goes away, and Call gets his answers. No one else has to die.” She pauses, and a streak of white flashes in your peripheral. “Hotch!”

You whirl, ready to sprint after him as he walks decisively past the rest of you, past the gate, and into the house. After a moment’s hesitation, you make a break for it. A wall of arms stops you, and you know Derek’s behind you when you hear, “What the hell is he doing?”

No vest...Is he even carrying his gun?

“Let him go.”

You turn on Dave, your face plastered with fear and fury. “What do you mean let him go. Rossi -”

“I’m not letting him go in there solo.” Derek pushes against Dave again, but to your surprise, he’s locked in tight.

“We have to trust him.”

That cools Derek off, but not you. You thrash, freeing yourself from one of the local cops. “The hell we do.”

“Kid - wait, no.” The roles reverse, and Derek catches up to you and locks you in his arms before you can breach the perimeter. Your elbows don’t land against his vest, but you sure try. “You’ll get him killed.”

There’s only stress and silence as you stop struggling. All you can do is wait.

Derek keeps his arm around you, but you almost feel like the contact is for both of you. You take deep breaths, trying to slow your heart rate. It’s through the roof.

“What’s he doing?” Emily asks into her mic.

Dave leans into his comm. “Stalling.”

You can almost feel Derek’s jaw tightening. “He has nothing to lose.”

He has everything to lose.

You have everything to lose.

Don’t be a hero, Aaron. Don’t do anything stupid.

You hope that he can hear you somehow.

Too late.

Hotch appears in the window, followed by the boy.

There’s a quick SWAT conversation in your ear.

“Do you have the shot?”

“Negative, negative.”

He’s blocking the shot.

Goddamn you, Aaron. Goddamn you.

“Bringing the boy out,” a faceless voice on the radio says. The hostage runs down off the porch and you catch a glimpse of Aaron before he disappears behind the door again.

You turn your head a touch, keeping your eyes on the door. “Get him out of there.”

Dave shakes his head. “That’s his call.”

Your body is wound tighter than a coil and you’re not sure if you’re ready to storm in there or just start walking home.

There’s a gunshot, and you’re out of there like a bat out of hell. You launch yourself over the short fence and attach yourself to the first SWAT agent you see, remembering your training at the last moment.

You breach the house and find Aaron cuffing Darin, whose father is dead in the armchair in front of him. Your jaw has never been tighter.

Once you confirm that he is in fact still alive and still only has nine holes in him, you turn on your heel and you storm out of the house. You don’t stop until you’re leaning on the front of one of the cars, trying to catch your breath. Your hands shake and you don’t trust your knees to hold you up.

The relief wars with something hot and unpleasant, leaving you more exhausted than you’ve been in weeks.

You keep your head turned away from Aaron as he approaches you. It’s petty, but you also don’t want him to see the fear on your face.

He calls you with a sigh in his voice and it finally ignites the fear into anger.

“I can’t fucking believe you,” you spit. Your voice isn’t loud, but it certainly carries. JJ’s eyes flicker to you from the other side of the yard. “What kind of stunt are you trying to pull? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

His jaw tightens. “Let’s not do this here.”

Your brow draws across your eyes and your mouth opens, indignant. “Let’s not do this here? You’re fucking kidding me.”

In his current state, nothing is off the table. His temper is running short and you know you’re capable of pushing him until he breaks. It hasn’t happened yet, but today might be it.

Much to your surprise, a sigh leaves him, and he knows he’s stepped in it. “It was stupid. I’m sorry.”

You scoff, shaking your head.

His remorse only stokes your anger. Go figure.

“You’re sorry? You’re sorry. You could have died, Hotch. What you did was so beyond protocol I don’t even know if I should start with the necessity of your life because we need you as our unit chief or the importance of your safety as my friend -” You cut yourself off and look away from him, frustrated you even got that far.

He has nothing to say to that. You’re completely right. The guilt might as well be written across his face in Sharpie.

His absence fucked with you, to say the least. It felt awful, empty, in the field without him. And then when you were home - well, back at the apartment, he was only ever in pain.

Overall, your anxiety regarding his health and safety is riding high.

Much to your frustration, your eyes water, and your lower lip shakes - angry tears an ever-present threat. Your arms cross over your chest. “I can’t even look at you right now.”

He reaches out for your arm, but you throw him off before he can make contact, turning your head. You stare at the ground, watching him flounder out of the corner of your eye.

“Go. Go do your fucking job, Hotch.” His nickname is acid in your mouth. It feels like a punishment, a lash of a whip. He doesn’t move, and you turn on him, meeting his guilty brown eyes with your flinty ones. “Go. Make the arrest. They’re waiting on you.” You throw your chin to Derek and Emily, who are indeed waiting for him on the porch with the unsub.

With another heavy sigh, he turns and rejoins the rest of your team.

You stay where you are, directing coroner and local law enforcement personnel to relevant staging areas as the crime scene is processed and handled. Aaron’s eyes try to find yours, but you avoid them, focusing on someone, anyone else with crisp professionalism that hardly belies your fear.

You’ve never been so angry in your life. Even if you have, you can’t remember it feeling this wretched.

+++

He sits beside you on the plane once you’re up in the air and leans forward with his elbows on his knees. The rest of the team sleeps scattered around the cabin, but you suspect that at least one of them is faking it, waiting for some kind of spectacle or spectacular blowup between the two of you.

You haven’t spoken to Aaron since leaving the crime scene. You drove back to the precinct with Emily and Dave, staying close to JJ and Spencer while you packed your things. There’s a part of you that feels bad for creating what Strauss would call a “hostile work environment,” but the other part can’t bring itself to care.

You can’t even begin to articulate the fear that coursed through you as you waited for him outside that house. You couldn’t begin to explain the extent of your fear, but after the stabbing and the removal of Haley and Jack from your lives, the prospect of losing him in the field was beyond unbearable.

It’s frustrating to feel so comforted by his proximity while you’re still so angry with him. The familiarity of it all hardly blunts your anger. If anything, the relief at having him back at your side sharpens your anger into something that scares you.

The impossibility of it is beyond measure. You’ve known for some time now, but this is the first you’re willing to admit it.

I love him.

Fuck.

You love him. You love his son. You love his wife.

You love the weird look he gets on his face when he has to say “penetration” while he’s delivering a profile. You love the way he tries not to smile when Emily beats Spencer at chess. You love the way he twiddles with pens when he’s thinking or nervous or both. You love that each of his smiles feel like a gift just for you.

There’s nothing you don’t love about him.

Except, of course, the way he, with profound idiocy, endangered his life today for no particular reason in addition to his generally asshole-ish behavior.

“I would say I’m sorry, but I’m sure you know that.”

You do.

He waits on you, quiet and still.

You take a deep breath, finally looking at him. “You scared the hell out of me.”

He nods, his jaw flexing.

“Don’t do it again.”

He blinks once, slowly. You know he can’t promise that, but you appreciate his acknowledgment nevertheless. There’s quiet for a moment.

“Aaron…” You look at him, nothing but concern in your tone.

He shakes his head. “Don’t.”

“I was just going to say…” You swallow, trying to find better words but coming up short. “We’ll get him.”

+++

Derek’s voice echoes down to the bullpen as you finish up the last few pieces of your paperwork. “I will not stand by and watch this man kill himself.”

Aaron’s door is closed as he works. You’re not sure if you’re thankful for that, or if you’d rather he hear it. You can’t really hear Dave - not that you’d want to, you’re almost as pissed at him as you are at Aaron - but it doesn’t matter. You know what he has to say.

Derek’s voice drops lower than you can hear. Dave drops his head.

Moments later, Derek flies back down the stairs, grabs his jacket, and takes his leave with a cursory goodbye thrown in your direction. Dave returns to his desk and Aaron’s door finally opens.

You look up as his lights turn off, gathering your things at your desk. With a little sigh that looks a bit like defeat, he stops at your desk. The smugness doesn’t completely leave your tone. “Need a ride?”

Of course, he does. “Please.”

You rise and walk to the elevators together. In the silence, you tell him, “I’m still really mad at you.”

A sigh. “I know.”

+++

You walk him upstairs and take care of the alarm while he removes his suit jacket and throws it over the couch.

“Do you think Call’s gonna be okay?” You ask, still facing the alarm.

“I don’t know.”

“He got his answers,” you note, turning to him. “He killed the man who haunted him.”

His eyes are fixed on a spot on the carpet. “And what else is there?”

“Years of torture.” You both know you’re not talking about Call anymore, but it’s nice to pretend. It gives you the opportunity to say things you wouldn’t - shouldn’t - say to him. “Fear. Grief.”

“Think he’ll get over that?”

“How could he?” A humorless smile pulls at one corner of your mouth. “But at least he doesn't feel like he’s alone.”

He finally meets your eyes. “He doesn’t have anyone.” I don’t have anyone, his brow says.

“He has Tommy. He’s not alone.”

You have me. You’re not alone.

His brows pull low over his eyes, and you take another opportunity as it comes. “Do you want me to stay again tonight?”

“No, I’m alright.” He takes a little breath and you round the corner, pouring him a couple fingers of whiskey before making a slow, purposeful trek across the room. “Thank you,” he says, taking it.

“Of course. Anytime.” Now, you both know you aren’t talking about the drink.

Nevertheless, you pat your pockets for your keys, phone, and various federal paraphernalia, finding them all where they belong. “I should head out, then. Call if you need anything.”

He nods, watching you with quiet eyes as you close and lock the door behind you.

+++

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#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #aaron hotchner fanfiction #a joyful future #shut up tali #a joyful future fanfic

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acnelli · 3 years

Text

Coming Home

This is my little story for the HPRomione Discord Popcorn. @remedial-potions gave me the prompt “You can’t just keep pretending things are fine!” and I originally wanted to write some HBP angst, but then changed my mind and wrote this.

Up next is @dot-adsty and I give you the prompt “Flying higher than ever before”.

I also opened my Ask Box and accept prompts from this Prompt List.

Prompt: “You can’t just keep pretending things are fine!”

Ron comes home from a long Auror mission, and Hermione’s plans for the night don’t quite go as she imagined.

You can also read this story on AO3 and FFN.

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

She had it all planned out.

Every little detail, every single thing Hermione needed to buy or prepare for tonight had been neatly written down in handy list form, categorized and sorted.

Around noon it actually looked like everything would be ready when Ron would come home from his Auror mission this late afternoon. Behind half of the points on said list, Hermione had added a green checkmark. The sight of her lists, especially when some of her tasks on it had been checked off already, always had something oddly satisfying.

To have enough time to prepare everything, she left work early today, stopping by the grocery store on her way back home to buy the last of the ingredients she needed for the roast she planned to make for dinner.

Cooking wasn’t really Hermione’s forte. When Ron was home and didn’t have to work ridiculous hours, the flat was always filled with the scent of some delicious meal or another, and on weekends they often enjoyed a cake or some cookies fresh out of the oven. In the last two months, she sure did cook for herself every now and then but she got to admit that these meals mostly consisted of pasta and sandwiches.

When she planned this day she first considered going with take-away, which she was sure, Ron would’ve been more than fine with. But then she quickly dismissed the idea, figuring that following the instructions of Mrs Weasley’s cookbook couldn’t be that hard. It might not win a contest but she was sure to manage something eatable, at least.

Before she went into the kitchen to start preparing the roast, Hermione observed their living room, mentally going through her list again.

On their couch table Hermione had set up the brand new chess set she bought last week while shopping with her mother. Hermione had discovered the set in the display window of a small, cosy shop she would’ve completely missed it if weren’t for the unusually bright colours catching her attention when she walked by. As soon as she had seen the chess set, she made her way inside the shop right away because it practically screamed Ron Weasley. While not exactly the same bright colour of the Chudley Cannons, the usually white squares and wooden game pieces were painted orange. If she wouldn’t have purchased it from a Muggle, it could’ve been easily merchandise of Ron’s favourite Quidditch team.

Hermione walked over to the couch table and placed two tickets for the next Chudley Cannons game this upcoming weekend onto the chessboard. A smile split her face when she thought about his reaction later. Over the past six months the Cannons actually showed some kind of potential to not end up at the bottom of the league at the end of the season, resulting in the tickets to have gotten a little harder to come by. At least, for top games and derbies.

She knew it was probably a little over the top, considering they had been separated for much longer than eight weeks over the last years, but the constant worry and the almost non-existent possibility to talk or write to him during these missions, increased her excitement for Ron to come home ten-fold.

Yes, Hermione definitely felt slightly ridiculous when she placed a giant red bow around the TV and put the fancy Muggle beer into the fridge, but Ron’s absence caused a restlessness she had to overcome somehow. It also didn’t help that the few letters she got from him made Ron sound mentally and physically exhausted. Even though she knew next to nothing about this mission, she could tell it affected him more than usual.

That’s why today was all about distracting Ron from work, and what would hopefully be the start of a long, stress-free weekend.

But, of course, it would have just been too perfect if anything went according to plan. Because one hour before Ron was due to arrive at home, everything started to blow up in Hermione’s face. Literally and figuratively.

While she tried to research a way how to fix overcooked meat, Hermione cursed herself numerous times for not doing a test run first. Hermione had plans for everything but when it came to cooking she was obviously rubbish.

I should have just ordered Pizza. Ron loves Pizza.

Giving up on the meat’s consistency she quickly decided that spices and a good sauce could somehow safe this. Just as she was about to add all kinds of spices, she heard the fireplace roaring to life.

Ron was here. And he was early.

Forgetting all about the roast, she bolted out of the kitchen and into the living room, almost tripping over one of the loosened bindings of Ron’s ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron she borrowed. And there he stood, shaking the floo powder out of his hair and off the Auror uniform.

When he looked up at her she didn’t waste another second and jumped into his arms. Something between a sob and a laugh escaped her when Ron hugged her close and she felt him kiss the top of her head.

Pulling back, Hermione took Ron’s face between her hands and tugged him down for a kiss. She waited far too long for this.

When they finally broke apart to come up for air again, Ron softly kissed her forehead. “Fuck, I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too,” Hermione said, “And I have a surprise for you!”

“So, you cooking isn’t the surprise?” Ron grinned at her.

“Oh, shut up!”

“Do I have time for a quick shower before dinner?” Ron asked as he shrugged out of his cloak.

“You do. And please take your time.”

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

Ron couldn’t decide if he was more amused or felt more sorry for Hermione as the 3-course-dinner turned into a small disaster.

With the soup, it had been rather easy. It was incredibly salty and he probably dehydrated this very second, but with a good amount of bread and large swigs from his beer, he was able to pretend he liked it quite easily.

But then Hermione served the main course. As soon as Ron took the first bite he wanted to spit it out right away. It was absolutely inedible and he wondered how he could pretend to eat something which wasn’t tasting like the sole of his trainers.

Very slowly he reached for his beer, figuring it would be easier if he swallowed the bite without chewing. Just as he was about to take a swig, Hermione gave up all pretence.

“Oh my God, this is a complete disaster,” she whined, spitting the piece of meat into a hand towel, “Ron, you can give up the act now.”

As he too spit the overcooked shoe sole out of his mouth, he couldn’t stop the chuckle escaping him, and reached for Hermione’s hand.

“Not all is lost,” he reasoned, a little bit surprised about her being so upset about this dinner. Hermione’s attempts to cook or bake usually made for a lot of entertainment for both of them. “There’s still dessert, isn’t it?”

“Yes, right! Dessert!” She jumped up from her seat and ran into the kitchen with a hopeful glint in her eyes.

“NO,” Ron heard Hermione cry from the kitchen and he immediately jumped up to join her, “No, Pig! No, no, no, no, no!”

As Ron got into the kitchen he saw Pig sitting in a bowl full of what looked like vanilla cream, happily hooting at Hermione who appeared to be on the verge of tears now. Of course, Pig chose this very moment to finish his bath in their pudding as he flew out of the bowl with wildly flapping wings, coating both Hermione and Ron with a good amount of vanilla cream; Hermione’s hair getting the worst of it.

Ron slowly lifted a finger and swiped some cream from his cheek, licking it off as he was wearing a thoughtful look. “That is pretty good, actually.”

“Oh, stop it!” Hermione let out a resigned sigh. “You can’t just keep pretending things are fine! You have some terrible weeks behind you, and then you come home to your girlfriend serving you food that makes you probably crave the tasteless snacks they feed you with on these missions. I should’ve just-“

“Oi!” Ron interrupted her, not quite being able to hide his amusement. “Stop the rambling, barmy woman.” He took her face in his hands and leaned down, so he was at eye level with her. “All I wanted for today was finally seeing you again, Hermione. You never before got upset about bollocking up some cooking. What’s the matter?”

“I- I just wanted to distract you from this mission and make this evening somewhat special, and by now, Pig most likely decorated the whole living room with our pudding.”

Ron simply kissed her. His hands went from her cheeks inside her curly hair, changing their angle a bit to deepen the kiss. As Hermione let her hands wander from his chest back to his shoulders blades and down to the hem of his shirt, Ron decided to make it very clear to Hermione that everything he really needed to feel better, was her. This mission forced Ron to see things he’ll have nightmares about forever, and the only reason he was able to power through all of it, was the prospect of coming home to Hermione. To her touch, to her kisses, to her ramblings about work, to the simple comfort of just having her beside him.

With one swift motion, he swooped her up in his arms. “For such a smart woman, you can be very daft sometimes, love,” Ron said as he walked out of the kitchen.

“I know,” Hermione sighed as she took advantage of her position in Ron’s arms, and left open kisses along the side of his neck and his throat.

Without bothering to clean up the mess in the kitchen and living room, Ron walked them straight to the bedroom, leaving behind a merrily hooting Pigwidgeon who hopped and danced on top of Ron’s new chessboard, coating it with the only eatable dish Hermione produced today.

#hpromione discord #romione #romione drabble #romione fanfic #romione fanfiction #drabble chain #ron weasley #hermione granger #hp #hp fanfic #harry potter #hermione and ron #ron and hermione #ron x hermione #hermione x ron #ronmione #my stories #my fics

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leilabeaux · 3 years

Text

In My Sights III

Masterlist | Two

Pairing: Ivar/ Fem Reader

Word Count: 3570

Warning: None? 7 years bad luck?

Summary: A meeting with two brothers from Vestfold takes Ivar off guard.

Author’s Note: Well, this part was a long time coming. That means I will have part four ready next year.

The dining room was sparsely occupied that early afternoon with women who lunch, businessmen on lunch breaks, and their quiet chatter. The Vine had long been considered a historical landmark in Kattegat and was formerly a struggling fine dining restaurant. It had only gained popularity with the upper class once Aslaug Lothbrok, a well-known Götaland socialite who was newly married and new to the city, started to make her presence there. Though it’s popularity faded over the years, it was still preferred by the old money elite. Mostly for the staff’s discretion rather than the food and ambience.

It was for that reason why the Lothbrok sons preferred the establishment for their business lunches. Extra care was also usually taken with a generous tip to the host to ensure no other guests would be seated next to their table but today it was turning out to be a waste of money as the hushed voices from their corner of the room began to grow.

Ivar drummed his fingers against the table as he brought the cup of coffee to his lips, glaring across at his three older brothers. Apparently, the idiots had forgotten the importance of discretion as they were busy bickering over why their associates called for today’s meeting. He hoped the clinking of his cup when he set it down roughly onto the saucer would disrupt their chattering but, to his annoyance, still they continued.

Leaning back in his chair, his left hand mindlessly traced the carved out dragon on his cane, last year’s birthday gift from his dear Uncle Floki, while he scrolled through the day’s news on his phone. One particular article detailed the resignation of a Mercia diplomat after the unexpected death of her eldest son, mentioning that authorities were looking for a red-headed female who was last seen with him for questioning.

Good luck finding her, Ivar thought to himself. He had given up all attempts at trying to find you or any information about you after a year upon your meeting. After coming up empty through hacked databases and facial recognitions, he concluded that you were virtually a ghost or at least knew very powerful people who worked hard to keep you hidden. All he could do was sit and wait until he heard from you again, hoping his right hand and the memories of your last tryst would keep him satisfied till then.

He felt his slacks tighten as he got lost in a memory of you trapped underneath him as he pounded into your sweet cunt. The whines of you begging him to make you come he heard in his head were interrupted when Ubbe pounded his fist on the table, causing the glassware to shake.

“For fuck’s safe, Ivar, get off your fucking phone!” His older brother harshly whispered, checking over his shoulder at the other patrons, finally aware of the scene they were making.

“And why would I do that, dear brother?” Ivar still had his eyes turned down to his phone as he sent you the link of the article and a brief message: You’re on their radar. I wonder what you’re willing to do to make sure I don’t turn you in. Throwing his phone on the table, he raised an eyebrow as he bestowed Ubbe with his undivided attention. “So I can join you fools in biting our fingernails, worrying why they called for a meeting at the last minute?”

“They” were two brothers from Vestfold, owners of a large fishing company based out of their hometown and, most recently, out of Kattegat as well. To the public eye, it was assumed that it was hard work, determination, and a wise investment from Ivar’s father that turned the once struggling business into a multi million dollar success. But the young men currently seated at the table knew that the wise investment was generous compensation throughout the years for hauling more than just fish on their boats. Whether it was guns, stolen art and, for a very brief moment in time, opiates, Halfdan and Harald provided safe transport for anything the Lothbroks were running.

“You're not the least bit worried? What if they’re wanting to pull out of our deal? The Rus are not going to be pleased if we’re not able to deliver their shipment.” Ubbe wrung his hands as he thought of the worst. He was not looking forward to telling the Rus leader of any potential delays. The man wasn’t the most level headed or understanding and honestly, he creeped him out a bit.

Hvitserk nodded his head in agreement. “They might be. Remember, they were wanting a cut of our profits the last time we met with them but Ivar thought it wasn’t a good idea…” He pursed his lips in disapproval before cutting his eyes toward the youngest Lothbrok.

If Ivar had rolled his eyes any harder, he would have given himself a headache. “They’ve been doing the same job for our family for nearly twenty years, nothing more and nothing less, and have been paid fairly for it. Maybe a little too much in my opinion but I will honor our father’s wishes. Still they have no business being greedy. If it wasn’t for the Lothbroks, they would still be hauling fish into a sinking dinghy.”

“There are probably others who are looking for a way to transport their shit and all they need is a smug asshole like Harald to offer his services.” Hvitserk swirled his drink in his glass, taking a sip before continuing. “I think we should give them at least half of what they were wanting.”

Ivar gave an aggravated sigh and was ready to shoot down what he thought was the stupidest thing to come out of his brother’s mouth.

“I don’t know, I think Ivar’s right.” Sigurd chimed in. “They should be grateful for all our father did for them, not bite the hand that feeds them.”

The other men at the table sat in silence as they stared at him in confusion. It was thought that Sigurd would rather eat a bullet than agree with anything Ivar had to say.

“I changed my mind. Give them everything they ask for.” Ivar had joked, he would never admit out loud or to himself that he appreciated his least favorite brother taking his side. Officially done with the conversation, he picked his phone back up. He held back his smile as he read the new message: Anything you want me to do, handsome. But first, you’d have to find me.

Ubbe looked up from behind his nerve-wracked hands toward the lobby and gave a sigh. “Thank gods, they’re finally here...and of course he brought his fucking girlfriend. To our illegal business lunch meeting. Great.”

Hvitserk gave a quick and quiet wolf whistle as his eyes studied the woman on Harald’s arm, from head to toe. “Is that the same one he brought to your birthday party? Didn’t she have different hair and was a bit taller?”

“How can you not tell? I thought you fucked her while cake was being served?” Sigurd questioned.

“All I remember was the back of her head, to be honest.”

Ivar couldn’t hold back the snort at Hvitserk’s comment. Whatever smart ass response that was about to come out died on his tongue as he looked up at the woman that was being led to them. This was definitely a new girlfriend because if you were the one Hvitserk had fucked in the coat check room, he was going to have one less brother.

As always you looked like perfection to him but he knew your presence, or rather your outfit, was causing a bit of a stir in the restaurant especially among the older women who were busy clutching their pearls. From the plunging neckline of the loose dark green silk shirt to the matching miniskirt with a side-slit it was tucked into, your ensemble was far from the acceptable dress code of the Vine but the host knew better than telling Ivar and his brothers that their guest would have to leave, no matter how many complaints he’d get from the other patrons.

“Can you two shut the fuck up before he hears you?” Ubbe scolded Hvitserk and Sigurd before standing up to greet their guests. Shaking Halfdan’s hand before moving onto Harald, “Gentleman, I’m glad you could finally join us.”

Halfdan gave a frustrated sigh as he unbuttoned his suit jacket and plopped himself down on an empty seat. “Believe me, it wasn’t my fault.”

“Oh come on, brother. We didn’t keep you waiting that long.” Harald slapped a hand on his shoulder before parading the young woman on his arm. “Boys, I’d like you to meet my girlfriend Veronica.”

Ivar instantly wished he had ordered something stronger than coffee. He didn’t want to believe for a moment that you would choose to be with someone like Harald but you did warn him before that he hardly knew you.

In his opinion, the Fishmonger wasn’t much to be desired. And if it was money you were after, Ivar’s funds could have kept your excessive shopping addiction quelled more than the mere pennies the other man had. He knew he could satisfy you in that way and others.

Patiently sitting back in his chair, he watched as you politely smiled while you shook hands with each of his brothers. Hvitserk was unaware how close he was to a dinner knife to his thigh after lingering a second too long while kissing the back of your hand. Fortunately, Harald had the good sense to pull you away.

Ivar balanced his weight on his cane as he stood up to introduce himself, taking a risk and gently caressing his thumb against your hand. “Lovely to meet you, Veronica.”

Although you said nothing back, he didn’t miss the small smirk that briefly graced your face letting your alleged boyfriend lead you to your seat.

“I hope you boys don’t mind her being here. I know we try to keep these meetings to ourselves but I’ve been a little busy and this beautiful thing has been missing me.” He kissed the back of your hand, causing you to giggle. “Didn’t even want to take my card and go on a shopping spree.”

“I swear you won’t even hear a peep from me.” You promised, miming zipping your lips closed while you took a seat across from Ivar. “Harry’s shop talk ends up sounding more like gibberish to me anyway!”

Ivar had to focus to not show his confusion when he heard you speak. The words coming out of your mouth sounded as if they were dipped in saccharine and nowhere near the lower sultry tone he was used to. He hoped to himself that you would stay true to your promise and remain silent.

Unfortunately, promises meant nothing to his brothers.

“So what do you do for a living, Veronica?” Sigurd asked while cutting into his beef tenderloin.

You gave him a closed smile, dabbing the corners of your mouth with your napkin as you swallowed your last bite. “Oh my goodness! Nothing as important as what you gents do! I worked in this cute little boutique over in Vestfold before Harry whisked me away!”

“Wow, you must have made a killing in commissions.” Ivar couldn’t resist this opportunity to make you sweat, if that was even possible.

He was sure that hint of confusion on your face seemed authentic to everyone else. “No? Actually, I worked hourly...”

You were cut off by an annoyed groan from Ubbe as he rubbed his face, the food on his plate was barely touched. “Harry...I mean Harald, why did you call this meeting?”

“You couldn’t wait a few more minutes until we were done eating? I’d expect mommy to have taught you some manners.” Harald sighed and tossed his napkin on the table before leaning back in his chair.

Ivar didn’t miss you curling your hand around your knife. The tension surrounding the table definitely wasn’t missed by you.

Before Ubbe could respond, Halfdan had cut into the conversation. “Look, we know the last meeting didn’t go well.”

“Actually, you shot one of our men in the head.” Hvitserk stated, staring at Harald as he made his point.

Halfdan quickly interjected, “One of our captains went rogue. Was convinced by some mysterious buyer to deliver your last load of weapons to them. Don’t worry, we took care of the problem”

The younger Lothbrok brother stayed silent while his brothers voiced out their displeasure. You took a sip from your glass, your eyes cutting back and forth to the men surrounding you.

“Oh, did you?” Ubbe questioned incredulously. “Because there shouldn’t have been a problem in the first place.”

“Yes, we did.” Harald finally broke his silence with an emphasis on every word. “The man liked a good drink...a little too much. It was unfortunately only a matter of time until he drunkenly stumbled off his boat. I’m sure the medical examiner we paid off would attest that it was accidental drowning. As for the guns, they’re on another boat with a crew we know we can trust.”

“The buyer? Do you think it was the Saxons?” Sigurd suggested to the table.

“No, they thrive on letting it be known when they screw us over. I suspect they either are or know someone close. In either our circle or yours. I just hope our actions show that we are loyal and can be trusted.” Harald regarded that last statement to Ivar, knowing his silence throughout the exchange meant he was the one he had to win over.

The young man grinned as he sat back in his seat “You know, before you got here, my brothers were saying they didn’t think you deserved any part of our profits but I personally think a five percent cut of every successful shipment is reasonable.”

A smirk slowly spread against Harald’s face. “I think that sounds very reasonable.”

----

Ivar slowly made his way to the front of the restaurant. The remainder of lunch was uneventful other than the mindless chatter of Hvitserk and Sigurd asking you 20 questions. Ubbe promptly left after taking care of the bill and with so few words.

He rolled his eyes in disgust as he watched Harald wrap his arms around you, not even trying to be modest as his hands grabbed your ass. He had to fight the urge to not cut the man’s hands off for touching something that belonged to him.

You squealed and playfully swatted his chest. You gave a quick glance at Ivar as he slowly approached. “Baby, I’ll meet you outside. I just need to touch up my lipstick real quick.”

“Okay, lovely. Don’t be too long, we have a plane waiting on us.” He pressed a quick kiss on your lips before letting you go. He walked out of the restaurant, not even noticing that Ivar was close by.

Your heels clicked on the marble floor and you peeked over your shoulder toward Ivar, giving him a small grin before you made a quick turn into the washroom.

Ivar looked around to make sure there were no eyes on him as he made his way in the same direction as you. He didn’t expect his brothers to worry too much about him. He would’ve been surprised if one of them had waited for him especially since he took his own personal town car to the restaurant.

Before he could even walk through the door, you yanked him in by his tie then pushed him against the adjacent wall. He barely had time to react when he felt your lips against his own. He wrapped his arm around your waist and groaned when your hand tugged down on his locks.

Usually you enjoyed taking your time kissing him, teasing with a soft touch of your hand at the back of his neck, savoring every small whine he made when you nipped on his bottom lip. But today was different as you rushed to deepen the kiss. Both of you knew that if you were gone too long, Harald would come hunting for you.

When you broke away from him, you looked into his eyes, stifling a soft giggle. “Hi there, handsome.” You teased, your voice finally back to normal.

“Gods, that voice you were putting on was annoying.”

“I don’t know. Harald seems okay with it.” You pushed yourself away from him, walking over to the sink and pulled out a tube of lipstick from your clutch.

Ivar stayed put against the wall, watching as you leaned over the sink to look yourself in the mirror.

He repeatedly tapped his cane on the tile, “Is he why you said no?”

“Said no to what?” You stayed focused on reapplying the red color on your lips. You couldn’t help but laugh when you looked up and saw the annoyed look Ivar was giving you.

You smooth a finger around your lips, cleaning up any smudges. “I’m not his girlfriend, Ivar. He thinks I’m the very expensive call girl he hired to keep him company over the weekend. Just your basic girlfriend experience.” You dropped the lipstick back into your clutch before closing it with a snap.

“Your client wants him taken care of?” He walked over and propped his hip against the counter next to you. “That would save me some money in the long run. One less brother to pay.”

“No…” You looked down at the porcelain instead of looking him in the eyes. “I’m just collecting information on him by any means necessary.”

“Any means necessary?” While Ivar usually admired your dedication to committing to your undercover work, he found himself not liking the idea of you following through on this one. “Y/N, please tell me there’s a target on his head.”

You quickly glanced up at him through the mirror before turning to lean against the counter. You crossed your arms in front of your chest. “At the moment, no.”

“Goddammit, Y/N” Ivar pinched the bridge of his nose. Though the thought of someone else hands over your body aggravated him, the idea of another man inside of you incited him. “Are you going to fuck him? Have you fucked him?”

“Ivar…you and your brothers were waiting for a reason. It would have been suspicious if the hooker refused to fuck him.” You stated as if that was a reasonable explanation.

“How much is your client paying you? I’ll double it—fuck it, I’ll triple it if you just walk away now.”

“No one is paying me. I’m on my boss’s orders.”

“And who do you work for again?”

“Tsk, tsk. You already know that if I told you, I’d have to kill you and I don’t want to have to mess up that pretty face. Again.” Pressing up against him, you gently brushed your thumb over the faint scar that went across his cheek. A sweet parting gift from one of your earlier encounters with him.

“Tell me what information you need and I’ll get it for you.” He leaned down and pressed his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. “Just...just don’t go with him.”

You cradled his face in your hands. For a brief moment, there was a look that Ivar had seen on your face before, a mixture of pity and sadness. You shook your head then pressed a gentle kiss on his lips before you walked away from him.

“Please don’t hate me, handsome.” Through the wall length mirror ahead of him, he saw you turn to face him after pausing at the closed door. “You can be mad and you can curse at me until we’re old and grey. Shit, you could even throw another knife at me but I think it would hurt me more if you hated me.”

You waited a moment for him to say or do anything, but when all you got was silence, you walked out of the door.

Ivar took a deep inhale to try to calm the anger that was beginning to flow through his body. He turned toward the mirror, his knuckles going white as he grabbed onto the edge of the sink. No care when his cane falls to the ground with a resounding smack.

When he was younger, he had got into some trouble after he hit a classmate with a rock. The therapist his Uncle Floki took him to after the incident told him to try counting to ten whenever he saw red.

He closed his eyes, letting out an exhale at every count in his head.

On five, he could see you.

Six, Harald slowly walking up behind you.

Seven, him taking you into his arms.

Eight, his tongue sliding up your neck.

Nine, his hand trailing down to your center.

Ten, you softly moaning out Harald’s name.

Ivar screamed out in rage and punched the mirror. He didn’t even notice the pain in his fist until his breathing evened out. He straightened out his tie the best he could with the distorted reflection in front of him. Flexing his injured hand, he reached over and grabbed one of the towels laid out on the counter, wrapping his hand in it.

If Harald didn’t have a target on his head before, he fucking did now.

——

Tags: @xbellaxcarolinax @castielsangelsx @revolution-starter @momowhoo @peachyboneless @punkrocknpearls

@love-all-things-writing @peoniesandbooks5 @spotgaai2000 @walkxthexmoon @youbloodymadgenius @trip2themoon @zo3st3rmonro3

#vikings fanfic #ivar the boneless au #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar the boneless x femreader #alex høgh andersen x fem reader #alex høgh andersen x reader

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dracothedeatheatingcupcake-ao3 · 3 years

Text

Chapter 6 The Problem with Perfection spoilers!!

Hey all!! So, people asked to see the part of the chapter where Mondo was, uh... rude, so I figured I’d post it, since it’s already written. And it’s gonna be a while ‘til the companion piece (which is titled “The Problem with Mondo,” ha) is released, but there are no real spoilers in this section, and the one spoiler there is, I cut out.

The section is below the cut! It’s about 5,000 words, starting right after Mondo leaves the store to find Taka. There will be some things that don’t make sense, since the context was written in earlier chapters of the companion piece, or ins later chapters of The Problem with Perfection (TPWP) so beware of that, ha. Also, since Mondo is far more foul mouth than Taka, there’s a TON of curses in this section, ha. I don’t curse in everyday life, like... at all. Not even when upset. So it may not be super natural, but I did my best.

I will also say there is a warning for internalized biphobia in this segment, so beware that. And, of course, the use of the same slur in the TPWP chapter.

I hope this explains things!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Quieter than anyone would ever give him credit for, Mondo slips out of the computer store and into the chill late September air. He doesn’t even feel the cold as he looks around, trying to see if he can find Ishimaru hanging around the area, perhaps still crying or some shit. When he doesn’t see him, Mondo turns to the general store across the way, hoping the kid did what he said and went there, and that he didn’t just say ‘fuck it’ and returned to the school. Shit. He truly hopes he didn’t do that. It would make it worse if he decided to leave their class outing just because Mondo was a fucking idiot. Goddamn.

The general store looks exactly the same as every other general store Mondo has ever been in, and with his advanced height, he’s easily able to look over the top of the shelves, his eyes scanning for a very, very familiar frame.

It takes him only a few seconds before he spots him.

Fuck, he looks sad... he thinks to himself, gut roiling. The kid is staring blankly at the shelves, face fucking despondent as shit, and Mondo doesn’t think he’s seen anything that looked so fucking sad before. It makes him want to rush over to the kid, wrap his arms around him, and tell him it’s going to be okay, but it’s a stupid fucking desire so he firmly pushes it away. Besides. It’s not like Ishimaru would appreciate it.

Mondo gives himself a single moment to stare, trying his best to calm his fucked-up stomach, before walking over to the kid, silent as a mouse. He has no idea what he’s going to say, his head too fucking scrambled to even begin thinking of that shit, but it doesn’t matter. He’s mostly here so Ishimaru can get his revenge and feel better already, shit. It would prolly be better if he said something super fucking stupid, to get that fiery hatred to rise in those fucking gorgeous eyes of his.

He knows the second Ishimaru notices his presence behind him. The kid had actually been kind of loose before, even if sorrow and resignation clung to him like a blanket. But the instant Mondo gets close, the kid goes so fucking stiff and rigid it ain’t funny, looking like a statue again. Or glass. Fragile fucking glass...

Knowing he has to say something, Mondo takes a deep breath and just fucking... goes for it.

No time like the present...

“Hey, uh, look, Ishimaru-” Mondo starts, feeling so fucking awkward, but he doesn’t have the ability to say anymore before Ishimaru abruptly cuts him off, eyes blazing as he fucking glares. Not at him, at the display, but shit, it’s still so fucking impressive. God, but if he ain’t so fucking beautiful alive when he glares...

“Look, Owada-kun, I am not in the mood, so if you have any decency in you whatsoever, you will kindly leave me alone!” Ishimaru hisses, eyes like lasers as they glare at the dried ramen on the shelf. If it were possible to set things on fire with a glare alone, those noodles would be toast, he thinks humorlessly. Shit… but damn, he truly fucked up, didn’t he… shit.

Silence falls between them, then, and he sees Ishimaru move on from the ramen, looking so tense and upset Mondo aches with sympathy. And he... fuck, he really should just do as the kid said, just leave him the fuck alone and let him pick himself back up, but he... he just can’t. He still hasn’t apologized, hasn’t let Ishimaru tear him a new one, and he... he just can’t leave now. Not when Ishimaru still looks so fucking sad.

So, Mondo just trails after the boy like a ghost, feeling so fucking awkward, but not really knowing what to say. He can see tears shining in the boy’s eyes and it makes him feel like absolute shit. It might be better to just leave him alone, but fuck if he doesn’t fucking wanna do that. He has no idea why he cares so fucking much about this fucking kid, but... but he just does, goddamn.

Finally, after a few awkward minutes have passed, Mondo decides to say ‘fuck it’ again and just... goes for it. Allowing his voice to sound softer and kinder than it ever has sounded before, his face open and honest should the kid decide to look at him, he speaks, hoping that Ishimaru doesn’t think he’s making fun of him, god...

“You really mean it when you say you’re not rich, don’t you?”

He doesn’t quite know why he says that, of all things, but he doesn’t regret it. Not even when Ishimaru freezes, eyes wide and watery as they look at the styrofoam cups he’s for some reason staring at. He even lets himself speak properly for once, the way his bro taught him, before he then taught him to speak improperly to piss off the authority. He knows his words can be taken in a negative way, knows that it could sound like he’s making fun of the kid, but he... he hopes that Ishimaru can tell he’s being serious, for once. And if he can’t, and he decides to get blindingly angry at Mondo, well... ain’t like he doesn’t fucking deserve it, shit.

When Ishimaru looks up at him, eyes blazing, mouth open to prolly tell him to ‘leave me the fuck alone’ (or, you know, without the curse since the kid is so fucking innocent he refuses to curse ever, shit), Mondo thinks that the second option is more likely to happen here. And while he kind of fucking hates it, he doesn’t blame the kid. It makes him feel uncomfortable to have his face be so open and vulnerable when faced with such anger, especially since he never lets his face look like this, god, but he fights to keep it like that. He wants Ishimaru to knows he’s being serious, for once.

It’s what the boy is fucking owed.

And then... to his complete and utter surprise...

Ishimaru relaxes. His shoulders lose that angry tilt to them, his face stops looking so pinched, and his eyebrows stop being so furrowed they might as well be a unibrow. He turns back to look at the cups, still looking sad and upset, but he... he doesn’t look angry.

S-shit...

Several seconds pass in awkward fucking silence, Mondo thinking the kid will just continue to ignore him until he finally is forced to awkwardly shuffle off, feeling worse than he ever has before, when...

“No, Owada-kun. I am not. Not even close. You... you told me, last week, that I could never understand what it’s like to go to bed hungry. You couldn’t have been more wrong. I often did, my father unable to pay off our debts and feed us at the same time. I often wondered if I’d waste away from lack of nutrition, like the starvation victims I’d see in my textbooks. My... m-my mother, she... she died, because we could not afford her cancer treatment. I... I am not rich, Owada-kun. And it is highly unlikely that I ever will be. No matter what lies I may tell myself to get through the day…”

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Holy shit!

He... he never would have expected that from the kid. And he’s not even just talking about the words themselves, though fuck is that sad. His ma really died because they couldn’t fucking afford treatment...? Shit, he thought shit like that only happened in backwards countries, like America or something, god fucking damn.

But it’s not just that that has him so fucking shocked, looking at the kid as he stares at the cups, mouth pulled down in the saddest fucking grimace he’s ever fucking seen. No... it’s the fact that Ishimaru told him this, of all people. Why... why would he trust him like this? After all he’s done, all he’s said... why would Ishimaru trust him to not be a fucking douchebag, like he always is? Why would Ishimaru trust him at all, when he’s done absolutely nothing to earn that trust? G-god... s-shit... it’s almost too much for him, and part of him wants to run away. To flee this moment and never have to deal with Ishimaru’s stupid ass trust. He...

He doesn’t deserve it...

But...

But Mondo still hasn’t apologized.

And if Ishimaru isn’t inclined to tear him a new one, and is instead giving him a chance to make things right, then...

Then he can’t fucking ruin this golden chance.

And so, he... he decides to show how sorry he is by showing Ishimaru the same trust that the boy just showed him.

It’s what the kid is owed.

Even if it does make his skin fucking crawl...

“Wow, that uh... that really fuckin’ sucks, man. I mean... freakin’. But I, uh... I get it, ya know? It uh... it was the same, for me. Well, not exactly the same, but... s-see, my folks they, uh... they weren’t exactly the best, heh. Da didn’t exactly hang ‘round long, and ma died not too long after. I barely even remember ‘em, ta be perfectly honest. Just a blur of angry faces and drunken words. My older brother, Daiya, he uh… he raised me. Took care a’ me. We never had much, but as long as I had him, I was good, ya know? But... but I still hated it. Bein’ so poor. Never havin’ even a fraction a’ the things the kids at my run down schools had. I remember gettin’ so angry whenever I’d see one a’ my classmates totin’ ‘round some new gizmo or whatever, not even realizin’ just what I’d give ta have something even half as nice. I... I was always so angry, back then. Still am, heh… ‘specially here, at this school... it... I dunno. S’hard. And you… ya just... I dunno. Ya remind me a’ them. The kids I knew. The ones I hated...”

Mondo pauses here for a second, before he looks up at Ishimaru and chuckles softly.

“But I get now that y’ain’t like ‘em, are ya? You... ya get it. What it’s like. Ta have fricken nothing’ while wantin’ everythin’. Ya know, ya… ya remind me a’ my bro a bit, heh. My bro, he, uh… he started my gang, ya know. Built it up from scratch. From nothin’. Always had big plans, Daiya did. An’ I don’t expect ya ta understand, but it’s all I got left a’ him now. He... yeah. Maybe I don’t like the violence as much as I prolly should, but I can’t just quit. I owe it ta Daiya ta keep the gang runnin’, keep us together. Honor his memory. Or somethin’ like that… shit. Uh, I mean… shoot. But, uh… my point is, while I may be a biker, I ain’t a complete a-hole, ya know? I do got some limits. An’ I shouldn’t a’ said what I did ta ya. Yer right, it’s uh... distasteful, ta talk ‘bout things like that, ‘specially in front a’ other people. I don’t expect ya ta accept it, but I am sorry. Genuinely. It was shitty a’ me ta do that, and if ya wanna hit me or somethin’, I won’t stop ya. I prolly deserve it.”

Mondo stops his rambling words abruptly then, his hands twitching at his sides. He feels so fucking exposed right now, everything in him feeling so wrong and vulnerable. He hadn’t told the complete truth, either, downplaying the way his da and ma really fucked him up, but he’d been more truthful than he’s ever fucking been. He’d even done his best to mind his language, knowing Ishimaru hates it when he curses. And while normally he wouldn’t care, he just... he wanted his apology to be genuine, fuck. Ishimaru still isn’t looking at him and he feels so uncomfortable it’s not fucking funny, but he fights hard to not storm away like he always does when uncomfortable.

It’s so fucking hard, but his restraint is proven to be worth it when Ishimaru turns to face him, a small, wry smile on his lips, his eyes... his eyes full of life for the first time that day, holy shit... and what he says...

“I thought you said that no one deserves to be hit, Owada-kun? Or does that not apply to yourself?”

Mondo cannot help how he blinks at Ishimaru with shock, mind blanking as he hears the kid fucking... fucking tease him, holy shit! He didn’t know the kid even had a sense of humor, but he’d clearly meant the words as a joke, since he’s smiling softly, fucking eyes dancing with a silent mirth.

As he gets over the shock at Ishimaru saying a fucking joke, he finds himself smiling. It’s small at first but grows more and more as he gets used to the idea of Ishimaru joking around with him, realizing he... he actually really fucking likes it. The kid smiling at him, for once, speaking to him almost like they’re friends or something. It... fuck, he has no idea how to describe the way it makes him feel inside, god.

Letting out a soft, relieved laugh, he feels so fucking glad that he didn’t mess this whole thing up. To try and let out the strange buoyancy he feels inside, he playfully shoves Ishimaru, not wanting to hurt him, but just wanting... to be playful and easy, to keep going with the unusual lightness their conversation suddenly has. He... god, it feels so weird, but also so... so nice, acting like this with Ishimaru... f-fuck...

“Aw, shut the hell up, ya nerd! I said no one deserves ta be beat, not hit. There’s a difference, idiot. Now come on. Hit me. I know ya wanna, ya goddamn goody-two shoes. Y’ain’t gonna get another chance like this, I promise ya that!” Mondo says, grinning like an idiot. He can’t help how he’s looking at Ishimaru, marveling at how nice the kid looks when he’s genuinely smiling. It... it’s making him feel so weird inside, and he knows his eyes are too soft, betraying everything he feels inside, but maybe it’s not so bad... not when Ishimaru is looking at him like that, g-god... like he’s not a fucking monster... like he might... might be...

Someone amazing...

He watches, heart pounding strangely, as Ishimaru curls his hand into a loose fist, looking like he’s never thrown a punch before, god. And then, weak as a fucking kitten, the kid, he... he fucking taps Mondo so lightly on his chest that if he weren’t watching it, he wouldn’t have thought the kid had touched him at all. It’s so fucking endearing, Jesus fucking Christ...

Mondo has no idea what is going on inside him at that moment, his insides feeling so fucking weird and squirming. It... it’s almost like fucking butterflies, but he knows it ain’t, he’s not fucking gay, shit. But... but god, it feels so nice... Ishimaru smiling at him feels- feels so nice...

Unable to help himself, he lets out the laugh that wants to escape, loud and boisterous, like he always does when genuinely happy. F-fuck... he’s not laughed like this in ages... unrestrained like this, loud and just... happy. So fucking happy.

Ishimaru... Ishimaru makes him feel so goddamn happy...

What the fuck…

Before he can stop himself, he feels his hand dart out and grab Ishimaru’s hand— which is still hovering over around his chest— and just... shit. Holds it close to him, pressing it right over his fucking heart. He doesn’t know why he does it, he just knows that it feels... natural or something. And the feel of Ishimaru’s hand under his, the flesh warm and smooth under his rough palm, the fingers curled so wondrously under his, it makes him feel- f-feel... shit, he doesn’t even know, he doesn’t know, and he... he doesn’t know what the fuck to do, holy shit.

The kid is staring at him with wide eyes, his cheeks the most beautiful shade of pink he’s ever seen, and his lips are partially open, his breathing shallow and uneven. Something about the look is making his head go all stupid, his brain full of static and cotton, his chest aching but not in a bad way, and it makes him want... w-want to...

“Man, Ishimaru-san, you, uh... you sure are somethin’ else, ain’t ya,” he says softly, softer than he’s ever heard himself sound before. His lips are curled in a small smile, and everything in him is feeling so, so weird. He can feel himself drifting closer and closer to the kid, not knowing why he’s doing it, why he wants to do it, but fuck, he can’t make himself stop. He feels so warm inside, warmer than he’s ever felt before, and his brain isn’t working, and he... he wants... he wants...

His eyes dart down to Ishimaru’s lips then, unbidden. They’re partially open, allowing Mondo to see a hint of a pink tongue sitting innocently passed the bitten lips, and it makes his gut lurch, heat blooming within him. H-holy shit... what the... t-the fuck...?

What would his lips feel like against your own? he hears a voice whisper inside him, making his breath hitch, and he knows he should push it away, should shut it the fuck up, but... b-but...

They look so fucking rough and warm, don’t they... bet they would feel so fucking nice, the kid pressing his body so firmly to you, hands in your hair... he’s always so fucking passionate, he’d prolly be a passionate kisser... maybe he’d even bite your lips to all hell, like he bites his own... and maybe then you can bite his, finally fucking feel those pale lips you’ve been dreaming about for so fucking long under your teeth, listening to the little noises that kid will prolly make, feeling so fucking much, fuck, Ishimaru is so fucking much and fuck is it so fucking hot-

Mondo gets cruelly jolted from the horrible fucking thoughts, holy shit when he feels Ishimaru jerk away from him, his eyes so wide and fucking horrified it’s not fucking funny. It takes him a second to realize what the fuck is going on, what had just fucking happened, but when he does, he... he...

Holy. God. Damn. SHIT.

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit-!

What the goddamn fuck had he just- just done... what the goddamn fuck had he just thought?! H-he... he isn’t... he doesn’t... h-he doesn’t want to fucking kis- fuck! No! No, no, no! Nononononononononononono!!!!!

He’s not- fuck! He doesn’t think of- of dudes like that, h-he doesn’t- and yeah, maybe he’s had a couple dreams of Ishimaru and his- his eyes and his- h-his li- but it means nothing! Nothing, nothing, nothing! Y-you can’t fucking control what you dream about, so it means fucking nothing! Nothing nothing nothing!

As he looks at Ishimaru, the kid looking so fucking horrified, looking at Mondo with fucking disgust, Mondo knows he- he has to fix this, has to- has to make sure that fucking little freak doesn’t think he- fuck, it had to have been him! H-he was the one who- who had been drifting closer, who had gotten so close to him, who had almost- almost fucking kissed him, it wasn’t his fucking fault! I-it wasn’t- it wasn’t-!

“What the fuck... w-what the hell did ya... what did ya do ta me, ya fuckin’ freak?! What are ya, some kinda goddamn fairy?! Get the hell away from me, you f*g!”

Mondo can hear the horrified gasp the hall monitor lets out, the boy taking a step back as anger and hatred rise in his eyes. G-good... f-fucking good. H-he hates using that word, always beats the shit out of the sons of bitches who use fucking slurs like that, but he- he had to make sure Ishimaru knew- k-knew that he- he’s not... h-he’s not-

Ishimaru is glaring at him again, so far from the soft and open look from a moment before it stupidly makes him want to fucking cry, but he can’t do that, doesn’t do that, he just- just glares right on back and hopes that Ishimaru doesn’t see the way he’s shaking, his entire body and mind so fucking confused. Because he- he has no idea where the fuck that came from, why he- he had felt like that, why he had thought that, why he... why he wanted-

But no. He hadn’t. Hadn’t wanted, hadn’t wanted, hadn’t wanted at all. Ishimaru must have- have done something to him, fucking drugged him or something, it’s the only fucking explanation, holy fucking shit-

“I- I... you! I did nothing! I-it was you who... and how dare you, use such a word?! I’m not- not... that, but that gives you no right to use such language! You are lucky we are not on school grounds, or else I would give you detention for the rest of the year for using such a vile word! I- I have never been so disgusted before in my life! Y-you... you...”

Mondo feels a spike of absolute pain stab him then, making him want to gasp, but he can’t, can’t show weakness, oh god, so he just glares, letting all the anger and hatred he feels come to the surface as he glares daggers into Ishimaru. He masks the pain and the confusion and he just glares.

He listens as the kid trails off, as his eyes get shiny again, his lips (oh god, his lips) pulled down in the harshest grimace he’s ever seen, but he can’t let it sway him, oh god. After a moment of tense fucking silence, he hears the kid fucking sob, tears bright in his eyes, before he turns tail and fucking bolts. He strides away so quickly he might as well be running, and as soon as he reaches the door, Mondo sees through the window as he actually runs. He’s fast as a fucking bullet, like a fucking marathon runner, but Mondo can’t focus on that, fuck, he just can’t-

Mondo is stuck in place, his body fucking frozen in space, no idea what to do, until he sees the owner of the store storming over to him, looking pissed. Putting on his most menacing, ‘don’t you fucking even look at me’ glare, he only has to look at the old man once to make that fucking coward’s eyes widen and make him back off. Seeing as how he’s prolly gonna head to the phone to call the cops, which would just make his fucking day so much better, he decides to just fucking bail. He- he doesn’t want to be here anymore anyway, he just- just wants to be away, god-

He doesn’t realize he’d actually moved until he feels the chill late September air attack his face again, making him gasp harshly. Goosebumps are alive on his skin and he feels so fucking sick inside and all he wants is to get on his fucking hog and ride. Ride far from this fucking school, far from this fucking moment, far from- from what he- he had almost... almost done-

Mondo is moving before he realizes again, mind so fucking confused it’s not fucking funny, feet taking off in the opposite direction he saw Ishimaru go. He can distantly hear people calling to him, Leon saying his name, but he ignores them. And then he starts walking faster, not quite running since his endurance for running is fucking shit, but he definitely is going fast, his long legs helping him for once. Pretty soon he’s out of the fucking mall and he doesn’t quite know the way back to the school, but he’s always had a good fucking sense of direction, so it doesn’t take him long to see streets he recognizes that allow him to make it back to the school right fucking quick. He keeps his eyes peeled, making sure that no one fucking approaches him (and that he doesn’t accidentally run into the one person he wants to see the least), which thankfully doesn’t happen, thank fuck.

Before long he’s in the school parking lot and as soon as he’s there he makes a beeline for his baby, hopping on without a single fucking thought, keys already in hand to turn her on. He doesn’t wait a single fucking second before peeling out of the parking lot, not caring about speed limits or traffic as he speeds towards the highway.

He doesn’t know where he’s going. He has no fucking idea where he wants to go, or what the fuck he’s going to do; all he knows is that he has to be away, away, away. H-he can’t stand being in that fucking school, fucking surrounded by that goddamn fucking hall monitor, slowly losing his goddamn mind, shit! He... he just can’t!

At least while he’s driving, he doesn’t have to think. He just drives, faster and faster, avoiding the other cars without any fucking problem. He’s going far over the speed limit, pressing 160 KPH, but he doesn’t fucking care. If the cops try to pull him over, he’ll just lead them on a chase, fuck that would feel so fucking good right about now. It’s risky doing that shit when by himself, his plates on, but he just doesn’t fucking care, god! He just doesn’t care! He wants to fucking stop feeling like this, his body and mind fucking frozen in that moment, wondering what would have happened had Ishimaru not pulled away, had he erased those last remaining centimeters, had he been able to actually fucking kiss those fucking kissable looking lips-

Mondo drives faster. He drives faster and faster and faster, as fast as he fucking can, not caring where he’s going, just knowing he needs to be away.

(This part is cut out because there are ~~~~spoilers oooooo~~~~ Just know that Mondo is outside somewhere now. And he has alcohol, somehow that I can’t say because of spoilers, ha. There are some mild spoilers for the rest of TPWP in this next section, but nothing super major.)

He takes the cap off the whiskey bottle and he downs half the bottle in one fucking gulp. It makes him feel so fucking sick but he doesn’t fucking care, he doesn’t care, he just wants to not fucking think-

He’s not fucking gay. He’s not, he’s not, he’s not, god, he’s not! He hadn’t wanted to- to do anything with Ishimaru, he fucking despises Ishimaru, he has never hated anyone more! Fuck, even the thought of that fucking fairy makes him want to kill someone! Ishimaru could fucking die and he wouldn’t fucking care! He wouldn’t! He wouldn’t! He fucking, goddamn WOULDN’T!

You’re such a goddamn liar, Owada, such a goddamn fucking liar-

He drinks. He drinks. He drinks and he drinks and he drinks, until the ache in his chest is gone, until he can’t feel anything anymore, until all he feels is fucking numb.

Ishimaru means nothing to him. Absolutely nothing. He doesn’t know why he’s felt so weird about him before now, but like fuck is he ever going to allow himself to show that motherfucker any hint of mercy now. It’s decided. His life’s fucking goal is to make Ishimaru as fucking miserable as possible. He will do everything he can to break that motherfucker, so that he never fucking thinks he can get that fucking close to him again, so he fucking knows how disgusting and pathetic he is. Mondo isn’t gay. He’s not gay, and he has no problem with people who are gay, but he does fucking have a problem with Ishi-fucking-maru.

He’s not gay. He’s not gay. He repeats the words in his mind, staring blankly at the stars, not knowing when the sun had set and night came, but not really caring. He isn’t gay, he can’t be gay. He has nothing against gay people, and if he were gay, it wouldn’t be a fucking problem, but he’s fucking not fucking gay. He likes chicks. Breasts. Pussy. When he looks at a naked chick in his porno mags, or when watching porn, he gets so fucking hard. He jerks off every night to the thought of himself fucking pounding into chicks, of chicks blowing him, of him eating chicks out. He likes chicks, he’s fucking attracted to chicks.

He doesn’t like dudes. He just- he doesn’t. He fucking can’t, because he already likes chicks, and Daiya always told him he could only like one. Chicks or dudes. Dudes or chicks. Whichever he chose, Daiya would support him, he was a good fucking brother, but the one thing he always told Mondo was that he had to choose only one.

Their old man liked both. He’d have men over, sometimes, and do things with them. While their ma was in the next room, sobbing her eyes out, Mondo staring wide-eyed at the wall, not knowing what any of it meant, he’d been so fucking young. His da apparently did shit like that before Mondo was born, too, even when things had been better for their little family, before Mondo ruined everything with his birth. Daiya always hated it, said it was fucking despicable, and he told Mondo he had to choose one. He had to be faithful, monogamous, and you can’t be faithful if you like both. Daiya never said that aloud, but Mondo could fucking read between the lines.

Mondo likes chicks. He’s fucking allowed to like chicks. He doesn’t like dudes. He just... he doesn’t.

He is not his goddamn old man.

He doesn’t like Ishimaru. He hates Ishimaru. Him and his fucking wide, watery eyes, and his sad fucking smiles, and his lonely fucking demeanor. He’s never hated anyone more, shit. If he never saw Ishimaru again, it would be too fucking soon, because he’s a goddamn nuisance, who needs to be fucking put in his goddamn place. He needs to be brought down, needs to be reminded how worthless he is, needs to- to know that Mondo isn’t, that he hadn’t wanted, that he’s not fucking gay-

Mondo will never admit it, not to himself, but his cheeks are wet. He prolly spilled some whiskey on his face, or maybe it started raining, but whatever, it doesn’t matter. He stares at the stars, feeling so goddamn sick, wishing that he weren’t fucking alive. That Daiya hadn’t pushed him out of the way that day, that he had just let that semi ram into him, that he’d been the one who died and not-

His cheeks are wet, but it’s just from the rain. It always fucking rains, even though there’s not a cloud in the goddamn sky.

Mondo finishes the bottle, and he wants to die, but before he can die, he falls asleep. He knows he shouldn’t, it gets so fucking cold overnight, but maybe he’ll freeze to death and that will solve all his fucking problems. It’s not like anyone will care. Leon doesn’t care about him, he just wants Mondo around to make himself seem tougher. Fujisaki wouldn’t care, she was just trying to be nice to him earlier, humoring him so he wouldn’t hurt her. He doesn’t fucking know anyone else at that goddamn school, they all avoid him like the plague, so fucking scared of him, so they wouldn’t care. And... and Ishimaru...

He’d prolly be happy. If Mondo died. If Mondo went missing and no one ever found the body. He’d prolly be so, so fucking happy.

Mondo sleeps and he dreams of bright red eyes, drowning him with the accusations they always contain, the hatred and disgust sharper than any knife he’s ever felt.

He wakes with wet cheeks.

Goddamn rain.

#My fic #The Problem with Perfection #Mondo's POV #The Problem with Mondo preview #Danganronpa #Mondo Owada #Kiyotaka Ishimaru

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shiversdownyerspine · 3 years

Text

5. Deprived

Gettin a little hot in here. :B

18+

The kittens arrive in the quiet of the night, stars dotting the deep dark blanket of sky. Sleep had failed to find you, and so you had shuffled your pajama-clad way to your kitchen with a chunky knit blanket wrapped around your chilly shoulders. The thick charcoal colored material dangles to the backs of your knees as you wait impatiently for your kettle to boil water for a big cup of chamomile tea.

As the water softly bubbles to your earnest desires of being lured to sleep, you find yourself distracted by a soft knock on your front door. You perk up, knowing by experience that this would be your nameless, faceless animal transporter. And just like with every other task animal, when you open the door you find nobody in sight, just a randomly sized pet kennel resting on your doorstep. You kneel and scoop up the crate to bring it inside.

Excitement momentarily stealing away your drowsiness, you quickly switch off the heat of your stove and carry your cargo to your room. Tea can wait a moment, the water will still be plenty hot by the time you're done. Closing the door behind you, you take a quick peek to find two fuzzballs huddled together at the back of the crate. The kittens are awake but clearly tired, and judging from their quivering bodies, probably a little bit stressed. Not wanting to cause more discomfort, you quietly unlock the kennel door to slowly reach in and gather them up for a quick health check.

Eyes, ears, and noses look clear and healthy, tiny claws and whiskers and tails are where they should be, no bumps or scratches to be seen. You briefly tut at the lack of towel or blanket in their kennel, worried about the absence of warmth and comfort. You've tried requesting some basic amenities for when your task animals are being prepared for delivery, but your needs have yet to be met. You're fairly certain by now that they never will be.

Both kittens are male and look to be around seven weeks old, still a bit too young to be neutered. As a matter of fact, they are still too young to be away from their mother, but some things just can't be helped. Judging by the pale bodies and dark brown coloration of their ears, face, tails, and paws, they are chocolate points. Satisfied, you pop the babies back inside and grab up the fluffy towel waiting on your dresser, carefully pushing it in and around the kittens before moving them to your bathroom.

Nestling their kennel in the corner of their 'room', you drape another blanket over them to offer privacy and leave the crate door open a crack for if they choose to explore. Softly closing the door to your bathroom, you head out of your bedroom and step once more to your kitchen to finally fix your mug of tea. Hot drink in hand, your gaze settles on the stove clock which reads 4:57 AM. With a sigh, you sip your tea and tug your blanket further up your shoulder, lamenting the lack of sleep you will be suffering from come morning. You suppose in the end you'll just have to rely on good ol' fashioned coffee to offer you any sort of alertness today. Resigned, you wander off to your bedroom, but are interrupted before you can make it there.

Midstep, you nearly drop your mug when the door to your guest room opens and there in the doorway stands a groggy, long john wearing Otto. Long hair ruffled and eyes half-lidded, he peers down at you questioningly. You freeze, your eyes sweeping up and down over his defined muscles before a blush rises to your cheeks and you drop your gaze to your feet, murmuring an apology for waking him and quickly explaining away the disrupted sleep because of the kittens arrival. You apologize once more and quickly scurry to your room as a befuddled Otto looks on, wondering why you had been up long before the kittens arrived.

Three cups of coffee in, the morning comes and goes relatively uneventfully. You do have to insist to an avidly interested Oscar that he wait just a little while longer to meet the kittens as they are still waking up and quite uncertain about their new home. You promise after their breakfast he can visit, lightly patting the grumbling man's back in reply as his brothers drink their coffee. With kitten food in hand, you hope this will help coax the babies out of their kennel. You amusedly eye Butternut and Pumpkin who are crowded around the door to your room, smelling intently.

You nudge them away with a hum of, "In due time you goofs."

To your delight the kittens perk up noticeably after feeding, and after some consideration you poke your head out your room to softly call for anyone interested to come see. As long as they keep the other cats out, that is. Oscar is naturally the first one up out of his chair while Axel and Otto hesitate before joining their younger sibling. They were simply bored, but they did have some interest in the mystery surrounding you and thereby extending to your room as well.

You tell the brothers to mind their feet before noticing Otto subtly eyeing your odd assortment of bits and bobs you have collected in a small jewelry box that had long since lost its shine and its lid. As Oscar and Axel carefully slip into the bathroom, they linger to watch you curiously from the doorway as you step to Otto to reach in your treasure box.

"I'm a bit of a collector, if something has a good texture and makes an impression, I tend to keep it."

An old bullet casing brushes your searching fingertips; you hold up the item for Otto to take, which he does, warm fingers brushing against your own slender digits. He rolls the hollow shell between thumb and forefinger as he inspects it closely. Perusing your other little knickknacks, you muse aloud how you never really plan to do anything with the trinkets, just allow yourself to indulge in an odd whim every once in a while.

Hearing the squeaky inquisitive sounds from the kennel in your bathroom, you and your little entourage find your attentions being redirected. With a gentle bump of your knuckles against Otto's wrist, you motion to follow you. Behind you the man's eyes drag up and down your figure in a surreptitious slide, settling minutely on the full curve of your rear before forcing himself to focus instead on the little jewelry box as he returns the tiny article to its rightful place.

With curiosity sated and more information shared about the tiny fuzzy additions to your home, you usher your guests out of your room as the kittens settle in for a much needed nap. You're tempted to follow their lead and crash on your bed, but you have a couple more things to do. One task being to introduce the towel you had rubbed the two kittens down with to your cats as a pseudo meeting. The Swedes watch in the living room from the sofa as Pumpkin takes a whiff, fluffs up, and slinks away while Butternut just plops herself down next to the towel like it's the most interesting thing she's ever smelled.

The other task? Well, technically you owe Axel and his brothers a tidbit of information after you refused to answer a question about your feathers during his 'interrogation'. And as you admit to the Swedes that you owe them some extra information, Oscar jumps right in.

"What is...favorite animal..no..task animal?"...It's technically against the rules, but it's a good question so you'll allow it.

Excited, you gush, "My pekin duck! Now, I love all my animals, but being my very first task, she's special. Most likely she was going to be prepared for food but the target never made it to dinner. She was wild-caught so it wasn't difficult to rehabilitate and release her. Good thing the woods have a lake. Well, more of a glorified pond really, but she loves it."

Axel side-eyes you slyly, "Duck makes good meal, shame."

You gasp, "No!..Well okay, probably, but I could never eat Ducky!"

Simultaneously, Axel's brows lifted high, Otto choked, and Oscar gasped, "Ducky?! Her name?"

You hesitate, ears red, before exclaiming proudly, "Yes, Ducky. Ducky the Pekin duck...come on this shouldn't surprise you, I named my cats after squash! Don't you dare laugh!"

Otto was roughly huffing into his fist as you floundered. Oscar had shifted closer to you with a wide grin, bumping his knee against yours.

Axel smirked, teasingly sounding out the two syllables, "Duck-y..."

The glare you send his way is intended to be irritated, but is quickly ruined by your twitching lips fighting back a smile.

"I-It's a childhood thing! I couldn't bring myself to call her anything else!" You rub your cheeks, as if that would somehow lift the vivid color from your face.

"The lake by our orphanage had a variety of birds, and every single one in that water was Ducky. I was too young to really care about the differences. Also it drove our poor caretaker crazy, which ah...kind of enforced the habit."

Your mirth falters as you process your little slip up...that's what your lack of sleep gets you, you suppose. Okay, no use fretting. Push on.

"So when I saw my first animal, her name was already decided really." You smooth the material of the towel in your hands, relaxing your posture.

"Chickens." You blink, looking quizzically to Axel. He nods towards Oscar.

Otto shifts his weight from one leg to the other, hands tugging his suspenders as he adds, "Chicken thief."

Your gaze settles on the youngest Swede with a playful gasp, "Oscar, really?"

The man meets your feigned incredulity with his ever-wicked smirk and declares with devilish pride, "Salt and Peppar."

It clicks, "...You named them after seasoning. Because you were going to eat them?"

Axel drags his eyes from Oscar to you, "Eventually."

You can't help but giggle, the three men twitching at the sound, "So, when you were younger you stole chickens? Wait wait, I'm going to guess...it wasn't just Oscar..and he roped you two into it?"

Oscar barks a laugh as the other two sigh and nod. You grin, "Goodness, chicken thieves in my home. Did you all get caught?"

Smug, Oscar shook his head as Otto responded, "Nej. Too fast. We...kept for eggs, ate later...old age."

You bump your elbow gently against Oscar's arm, immediately drawing his attention to you, "I've never had chickens before, but my old Ducky does have a bit of an attitude. How were Salt and Peppar?"

Axel snorts, leaning forward, "Angry. Not bad killing mice. Also good flavor."

Otto folds his arms across his chest, nodding in agreement. You chuckle, "Okay if any of you see Ducky, you can't eat her. It's just not allowed."

Still staring, Oscar licks his lips, "..Can we eat you?"

Axel and Otto tense, eyes boring holes into the scoundrel. You scoff, completely missing the lewd innuendo, "Oh ha ha clever; I have feathers, like poultry. Very funny."

You stand with a smile, realizing you should really grab some kind of food mat for the messy eaters resting in your bathroom before lunch time rolls around. You retreat to the kitchen to search while the brothers linger in the living room, staring Oscar down. Butternut in his arms, the youngest removes himself from the floor just to lazily stretch out on the sofa, innocent as can be as he ignores his brothers obvious ire. Pumpkin slips out from under the coffee table to hop up and settle on his stomach in classic cat-loaf position.

Axel begrudgingly turns his attention to you, recalling your cheeky attitude and fiery stubbornness concerning his prior questions in the kitchen a good while ago...yes, he won't deny how heat had pooled in his loins at your antics, bubbling even more when he glimpsed charming pink shyly sweep between your lips. But obviously it wasn't enough to tempt him; no, he didn't imagine himself seated at that very same chair, boots planted firmly on the kitchen floor as his hands squeeze your rear, bouncing you naked in his lap, fucking the defiance out of you as you moan and beg and promise you'll be good- he sucks in a breath, nostrils flaring. Taking a moment to reign in his hormones, he stalks off to the garden for fresh air, scowling all the while. Oscar.

Otto grimaces at Oscar's impertinence and clenches his hands, hesitating as remorse unsettles his stomach as he remembers the feel of you, your back against his front, his hands holding your body helpless and trembling with distress...and wonders instead about making you shake with something else; smoothing his hands over soft fabric to push under your sweater and up quivering belly to gently palm your breasts, pushing fabric away to bare them to his touch, fingers brushing your nipples, lightly pinching and plucking as your head lolls back, your hips rolling to push your ass against him- he exhales, trousers feeling just a tad uncomfortable. With a rough swallow, he lumbers off down the hallway to their room to...regain his composure. Fucking Oscar.

Oscar knows damn well what he's done. He's noticed the way his brothers' eyes linger on you, their growing infatuation not nearly as hidden as they thought. At least not from each other. Now they won't be able to get some rather debauched ideas out of their heads; just like he can't get rid of the thought of your pretty startled eyes blinking up at him, but instead of up, you're peering down, doe-eyed as he moves down your body and between spread legs, preparing to demonstrate the actual meaning of his joke as his hungry mouth hovers teasingly over your panties, just close enough that he can smell you as the heat of his breath warms the dampening fabric.

Oscar strains his neck to sneak a glance at you in the kitchen, adoration softening his expression as he hears your joyful exclamation when you track down the food mat for the kittens. It's possible you were just doing your hostly duties, but they all notice how you blossom as you accept their presence and he and his brothers gradually accept yours. He has no doubt his brothers are subconsciously beginning to consider you theirs; he saw with his own incredulous eyes as big, brutish Otto held you still, firm but careful, not a single feather crushed under fist...or how Axel, steely, stern Axel, was opening up to you about their own lives, tiny piece that it was. He had almost been stunned into silence with that one.

The thought of you in their beds had been just that; a tempting thought, conjured by night and temporarily sated come morning. But seeing his brothers' walls cracking, little by little? How curious. He can't resist giving his stubborn brothers a little push, jostling their imaginations, maybe some taunting thrown in to strain those cracks?...oh, this will be fucking fun.

#the swedes #ikea mafia #tua swedes #the swedes x reader #umbrella academy swedes #tua axel #tua otto #tua oscar #...sleep deprived and sex deprived ;D

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celestialtitania · 3 years

Text

Une Rose Pour Toi (Part 2)

Written for Day 13: Flowershop of Marichat May. Can also read on AO3.

@marichatmay

Marinette was taken aback when she heard a furious pounding on her roof. Exchanging glances with Tikki, Marinette slowly climbed her bed with her math textbook in hand. She pushed the balcony hatch open ready to smack the book in the intruder's face when she came face to face with Chat Noir.

"Chat? What are you doing here?" She blinked at him owlishly as she lowered her arm. He'd leaped back in surprise but moved closer to her again.

"Marinette! I need your help!"

"M-my help?" For a moment, she was utterly lost. Then her face drained. "Is there a supervillain on the loose?" Then she paused, suddenly suspicious. "Why are you coming to me for help instead of Ladybug?"

Her heart was hammering in her chest. If he'd figured out her secret identity somehow...Marinette didn't know what she would do. She couldn't lose Tikki!

"N-no, there's no supervillain!" Chat clarified, waving his hands to dispel her worries. Marinette sagged with relief, her anxious thoughts dissipating.

She frowned at him instead. "Then, why do you need my help?"

"For our garden!" He spoke so matter-of-factly, Marinette had to take a moment to figure out what he was talking about.

"The rose garden? In the park?" He elaborated when Marinette still seemed a little confused. As understanding dawned on her, Chat looked a little offended. "Does our garden mean so little to you that you could barely remember it?"

"No, of course not. I just hadn't realized you'd want to share it with me," Marinette confessed.

"We planted the roses together, that makes it ours," Chat told her firmly. "And it needs help!" He looked terribly upset. Marinette automatically shifted gears into her planning mode, nodding at Chat to tell her what exactly was the problem.

"The roses are dying!" He wailed. "The leaves are turning yellow and the few roses that do grow; wilt and die way too quickly!"

Marinette's brows furrowed. "They get enough water?" She checked.

Chat Noir nodded earnestly as she hummed to herself. "The roses were planted in a good section of the park, so there's plenty of sunlight. What fertilizer do you use?"

Chat simply blinked at her. "Fertilizer?" He echoed.

"Don't tell me you don't use fertilizer!" Marinette said aghast.

"I didn't know I was supposed to!" He panicked. "Can we fix this?" Chat's big eyes looked into her and she noticed his bottom lip quivering. The garden was for his late mother, of course, he would be protective of it.

She sighed. "Of course, we can. Meet me at the entrance of the bakery."

"At the entrance? Why?" Chat sounded puzzled.

"I have to get a few things and let my parents know I'm heading out. I'll be right there!" Marinette promised, scrambling to grab her purse and gardening booklet. "Let's go, Tikki!" Her kwami zoomed into her purse.

"It's really nice of you to help Chat Noir like this," Tikki observed.

Marinette gave her a soft smile. "He's willing to share something so important to him with me, Tikki. How could I not?"

She rushed downstairs, waving at her parents as she headed out the door. Once outside, Marinette glanced around looking for where Chat Noir had gone off to.

"There you are," he dropped down from the roof, causing Marinette to let out a startled shriek. "Sorry!" He apologized, throwing his hands up. "I didn't mean to scare you."

As Marinette took in deep breaths to calm her pounding heart, she also took in his contrite expression. With a sigh, she let it go. "Give me your baton," she ordered.

He looked curious but obeyed instantly. Squinting at his baton, Marinette opened the GPS function and inputted an address. "We need to go here," she handed the baton back to Chat.

Taking his baton back, Chat took a moment to study the map before scooping Marinette up. She squawked in surprise, her arms naturally looping around his neck and she tightened her legs around his waist, to keep herself from falling. "We'll be taking the express pathway," he had the audacity to wink at her when she tilted her head back to glare at him.

Before Marinette could protest, he was vaulting away. Within moments, they were standing in front of Marinette's favourite flower shop.

"So, what are we doing here?" Chat asked as he set Marinette back on the ground.

"Maybe a bit of warning next time?" She frowned at him.

He nodded. "I pawmise," he said with one hand raised while the other was on his heart.

She narrowed her eyes at him but forced herself to move on. "We're here so we can buy some fertilizer and mulch to make sure the roses grow strong and healthy."

"Mulch?" Chat tilted his head at her.

"I'll explain everything," Marinette sighed. "Let's go." She led the way into the shop while giving him sidelong looks. "I thought you would have researched before starting the garden."

"I did!" Chat agreed while tapping on his baton to let out some of his anxious energy. "I just wasn't very successful." Marinette fondly rolled her eyes at him before grabbing his hand and walking up to the store counter.

"Hi! How may I help you today?" The saleswoman perked up when she saw them. Seeing Chat Noir had her appearing quite excited but she remained professional while speaking to them.

"We're looking for fertilizer and mulch for rose bushes." She turned back to Chat Noir. "Did you say some flowers had appeared?"

He nodded, looking a little distracted at all the flowers around them. "We'll also need several stakes then."

The saleswoman nodded. "Your rose bushes will thank you. It's nice to see young people taking an interest in gardening," she remarked. "Alright, so inorganic mulch," she scanned the shelves underneath the counter.

"Is it a large garden?"

"No! It's the small one in the park, I don't know if you've seen it," Marinette began to clarify but the saleswoman's eyes lit up.

"Oh! I heard about that! I love knowing the rumors were true," she exclaimed. "Okay, so that's what, five bushes?" She pulled out a large bag of inorganic mulch. "That should be plenty, but feel free to come back if you need more."

"A high nitrogen fertilizer would be best," the saleswoman explained, bringing out yet another bag. "Say, do you kids already have the rose feed?"

Chat stared blankly at her but Marinette gasped. "Oh! No, we don't. I forgot all about the feed."

"No worries, I'm just glad you're aware that they're different things. I get a lot of customers thinking they only need one or the other. I would recommend alfalfa. One cup now, one cup after pruning, and one cup after the spring flush. Think you can remember all that?"

Marinette nodded before Chat could even react. "I'll help with everything," she promised him, making him smile at her in relief.

"Last bud not least: the stakes," the saleswoman began as she took them to another part of the store.

"You're a punner?" Chat asked in delight.

"You stand around flowers all day and not want to make a pun or two," she dared him. "I take it you approve of my punning?" Chat grinned at her in response and nodded; he appreciated anyone who could make a good pun and this woman was taking the time to help him out with something that was important to him.

Marinette resolved to make a few more puns as Ladybug if that was all it took to make her Kitty happy.

"If you have five bushes, then four stakes should be plenty. Do either of you have any experience with stakes?"

Marinette volunteered, so the saleswoman handed them to her. As they paid for their purchases, the saleswoman smiled at them. "Thanks, kids, you guys really made my daisy."

"Thanks a bunch for helping us out," Chat threw back as they picked up the heavy bags and headed out the door.

Chat vaulted away with the bags before Marinette could even suggest walking. She sighed, resigning herself to waiting for him to appear again.

"He's just trying to be helpful," Tikki put in before Marinette could complain too much.

"I know, Tikki. It would just be nice if he'd at least talk with me first instead of making decisions all by himself."

She patted her purse to let Tikki know to hide again as she saw Chat coming closer. He landed and held out his hand to her. "Well, Princess? You ready?"

"Only so we can help the roses faster," she told him, looping her arms around his neck as he held on to her waist. Then they were soaring over the rooftops, wind blowing Marinette's hair backwards until she was set firmly on the ground again, next to the little rose garden.

They took a moment to take their supplies out of the bag and get set up.

"Feed, fertilizer, and then mulch," Marinette told him. "You can start by giving them a very small amount of feed and I'll do the staking."

Chat nodded solemnly, carefully measuring out a cup of alfalfa feed while Marinette expertly put in the stakes and tied the stalks of the bushes to them. She was careful to not get pricked by the thorns and soon enough all of the roses had adequate support.

"It's looking great," Chat gushed.

"Not done yet," Marinette reminded him, handing him the fertilizer. "Pour some fertilizer on and I'll add the mulch."

It was long and tiring work, but both enjoyed themselves. It was easier to garden when a friend was keeping you company. Once they were done with the fun part, they had to clean up as well. They gathered their supplies putting it all back in the large paper bag they had been given with their purchases.

Chat stored the remaining stuff next to a large rock. "I'll take it back home with me," he explained. "But it's easier to store it here for now." Marinette nodded in full agreement.

Finally finished, they collapsed next to each other onto the grass, using each other as support for their aching backs.

"That was exhausting," Chat panted.

"More than fighting supervillains?" Marinette joked, but she was tired too. Gardening in the sun took a lot out of you.

"How about we get cleaned up and go get some ice cream to cool down?" Chat suggested. "We can walk this time," he offered.

Marinette laughed. Chat being considerate now erased all of her previous complaints. It was nice to know that he paid attention to her as well.

"With Andre right over there? Yeah, a little walk works," impulsively, Marinette grabbed Chat's hand.

He glanced down before his eyes flitted up to meet hers. Whatever he saw, caused a smile to break out on his face, and then he was tugging her along towards Andre's cart. All Marinette could do was smile back while her heart pounded just a little bit faster than usual.

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jmnjmnjmn · 3 years

Text

Valentine’s Day Special | JK x Reader

Pairing: RomanticBf!Jungkook x CynicalGf!Reader

Keywords: valentine’s day, established relationship, fluff

Warnings: the reader is not Korean but speaks Korean, fluff af, swearing

Word count: around 3,500

This one was kind of rushed since I didn’t have much time to write it 😥 I hope it still is up to the usual standard and you guys enjoy it though!! I definitely did 💝 I really liked the request since much like the OC I’m not a big Valentine’s Day person. Let me know what ou think in the comments and ask tag!!

Request

Masterlist

Gliding across the uneven surface of the ice skating rink Jungkook tried to pinpoint the weird warm feeling brewing deep inside his chest. His neck hurt from twisting it every other second to stare at the girl in a long puffer coat skating hand in hand with two of her friends. He felt his heart skip a beat as he managed to steal a glance at her goddess-like face while she was readjusting her white face mask.

“If I met her during summer would I feel any different?” he wondered, trying to seem subtle in checking out the nameless beauty as she passed him by on the ice. “No, I would be charmed just as hard by her with sweat running down her forehead and a hot breeze blowing through her hair like I am now seeing her in that ridiculously big scarf wrapped around her head,” he chuckled in his head as he scanned the knitted scarf she had on. “She’s just so undeniably beautiful.”

“Fuck-” he gasped as he skated right into the plastic wall surrounding the rink.

Within seconds Jimin was at Jungkook’s side helping him up as he laughed at his friend’s clumsiness. The younger boy waved off his teasing too preoccupied with looking whether his newest crush took notice of his embarrassing fall but to his disappointment, he discovered she was nowhere to be found. Assuming she must have already left he continued to skate with his friend letting the memory of this perfect girl take the backseat in his mind.

Answering a text from one of his friends Jungkook kept his eyes glued to the screen of his phone as he walked to the exit door of the skating rink. Holding the device in one hand he ran the other one through his dark locks right before he collided with someone’s back.

A high pitched yelp escaped the girl’s lips as the boy’s tall frame made contact with the back of her puffer coat. The paper cup she was holding tilted in her mitten covered hands spilling all its contents onto the ground.

“Sorry,” Jungkook whined sadly in Korean but quickly corrected himself and repeated the same word in English as he noticed who he just ran into.

“It’s okay,” the unnamed beauty from earlier answered in his native language.

Overwhelmed with the sudden proximity to his mysterious crush he found himself in and the sweet tone of her voice he let the words that came to his mind spew out of his mouth without much thought.

“You speak Korean?” he blurted out.

“Yes,” she groaned, glancing at the puddle of coffee beneath her feet. “And you spilt my drink.”

The boy’s widened eyes travelled down to the remains of the beverage and he immediately felt his cheeks burn as well as his breathing becoming more shallow.

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as she looked up and into his eyes.

Her vibrant irises shined beautifully in the artificial lighting in the area surrounding the rink. Both having half of their faces hidden under their contrasting in colour face masks they couldn’t see each other’s expressions for which Jungkook was deeply thankful as his jaw dropped lower with every second he spent looking at the girl.

“Let me buy you another one,” he said, gesturing towards the stand Yn got her now gone drink from.

“That’s not what I- you don’t have to,” she stuttered out slightly taken aback by his offer.

“I insist.”

His charming smile spread from his lips to his eyes. Noticing the glimmer of hope and kindness in them Yn decided to take him up on the offer and followed him to the hot beverages stand. After Jungkook put in the order for the coffee refill he couldn’t help himself and started chatting the girl up asking all about her past, present and future, desperate to not only find out anything more about her other than the fact she was breathtakingly beautiful but also get her to give him her number.

“What do you want to do on Sunday?”

Jungkook shifted on the bed with his eyes glued to the screen of his phone. Next to him, his girlfriend was frozen in a similar position. Her head was hanging low as she scrolled through her Instagram feed.

The relation between the two was rather new, they’ve only been dating for a little over two months. However, as the mid of February was coming up Jungkook couldn’t stop his mind from coming up with different scenarios on how they’ll spend their first Valentine’s Day together.

Traditionally in Korea, the love focused holidays are gender-specific. February fourteenth was for celebrating boys and the same day of March was for girls. Nevertheless, Jungkook didn’t want to wait another thirty days for a perfect excuse to have an extra romantic and cheesy date with Yn.

“I don’t know,” she murmured playing with one of the strings of her hoodie. “What do you want to do on Sunday?”

The boy smirked, taking her intonation of the words as a prompt. He set his phone down and rested his chin on her shoulder bringing his lips close to her cheek.

“Take you out somewhere fancy and spoil you all day long,” he purred before laying a quick peck on her warm skin.

“I like the sound of that,” Yn chuckled reaching her hand to intertwine with his. “Why Sunday though? Can’t we go out on Friday or something?”

“What- but Sunday is Valentine’s Day,” Jungkook stuttered surprised.

“It’s- oh, I totally forgot about that,” Yn murmured far from sounding anything close to interested.

“You forgot about Valentine’s Day?” the boy scoffed with a soft chuckle as his eyes travelled up and down his girlfriend’s profile. “How?”

“It never held much weight in my mind,” she explained. “I always thought that love should be celebrated every day and not just on some special occasion.”

Amused by the girl’s disinterest in the whole ordeal Jungkook felt a smirk grow across his face. His relationship with Yn was still new and fresh there were still so many things for them to learn about each other and he loved getting to know her.

“Hm,” he hummed.

“What?” she asked, glancing at him briefly.

“Nothing,” he answered her quickly knowing it’ll get a rise out of her.

“What?” she repeated, discarding her phone and turning to face him as they laid on the bed together.

“Nothing,” he said fumbling with her fingers in his hand. “I just think it’s stupid,” he smiled hearing her inhale sharply at his bluntness. “Of course, love should be celebrated every day but Valentine’s is a great excuse to celebrate it extra hard.”

“You must have hit yourself ‘extra hard’ on the head if you think so,” Yn laughed, knocking her index finger on his forehead.

Instead of pushing her hand away like he would if it was one of his Hyungs doing the teasing gesture he grabbed her wrist pulling it up. With one more swift movement of his hips, he was laying on top of the girl. He held her hands above her head as he towered over her with a teasing grin.

“Wait and see. I’ll prepare something so extra hard you’ll start wishing it was Valentine’s Day every day.”

“Is that a threat?” she giggled and he lowered his face to hers making their lips meet in a passionate kiss.

“You’ll have to wait and find out,” he said smiling after their mouths parted.

“I’ll wait but don’t get your hopes up.”

“Stay over,” Jungkook purred into his girlfriend’s neck as he hugged her from behind.

Yn stopped in her tracks, her hand already on the doorknob, letting herself enjoy the warmth of his chest against her back. The boy’s hands travelled down the sides of her body before resting right over her stomach.

“I don’t like sleeping with all of your Hyung’s in the apartment,” she giggled as her fingers grazed over the skin on his forearms lazily. “I feel that they don’t approve of it,” she added half-joking.

“They’re fine with it,” he pressed hoping to change her mind. “They just don’t like when we’re being loud,” the girl turned in his arms with the speed of light.

“You said no one heard us!” she whisper-yelled referring to one especially steamy night they spent in the boy’s bedroom a couple of weeks back.

“Namjoon might have heard something,” Jungkook chuckled seeing how startled he managed to make her feel.

“Jungkook!” she hissed trying to push him away but that only made him tighten the clasp of his hands behind her back.

“It’s no big deal,” he said smirking with amusement while Yn rested her forehead against his chest in resignation and utter embarrassment.

“For you, it isn’t,” she murmured, keeping her head hanging low. “I’m never coming over again.”

“I guess we’ll have to hang out at yours then,” the boy proposed before letting go of her to gather the things he might need for the night. “I’m tired and I will not fall asleep without cuddles tonight.”

Yn crossed her arms over her chest. A teasing grin made it’s way onto her pretty face while she watched her boyfriend stuff a pair of sweatpants into his backpack.

“You’re tired and you’re going to take the forty-minute subway ride to mine at” -she checked the time on her phone- “eleven at night?” Jungkook straightened up raising his brow at her.

“Don’t be silly,” he said, wrapping her hand in his and giving her forehead a quick peck. “I’m driving us.”

Yn batted her eyelashes lazily as she opened her eyes hearing the sound of a picture being taken. With sleep still fogging up her vision she slowly made out her boyfriend's frame. Jungkook lied on his side facing her with his phone in his hands. He smiled at the smaller version of his girlfriend visible on the screen before him.

“You look so pretty in the morning,” his voice was still a little raspy from just waking up. “I wish you stayed over more often so we could wake up together,” he whined sweetly, pulling on the hem of one of his t-shirts she wore to bed the night before.

“Sorry, babe,” she murmured letting her eyelids fall again. “I’m not going to show my face at the dorms ever again,” Jungkook scoffed out a weak chuckle at the sound of her dramatic statement.

“But your apartment is so far away from the studio,” he complained jokingly, scooting close enough to her so their legs intertwined.

Yn opened her eyes slightly to steal a glance at the boy. His lips were a little chapped, his hair a total mess splattered all over the pillow yet she found him nothing short of breathtakingly handsome. She reached her hand from under the covers and brushed some of the dark locks of his hair back from his face before leaning in and placing a quick peck on his lips.

“Get used to the drive. I refuse to be in the same apartment as Namjoon. It’s too embarrassing,” she said, hoping the slight chuckle in her voice masked the fact she really did feel ashamed that someone heard her and Jungkook going at it.

“Ah, you’re being silly,” her boyfriend sighed, finding her discomfort very amusing. “If anything he’s lucky he heard us-”

“Stop it!” she squealed, punching his shoulder jokingly.

Jungkook broke out in a mixture of laughter and fake cries of pain. He wrapped his arms around the girl pulling her onto his chest as he turned to lay on his back. Forced to face him Yn smiled cheekily before laying a peck on the tip of his nose.

“What do you want for breakfast?” she frowned hearing his question.

“This is my house. I’ll be the one cooking,” Jungkook rolled his eyes with the cutest bunny-like smile plastered across his face.

“But I want to be nice to you,” he groaned.

“Be nice and tell me what you want to eat,” the girl giggled while pushing herself up to straddle his waist.

As she sat up with her hands resting against the boy’s chest she could feel his racing heartbeat. She opened her mouth to joke about it but the words never came out. Her smiling expression was replaced by a slightly surprised one when an alarming smell made its way to her nostrils.

“Is something burning? Jungkook’s eyes widened and he abruptly pushed her off his lap.

Yn yelped falling onto the mattress as her boyfriend cursed loudly already in the other room. She stood up from the bed and when reaching for a hoodie to throw on to cover herself from the cold she noticed a bouquet of white roses set on her vanity in a clear vase. Without much time to investigate the matter, she left the flowers behind and rushed after the boy.

Right as she stepped outside the bedroom she was practically in the kitchen. What agents liked to describe as a cosy open concept apartment Yn prefered to call by its real name - a tiny flat with a closed-off nook for a bedroom and everything else but the bathroom piled onto each other in the only actual room in the place. She cracked open one of the windows to get rid of the smoke that came out in large clouds from the strange-looking device Jungkook was fanning off with both his hands on the kitchen counter.

“What is this?” Yn coughed, waving her hand in front of her face to get rid of the smoke.

The boy shot her an apologetic stare before going back to trying to pry open the toaster-like device. Yn looked around the area confused but her next questions got caught in her throat as she noticed the transformation that her apartment went through when she was still sound asleep.

The low coffee table was set for two. Cut up fruit, whipped cream and other goodies were put out next to the neatly arranged plates. Next to the small TV burned her favourite scented candles and the screen was lit up with the Netflix logo on black background.

“Jungkook? the girl asked, turning back to him. “Jungkook?” she repeated, watching him pick at a burnt waffle with a fork.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, dropping the utensil into the sink. “I tried. I really did,” he whined tiredly, running one of his hands through his messy hair. “I got you this- this waffle maker,” he chuckled nervously, gesturing to the device on the counter.

As their stares met Jungkook noticed how soft Yn’s eyes seemed. The overwhelming warmth radiating from her loving expression made him relax his tensed up shoulders. He exhaled loudly when she walked up to him, putting his hands in hers and jumped straight into explaining the whole situation.

“It started with our first date,” he said and started recalling the events of that night.

After exchanging numbers in the ice skating rink Jungkook didn’t waste time and texted Yn the same night, asking her out on a date. Pleasantly surprised by his forwardness the girl agreed to see him the following week. The two ended up taking a long walk through the city and doing a cafe marathon, sharing multiple desserts from ice cream, cupcakes and coffee, to waffles. The last ones Yn raved about for a good twenty minutes after eating, praising the taste and the choosing of toppings.

“You said you’d love to have your own waffle maker and eat Nutella waffles at home,” the boy murmured, looking at their intertwined fingers. “So I got you one and wanted to surprise you with a cute ass breakfast but I got distracted and- well, you see what happened,” Jungkook whined dropping his forehead to her shoulder.

He felt defeated and embarrassed but somehow the feeling of her fingers grazing over his knuckles slowly made him feel better. Yn reached one of her hands up running it through the hair on the back of his head. Looking over the boy’s shoulder she noticed the waffle he tried to save earlier.

“Heart-shaped waffle maker?” she whispered with a grin as she eyed the burned dough on the counter.

In response, Jungkook simply groaned and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. The girl giggled running her hands up and down his back.

“Heart-shaped waffles for breakfast and a bouquet of white roses,” she said shaking her head lightly. “What did I do to deserve this?”

She felt the boy smiling into her neck before he straightened up to look into her eyes. With his hands resting on her hips and his eyebrow raised teasingly he stared at her for a couple of seconds, waiting for her to put two and two together.

“You know what day it is?” he finally asked, trying to push her thoughts in the right direction.

“Sunday,” she answered with suspicion lining her voice.

“Hypothetically,” -a knowing grin spread across his face gradually- “if I didn’t fail poorly with the breakfast and we were about to sit down to eat perfect heart-shaped waffles and you got a beautiful bouquet of roses from me to start the day and I put on your favourite movie-”

“Didn’t you say that you would rather bite your foot off than watch-”

“Don’t interrupt me,” he shushed her, pursing his lips. “In that hypothetical scenario would your hypothetical self change her mind about the significance of Valentine’s Day?” Yn’s lips parted as if she was about to say something but she couldn’t find the words.

“You sneaky little- you- you didn’t even mention it-” she finally stuttered, smiling at her boyfriend with nothing but endless appreciation in her eyes.

“Would she change her mind?” Jungkook repeated, showing off his teeth in a bright smile.

“I don’t know,” Yn whined teasingly.

“Oh, come on. My hypothetical self tried so hard,” he fired right back.

“If I agree does it mean I’ll have to give you a romantic surprise for White Day?”

“We’re so backwards,” he laughed at her logic.

Fourteenth of March, more commonly called White Day, is a holiday when people give reciprocal gifts to those who gave them gifts received on Valentine's Day. In Korea, the tradition has it that it is first girls gifting chocolates to boys in February and next month it’s the guys’ turn to return the favour.

Yn wrapped her arms around Jungkook’s neck bringing his face to hers. Among the overwhelming smell of burnt waffles, she could also smell vanilla extract that she now tasted on his lips. She smiled realising he must have tasted some of the raw dough while cooking.

“You know that after this I will torment you into making every date so special?” she purred against his lips.

“You won’t have to do a thing, baby,” he answered right back, making her heart flutter.

“Ah, how are you so perfect?”

“I was just born this way,” she rolled her eyes at his comment.

“And you ruined it,” she pushed him away lightly before starting to run away to jump over onto the couch.

“Hey, I was kidding,” he called after her. “Come back and kiss me or at least say my plan worked.”

Yn giggled as Jungkook caught up to her. He snaked his arms around her from behind pulling her in and started peppering her neck with sloppy giggle-filled kisses. The girl twisted in his embrace and pulling on the hem of his t-shirt she placed a brisk kiss on his lips.

“I still think that love should be celebrated every given day but I do like Valentine’s a little better now,” she admitted with a smile.

Seeing the jokingly unsatisfied grin on Jungkook’s face she rolled her eyes again, knowing she’ll have to praise him harder to earn a real smile.

“It worked, alright?” she chuckled, pushing his hair up from his forehead and he leaned into the touch. “It holds a special place in my heart thanks to you.”

The boy ran his gaze across her face feeling just as stunned by her beauty as he did the first day he saw her. His lips curved into a small smile as he tried not to focus on how overwhelmingly lucky he felt thinking about the fact she chose to be with him and him only.

“You know what?” he asked and Yn hummed, raising her brow at him. “Screw Valentine’s. You hold the most special place in my heart.”

42 notes · View notes

jungcity · 4 years

Text

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥.

genre: romance, fantasy, erotica

au: fallen angel, reincarnation

pairing: jung jaehyun x female reader

note: This is a work of fiction. The portrayal of the celebrities included in this story does not reflect their true nature in real life. I am just using them as a way to bring life into the story and to give entertainment to readers. Concerning the plot which is about Lucifer, I do not— in any means— sympathize with the devil and I do not intend to offend any religion. Furthermore, I discourage you to continue reading if you feel uncomfortable with this type of stories. I’d appreciate it if you'll leave some feedbacks! Thank you so much!

“he was the worse of his kind—

dared the Almighty with

pride in his mind.

banished from heaven,

the infamous fallen.

the one you cannot tame;

lucifer, that is his name.”

Unable to process the words printed out in the sheet of paper that was in your hands, you stare dat your termination contract with dread slowly creeping up into your face. Maybe you want to scream or to cry– heck, you have no idea what to feel as yet another hindrance towards a stable life lay heavy in your palms. An exhausted exhale of breath escaped your lips as the realization hit you– you were indeed terminated by the management of the fast-food chain you were working on for the reason that they could not meet their quota anymore and they had to terminate some employees. Unfortunately, you are one of those workers.

You have witnessed as the same dread fell upon your co-workers while they skimmed the paper in their hands. The fast-food chain stood as your only means to support yourself and your sister, so you never once took it for granted and did your work diligently despite the low wages and the awful workplace it had offered. Now, you have to find another job or else you will surely die of hunger.

You do have a talent in arts, and you graduated with a fine arts degree. But life after college was beyond what you had expected when you were still studying. You had anticipated to have a stable job suited for your skills, but life did not go as you planned. Your mother fell sick and died a year after you graduated, leaving you and your sister all alone. From that day onwards, you became the modern Atlas who carried the world in your shoulders. Yet you couldn’t complain. And despite all of the hardships, you only felt the need to take care of your little sister even more.

You continued walking the side streets like a ragged doll being pulled sluggishly by whatever force there was, thinking of other ways to get by tomorrow. Being jobless wouldn’t be so hard if you didn’t have another mouth to feed. Your sister will be a freshman in college next year, and that’s the sole reason why you needed to work your butt off harder than before. And life isn’t really helping right now. So you grabbed your phone and rang your best friend’s number. She picked up after fifteen seconds.

“Hey, gorge—”

“I am jobless,” you greeted Soojin. There was a surprised ‘oh’ in the other line and you could imagine your best friend looking at you pitifully. It made you bite your lower lip to fight the urge to cry in front of the judging eyes of the city.

“Tell me, is there something I can do to help?”

“I don’t know what to do anymore. I am deep in fucking debt and Yuqi’s going to college soon. I couldn’t possibly pay for our rent with my current situation— oh. I am a mess!” You heaved a deep sigh, your chest constricting from all the emotions you were keeping locked up inside you. Different set of eyes were on you as you tried not to crumple in the side streets. There were adults giving you sympathetic looks and children almost laughing at you.

“Hey! Hey, Y/N! Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale!” You did as you were told. Gulping a large amount of air, you didn’t even bother how polluted it was now that you were in the heart of the town. You have to get a new job before you lose your mind.

“Okay, is everything calmer now?” Soojin asked.

“Yes. Yes,” you replied, still taking deep breaths.

“I could recommend a job, Y/N.”

Your ears perked up. “I’m listening.”

“But it wouldn’t be an easy one,” she sighed on the other line before continuing, “The job is right here in Jung’s Fiscals. Luckily for you, the former secretary of Mr. Jung decided to resign today; rumor has it that it’s because of the cold and ruthless demeanor of our CEO. I know you’re fit for the job because you’re one hell of a hard working bitch. However, I want you to give it a thought. Mr. Jung is not someone to mess with. Heck, he does not even—”

You replied before she even had the chance to finish her sentence, “I’ll take it. I’m really not in the position to say no to a job right now, am I? I badly need one so whatever the character of this Mr. Jung, I’d cooperate with him.”

You heard your best friend sigh in defeat. She knows you too well to try to stop you. So she simply directed you to prepare your resumé and other documents for the interview tomorrow.

“God! Thank you!” You kissed the mic of your phone as thanks to your best friend-slash-life savior.

You were too desperate to even think about her advice and the possibility of the CEO mistreating you. As long as there is money in your card to support your sister and food on your table, you are always ready to serve anyone— even if that person was forged straight from the womb of the devil.

All energetic and ready to take the challenge of the world again, you blew your friend one last kiss before ending the call and trudging towards the bus stop.

It was a night of simple ready-to-eat-ramen pack. Your sister had already known about your termination and currently feels bad that there is nothing she could do to help.

“It’s okay. Worry about school and nothing else, Yuqi,” you told her. The younger girl pouted her lips, reluctance clear on her face. “And I could not possibly let you work. We know enough not to overwork you.”

She has a weak stamina. Asthmatic since she was a kid, you never allowed her to do any part-time jobs for the fear that it would take a toll on her health. You couldn’t afford to lose the only relative you have, so every attempt of hers to help you boils down to nothing.

“I mean, who am I in this household? I don’t want to be a leech, sucking all your money and energy like that.” She scrunched up her nose.

“Yuqi, it’s my responsibility to take care of you. This is nothing, really.”

Even though you had almost lost your mind earlier thinking about the fact that you were indeed jobless, you tried to show your strong façade and smiled encouragingly to your sister. The least that you want right now is to worry her.

“Not to mention that you have to work in that wretched company– where the CEO is Jung Jaehyun. I’ve heard a lot of rumors about him, you know. They say he fucks—”

“Language, please,” you warned with a glare.

Yuqi rolled her eyes before continuing, “They say, he brings famous models into his penthouse every single night. And some say he does it even in his own office.” She talked while pointing her chopstick at you, munching her food deliciously like it was the best ramen she has ever tasted.

“Well, let’s be glad I am not a model then.” You shrugged. The both of you laughed.

She rambled about Jung Jaehyun the whole dinner with you, half-listening to her. Yuqi almost sounded like she was a fan and you seriously couldn’t grasp the need to be cautious towards Jung Jaehyun. You were hell-bent to impress him tomorrow that you refused to indulge yourself around the bad rumors circulating his name and well-being. All that matters to you is you are going to get that job, and you will do your best to stay in that office long enough to support your sister’s education.

This is the day where your fate is divided into two. You have a chance to make everything better for you and your sister, or you can prove that your life has been cursed and there is no more hope to rescue it from the depths of poverty.

The fate is in your hands and right now, your palms are sweating and your hands are trembling. Shaking your head and clearing your mind— with a determined heart— you trudge inside the thirty-story building of Jung’s Fiscals.

You were greeted by your best friend, Soojin. She was wearing a slightly loose pencil skirt paired with simple white polo sleeves. Her hair was styled into a neat bun, just like any other girl at the front desk. You have presumed that that would also be your hairstyle once you got the job.

“You got this,” Soojin mumbled as she led you towards the elevator. Unfortunately for you, she couldn’t accompany you all the way to Mr. Jung’s office for the reason that the building is buzzing with work and she couldn’t leave her position at the front desk for too long. You wave her a nervous goodbye before pushing the button on to the 28th floor.

There was really something about CEOs preferring to locate their offices on the top floor of their building. It was not like you mind, but you truly couldn’t believe that it really happens in real life. You once thought that they only appear in televisions.

Surrounded by the shiny metal covers of the elevator’s interior, you decided to check on your clothes and overall appearance. You have picked your best set of formal clothes for this day because you obviously wanted to impress the CEO and look presentable on your possible first day of work.

After a few minutes of standing alone inside the shiny elevator, it finally dinged and opened. You step outside, eyes roaming around the surroundings before taking a step forward. A nice and wide room greeted you as you walked through. The secretary’s table was made of polished wood, with the company’s logo engraved in gold. There were sets of black marble columns at the back and two comfortable armchairs in front of the secretary’s table to serve as a waiting area.

A woman, with the same bun as Soojin, stood up from her seat to greet you. Unlike your best friend, she was wearing a brown blazer that slightly hugged her waist and a fitted black dress underneath it. In your own opinion, she was too young to resign in this prestigious company. Which made your mind fall back into thinking that maybe the rumors were true– that the CEO, indeed, mistreats his employees.

“Good morning, Miss. Mr. Jung is ready to meet you.” She greeted with a slight bow. Her whole aura screamed professionalism. Something that you were not acquainted with— being a former waitress at a fast-food chain. All you had to do was take orders and smile and obey inquiries but you had never, ever, worked in a place where those aforementioned skills were almost nothing compared to the huge building that you were— hopefully— going to work in. Although, you suppose you have a bit of advantage when it comes to noting something and smiling. The only difference is that, rather than French fries and diet coke, you would have to take notes about meetings and business trips.

You breathed slowly, calming your nerves. The woman must have heard your heart thumping against your chest since she hesitated to open the door.

“Just be yourself, Miss. Do not worry too much. You’ll get through this.” She offered you a kind smile. You couldn’t help but think that she was accompanying you towards your own doom. You returned the smile even as you felt your lips wobble. A few inhales and exhales later, you told her you were ready. She slowly opened the door to Mr. Jung’s office and Jesus Christ— you thought you would collapse by the expansive space that greeted you in.

Typical CEO, he was obviously sitting on his swivel chair, the back of it facing you and the secretary. You have guessed he was looking at the spectacular view outside. The interior of his office wasn’t quite different from the secretary’s. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows that overlooked the skyscrapers and buzzing life outside. Light brown wood with grey walls surrounded you, partnered with black leather furniture. Hints of gold in the CEO’s table were also visible and there were minimalistic abstract paintings with the same hue as everything in the room.

Jung Jaehyun. CEO. — was printed on the glass plaque on top of his table.

“Leave us.” He said without turning his chair. The voice was deep and raspy— clean and masculine— the kind of voice from someone who knows he was in authority and that he owns the whole place.

Shivering, you almost begged the woman not to leave you with the predator sitting not two meters away from you. The secretary gave you an encouraging nod before turning on her heels and walking away. At the sound of the door clicking close, the swivel chair whirled.

You expected to see a grey-haired, middle-aged man to greet you. As a large company like this one, the CEO wouldn’t be as young as the man in front of you now. You tried to focus your breathing because fuck— the man is beyond gorgeous. It has been a while since you had encountered a creature as beautiful as him.

Hair, raven black against the white swivel chair that stood out in the whole room like a throne only for his to take, his lips were too red as a freshly plucked cherry against his pale skin— so white you could almost see the blues and the violets of his veins. And those eyes— the perfect dark brown; screams calmness after the storm and the rage of the hurricane fused together.

“Are you quite done staring?”

His voice shot you back to reality. You prayed to the saints that you hadn’t been drooling as you took in his whole features. If that was the case?You were absolutely doomed. Your chances of ever being hired beginning to thin.

“I… my apologies, Sir.” You bowed your head, suddenly confused as to why your body reacted that way. This is not a medieval fantasy where you were inclined to bow before the king, but the man in front of you exudes the energy of the likeliness of a monarch and it felt right to bow in front of him.

He didn’t answer. You could only assume that he was looking through your documents by the sound of the papers shuffling.

“Fine arts degree? To a waitress?” His words ended with a ‘hm?’. He almost sounded disgusted by your resume. It made the veins on your temple ticked but you really couldn’t blame him. The job that you landed on after graduating wasn’t really what you expected after those too many sleepless nights struggling to finish all your plates.

“And with this basic resume…” Your head automatically recovered from the bow and your eyes stared at him. He didn’t call your resume basic, right? But he did. It was crystal clear in your ears, ringing in your mind. And all your hopes of getting the job were gone in an instant. “… why should I hire you?” he finished.

His eyes were emotionless but his voice was taunting. Despite the insult of calling your resume basic, you smiled at him. It was your time to prove yourself and there was no stopping you now.

You cleared your throat, “Because I am a hard-working woman ready to give you her utmost effort—”

“You’re hired.” He simply declared with a wave of his hand.

You blinked, doubtful of the words that you have heard. “Sir?”

“You’re hired. Go and talk to Maggie about everything that you need to know,” he coldly stated, not looking at you but into his computer.

You could really jump from happiness, right in front of him. And you didn’t even care that he interrupted the speech which you practiced all night with the hopes to impress him. What truly matters is you got a new job not twenty-four-hours after you were terminated from that wretched fast-food chain. However, you wouldn’t provoke him to fire you on your first day so you remained calm.

“Thank you, Sir!”

Clasping your hands together was the only vessel you have to let go of a fraction of the happiness that you have felt. You turned on your heels with a smile that could reach your ears. But before you could open the door, he spoke again.

“Try harder when it comes to your clothes, next time. They don’t match mine.”

It was the best pair of formal clothes in your wardrobe. You inhaled sharply and faced him with the same smile, already not so fond of your newly-acclaimed boss.

“Alright, Sir. I understand.”

Then you dashed outside, instantly regretting being his secretary even before your job to serve him had begun.

The secretary, Maggie, introduced you your new workplace. She must’ve seen how happy you were when you departed Mr. Jung’s office that she automatically guided you towards the secretary’s table with a smile.

Her corner was neat, the folders clearly stacked on one end and notebooks at the side. The computer was placed on the right corner alongside the telephone. It was easy to move around since everything is in its place.

Then she guided you towards the pantry. It was decorated with the same brown, grey, black hues with a hint of gold accents. Adjacent to it is the meeting area, composed of the same black leather furniture and a glass table partnered with a minimalistic chandelier. Everything around you looks so expensive that you felt out of place all of a sudden.

“Mr. Jung wants his coffee a little bit warm in the morning. There’s a coffee maker ready, you just have to watch a few coffee making videos and you’re gonna be alright.” You shared a chuckle. It would seem as if Jung Jaehyun is meticulous when it comes to his coffee. So you mentally reminded yourself to watch some coffee making videos tonight.

“Sometimes he likes it cold. Plus, he usually drinks iced-americano. Easy to make,” she said with a wink.

Is working for Jung Jaehyun also requires you to be a barista? Cool.

“For his breakfast, you have to ask him every morning if he’d like to eat. More of the times he does not. And I think one of his personal pet peeves is when someone wastes food. So be careful about that.”

You listed everything she has told you, emphasizing the words ‘ask him’ to remind yourself not to impulsively make him food for there was no guarantee that he was going to eat.

“On the days that he wants to have breakfast, he usually likes to eat scrambled eggs with slices of bacon and don’t forget about the apples. He loves apples,” she exaggerated, “You just have to cut them in equal pieces or else he won’t eat them.”

Bringing a ruler with you won’t do any harm, right? So you listed it together with the reminders that Maggie informed you of. She continued walking you through the works that she does: from the emails that you need to go through to make sure no insignificant message would irate Mr. Jung, to her techniques in taking notes and arranging schedules for the boss.

“And there’s a proper uniform made for you,” she said while eyeing you from head to toe. But not in an insulting manner like what Jung Jaehyun did. Her scrutinizing was more on the calculating side. It would appear as though she was mentally analyzing your body size.

“On Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays– you will have to wear this same outfit as I am wearing.” By that, she means the dress and the brown blazer.

“Tuesdays, and Thursdays, you have to wear slacks the same color as this blazer. It’s paired with white silky polo sleeves. Nothing uncomfortable, don’t worry,” she chuckles. But your tongue wanted to ask whether you were going to buy your own set of clothes. The uniform looked so neat and expensive that by the lookds of it, surely you do not have the luxury to buy one. As if reading through your knitted brows, Maggie told you that all uniforms are provided by the company. Thank God.

“On Saturdays, you can wear anything you like. Just be mindful of it. Mr. Jung does not like it when his secretary—”

“Wears cheap clothing? And does not match with his?” You finished the sentence for her. It was the sentiment of the CEO before you exited his office.

Maggie’s lips was formed in a thin line, telling you to go along with it. “It’s not exactly like that. But you have to at least try to catch up to his fashion sense.”

Well— Jesus Christ— the man exhales the air of Balmain and Versace and you do not have the richest to afford a Chanel outfit to pair with him even if you sell your soul to the devil.

“Is that… really necessary?” You asked her, clearly agitated. If that was what the CEO wants, you would gladly go back and work in that cursed fast-food chain and wear the same uniform six days a week than thinking about robbing a famous clothing brands’ store every fucking day to match his highness’ clothes.

“Yes. But don’t worry. The clothes I wear every Saturdays were all thrifted. You just have to really dig every clothes to find a decent one.” She winked at you. You smiled at her nervously. You wouldn’t trust yourself thrifting clothes, simply because you do not have the patience for it. But your little sister, Yuqi, does. So you would have to trust her taste and maybe she wouldn’t feel so helpless anymore once you give her the task.

“That’s pretty much all you have to know,” Maggie declares while clasping her hands together. You suddenly felt the need to ask her the reason why she was resigning. But it seemed too personal to inquire. You shrugged and let the question die in your mind.

“How long have you been working here?” You asked instead. She smiled at you, looking around the place like she was reliving some kind of memories.

“I interned in this place when I was still in college. Mr. Jung applauded my performance so I decided to work here when I graduated. It’s been three years, to be exact.”

Jung Jaehyun must’ve been owning this empire at such a young age, based on Maggie’s story. He was the CEO when she was still in college until now. You wonder how old he was when he took this company.

“Mr. Jung’s must’ve been really young when he took over this company,” you voiced. Maggie nodded and told you she was impressed by how young yet clever Jung Jaehyun is to be managing a top company such as Jung’s Fiscals.

After a few minutes of small talk and reminders, Maggie bid you goodbye. Her things were all gathered and she was ready to go even before she walked you through the rules and reminders of the company. However, before she left, you asked the one question that you have been itching to know the answer to the very moment you walked out of Mr. Jung’s office.

“Is he… is he really terrible? Like in the rumors?” You know it was not pleasant to ask such things regarding your boss. But you need at least some warnings before you dive in headfirst to the trouble.

Maggie chuckled and you didn’t know if that was a good sign or not. “He doesn’t mistreat his employees. It’s more like, he doesn’t really care enough. I don’t know. He’s excellent in his field but he’s aloof towards everyone. Never really socializing and talking outside of business.” Maggie smiled and you hate to be the one to noticed it, but it seems like she adores Mr. Jung. With the possibility of romantic feelings bubbling beneath her weak facade.

Before you knew it, your tongue is rolling and asking the question you whispered only to yourself. “Do you like him?”

At your question, all the professionalism deteriorated from Maggie’s presence. She looked like a giddy thirteen-year-old lovesick teenager when she answered, “Who wouldn’t like him? The man is like, rich-rich. And that aura? That body? I’d let him spit on me.”

You were slightly disgusted by the latter but you were not going to argue that Jung Jaehyun is indeed the kind of man who could easily wreck you. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. He has that power in him and you know it the second you laid your eyes on that beautifully cruel face. Those eyes— oh boy— eyes that could make you feel alive but drown and capture you within the depths of them— yet his looks; looks that could almost kill. Men like him know their place, and that is above everyone else— including you.

Your first week went smoothly. There were new emails sent to Jung Jaehyun’s inbox that you need to check. There was also a telephone call, once, from a girl named Chaelin who wishes to visit Jaehyun once his schedule wasn’t too jampacked to bother. You silently asked your boss whether he would allow it, checking his schedules first before asking. He told you to insert Chaelin’s visit on one of his them. That made you wonder if she was one of those rumored models caught leaving Jaehyun’s penthouse and office. But you shook your mind off the thought. Clearly, you have no business wondering about those kinds of things. He is your boss and you are his secretary. You would never meddle in his personal life.

Maggie was right, Jung Jaehyun was indeed aloof. He eats alone and employees never really stay in his office longer than ten minutes. Maximum. And they would always come out with their hand on their chest, heaving a deep sigh. He didn’t welcome small talk and he was all about business. Slowly, you have grounded and reminded yourself exactly where your place was inside the office; and that is inside his territory, but out of his life.

It was easy to master the perfect taste of his coffee. And yes, you would admit, you almost collapsed on your knees when he first tasted your office-made americano. You even stayed for two minutes after he took a sip, hoping for some good comments but he just raised a brow at you. That was your cue to exit. Just like what Maggie reminded you, Jung Jaehyun does not eat breakfast often as a normal person would. But today, he finally ordered one.

Chaelin, who called you, finally arrived fifteen-minutes ago. If Jaehyun looked like a king, Chaelin was his queen — or so you assume. She carried the dominant female aura in her; ash grey hair, red lips, and red bottoms, with a 90’s silk dress hugging her body paired with a Chanel purse. Everything about her screams perfection. You were glad that she smiled softly towards you after you guided her towards Mr. Jung’s office; making you more comfortable in her presence instantly. Maybe that was why you were preparing breakfast for the duo.

The whole office is lonesome. The surrounding eerily silent with literally only the three of you on the whole floor. All you could hear was the crisp sound of the slices of bacon as you fry them, and the thud of the knife against the chopping board as you prepare his apples— fresh and pristine on the plate.

Everything was ready in twenty-five minutes. You placed the food on a clean tray before walking towards Mr. Jung’s office. Balancing all of it with your hip, you pushed the door slightly. The main office stood empty before you, but you heard their murmurs silently echoing from the meeting area that was adjacent to Mr. Jung’s office.

Reluctant to barge in without asking for their permission, your steps slowed. But Mr. Jung ordered for a breakfast today, he must have been hungry. You did not want to make him wait, or his visitor— so you inhaled and exhaled, continuing your walk towards the meeting area.

“So basically, this visit is to tell me to clean up your own mess?”

You heard Mr. Jung asked, contempt clear in his voice. It definitely felt like the conversation is not for anyone to hear. You hesitated in your position.

“This is not my mess. It’s theirs. How many times—” Chaelin was obviously frustrated by the tone of her voice. You heard a playful chuckle from your boss, interrupting the lady’s discourse.

“And how many times do I have to tell you that I. Do. Not. Give. A. Flying. Fuck.”

“Come on! You’re the only creature here on Earth who could do what needs to be done.” Chaelin sounded tired, worn out from the male’s large ego.

You were about to turn on your heel and walk away, the conversation clearly was between both of them alone, and you didn’t mean to eavesdrop. You were just torn between serving their food or walking away. You started doing the latter until Mr. Jung’s voice boomed in the whole office that you literally felt the plates in the tray shook.

“Who’s there?!”

You froze on your spot— and your breathing too. It wasn’t just a question. It was a scream of command to reveal yourself. You didn’t even know how he had known someone staying outside the meeting area. Before you could run away from the scene, you heard footsteps coming your way. You turned around to face your boss, you regretted doing so. He was looking at you with his emotionless eyes. And you felt a trickle ran down your spine as he continued walking towards you— grabbing your arms like he wanted to crush your bones. You were too shocked to even feel the pain but it was there, slowly slicing through your skin, certain it was going to leave a bruise.

“What did you hear?” He asked, rage evident in his voice. Chaelin was looking at the both of you, not enjoying the scene but also anticipating for your answer.

You squeezed your eyes shut because you couldn’t stand looking at his eyes as they seemed to burn you to ashes. “N-nothing, Sir.” You trembled.

He pinned you down with that same, deadly stare. His body only a tray away from yours, you could smell his spicy perfume mixing with the smell of portions of bacon and eggs. And his face, too close, so close he almost seemed familiar. He stared at you, not saying anything with his mouth but shooting you death threats with his eyes. You couldn’t stand it. Your knees began to wobble but before you could lose your balance, Chaelin decided to intrude.

“Jaehyun, let go of the girl. She’s telling the truth.”

His hand automatically slid away from your arms. He drew a frustrated sigh, running his hand through his raven-black hair. You let out a sigh of relief. But it was short-lived as he spoke with his toneless voice again.

“Get the fuck out of this room. Now.” His back facing you while he gripped the edge of the table.

You gathered all your strength, placing the tray on the small table two steps away from you. You were dumbfounded and beyond scared, you didn’t even bother to arrange their plates, you dashed towards the door like a contender in a marathon.

The moment the oak door closed behind you only did you allow yourself to breathe. It came out shaky. But surprisingly, there were no tears rolling down your cheeks. You simply clutched your chest; the pain in your arm numb because of your fear.

It was only your first week. Yet all you wanted to do was resign and get the hell out of the building.

With a glass of liquor in one hand, Jaehyun stared at the vast expanse of the city lights below from his penthouse; thinking that every twinkling light is his to conquer. He was always been fond of high grounds; it reminded him of his place before he was cast out of heaven and became the most infamous fallen in the history of mankind.

The fall. History had withered and repeated itself for millions of years. Yet he still could not forget how it felt like to fall into nothingness, with the gates of heaven closing in before his very eyes.

Did it hurt? The poets tried to ask the unknown; they bled ink trying to fathom the feelings of Lucifer when the Almighty and every angel declared him a traitor. Yet no poem had the exact metaphors to decipher his doom.

Did it hurt? Jaehyun sometimes asks himself the same question. Did it hurt when his wings started to smolder with fire as he plunged into the abyss of nothingness and into the Earth? Did it hurt when every bone in his body twisted and shattered as he landed into hard ground of a place too grave to be called heaven? Did it hurt when he was all bruises and blood and ill-fated to burn into the pits of hell? Just like the poets, Jaehyun has not found the metaphor to describe the feeling; but unlike them, he knew too well how it felt like.

He had lost count of the millennia that had past. He had lost count of his own age if he ever had one. The world made its inevitable change. And it continues to change, leaving him behind. Because he was still him; all wings and sins. Forever damned, forever unforgiven.

He was there when religion had been born, and he watched as the pious made different names to describe him; Prince of hell, the devil, Satan, the Fallen Angel. He watched them cursed him and condemned those who believed in him. And back then he realized that people were quick to describe and hate something they do not understand.

Kings and queens died. Kingdoms rose and fell, and he watched them all with obloquy in his face. Because he couldn’t believe that despite the spitefulness of humans against each other, the Almighty still loved them above all else.

They say he was destined to burn in hell, but his true punishment lay more grievous than being scorched alive. He pulled a locket out of his pocket with his too pale hands. Opening the little old golden thing, it didn’t fail to make his breath run wild every time he looked at the picture inside. The girl is smiling, the one thing she does not practice usually.

How many years has it been? He forgot the faces of his friends and of his enemies. Yet the one thing he could not forget is her ocean eyes and how her lips tasted salvation in his.

One hundred years, my love, he whispered.

One hundred years of her gone, and one hundred years of him keeping her closest to his aching heart despite the death that separates them both. And he would do everything to live; to keep her as his secret, to keep her alive in him.

That was when his thoughts weaved its way to you. A girl who has the ability to ruin everything he holds dear in his damned eternity. You might’ve heard things earlier; he wasn’t sure. The way your eyes looked at him frantically and how your body almost convulsed in his touch, he couldn’t explain why but he never wants to see that same reaction painted on your face again.

Drinking the last contents of his glass and with a touch of warning in his voice, he whispered your name against the miles that are separating you both. With the hopes that it would caress and remind you of the storm coming.

A mere mortal like you is nothing compared to his ancient greatness. Yet the thought of a human knowing his secret nagged in his system even if he didn’t want to. He couldn’t let you out his sight. Not tomorrow, not ever.

masterlist.

#jung jaehyun au #nct au #nct 127 au #nct smut #jung yuno imagines #nct scenarios #jaehyun nct au #jaehyun au #nct imagines

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plethora-of-imagines · 3 years

Text

Outdoor Cat

AN: Being Missy’s kitten is a big mood. So I wrote about it.

Word Count: 3358

Warnings: smut/lemon, kitten play, a small amount of anal, minor public, “coercion”/manipulation, leash

Description: A day of trying some newer things and being Missy’s kitten.

Tag List: @c-s-stars @queerconfusionthings @how-masterful @truthbehindthemysteries

You tried to nuzzle deeper into the pillow you were curled upon. You shivered as it did nothing to warm your freezing body. Missy had insisted that her kitten should only be wearing a collar as clothing. So here you were, freezing in the cold air of the TARDIS with no blanket to burrow under. Your nipples were as hard as when Missy had forcefully held ice against them the other day! You were just so cold. Of course, in order to be her kitten, you also had on a pair of kitten ears. They were soft and fuzzy to add to the illusion that they were real. While a delight to wear they didn’t add any warmth to your body. The one accessory that could possibly add even the slightest amount of heat to your body you had forgone this time. The tail.

While it was delightfully fluffy and soft - just like the ears- you really hated wearing the tail. It was attached to a small anal plug, the smallest that could be found. You didn’t really like anal so you never liked wearing the tail. Missy would never force you, but she had encouraged you to give it a try. To see if it was something you actually didn’t like or if it was just something that society had convinced you was unpleasant. So far you genuinely didn’t enjoy it. You would give it a few more tries before truly deciding it wasn’t for you, but only because you knew that Missy adored your attempts to try it out. You had promised her that you would one day try being plugged for a longer duration. You almost wished you had agreed for it to be tonight. At least then the fuzzy tail could help give you a tiny bit of warmth.

You had thought that being Missy's kitten tonight would be fun, not cold, and lonely. It wouldn't have been so bad if she had allowed you to share the bed, or wear some clothes. Longingly you gazed up at the bed Missy resided in. It looked so warm and inviting. It had a thick comforter and Missy in only a chemise. Why had Missy said she wouldn’t allow her kitten up onto the bed? Tons of people let their pets sleep in bed with them. Especially kittens! You pouted. There would be no rest for you tonight if you weren’t warm and cozy. You would have to resort to begging Missy to let you up onto the bed. You were adorable and cold- she would have to give in!

Crawling to the edge of the bed you meowed sadly up at Missy. Her hand finding its way to your scalp, gently scratching behind your kitten ears. Almost against you will your body leaned up into the touch.

"What is it kitten?" Her voice was somewhat husky from being awoken. She blearily glanced down at your shivering form. "Aww is my little kitten cold?"

You meowed sadly again to try and convince her to have mercy.

"Hmm I'll let you join me on the bed, pet, but only if you wear the tail."

She started to pull her hand away from you. In a rush, you gripped her wrist with your lips. Taking care not to use your teeth, you didn't want to know what the punishment would be for biting Missy without permission. You whimpered around her wrist, giving her the most pitiful look you could manage.

"Cute, pet, but no kittens on the bed without a tail. No matter how cutely you beg and pout I will resist giving in to you, you unruly, spoiled kitty."

Resigned to your fate you let go of Missy's wrist and crawled away to get the tail plug. Staring at it sadly for a few moments as you accepted the cost of being warm in the bed with Missy. It would be worth it. Picking it up with your teeth you make your way back to Missy carrying it like a prize you had returned to deliver her. To Missy this would indeed be a prize. With muffled sounds you begged for her attention to return to you, to give you permission to get up on the bed.

"Up you come then, kitten. Let's get you all nice and settled."

You climb into the bed with only minor struggles, joining Missy.

"Lay down on your stomach for me now, pretty little legs spread open and relax for Mistress."

You followed her orders doing your best to relax. You knew that it would be easier for you if you were relaxed but your nerves still had you tensing up in anticipation of that foreign feeling. Missy's hands trailed through your hair to help you relax. Just as you were starting to be lulled to sleep you felt something wet being spread around your ass. Lube. Missy was spreading lube which meant that soon she would put the plug in. You tensed up once again as you were reminded of what was to follow.

A single, generously lubed finger pressed into your ass. Your body tense as you smothered your whimpers in the pillow.

"I said relax, kitten," her voice strict, demanding respect. Demanding to be obeyed.

Slowly you let your body fall limp. Missy's finger was soon replaced with something slightly bigger. She went slow, easing the plug into you. Letting you adjust before continuing. Cooing over you, speaking praise and reminding you to stay relaxed as best as you could manage. Once it was in you shifted uncomfortably. Squirming at the foreign feeling. It was only slightly bigger than Missy's finger but it was still not pleasant. You didn't like the way it made you feel filled.

"Good job, kitten. You were so good for Mistress."

Slowly- as Missy rubbed soothing circles into your skin- the uncomfortable sensation subsided into something you could ignore. As Missy laid down beside you, you quickly nuzzled your head in between her breasts. Curling up against her. You were tired and the sooner you warmed up, the sooner you would manage to fall asleep. A blanket soon covered both of you adding to your contentment. Pleased with the warmth you began to "purr" as best as you could by catching a rolled r' in your throat. The sound dropping off as sleep claimed you.

You woke uncurled but still clutching Missy’s chemise. A light boop to your nose had you scrunching your face and trying to burry it into Missy’s stomach. You wanted to stay all warm and cozy in bed with her, even if -no doubt- she had other plans.

“Off you go, kitten,” you looked up at her in confusion as she started to push you off the bed. “If you make it to the kitchen before I do I’ll allow you to eat like a human. Better hurry along now! I’m ravenous.” She punctuated her words with a small threatening growl.

Scrambling down off of the bed you rushed out the door on your hands and knees. You hated eating out of a pet bowl. Missy loved the humiliation of it but you would prefer it if all of the pet bowls she got you as a joke were thrown into a supernova. The moment you entered the kitchen you jumped into a chair. Waiting in anticipation for Missy to startle you with her entrance. She entered a few minutes later and you finally let out a sigh of relief. You never trusted that you were in the correct place until Missy walked into the room. The TARDIS just had so many archived rooms that you could stumble into instead of the room that Missy had intended.

“How are you doing this morning, poppet?”

Missy brushed past you with a quick hair ruffle and got to work starting to fix up breakfast for the two of you. She seemed to be making some sort of sweet crepe, that was a bright blue color...?

You hesitated to speak. Were you allowed to talk right now?

“Use your words, poppet. I would hardly ask you to meow to me how you were feeling! It would be far from productive.”

“Umm I’m good. The tail is still... uncomfortable, but I can ignore it most of the time. I’m good to keep going with it but I don’t think I will want to be using it again after today. It’s just not for me, you know?”

Presenting a plate to you with a flourish Missy responded, “Oh I know, poppet. That’s why you needed the extra encouragement to try it.”

“You manipulated me!”

“Well, how could I resist, with how adorable you look when silently begging,” Missy teased as she pinched your cheek. “Besides you did say you wanted to give it a try to be sure that it wasn’t something you enjoyed. I was just ensuring that you didn’t dread it for ages as you continued to put it off. You always keep your promises so it would have happened sooner or later.”

A bite of the crepe was shoved into your mouth before you could continue to half heartedly complain about Missy manipulating you. She was completely correct, but it was the principle of it all! The cream that filled the crepe covered your lips. You were tempted to lick it up but it had spilled far enough to be difficult to get it all. Maybe she would kiss the excess away.

“What is the crepe made with anyway?”

“Might as well be snogberries, the look on your face as you ate it really makes me want to thoroughly snog you.”

“Then snog me-” before you had finished Missy got to work pressing you against the chair as she ravished your mouth. Licking the remnants of creme off of your lips.

Being kissed by Missy always felt like being caught up in a force of nature. This time it was a hurricane, hopefully, you wouldn’t drown.

“Eat up now kitten!”

Missy shoved another bite into your mouth, once again before you could talk. Well then. Guess you weren’t going to be feeding yourself this morning... Or teasing Missy about how snogberries were definitely made up.

Once Missy was placing the dishes in the sink you accepted that your break was over and returned to being on your hands and knees on the floor. It was time to be a kitten again. You dutifully followed after Missy as she made her way to the console room. At least that’s where you assumed she was leading you. The TARDIS was having mercy on you by bringing the console room closer to the kitchen. Crawling everywhere was so time-consuming and tiring. No wonder cats took so many naps.

“Hmm I think a walk before I get to work,” Missy danced around the console piloting you to whatever location she had in mind. “Don’t you agree kitten?”

You swallowed nervously. A walk. Outside. You already hated this idea, but before you could try and protest you were already there. The TARDIS landing with an ominous toll. Missy stalked towards you, hooking a leash into your collar in one smooth motion that you had no hopes of halting.

She had to practically drag you to the doors. You tried with all your might to find something to grab onto with which to halt your progress towards the doors. There was nothing other than the smooth floor that offered no salvation.

“Oh, come on, kitten. Stop being - what would you human’s say... Oh, yes! Stop being such a pussy. I wouldn’t parade you naked through the crowded streets!” Missy paused to reconsider her statement. “At least not without asking you first. I bet that if I asked you’d even say yes, I digress. The place I have chosen for your short little walkie is perfectly abandoned. No one gets to see my pet naked and live, after all.”

You took a moment to consider what she had said. Against all common sense and reason, you trusted Missy with your life. If you really didn’t like it and couldn’t get over the minor discomfort of bringing this type of play outside of the TARDIS you could always safeword. Missy was wearing her jacket with her blouse... if you safeworded you had no doubt that she would quickly wrap you up in her jacket to help comfort you.

It seemed it was a day of pushing you out of your comfort zone. Nothing had impeded on your carefully set limits; however, Missy was certainly inching close to them by exploring some of your previously unexplored kinks. The ones that you had told her upon discussion that you were willing to try, but were relatively certain that would only be tried once before being put on your dislike list.

Missy was correct earlier that the more you put off some of the kinks you had promised to try the more nervous you became about trying them. You couldn’t help but fear that she would try and make plans to throw you into the deeper parts of the kinks instead of easing you into them. You should have known that Missy would never do that to you if you thought that the kink was one that you wouldn’t like once you tried it out. Missy wasn’t kind by any stretch of the imagination, but she could be incredibly soft with you.

Still, you were hesitant as you let her lead you outside of the TARDIS. The ground was by no means comfortable for your hands and knees, but it was surprisingly not as painful as you had expected it to be. You stayed as close to Missy as you could manage without getting underfoot or tripping over the leash. Every sound of nature drew your cautious gaze. Was it really just an animal? Or would it be a person stumbling upon you in your current state? It seemed best to just hide behind Missy for protection. You felt safer hidden away from any potential eyes.

You almost hated yourself for the small thrill that potentially being caught brought you. Until you remembered Missy telling you to never have shame for enjoying yourself. You had done your best to take her words to heart. Besides, there should be no real risk of anyone stumbling upon you. Missy wouldn’t have brought you somewhere that could have other people. She didn’t like anyone seeing you in compromising situations without her approval first. Approval that was very difficult to obtain. You weren’t even sure that she would let her previous selves see you in compromising positions. A man had once walked in on you changing and Missy had killed him. You had still been almost fully dressed too. She was possessive like that.

She had mentioned a desire to fuck you in front of an audience once. Then she elaborated that all of the people who watched would of course be killed shortly afterward. They would be blessed to see you in the throes of passion before they expired. The idea had excited you when she described it but she had known that in practice it was not an idea you were ready to try. With how much you wanted to hide just out in the open like this she was correct that it would have to be a senario slowly worked towards.

“If you are going to be this shy I might as well have brought you to somewhere crowded- give you a real reason to be shy. All those eyes all focused on you and your adorable flushed face. I would have to kill so many people, but it might be worth it if all you’re going to do is cower from the very, scary leaves.”

You took Missy’s subtle threat to heart immediately. Deciding to rush forward into the pile of leaves nearby, it seemed as good a spot as any to fake kitten-like interest in the world. Before you could get more than a foot away from Missy you were strangled by the leash harshly yanking your collar back. Missy laughed at your betrayed expression.

“Oh, don’t be too cross, pet. You -literally- rushed into that all on your own,” you glared up at her, “Oh, alright. I may have talked you into that. Forgive me?”

Her voice dripped with faux remorse.

A loud rustle caused you to yelp and hide behind Missy. It was too loud to be an animal. It had to be a person. Your fears had been realized. Rapidly Missy moved in front of you, hiding you away from sight. A man larger than either of you stepped out of the woods. The moment you had mentally recognized that there was actually a person there the large man became a very small replica of his former self. Missy had shrunk him in an instant.

“It’s all alright, poppet. He didn’t even get a chance to see you were there,” you clung to Missy’s leg. “Shhh, you’re alright. Now, Mistress is going to ask you to do one more teensy tiny thing for her before she brings you back to the TARDIS to be rewarded for being a good kitten.”

You looked up at Missy, questioning her without words as to what she wanted you to do. The smile she gave you made you fear the answer.

“Be a good little kitty for Mistress and go and bring that man over here.”

You stared up at Missy silently begging her to not mean what you thought she meant.

“Yes, kitten. I do want you to bring that corpse over to me as if you were a proud kitten bringing her kill back to her Mistress.”

The leash being unhooked from your collar is what finally sold you on Missy being serious. She wanted you to bring a dead body back to her feet. Slowly you inched towards the man’s dead body. The closer you got to the miniaturized man the less and less afraid you were. Now that he was tiny his presence was a lot less threatening. Still, you couldn’t help but hesitate. Did you really want to carry a dead body over to Missy like this? I mean sure the two of you would occasionally play with her victims as if they were dolls- you never claimed you were an innocent person- but was this going too far?

“Kitten, if you are going to obey me you should get on with it already. You do want your reward, don’t you? Besided, who knows how many other people could be hiding in the forest.”

Biting the man’s clothes between your teeth you lifted his body off of the ground. You were really doing this. It felt like it took forever to crawl back to Missy’s side. Each foot felt like an eternity, the fabric of the man’s shirt beginning to feel as if it was slowly slipping out of your grasp. You looked briefly up at Missy before bowing your head to place the man’s body down at her feet. While bowed you pressed a slow kiss to Missy’s shoes. Standing with her feet in parallel touching each other granted you the opportunity to kiss both brown leather shoes at once. You hadn’t realized that they were the same leather as her gloves before now.

Missy’s words shook you out of your submissive haze, “Such a wonderful little kitten. Now let’s get you back to the TARDIS. We can take care of those nasty scratches on your knees and give you your reward for being so good for Mistress today.”

Re-leashing you Missy led you back towards the TARDIS doors to receive your reward and you eagerly followed her on your hands and knees. Missy’s rewards were worth doing anything for. Hours of praise, body worship and pleasure were in your future as your Mistress took good care of your body and mind’s needs. If this sort of play would earn you rewards maybe you should tease your boundaries more often! You could grow to love being an outdoor cat with enough pleasant persuasion after a session.

#missy x reader #the master x reader

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ilovereadingandilovebreathing · 3 years

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One Spider-Man and a Baby

A/N: This was supposed to be part of a 5+1 in response to an ask prompt, but I’ve been stuck for...honestly I have no idea how long at this point, and I really want this one to see the light of day, so I’m posting it.

Summary: Peter is definitely out past his bedtime, but to be fair, babies are also definitely not supposed to be out in the dead of night...or in dark, spooky alleys.

It’s a slow night on patrol.

Peter is sitting atop a Subway, his legs hanging over the edge, and he’s just finished munching on a complimentary six-inch. He stands, stretches, and shoots his balled up trash in to the large silver can below him before hopping to the ground, opting to walk in the shadows instead of webbing so that his food can settle.

It’s very early in the morning (or late at night, depending on how you look at it); it’s low traffic hours, so for once, Peter is able to navigate his own city as Spider-Man with ease. Every once in a while, he passes a pair or a group of partygoers, slurred exclamations of “Spider-Bro!” and “Wow, Spider-Man!” making his cheeks burn with pride. He’s just fist-bumping an especially enthusiastic passerby when a new sound reaches his ears.

The cries of a baby definitely aren’t novel sounds to Peter, especially around bedtime in New York, but something about these cries are wrong, aside from the fact that it’s almost 1 in the morning. They seem raw, desperate, even.

Following his ears, Peter comes to the mouth of an alleyway. He listens for a moment more before slowly inching his way into the darkness.

“Hey, Karen,” Peter mumbles. “Do we have night vision?”

“Of course, Peter.”

Instantly, the small space is lit up in a strange, fluorescent green that Peter has seen on numerous ghost-hunting shows.

“Seriously? Green? I feel like I’m on ‘Ghost Hunters.’”

“I believe that was the intended effect. Mr. Stark was aware of your television preferences.”

Peter smiles a bit, but it melts when he realizes where the cries are coming from. Peter carefully steps toward a large dumpster and hoists himself up; a dark blue infant car seat sits on top of a pile of full black garbage bags. Peter quickly dives over the edge of the large bin and wades toward the source of the continuous cries until he’s able to lift the blanket draped over the handle; the smallest baby Peter has ever seen lays swaddled inside. The tiny human’s face is so wrinkly and pinched that even Peter can tell it’s the closest to a newborn you can get without being in a hospital. Peter feels his stomach turn over when reality sets in: someone probably abandoned this baby here. The night vision just picks up the tear tracks on the baby’s cheeks, and Peter’s heart clenches.

“Karen, can you scan the baby for injuries?”

“She appears to be unharmed, Peter, but her body temperature is low. Considering she is a newborn, I suggest skin-to-skin contact if possible.”

“Oh....” Peter considers for a moment. “I have my Midtown hoodie. It’s pretty thick.” He knows his backpack is webbed up behind the aforementioned Subway, about fifteen minutes away, but he knows he can’t leave the baby behind. “You said skin-to-skin, right, Karen?”

“Yes, Peter.”

“Okay, Babygirl, we’re gonna get you warm.” Peter hits the spider logo in the center of his suit, and it becomes lose all around him. He slips out of the top half of his uniform and reaches into the car seat; he carefully brings the squirming infant against his chest and grits his teeth when she cries louder at the movement and harsh cold. He holds the surprisingly light little body with one arm and then the other as he slips them back into his sleeves. He presses the little spider again, and the suit becomes form-fitting around them. “Hey, Karen, can you loosen the suit around Babygirl?”

Immediately, the pressure against his chest lessens, and he cradles the little one there, shivering at how cold she is against his warm skin.

“Can you put the heater on low, Karen? Don’t want to hurt her.”

His suit is instantly less warm than normal, and Peter hugs Babygirl close. She’s still crying, so he tries to bounce her a bit, like he’d seen on countless T.V. shows.

“She’s probably hungry, huh, Karen?”

“Most likely.”

“Mmmhmm...Is there like a shelter or something nearby?”

“May I suggest a hospital?”

Peter smacks his forehead. “Duh. Get me directions to the closest one with a 24 hour emergency room.”

“Done. Directions starting.”

Peter grabs the carrier and sets off under Karen’s direction. It’s an hour journey on foot, but Peter would rather not risk upsetting the baby more than has already been done.

As they’re walking, Peter tries to keep Babygirl as steady as possible, running a hand over her head over and over, cupping the infant to him as he silently pleads for her to calm down.

“Karen, what calms babies down?”

“Top results include: feeding.”

“Can’t do that.”

“Diaper changes.”

“Also can’t do that.”

“Pacifiers.”

“Didn’t see one.”

“Rocking.”

“Limited ability right now.”

“And singing.”

“If I do that, she’ll scream.” Peter snorts.

“Why is that, Peter?”

“Let’s just say I’m not the best singer.”

May may not be his biological aunt, but he definitely inherited his tone deafness from her by proxy.

“You don’t have to be. Just the sound of a voice can be comforting. Studies show that babies are calmed by hearing familiar voices talking, but singing has been shown to be even more effective.”

“What about humming?”

“Close enough.”

“Hmmm...this is weird, Karen, but I have ‘Bella Notte’ from Lady and the Tramp stuck in my head right now.”

“I can play that quietly for you, if you want.”

“That works.”

The opening accordion notes of the Disney classic play quietly around them, and Peter smiles. “I’ve always loved this song. There’s just something about it.”

“Are you going to sing along, Peter?”

“I already told you I’m awful, Karen.”

“You can still hum. The vibrations might be soothing for Babygirl.”

“I guess-hey, Bella. I’ll call her Bella. That’s nicer than Babygirl.”

“Bella is a nice name. It means ‘beautiful.’”

“I like it. Bella Notte...” Peter takes a deep breath and silently resigns himself to humming for Bella’s sake.

The baby has quieted down quite a bit by the time the hospital comes into view, and Peter has literally memorized “Bella Notte” as it plays for the 20th time.

The ER only has a few scattered patrons when they arrive, and thankfully, none of them really acknowledge the strange pair. “Karen, voice disguise.” Peter whispers as he crosses into the reception area.

“Uh, hi. I’m, uh-”

“Carrying a baby in your shirt?” The receptionist is terse but smiling just a bit as Peter fumbles with the carrier.

“Uh, yeah. I found her abandoned in an alley.”

“Oh, dear.” The woman clicks her tongue and picks up her phone. “Katie,” She sighs after a few moments. “Can you come to my desk please? An infant. Yup. Thank you.” She smiles softly at him this time. “One of our pediatric nurses is coming. There is a single bathroom back here if you you want to take her out...privately.”

“Oh, thank you so much.” Peter tentatively rounds the desk and nods when the receptionist, Patricia, her nametag says, lets him in the locked door.

In the privacy of the one-person restroom, Peter rips off his mask and sags against the wall, breathing deeply and unevenly as he tries to get his bearings. He can’t believe he walked all the way here with a tiny baby in his suit. He presses the logo and carefully extracts her, immediately bundling her in the blanket he’d found her under. He realizes in the light that she’s only wearing a dirty white onesie, and he feels tears spring to his eyes.

“Don’t worry, Bella.” Peter coos softly, his voice breaking as he really looks over her scrunched up face for the first time. “You’re safe now.”

Before he can think, he places a featherlight kiss on her little forehead, and his heart flutters. He clenches his eyes against the tears welling there as she whimpers in his arms, exhausted from crying for who knows how long. The boy stares at the baby for a few more moments before sighing deeply and pulling his mask back over his tired features.

Peter keeps the baby cradled to him with one arm and carries the car seat with the other; he carefully opens the bathroom door and inches out into the employee area behind the reception desk. A young woman with a brown ponytail and soft hazel eyes catches his gaze and gives him a small wave; she pushes off of the table she’s leaned against and meets him halfway.

“Hi, Spider-Man.” Her voice is like tinkling bells. “Pat says you have a visitor for me?”

“Yeah....I don’t know her name, so I’ve been calling her Bella.”

“That works for now.” Katie smiles and reaches out. “Mind if I take her off your hands?”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Peter hesitates and looks down at Bella, his eyes filling again, and he feels himself blush. He looks back up at Katie but subconsciously pulls the baby closer.

“You can hug her good-bye if you want,” Katie offers softly, gently pulling the carrier from his arm. “I’ll be right out front with Pat when you’re ready.”

“Okay. Thank you, Katie.”

The young nurse smiles and leaves quietly.

Peter looks down at Bella, his view of her distorted through tears. “You’re gonna be okay now, Bella. Katie and Pat will take good care of you.” Peter swallows thickly and places her laterally against his chest, bouncing her gently to comfort both of them, if he’s honest. He squeezes her against him and brings his head to rest on top of hers. “This is so weird. I only met you like an hour ago, but...I love you so much, Bella.” Peter sighs and sniffs before straightening up; he continues slightly rocking Bella as he walks toward Katie and Pat, the former continually smiling at him as he hands the tiny bundle over.

“She’ll be okay. Thank you for bringing her to us.” Katie pats his shoulder and holds an arm out. Peter is taken aback for a second until he really looks at her, sees the lines in her face and bags under her eyes. She suddenly reminds him of May, the desire to help and love so evident in every part of her, and he steps into her embrace. Katie squeezes him lightly and rubs a hand over his back. Peter breathes shakily, and she squeezes again before pulling away. “You’ll both be okay,” Katie promises.

“Why...was she abandoned?”

Katie’s eyes turn down at the corners. “Any number of scenarios for why, but Pat told me you found her in an alley.”

“In...a dumpster.” Peter chokes out.

“Sadly, not the first time we’ve heard of that, but she’s definitely better off now that she’s here. Our social worker specializes in infant care, so she’ll find a good foster family for her.” Katie pats his back one more time before holding Bella close to her; she runs a finger over her forehead.

“She was so cold when I found her,” Peter whispers. “But I think I helped warm her.”

“I’d say so; she doesn’t feel too cold at all. You did good, Spider-Man.” Katie turns back toward the door he came through, and Peter holds it open for her. “You’re welcome to stay here until we’re done looking her over and getting her settled, if you want.”

“I...I want to...” Peter sighs and rubs his arm. “But I already said good-bye. I should go home. Someone is waiting for me. Plus, I trust you guys.”

“Well, thanks.” Pat laughs and rubs his arm. “This is what we do, baby. She’ll be just fine. You did good.”

Peter nods, puts a hand on Pat’s shoulder as he passes, and heads out of the emergency room before he can break down.

It’s after 3am when Peter finally climbs in his window. He shouldn’t be surprised to find May asleep on his bed, but his vision, physical and otherwise, is a little hazy thanks to his senses being on alert ever since he left the hospital. It wasn’t like the normal shriek of danger but a buzz at the base of his neck, like the area there has somehow fallen asleep.

Peter shakes his head when he finds himself still sitting on the windowsill. He crosses to May silently and gently rubs her shoulder. “May?”

May stirs and squints up at him; her eyes widen before she sighs and laughs, slightly delirious. “Oh, shit, Peter. I always forget about you under there.” She sits up and stretches. “Why didn’t you call me? Way past curfew.” She yawns into her hand.

Peter hits the spider logo and strips out of the suit, exhaustion flooding his bones and tears in his eyes at her comment. “I’m sorry, May. Crazy night.”

“Yeah?”

Peter slips into a t-shirt and sweatpants and turns to face his aunt.

May’s expression falls when she really sees Peter’s face.

“Oh, baby, what happened?”

Peter bites his lip and blinks, releasing a few of the tears he wouldn’t let fall in the hospital. “That’s exactly it. I...I found a baby.”

“Oh my god.” She’s across the room and hugging him before he can blink again. She pulls him back toward the bed and hugs him close as he begins trembling.

May hugs him against her cups the back of his head; she looks down at him and murmurs, “Why didn’t you call me? I could’ve helped you, sweetheart.”

“You’ve never had a baby, May.” Peter says between shuddering breaths. “And I was six when you got me.”

“Touché.” May brushes some bunched up hair form his forehead. “But I had cousins growing up. I know how to deal with babies.”

“I just....didn’t think to. I took care of her, though. Took her to an emergency room. I had it handled.”

“Good thinking, kiddo.”

“It was Karen’s idea.”

“Well good on Karen, then.”

Peter nods mutely, staring blankly at the floor.

May wipes the stray tears from his cheeks and just lets them sit in silence for a few minutes, letting Peter get himself together before a yawn shudders through her. They both laugh a bit, and May asks, “Good?”

Peter nods.

“Good.” May carefully detaches herself and picks up his bedside water glass. “I’ll fill this for you, then bed time.” She goes and returns swiftly, kissing him tenderly on the brow while whispering, “I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. The hero with a heart of gold.”

Peter’s smile is wobbly, but he forces it up for her.

When she leaves, he lays on top of his covers for a little while, staring at his ceiling. Even with his windows and doors closed and locked tight, Peter can’t seem to shake that buzz in his senses.

It’s a little after 5am when his eyes finally fall closed, though the threat was long gone.

Stories below him and hours before, a hooded figure had slipped off into the night, having been at the right place at the right time for his own gain.

#spiderman fic #spiderman fanfic #peter parker #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfic #mcufanfic #mine #spiderbabyfanfic #may parker

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huearmy · 4 years

Text

Life is Beautiful - I

Summary: You are a glass half full person, your life motto is "Life is too short to... Insert something and anything here". During your whole life you wanted something more, and even not knowing what it is, you put yourself to find out and get it, experiencing everything brilliant that the world offers - within the measure of what is safe, of course. The curious thing is that your way of living ended up rousing the interest of two vampires. One who sees beauty in everything and loves to exist, currently working with suicide prevention; and another one who no longer sees grace in things, in that boring immortality that never ends, and only complains about the Netflix catalog all the time.

Pairing: Jimin x reader / Taehyung x reader.

Genre: fluff, angst, future smut (very soft, ok?)...

Words: 7509.

Rating: +18

Warnings: As much as my writing is soft and light, and as these are not the main topic of the story, treated in a non-descriptive way, there are sensitive themes from the beginning of the first chapter to the end of the fic that can trigger sensitive people, like depression, suicide, addictions in general - Jimin literally works at a suicide prevention center here. SO PLEASE! Read responsibly, my intention when dealing with topics like this is always 1) dealing with them in myself, as a way of putting out part of my own healing process 2) generating identification in other people, so they can go through the difficult time a little less alone. THIS IS A STORY THAT SEES THE WORLD WITH POSITIVITY.

Chapter II Chapter III .

After some centuries of not living, all vampires go through a kind of midlife crisis in which everything loses its grace and eternity becomes endless boredom. Nothing new happens, humans are born, sometimes they are relevant to world history, they become vampire food or they die dull. Vampires do not need to sleep or use the bathroom, nor to feed more than once a month, so the days are long, and often lonely, which leads many of them to stand still without moving, looking at nothing until their thirst quits, forcing them to go after a pulsating neck. Many go through this phase as serial killers, with killing as their only source of pleasure, others prefer to hibernate in some dark place or tomb, because false death is more interesting than false life. Some never get past the phase.

Jimin is not like that. With almost a thousand years of existence he is totally in love with life. Every day when the sun rises and the sunlight forces him to stay indoors so as not to burst into flames, he spends his hours with a smile on his face, engaging in small banal hobbies, such as gardening or online courses at distance - after almost a decade of doing this, Jimin already has fifty-two certificates in different areas, and he is pretty pride of it. When night comes and he can go out and see the world it’s even more interesting, because humans ’nightlife isn’t as hectic as daytime, so those who live in those dark hours are different. There are those who do wrong things and commit crimes, those who have double lives or who keep secrets, there are people working to protect and save, like doctors and police, there are night guards and twenty-four hours convenience store attendants, groups of friends who spend the night partying until dawn, and those who feel lonely in their empty apartments unable to sleep... And this is the part that he likes the most: people.

He likes to meet random people in the empty metro, buy a drink for a girl who doesn't take her eyes off him and then dance with her, strike up a conversation with a homeless man under a marquee because he knows the guy must be lonely. Watching and learning about other lives keeps him alive, more than the blood he needs to drink.

He likes to get temporary jobs to have some human experience. He has worked in pizzerias, both in the kitchen - he was not very good, so he was put in the dishwasher - both in deliveries, and at a gas station, as a hotel receptionist... But now it looks like he found a job he wants to stay in, so much that it has been a year and he has not yet resigned. Perhaps Jimin has found his calling.

"It's okay... You are not alone, I'm here and I'll stay until you feel good again." He said with his sweet, angelical voice. "Can you get away from the sharp objects? Please?"

The voice on the other end of the line sounded like just a choked whisper, before the answer came, fast, heavy breathing filled the air.

"No... I can't..." The female sobbed.

"Can you tell me why?" Jimin's voice was calm. "I... my legs are numb... I can't... stand up." Her breathing was erratic and desperate.

"Are you hurt? Do you need an ambulance to be sent to you?" He used his most reassuring voice possible.

"No!" She started to cry even harder. "I don't want no one... to see me... like this." Jimin bite the inside of his cheek, thinking, maybe she just wasn't able to get up because of the anxiety attack, but she also didn't say she wasn't hurt.

Regardless of the case, he needed to make the girl trust him in order to help her.

"What is your name?" He smiled, hopping she would listen to it in his voice. "... Ana" She whispered. "Nice to meet you, Ana. Do you remember my name? I told you at the beginning of the call."

One moment of silence.

"Jimin." She said with little certainty.

"Exactly, good job. Hi, Ana." "Hi, Jimin." Despite the crying voice, she was no longer sobbing.

"Ana, can you recall the last thing you did that made you feel safe? Secure?" A sigh reached Jimin's ears. As he waited for an answer his hands moved over a sheet of paper, he was drawing a beautiful face of a girl with crayons, without paying much attention, but getting a beautiful result.

"No." She said at last.

"I know you can, Ana. No need to rush. Breath." She thought some more, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Almost a full minute passed, the two of them silent on the call. Jimin did not press for an answer.

"I was watching Friends... with my cat." "Your cat?" Jimin smiled more spontaneously now, noticing in her voice an oscillation of affection when saying the word cat. "Talk more about your cat."

"His name is Sushi, he's fat, full of himself, and loving. He likes children, food and sleeping. I recently bought him a cute collar, it looks like a pink bow tie." She almost laughed.

"Wow...He is a lucky cat." Suddenly she started to cry again, sobbing so hard that Jimin hardly understood what she was saying.

"He ran away and hasn't come back yet... He's never been away from home so long... He's all I have, there's no one else... I don't want to live... alone." "Is it just you and Sushi?" Jimin spoke more forcefully for her to hear over the sobs.

"Yes." She choked. "I can't get up... It hurts so much. I'm so-sorry..."

"Ana, do you need an ambulance to be sent to you?" He tried again. Silence.

"Yes." "So I will stay with you until they come to help you. You are not alone."

Jimin was a vampire in love with live, eager to live each day as if it were the most precious gift, so working in the Center of Valuing Life and Preventing Suicide was perfect. He considers himself an expert in convincing anyone that life is beautiful when he has the opportunity to say everything he thinks about. And not letting people feel alone is one of his favorite hobbies.

After all, eternity can be quite lonely, he knows how it is.

________________________________________________________________

That call is over. Jimin was searching for missing cat posts on social media. In the silent office room it was just him and three other people working, each at their separated personal table. Perhaps due to the nature of the work, or due to the late hours of the night, nobody spoke loudly or made a lot of noise when doing things, even when talking to each other, everything is always very restrained, calm.

Jimin's eyes followed the clock hands on the wall above the door. It was almost one in the morning, actually, to be exact, twelve minutes to go, so in two minutes, you would punctually enter that door with your heavy backpack full of books, of someone who just left college on the other side of the city, and after stopping at a twenty-four hours fast food to get a well-deserved burger spent an hour on a subway trip. He could already hear your footsteps down the hall, the characteristic sound of the rubber on the soles of your boots and your bunch of keys stuck in the handle of your backpack tinkling. He heard you putting your stuff in your closet and hanging your coat on the rack in the next room, and a smile formed on Jimin's face. When the hand on the clock struck ten to one and you opened the door trying not to make any noise so as not to disturb anyone's call, Jimin pretended not to notice you entering, not taking his eyes off the computer screen full of images of cute cats. You straightened up and held firmly the pair of coffee cups in your hands till the knots turned white, looking straight at him - in fact, from the moment you walked through the door you were already expecting to see Jimin sitting at his table, as always, and since then you haven't looked away. Walking in light steps - that he could hear by the way - to him who had his back to you, you tried to control the butterflies in your stomach, happy he wasn't in a call right now.

"Jimin?" You called softly, close to his ear, but not that close. Yet. Jimin contained a smile and turned around as if you had taken him by surprise. "Hey, Y/N, didn't see you there". As usual, his direct look made your heart race and you gave a nervous laugh before getting along with his flirty tone. "I bought you coffee." You handed him one of the cups. "To take the night shift a little better."

"Thanks, sweetheart."

You are the other reason Jimin didn't quit this job yet. A few weeks ago, when he was working long enough to decide to leave and go for the next adventure, you started working at the night shift, and right away you caught Jimin's attention, even though at first you didn't talk with him that much - in fact you only talked to the women on the team, and avoided the men. More than once he found himself paying attention to your emergency calls, how you talk, being positive without being suffocating for those in pain ... how you love life. After a while you started doing the same thing, a little less easily, since you don't have a vampire audition, but it was enough for you to acquire a platonic crush on Jimin, which resulted in you opening up, and you two start talking here and there. Now almost whenever you have time or money left over - college life is poor life - you bring him coffee. Jimin doesn't actually drink coffee at all, and he doesn't feel sleepy either, but he thinks it's cute that you worry for him. You see each other three to four times a week, depending on the schedule of work, and he is always eager to see you. Flirting is exciting, and he hasn't done that in a while... Like two centuries, and how it was done back there was quite different. Other times indeed.

"Did you lose your cat?" You asked, confused.

"Oh, no, I didn't." He closed the page with the photo of a white and gray cat wearing a pink bow tie.. "One friend of mine lost her cat, Sushi." "Poor thing. I hope she finds Sushi soon..." You slightly pouted.

"Me too. I'll help her." Jimin said, and the butterflies in your stomach thought it was beautiful.

Something on his desk caught your attention, a colorful draw of said cat made with crayon. Before Jimin could stop you - he was distracted by hearing your heart beat faster because of him - you picked up the stack of papers to get a closer look.

"And you drew him! How beautiful... I didn't know you were so talented." "Thank you. My friend who taught me, he is much better than me..." Jimin simply answered.

You moved on to the next sheet, where another sketch of the cat in different colors made your eyes shine. "So he must be awesome. Look at this!" Jimin was happy to be praised by you, the pink of your cheeks when speaking was a beautiful sign for him, but then he remembered what was the next drawing in your hands, and before you could see it, he cleared his throat and took them back, keeping them in the drawer. It was a drawing of a girl's pretty face. Your face. "They are not quite ready yet..." He pretended modesty.

"Oh, sorry. If you need help, just tell me. I can hang up posters or something. About finding the lost cat, I mean." You volunteered, and then looked around. "I better get to work before someone scolds me."

You went to your desk, across his, and your eyes met a few more times before as you sat down and turned on your computer. Jimin's phone rang and he forced himself to look away from your face, someone else needed him now. "Good night, my name is Jimin and you called the Life Valuation Center. Can I help?" He spoke, his voice welcome and full of affection. ________________________________________________________________

Jimin's shift ends before yours, just before three in the morning he puts things away and leaves the table ready for the person who will use the next shift, but he won't leave, even if everyone thinks so. Instead he goes to the roof to look at the stars and wait for you to leave - not that you know he is waiting for you. He was listening to a random playlist on spotify, stretching his body to the beat just because it feels good, thinking about nothing specific, just existing and feeling good about it.

The night breeze brought his scent to him, looking down from the parapet, he could see you leaving the building, with your scarf well wrapped around your neck, covering half of your face to protect you from the cold air. He doesn't understand you... It's beautiful that you want to help people who are going through a difficult time, and you've commented before that the night shift matches your other schedules, and that you like to stay up at night. However, he thinks you should consider it's not worth it. It's so late and empty when you go home, it's dangerous for a human woman, and as much as he knows that you have a pocketknife in your pocket, Jimin thinks it's silly of you. Usually he wouldn't think much about it, but it's you, and he is fond of you, he can't just do nothing about it. So even if you don't know it, he accompanies you home every night to make sure you are safe. He is only satisfied and goes home when he hears you enter your room. Sometimes he stays a little longer, sitting on the emergency stairs outside your building, listening to you walking up and down in your room, doing whatever, instead of going to sleep soon.

That's kind of creepy. He knows. But he is a vampire, he is already creepy in essence. But of course he would never watch you sleep, for exemple, this is a stalker limit that he does not intend to cross.

"Okay." He sighed as he heard you getting into bed. "I have one hour and a half before the sun rises... Let's find that cat." __________________________________________

You were awake for a couple of hours already, currently packing your books at the end of a lecture, really needing sugar to feel prepared before the last class of the day, and excited that instead of going to the study group you are a part of, you will take an experimental dance class and it's your day off, which means that instead of staying up until dawn working, you can stay up until dawn studying, and maybe sleep a little earlier. Life is too short to not take all the free trial classes available just because your schedule is already full and totally demanding. Anyways you are dead tired, wishing your body doesn't need to sleep... Since you started to work on the Life Valuation Center all your sleeping schedule went down the drain. At first your plan was to work the night shift only at the beginning, and then change your hours, but for some reason you always liked to stay up all night, also the movement of calls in this period is bigger and more specific, which helps in your internship report, and of course, in the day shift there is no Jimin... You've settled in, and now after months of this crazy, fickle routine, your body is feeling the side effects.

"Three of this rainbow donuts please." You asked at the college cafe. One because you want, two because one is not enough, three because you are greedy. Life is too short not to overeat your current favorite sugar source. You sigh to yourself, taking a seat along your friends. Your mantra for life is life is too short to...insert anything here, experimenting and doing things that you never imagined before and that your mother probably wouldn't approve a hundred percent is what moves you. Basically nothing scares you, since childhood you were courageous and fearless. You subject yourself to almost anything, within the measures of what is safe, to have good stories to tell. The world is too big to be content with just having good grades to graduate and have a good job. What you want is much more... so much more that you don't even know what... But it’s not just because you don’t know yet that you’ll stand still without going after it to find out.

"Hey, Y/N, what are you gonna do on the weekend?" Your friend, Becca, asked comfortably within her girlfriend's embrace. As usual, whenever you see the two of them together being all lovey dovey, you feel a twinge of pride in your heart, because you were responsible for them to start dating in the first place. Although your romantic life is not very interesting, without serious or successful relationships, you are a great cupid.

"For the very first time in months... I don't know. I didn't plan anything, maybe something will show up, if not I'm just going to sleep. Why?" You smiled your happy smile of eating what you like.

"Pool party. You need to get a tan, you look like a vampire with that pale, tired face of yours."

You laughed because it's true, since you started changing the day for the night, your skin has acquired a not healthy tone that you are not used to. You've been missing the sun a little.

"First of all, I'm too cute to be a vampire. Second, yeah I'll think about it, I have a new bikini I haven't worn yet that makes my breasts look stunning." One of your friends that was sitting by your side put his arm over your shoulder. "I changed my mind, I'm going to this party." He loudly said. The girls in the group didn't laugh at all. "Shut up, Mike." You playfully pushed him. ________________________________________________________________

This was the second night that Jimin was looking for the cat, Sushi. It was not difficult to find out the address of it’s owner, since he had to activate an ambulance for her, and with that he started looking for the animal in her neighborhood. Passing through the empty streets at night after his work shift, he could see the girl's tracks leaving "missing" posters with a picture of a kitten wearing a pink bow tie, on lampposts and bus stops. At first Jimin thought it was going to be easy, with his keen vampire senses, but all he found were stray cats that weren't Sushi. The second night of searching was already ending, the sun was rising, threatening to make him explode into ashes if he didn't come home soon, and no clue as to where to look the next night he had.

Before getting into the car and driving home, Jimin took one last look at the slightly open curtains in the girl's room, Ana, just to make sure she was okay. She had been discharged from the hospital that afternoon and was now sleeping on the couch, probably medicated. Jimin didn't want to leave her alone, but he couldn't just walk into her apartment and offer help, for now all he could do was find a way to find the cat. ________________________________________________________________ Jimin lives in an old pretty house in the wealthiest part of the city, it isn't a mansion, but it is big and expensive enough to impress anyone who sees it, privileges of centuries of saved money. It's a cliché, but vampires dress in designer clothes, ride luxury cars and live in expensive mansions, houses, apartments, and Jimin is no exception.

From one of the main rooms, behind a heavy curtain, hidden in the gloom, was another vampire, watching the street with intent, expressionless eyes. When Jimin's car turned the corner and up the wide street lined with huge trees, the vampire got uneasy, his beautiful restless hands worrying the hem of his sleeves. He was anxious and angry, if his heart was still beating it would be racing. The garage door opened and the car entered, disappearing from view, in the next second the vampire was no longer in the room but in front of the door leading to the garage, waiting in the empty, dark hall. The knob turned the door slightly opened, Jimin with his head down did not seem to notice the presence of the other before being attacked.

"AH!" Jimin screamed as long arms embraced his neck. If it wasn't for the wall behind him he would have fallen, yet he had no escape, with a body much larger than his overpowering him. "Taehyungie!"

"You are late! Is the second day in a row you get home after sunrise! Are you trying to die?" Taehyung said, and didn't let Jimin go just yet. "It's okay. I was careful, I just had to do a few things before I came home. Look, there's not even smoke coming out of me." Jimin ran his hands over Tae's back, making him relax. The other stepped back a little, taking his face in his big hands.

"You could have sent a message. I asked you to let me know if you were going to be late again, Jiminie..." Tae pouted, still distressed. "And why do your clothes smell like garbage? Take it off."

Even feeling deprived of affection, Taehyung walked away looking disgusted, covering his nose with two fingers. Jimin obeyed, taking off his sneakers, jacket and jeans, following Taehyung through the corridor to the laundry room, where he put everything in a basket to wash later, and also exchanged the shirt for a clean one too. "I went into some alleys today, looking for a cat. That's why." Jimin explained, feeling much more comfortable in not smelling bad.

"And where's it? I don't think Tannie will like to share the house with a cat..." "Where is what?" Jimin was confused. Tae crossed his arms.

"The cat?"

"Oh no!" Jimin laughed, reaching for Tae to take him by the shoulders. "I wasn't looking for a cat to bring home, as much as I would love one as a pet... It's the cat of a girl I met, and is very sad to have lost it..."

"I got it..." Taehyung mumbled.

Jimin was just helping someone. Again. And Taehyung couldn't say exactly why it bothers him so much every time, but it does, he feels distressed, almost as if the world around him collapsed, and it makes him think he's being overdramatic. Live an eternity when you can't even put your feelings out in moments of frustration. Damn, it is conflicting... If vampires could cry, he would. But never that he would let Jimin discover that he feels that way.

It was Jimin's turn to take Tae's face in his little hands.

"You are so skinny. When was the last time you fed?" Taehyung didn't answer.

"You don't even remember, right?" Jimin's eyes went worried. "Did you see that I brought some O- packs for you? I left it in the fridge."

"No, I didn't." A shy smile spread across Tae's face. O- is his favorite blood type, but because it is a not so common type, and humans need transplantation, it's not always that Jimin brings it to him, usually opting for his second favorite flavor or other one available.

Jimin has been trying to cheer his friend up with little treats. It has been a difficult phase, in which he thinks Tae is going through the vampiric midlife crisis. He hasn't been out of the house for almost two decades and does nothing without a little external motivation, even the simplest things like eating. So Jimin tries to bring the best blood types to fill the fridge, signed all available streaming platforms, updates Taehyung's video game consoles as soon as a new model comes out, tries to get him interested in new hobbies - which never works but he doesn't give up - and he even adopted a puppy so that Tae would never be alone.

"Come." Jimin pulled him by the hand to their modern practically untouched kitchen, opened the fridge and picked two packs of blood, the dark liquid shining at the cold light. “In my room or yours?"

"Yours."

The two of them got to Jimin's room, followed by the sound of four paws scraping the polished wooden floor, Yeontan chasing them closely. Jimin pulled the covers off the clean bed, on which he rarely lies down, so they could get more comfortable. Tae laid on his back, against the pile of smooth pillows, carefully opening a packet of blood to not spill a single drop, and put a stainless steel straw in the opening. Jimin turned on the TV, put the dog in the bed, and cuddled Tae's side, with his head on his chest.

"What show have you been watching?" Jimin asked.

"None. I've been looking for something interesting in this shit for days and I can't find anything." Tae took a sip of his blood with a pout.

Jimin chuckled. "I'm choosing then."

A moment of silence followed, in which the only sound was of Tae drinking the rest of his first pack, and then opening another one.

"I think I need to shower..." Jimin commented.

Taehyung's arm that was around Jimin tightened. "Not now. Later." Jimin laughed, thinking it was cute. An idea crossed his mind, another small treat.

"Do you want to bath with me instead?" He looked up to Tae.

Tae hold tightened even more.

"Not now. Later. Now we cuddle."

As if agreeing, Yeontan climbed over the two vampires, finding a comfortable place to lie down and join the cuddle pile.

"Ok."

________________________________________________________________

Tonight you didn't have time to talk to Jimin when you arrived at work, he was on a call, and it seemed really serious. You didn't have the money to buy extra coffee even for yourself, so you hadn't an excuse to pass quietly by his desk to leave a post-it written "Hi :)". In those circumstances, you went straight to your desk to work, to do your best to be a good listener.

To your surprise, making your heart melt and your breath hold at the bottom of the throat, you saw at the top of your computer screen a post-it with a "Hi, sweetheart." written on it, and another one with a "Look in the fridge.". After working with him for that time, regularly doing some paperwork like filling out documentation and such things, you could say for sure that this was Jimin's handwriting, besides, only he calls you sweetheart.

You checked the clock on the wall with an eager look and a silly smile. As you always arrive ten minutes early, there was time to go to the break room quickly, and look inside the fridge before starting to work. And so you did. The break room was nothing more than a small table with a few chairs, a small couch, a sink, an old coffee machine, a microwave and the refrigerator, all in a tight space lit by white lights that leave the place a little impersonal. None of your co-workers were there, as usual. You crossed the small room to the fridge and opened it trying not to make a noise, more out of habit than necessity.

The interior was very empty, with some forgotten lunchboxes, but that didn't interest you. Your goal was right in the middle. A big cup of iced coffee, from a franchise that you don't usually buy from because you find it a little too expensive for your student budget, with your name written on a post-it on top of it.

"Y/N, I wanted to be me treating you today. Hope you like it."

That coffee was as cold as Jimin's fingertips when touching yours, but it warmed your heart. Sometimes you question yourself if it's healthy how head over heels you are for this guy, for so little.

Back at your desk, now with your iced coffee, you wrote a post-it and pasted it on the back of your computer screen, where Jimin could see it. "Thanks :)" Then you started to work. Other people needed you now. ________________________________________________________________ On your fifteen minutes break time, you were leaving the restroom, passing a moisturizing hand cream - because you swear that the soap in this place dries out your skin, and god forbid you from harsh hands -, the sound of the break room's door opening made you lift your eyes from the floor. It was Jimin. He don't take breaks, it's not like he needs it, he doesn't get tired, but he didn't get the chance to talk to you today yet, so as soon he saw you stretching in your chair, indicating that you would soon get up to go to the bathroom - yes, he learned your routine and mannerisms - he discreetly left the room to meet you by coincidence in the hall afterwards.

"Hi, Y/N. Did you like the coffee?" He charmly smiled at you, he was eager to ask it to you, to find out if he made the right choice of flavor, or if he made a bad mistake and you hated it - he couldn't help thinking about that possibility. Anyway, he was looking forward to your approval.

The truth is that you were so stunned by his caring that it didn't matter what the flavor was.

"Actually, yes. I love vanilla flavored things. It's basic but it makes me happy." You fixed your hair, pulling it behind your ears. Jimin could tell by your smile and your heated face that you aren't lying.

"Nice. I wanted to make you happy." He approached you, more than is suitable for the work environment, and it made you nervous, and of course he noticed. But it was okay, if someone came close he would hear and walk away before they could see you, too bad he couldn't tell you that.

"Mission completed successfully." You said, without looking away from his eyes - no matter how much part of you shouted at you to do it, your heart felt like it was going to explode. Well, your heart has a limit, so you changed the subject. "Did your friend find her cat?" Sadness took over Jimin's eyes.

"Unfortunately not. I've been looking for him for two days and nothing, I swear I think I've looked in every street, alley and trash can. I don't want to think like that, but I think Sushi is no longer with us." He sighed, clearly frustrated. You had the impulse to rub his forearms to comfort him, it was the very first time you really touched him. "If he is a cat that wasn't accustomed to getting out, and didn't know how to walk on the street, it is possible that something bad happened... But! He's a cat, if he used to go out often, he might have some other house, other owners, and that's why he hasn't come back yet." You optimistically said.

A smile spread in Jimin's face.

"That makes sense! She told me something like 'He's never been away from home for so long', there's hope then. And you also gave me an idea. Thank you, Y/N." He pulled you into a hug, and you thought you could die.

"You welcome." You said against his chest, deciding not to waste the opportunity to return the hug. ________________________________________________________________ The day was perfect for a vampire walk in the daytime. Cloudy and rainy. No deadly sunbeams and an excuse to use an umbrella without calling attention to it. After the tip you gave, Jimin looked in the right place after accompanying you home that night, and in less than an hour he was outside the window of two children's rooms, in a ground floor apartment, looking inside, and sleeping between the feet of one of the children was the cat, he wasn't with his bow tie but there was no mistake, Jimin was sure. Even without being able to enter - vampiric rules, you only can get in somebody's house if invited, or else you explode as if you were under sunlight - Jimin could smell cat all over the house, and the windows all had anti-escape screens, which indicated that it was a family of cat people.

Jimin would need to come back to pick the cat during the day, knock on the front door and politely ask. That's why heavy weather is perfect. With a dark couture coat, covering all from his neck to the back of his hands, to his knees, a design hat and sunglasses, and last but nos least, a big umbrella, he approached the lower middle class apartment complex. Without hesitation he raised his hand and knocked. Some seconds passed by, sound of kids running inside and a voice of a famale scolding them muffled by the closed door, and then a little girl, maybe six-year-old, appeared in Jimin's field of vision, her eyes sparkling as she looked at him. He was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen after all.

"Hello." Jimin smiled. "Are your parents home?"

She smiled at him, but shook her head negatively.

"Jo, who is it?" An older girl opened the door wider and faced Jimin with a frown that fell apart when she saw his smile. Great, a teenager, he thought. "What do you want?"

"Sorry to bother, I really wanted to talk to an adult, but..." Jimin lifted his phone, the screen showing Sushi's missed post. "I saw my friend's cat on your window."

The older girl narrowed her eyes as she looked at the photo, but before she could answer, the little girl she called Jo before ran away.

"No!" She screamed, disappearing inside the apartment, and then slamming a door somewhere.

"Sorry for that, please wait a minute." The teenager closed the door on his face, and he could hear her shouting and scolding the girl little inside. He was starting to lose his patience. Jimin doesn't like to be ignored at all. Should he knock again and use his mind control powers to get the cat? He was pondering the idea when the door opened again, the two girls were still loudly arguing inside, and this time it was a small boy who must be the middle sibling in front of him.

"Hi, grandma said to tell you to come in." He mumbled.

"So you are letting me get in your house?" Jimin asked with a satisfied grin.

"Yeah... follow me." The boy was avoiding eye contact, being shy. Jimin thought he was adorable.

Jimin followed the boy to a tiny living room, where an old woman was sitting in front of the TV. The girls were now silent, but clearly wanting to argue some more, and the small one was with Sushi in her arms. Jimin sighed, he likes children, a lot, even though he doesn't live with many, but he likes them even more when they're not having a tantrum.

"Hello. Please, take a seat." The old lady pointed to the old couch. The vampire obliged, and almost immediately a fat orange cat jumped into his lap. In this small room alone he could see three more of them. "So, why do you want to steal one of my babies?" Steal? Jimin was slightly offended, he already explained himself, but the chaotic situation created a misunderstanding. "I'm not here to steal nothing, ma'am." He showed his cellphone again. "One of your cats is Sushi, my friend's cat."

"That's not his name!" The little girl shouted tapping a foot on the floor in anger. Jimin just raised his eyebrows at her, making her swallow hard. But he is in control of the situation, so Jimin smiled to remain pleasant.

"Of course it is. Just watch, little one." He reached out to call the cat. "Come here, Sushi." Even though the cat didn't know Jimin to trust him - and these people don't need to know that - cats are creatures of the night, strongly attached to magic and protection in the dark hours, and in the hierarchy of the night they obeyed vampires. The only things that cats respect more than vampires are witches and their own owners whom they protect. As Jimin expected, Sushi jumped off the girl's tight hold and went over to him.

"Good boy. Ana is missing you like hell." Jimin scratched behind his ears. Before someone else could say anything, he proceeded. "When he got lost he was using a pink bow tie." The old lady was still with Jimin cellphone in her hand, and he could see she was convinced he know the cat, but wasn't intending on letting him leave with him yet.

"I'm seeing it in the post, but there was no tie when we got him." She replied. "You just didn't see it, ma'am." Jimin was tired of this conversation, it was being a lot less nice than he imagined on his way there. When he looked to the little girl to talk to her, his eyes were intense and powerful, and his voice was full of authority. "Go get the tie where you hid it, little one."

Mesmerized by Jimin's power, the girl didn't even blink or say anything as she obeyed, turned around and ran to one of the rooms. Jimin doesn't use hypnosis very often but he has fun every time. She got back with it and handed it to him.

"Thanks." He removed the effect and the little girl blinked a few times before understanding what happened.

The old lady was clearly angry with the girl, but it wasn't Jimin's business. "Well I think that's all. We are going now." Jimin got up from the couch.

"Wait!" The teenager snapped. "Jo lied about the bow to keep the cat, and that's bad, but she already loves him! You can't just take him away!"

Jimin was almost on the door.

"Of course I can. Besides, it's not because what she did is bad, young lady. It's because my friend loves him, actually this cat is Ana's family. No one should live alone, right?"

"Right!" The old lady got up too. "I'll get you to the door, tell our friend we are sorry."

"I will. Thank you." ________________________________________________________________

"You found the cat!" Tae sniffed the back of Jimin's neck. "Where is it?"

Jimin was putting the clothes he was using to wash, to remove the smell of cat and the places he passed by. And to get comfortable, as is his habit when he gets home, he just stayed in his underwear and t-shirt.

"I already gave him back to his owner." In the next second Jimin was dropping himself on the leather couch.

"And how was it? Did she thank you with tears in her eyes?" Tae leaned over the back of the sofa with his chin in his hands.

Jimin chuckled, Taehyung's thirst for drama is funny, and he's always been like that. And at least that doesn't seem to have changed...

"Well... She cried a lot when she found him in the window. She looked really happy!" Jimin sang. He was really happy too. He helped someone to find their smile again, even if it is a little bit, it made him really proud of himself, a warm feeling in his chest telling him it was the right thing to do, and that he should do it again if he gets the opportunity. Taehyung's expression changed, suddenly he was disinterested.

"You didn't even talk to her? Just left the cat there for her to find?"

"Well, yeah." Jimin threw his hair back. "I couldn't risk she recognizing my voice and thinking I was stalking her. Scaring her was not the goal, Tae, quite the contrary..."

Taehyung stared at him in silence for what felt a whole minute - maybe it really was, vampires perceive time differently. "You are not a secret superhero, Jimin. You are a vampire." Said that he got back to his room.

Jimin doesn't understand. These outbursts and mood swings leave him confused. And it's not like he hasn't already tried to talk. This... This he doesn't recognize in Taehyung. It hurt his feelings and at same time he feels it is partially his faut. "I can be both if I want to!" He exclaimed.

No answer. To find somebody who would be happy for him and understand the euphoria he felt for saving a little bit that girl he went through his contact list. A lot of vampire names - a lot is maybe an exaggeration, since he doesn't have many friends at all - who wouldn't be rude, but wouldn't understand, and also some former human colleagues from past jobs with whom he hasn't spoken in a long time and maybe should erase the number... And you. Of course you are the obvious choice. You had sympathy for the case from the beginning, even offered to help. And if it weren't for you he wouldn't have succeeded...

Jimin: hey sweetheart Jimin: I found sushi! Jimin: thanks to you btw He sent the messages, hoping it wouldn't be strange. It wasn't the first time you two texted before, but it was just an exchange of memes and silly flirt... without compromise talk. And what he wanted this time was different. You took too long to answer, and he wondered if you were in class and if he was bothering you. He wanted everything but to mess it up with you right now. Maybe he should've checked your class schedule for the week to make sure he texted you when he was sure you were free. But he was so eager to talk to someone... with you. He gave up waiting and went after doing something productive. Crochet dolls. He was doing a mini Taehyung, with red eyes and little cute fangs - an apology for later, neither of them like fighting with each other, even if you can't call that earlier thing a fight- when his cell phone started to crazily vibrate and beep.

You: OMG! You: thts amazing! You: sorry i didn't aswr before You: I was taking a nap hehe You: anyways You: i'm so happy u found him You: [image.jpg] You: ur friend must be even happier :) You: what do u mean thanx to me? You: sorry i spammed u :( Jimin can't handle you. You are too cute. You literally sent him a photo of you with an enormous smile, cheering, to show him your reaction. And you were with your hair all messed and the puffy face of someone who just woke up. Precious. Jimin: no problem, sweetheart Jimin: you said to look in other owners' houses. basically. I found him with a old cat lady with three grandchildren Jimin: you are looking cute btw You: OwO You: i'm looking like shit Jimin You: BUT thats awesome You: if it was me id be crying til my eyes fall You weren't even there with him, in person, and you were putting a smile on his face. How dare you say you look like shit when you have those perfect cute cheeks? So alive...

Jimin: EXACTLY. that's why I wanted to find him so much. Jimin: and because you helped me, I want to reward you Jimin: i know you don't work today. me neither. do you want to go out for coffee in a nice place? You took too long to answer again, and that's because your heart is exploding and knees trembling while you stare at your cell phone screen, standing midway in your kitchen. You: u dont need to. i did nothing. This time Jimin took too long to answer. He was making a decision. To be more straightforward. More honest. Until now he was dictating a slow pace for your flirting, because for him romance is like that. But what if he tries to speed things up a bit? Or if he lets you command? How would things be?

Jimin: Y/N, respect my excuse to ask you out.

He knew what your answer would be. Even so, he felt anxious, hearing a non-existent heartbeat in his ear, while the three dots indicated that you were typing.

You: ok. what time do you come to pick me?

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