desc; punk!phil takes care of his boyfriend, dan’s, son while dan is at a meeting. dan’s son comes home from school crying and its up to phil “on some level im deathly afraid of children” lester to save the day.
a/n; thank you to @andromedalester for betaing this 2am explosion of words and dubbing it ‘SO GOSH DANG SUTE’ i love u v much em ty or helping me out <33
gender rolls are the only bad type of bread
The door swung open and hit the doorframe with a resonating crack. Phil perked his ears up from his bowl of cereal and looked over, just in time to see Finn crawl onto the couch next to him. The kindergartner snuggled into his arm and Phil made sure to set the bowl away.
Finn almost never touched him, still not understanding why Phil had moved in with him and his father, Dan. He hadn’t expected a smidge of affection this early on – being the stranger, in Finn’s home – and made sure to wrap his tattoo clad arms around the somber boy.
Lance sat back on his haunches and put his hands on his knees. He was kneeling in Blue’s cargo hold and was surrounded by piles of supplies he’d found by rummaging around. Blue had a lot more space for storage and living than he’d realized. Giving it more thought, it did make sense. The paladins of Voltron were supposed to be defenders of the universe, and the universe is, well, huge. Surely paladins in the past had gone on solo missions. It didn’t make sense to limit the protection of Voltron to one entity when it had the potential to be five…
Blue rumbled confirmation, and Lance made a mental note to ask her about it later.
He’d managed to find quite a lot of supplies in Blue, as well as a whole area he’d never even noticed before. She was actually quite well-stocked, and it made Lance wary since he hadn’t actually put any of it there himself. These supplies had the potential to be thousands of years old, and he wasn’t too sure about actually using them, but Blue seemed to think it was okay, and honestly, he didn’t really have a choice.
Blue was absently paying attention as he sorted through the pile, giving him flashes of memory to explain what each thing was. There were tins of a petroleum-like jelly that were supposed to act as a healing agent. He smeared some on his fingers, and it almost immediately made them cool and tingly, so he supposed it hadn’t gone bad. He put them aside with some other first-aid items he’d compiled, the basic bandages and splinting materials.
From what he could tell, most of what was left were food items. There was a stack of paper-thin wafers that were an odd yellow. Lance pressed his finger to the top of the stack and lifted one away. It felt like tissue paper and smelled vaguely like pine. Blue showed him that if he put it on his tongue, it would dissolve with enough nutrients to last him roughly 32 hours. There were bulbous orange jellies that were full of water and electrolytes and supposed to do wonders for hydration. They were made from a calcium alginate gel that had apparently kept the juice fresh for however long it had been in here. There were adhesive patches that could act as stand-in for eating, and offered the nutrients directly to the bloodstream, but Blue warned him that they were not intended for long term use. And finally he found dense squares of soft sticky grain, vacuum sealed into pouches.
Based on what Blue was telling him, he could potentially survive for months, but it would be extremely dangerous to go that long on just the wafers and adhesive packages. If he stuck solely to the energy bars, he had two weeks.
“Two weeks isn’t so bad, huh? We can do that… right hermosa?”
okay uh I’ll be honest, I actually think this is really shit and the ending is blehhh but i couldnt wait another day to post something because i feel really bad and aaaaaa yknow??? anyway, here you go
Warnings: Character death, violence.
Taehyung’s arms were clasped tightly around your waist, his face buried into your chest. It wasn’t sexual, he didn’t feel a spike of lust or desire. He didn’t feel to need to let his hands wander, to have his way with you. No, he felt anything but; tears were dripping down his face as he listened to your heartbeat for the last time.
All of this, every single second of it, could have been avoided if Taehyung didn’t make a mistake he would soon come to regret. All of the moments, all of the exchanged words, all of the times you had fallen asleep in his arms and he had memorised your features.
You said nothing, you didn’t ask questions about his sudden onslaught of emotions and Taehyung almost wished you did. He wished that you would pull away and demand to know what was wrong, shouted at him until he told you what he had done. What he had promised to someone else. Rather, who he had promised you to.
He wanted to tell you everything so you could look him in the eyes and tell him what a terrible person he was. How much you hated him. So you would leave him hating him, rather than wondering what was going to happen to you.
It had started a mere six months ago, and the six months that had passed were both the worst and the best months of his life.
He was sat in a VIP booth of one of the most exclusive clubs in that district of downtown Seoul. The worst of the worst and the best of the best were the only type to frequent such a place, and once upon a time Taehyung may have considered himself to be the latter. Now, he had no idea. No, he did; he knew he was the former now. He was just having a hard time admitting it out loud.
He was sitting, having a competition of who could down the most shots in thirty seconds with Jungkook and Jimin until an unwelcome newcomer joined them in their booth.
Min Yoongi, one of the most infamous and dangerous gang members in South Korea. Small in stature and wielding a deadly glare, the booth was immediately thrown into a tense silence. Jungkook and Jimin said nothing, eyes flickering between both Yoongi and Taehyung in apprehension. Taehyung didn’t meet Yoongi’s piercing stare, no matter how hard he tried to bore holes into Taehyung’s skull.
“You pissed Hoseok off.”
Hoseok was well known for his short temperament. He was sunshine and flowers one second, but if you did so much as look at him wrong you were choking on your own blood the next. It wasn’t Taehyung’s fault that he had accidentally stumbled into Hoseok’s territory and spoiled his day.
“You need to stop throwing your weight around, kid. Just because you belong to Namjoon doesn’t mean you’re untouchable.”
Taehyung said nothing in reply, merely scoffing and swilling his glass of scotch around, the ice clinking against the glass.
“I’m serious, Taehyung. There’s only so much I can say to calm Hoseok down.”
“I don’t need you protecting me.”
“Who said I was protecting you?” Yoongi snapped, eyes like knives again. “I’m making sure he doesn’t go on a rampage and kill us all. Or worse.”
Jungkook and Jimin shifted uncomfortable at the threat but Taehyung merely rolled his head backwards to rest against the plush booth leather.
“As it is, I couldn’t get away with just words this time. Even he doesn’t listen to me sometimes,” Yoongi said, sighing. “He wants payment.”
“Payment?” Taehyung asked dumbly. “Of what? Money? Guns? Doesn’t he have enough of those?”
“He doesn’t want those, kid.” Yoongi said gravely, slouching slightly and downing one of Jungkook’s shots that were left over on the table.
“Then I don’t understand. I have nothing else to give him.”
There was a pregnant pause as Yoongi figured out a way to put this. He knew that it was a delicate subject with Taehyung, especially due to the fate of his sister, but Hoseok wanted nothing less than this. Hoseok would settle for nothing but this.
“He wants a girl.”
Taehyung froze in his seat, his fingers turning yellow around the glass he was nursing as he gripped on for dear life.
A girl. Hoseok wanted a girl. He wanted a human girl, a woman, to sell and traffick as if she was nothing more than a mere piece of meat he could auction off whenever and wherever he wanted.
Hoseok wanted him, Kim Taehyung, to scout and collect a girl and deliver her like some kind of peace gift. After what had happened to his baby sister.
“No.” Taehyung said, tone like ice. Jimin turned to look at Taehyung, but Jungkook kept his gaze firmly on the table. Yoongi didn’t show any reaction.
“You have no choice, kid. It’s that, or he kills you. And your two friends here,” Yoongi finally turned his head to sweep his glare over Jungkook’s and Jimin’s tense forms. “You know Namjoon won’t be able to protect you from that.”
Taehyung said nothing again, mind swimming in different directions.
What was he meant to do? He promised himself he wouldn’t get involved in human trafficking after he watched his little sister get dragged away, kicking and screaming, and then found her body, scantily clad and sickly looking with track marks marring her skin, long dead. He vowed he would never have anything to do with that side of the business, and even Namjoon didn’t push him on that. Taehyung would have done anything for Namjoon, but would rather put a bullet between his eyes than snatch women and force them into sex work or worse.
However, for Jungkook and Jimin, Taehyung was stumped.
He didn’t want to. Good God, he didn’t want to. He wanted to run out of the club, never to be seen again, but Taehyung couldn’t leave. His loyalty for Namjoon was absolute, but it went further than loyalty now. His and the lives of those he loved dearly were at risk because of his foolishness - his arrogance - and it was up to him to keep them safe.
“Fine. I’ll find a woman tonight and he can take her tomorrow or something.” Taehyung spat, acid churning in his stomach at his words. He wanted to vomit all over Hoseok and his stupid smug grin.
“Hoseok wants more than that.”
“What the fuck?” Taehyung demanded. “More than a human life? What the fuck else could he possibly want?”
“He wants a specific girl.”
Taehyung downed the rest of his scotch, ignoring the familiar burn that settled into the back of his throat, and met Yoongi’s gaze levelly.
“Her name is Y/N and she’s the one in the red dress at the bar.”
Taehyung barely had to turn his head before his eyes were focused on you, having already been ogling for the majority of the night. You had been doing nothing but sipping drink after drink and scrolling down your phone, not waiting for anybody or being there for any other reason than being on your phone it seemed. You didn’t even glance at anybody who tried to make advances on you, and you didn’t even turn your gaze towards the dance floor.
You were just sitting there, minding your own business.
Taehyung cursed, turning to Jungkook and Jimin who wore near identical grimaces at the situation they were suddenly in the middle of.
“I’m sorry,” Taehyung apologised. “I didn’t mean to put you in danger.”
Jimin shrugged but Jungkook opened his mouth.
“We’re in danger right now just sitting here, Tae. This is whatever.”
Taehyung cracked a tiny, appreciative grin at his best friend but it dropped as soon as he looked at Yoongi again.
“Tell Hoseok he’ll get her by tomorrow.”
“What the fuck now?” Taehyung groaned, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep suddenly. He had planned on doing nothing more than hang out with his two best friends and now he was in the middle of a triple homicide plot and plan to sell a woman. He hated Thursdays.
“He wants her in six months. Six months exactly. He wants her to fall in love with you first so it’ll be even more painful for you when you give her to him.”
Taehyung led his head collide painfully with the table in front of him.
He had never experienced the bloodlust that Namjoon kept speaking of, the itching desire to have your hands wrapped around someone’s throat, until this moment. He wanted to throttle Yoongi, spit at him and tell him Hoseok can go fuck himself, but he remembered the overwhelming desire to protect the two men staring at him.
Taehyung had no choice, and he was finally beginning to realise.
“Fine. Tell Hoseok he’ll get her in six months,” Taehyung moaned, rising back up to sit straight. He had to spend six months with the girl, with you, and deliver her into the arms of someone Taehyung was suspecting to be the devil.
“Good. It was a pleasure doing business.” Yoongi said, his formal tone back into place and deadly glare sliding back into place.
He never said it, but he had always had a soft spot for Taehyung and his big, innocent eyes. He would never let it slip, not even to Hoseok, but he wanted Taehyung to leave this business and never look back. He still had an innocence that he couldn’t bare to watch slip away.
Six months later, Taehyung had his arms wrapped around you so tightly he was surprised you hadn’t become a part of him.
He didn’t want to let you go. He didn’t want to watch you get dragged away, kicking and screaming, just like his sister had been. He didn’t want to see you with Hoseok’s hands on you, eyes devious and planning who to give you to first. He didn’t want to cradle your body a year later, staring blindly at the crusted vomit on your face and the bruising forming around your neck.
He wanted to see you sweaty and slightly sunburnt, sighing as you leant over the flowerbed you were working hard on. He wanted to see you humming to yourself, eyes closed and swaying side and side to one of Taehyung’s favourite songs in the background. He wanted to see you coming towards him to kiss him when he came home from work, belly round and swollen with his child. He wanted to see you lying in bed with your glasses high on your nose, book clasped firmly in hand.
He wanted to see you every single day for the rest of his life, and he hated that he did. He hated that he had fallen in love with you even though there was an expiry date on the time he would get to spend with you. He hated that you had fallen in love with his lies and deceit, that you had fallen in love with him even though he was going to force you into someone else’s arms the very next day. He hated that he was subjecting you to misery for the rest of your life, even after he had sworn to stay away from this business.
He hated Hoseok, especially, for thinking of such a sick and devious plan. If one thing was for sure, as soon as he got the chance, he would kill Hoseok first. He would torture and torment him until he was on the brink of death, begging to be put out of his misery, and Taehyung would leave him there to rot.
For now though, Taehyung was content with your hands raking through his hair, nails caressing his scalp softly. If Taehyung could, he would be purring in content. As it were, he was sobbing pathetically in your arms, praying to every single deity there was for a way to get the both of you, and Jungkook and Jimin, out of this situation.
“Tae,” you crooned softly, tears welling into your own eyes at his misery. At his anguish. “What’s wrong, baby?”
He said nothing, so racked with fear and guilt that he couldn’t even form words.
It was another half an hour of tears and soft whispering of comfort words before Tae’s cries subsided and he was able to draw breaths. Before you could ask what that was all about, he was peppering small kisses all over your exposed flesh, mapping out your body. You giggled at him, pushing him away gently and bringing his mouth to yours.
His lips were wet and salty from his tears, but they moved with yours earnestly and desperately. Tugging on your bottom lip, he grasped at the skin of your hips and pulled you closer. Allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth, you pulled him even closer by the fabric of his shirt as your tongues danced together in harmony. It wasn’t rushed, or sloppy, and it didn’t have the same underlying desperation it usually had before he pounded you into the mattress. No, this time he was savouring it. Memorising the way you felt before he never saw you again.
“Jagi,” you gasped, pulling away and staring at him. He looked flawless, eyes still slightly damp with tears clinging to his lashes, lips red and puffy. “What’s wrong?”
He said nothing for a while, simply staring at you and memorising your face too. He thought you looked especially gorgeous tonight, hair and mess and his shirt slipping off one of your shoulders.
Your breathing froze and you tensed, and he was quick to rub his thumbs gently over the skin of your thighs to calm you down.
“Y/N, please marry me. Say you’ll marry me.”
“Tae, I-I…” You were bewildered, overcome with emotion.
Yes, you were so desperately in love with him that it often hurt, but you had only met him six months ago. You didn’t want to rush anything, even if every moment with him felt like a blessing sent from the Heavens. You didn’t want to make any mistakes.
“We don’t have to get married right away,” Taehyung said, watching your brain move way too fast. “Just… Just promise that we will. Promise that you’ll marry me.”
Your brain didn’t have time to catch up with your mouth.
“Of course I’ll marry you, Taehyung. Of course I will.” you promised him, and the smile that split across his face was pure sunshine.
“I love you, Y/N,” Taehyung whispered later, brushing some hair from your face, careful not to wake you. He didn’t want you to hear him leave. He didn’t want you to hear him cock the gun, check that it was loaded. He didn’t want you to hear him flick the safety off.
His fingers danced across the keyboard, sending three almost identical texts to three people. Texts of apologies, explanations, requests to take care of things when he couldn’t.
The very same fingers caressed your cheek, traced your features, wove into your hair gently and savoured the feel.
The very same fingers wrapped around the gun, index resting lightly against the trigger, and he placed the gun softly, gently, slowly against your temple.
Taehyung was crying again. He was almost delirious in fear and panic, not being able to think straight or consider what he was about to do. All he knew was that he had to take you out of the situation quickly, painlessly, before you were lost forever. He had to give you at least that, whilst he was taking so much away.
Taehyung’s eyes closed and squeezed the trigger, flinching at the deafening bang meeting soft skull. Taehyung’s eyes opened and he knew, he knew, that he would not rest until everybody else met the same fate.