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mxstellatayte · 1 year ago

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metal, nuts, bolts, and a hell of a lot of blaster residue (chapter 3.)

din djarin x female mechanic reader.

chapter 3 word count: 5.2k

warnings/tags: graphic depictions of violence, reader is a mechanic, found family, din djarin speaks mando'a, din and reader are both very touch starved, i don't know how fictional money works, din djarin is a bottom, smut written and proofread by an asexual, din and reader have ptsd, canon is dead and i killed it, no use of y/n

The sound and force from the blast startles Din from his sleep, bolting to his feet and checking his hip for his blaster before he runs down the ramp and into your hangar. You’d been about to finish the soldering on a simple project the night before when he’d noticed how exhausted you were, insisting that you finish it tomorrow. And now he’s panicking, because your hangar is nearly invisible to see, the dust settling from the explosion. The dust and fog is so thick that even with the infrared sensors in his helmet activated, he can’t distinguish between your crumpled body and the fires burning all around him.

He can’t distinguish between them, that is, until he notices that one heat signature is not moving at all. His feet move before his brain processes it, and he turns you over onto your back. Your body is limp, and his glove comes away bloody from where his hand laid on your ribs. Din panics. Don’t. Calm yourself. Remember your training. Remember your experience. He takes a deep breath, letting his heartbeat be the only sound he can process at the moment, the adrenaline coursing through his veins putting him in hyperdrive, before letting his training take over. Secondary blast injuries are the most dangerous and have the highest mortality rate. Any shrapnel will need to be removed before recovery can begin otherwise blood poisoning could occur. Head injuries are more often than not invisible. Inner ear damage is highly likely, given your proximity to the blast. Every injury, down to small cuts, will need careful watch and repetitive bacta and interchanged gauze so as to not get infected and cause further damage.

His hands shimmy under your body and he carries you up the ramp, closing the door with his foot and setting you down gently on his cot. He’ll have to buy new sheets, but that doesn’t matter. Not when your life is on the line. He tries to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach, to push it down and focus on the task at hand, but with your breaths becoming increasingly shallow and your heart rate dropping faster and faster, he can’t set it aside. Instead, he uses it to his advantage. With the added determination on top of his already high amount of stubbornness, he opens the med kit he keeps directly beneath his bunk and goes into autopilot. Leather gloves off, sterile latex gloves on. Bacta spray and sterilized scissors out. He hesitates slightly, realizing he’ll have to undress you to check your wounds, and his stomach warms slightly, the stirring feeling only increasing. No. She’s dying, you horny fuck. Think with your brain, not your dick.

The scissors easily slice through your clothes and his breath catches as your shirt falls away from your chest- your abdomen is littered with shards of metal ranging in size from barely the size of his fingernail to the length of his palm. Remember your training. He focuses again, spraying your abdomen with bacta to sterilize it and pulling his tweezers and a metal pan out of his bag. Sterilize the tweezers. Move carefully but efficiently. Scan her body for extra metal even when you think you’ve gotten it all. His hands move out of his control, the only sound in the ship being your labored breathing and the occasional clink of another shard in the metal pan. Din’s not sure how much time passes, but all he knows is that his knees and arms ache once the scanner finally shows no remaining metal in your body- there were several shards stuck in your back and shoulders, a few pieces in your back, about half a dozen in your lower thighs and upper calves, two small ones near each other on the back of your upper right arm, one on your forearm and one in the palm of your left hand. He carefully wraps all of the injured areas after carefully stitching each wound closed, the black thread sticking out of your skin in ugly lines.

A careful lift and he gently places you in his cot, feeling his heart sink when you stir slightly as he covers you with his blanket.

“Mando?”

“Sh. You need to rest.” He carefully pushes your shoulder down when you try to sit up, wincing in pain and pulling the blanket away. Your face blanches when you see your torso, covered in small flecks of the dried blood he couldn’t get away, but, more notably, the dozen or so bandages and gauze taped to you, likely covering stitched wounds to keep them sterile.

“What… who?” You press a hand to your forehead, fighting a sudden wave of dizziness. Your ears still ring, an annoyingly high pitched squeal that you don’t think you’ll be forgetting anytime soon. “Who would do this?”

Mando squats next to you, his visor slightly lower than your head at this point, and you turn slightly, wincing again- you notice bandages wrapped around your palm and forearm and assume those were two more shrapnel wounds. “It doesn’t matter. You need rest.”

“Is it because I know you? Did you do something?” Your stomach drops, praying what little was left of the Empire hadn’t found you and decided to take you out, eliminating any secrets and knowledge with you. “Did I do something?”

“No, it’s not your fault. I’m not sure if it’s safe for you here, though. Not anymore. Not if they’re after you.” His voice is monotonous and uncharacteristically… worried? You’re not quite sure if that’s what it is, but between the ringing in your ears and his modulator, you could be hearing things.

“Who’s after me? Why isn’t it safe?”

“You ask a lot of goddamn questions, you know that?” There’s a hint of irritation in his voice, and your stomach tightens slightly, worried that he might lash out like your supervisors in the Empire did. But he doesn’t. Instead, he sighs, stands up, and turns. “You should rest. I’ll explain later.” You open your mouth to protest, but he beats you to it. “I’m not answering your questions until you sleep. You need it.” Before you have a chance to bite back a remark, the dizziness you were fighting earlier wins and you can barely settle yourself onto Mando’s cot (So this is what he smells like under the armor…) before your head hits the pillow and you pass out for who knows how long.

Din watches you sleep, going down the ladder every now and then, telling himself that he’s just making sure you’re still alive, making sure you’re breathing evenly, but even he knows that’s a load of bullshit. He’s watching you because despite his best efforts, he can’t shake the feeling he gets around you of something warm and fuzzy and stupid. He can’t tell himself what it is, having never felt something like this before, but all he knows is that he only feels it around you. He wishes he could fight it, push the feeling down his chest whenever he feels it, but he can’t and it irks him that he doesn’t know how.

You wake a few hours after he first leaves you, groaning at a raging headache you can only compare to the hangover you had when someone tried to pass off Tatooine revnog as Bespinian, which was not a fun experience in the slightest. “Here, take this. The ringing is gonna be there for a few more hours before it’s tolerable but this will help with the headache.” Mando passes you a metal cup with water in it and you accept it alongside the small packet of pain relief containing two pills, tearing it open and swallowing the white tablets without a second thought.

“So. I slept. I feel slightly worse but that’s probably just the headache. Now you have to answer my questions.” You prop yourself up, using Mando’s pillow (Mando’s pillow.) to support your lower back, and you pull your legs to your chest as much as you can without your wounds screaming in pain. “Let’s start with the obvious first question. What in fuck’s name happened?”

“Your mouse droid was rigged with a bomb. Some back alley, homemade, untrackable bomb that only a certain level of scum use in the whole universe.” His voice grows bitter at the second sentence, and you have a hunch that he knows exactly who planted the bomb on Squeaks. Your heart tightens; Squeaks had been your first major project after you’d defected, outfitting the small droid with extra compartments and programming it in specific ways to help you insead of performing its own tasks. The pride you’d felt when you’d finished and it had been successful had been unlike a feeling you’d ever felt before, and now the small droid was probably reduced to smithereens, having faced an unfortunate and unfair death. “I had to take the shrapnel out of your body.” You notice a metal container filled with medical garbage a few feet away, filled nearly to the brim with gloves, gauze packaging and bloodied fabric.

“Do you know who did it?” The question leaves your mouth before you can stop it, the curiosity pulling at you too strong to control. You notice more pain in your back and shoulders; you were running away from the bomb, it’s no wonder there’s so much shrapnel stuck in your back.

“Pirates. Backwater scum that have no business being anywhere near this planet. But it’s not safe for you here anymore. Not while they’re here.”

“So you know them? Would it just be safer if I stayed, then?” Your face falls as you consider what would have to happen if you stayed on Nevarro, the only semipermanent safe haven you’ve known since the Empire kidnapped you. “Would it be safer if you… if you left? And didn’t come back?” Your voice is quiet and your hands wring themselves in your lap, needing something to do so you don’t look at his helmet and, beyond the visor, his eyes. You hope he can’t hear the weakness, the sadness, in your voice, something you so rarely show others. You hope he can’t see the tears threatening you to spill from your eyes, and you squeeze your eyes closed in an effort to not let them fall. “My hangar. How bad is the damage? Is Gonk okay? Was anybody else hurt in the explosion?” Before you let Mando try to stop you, you fling the covers off of your legs and gasp. The wounds are worse than you thought. Your upper thighs and shins are a) devoid of your overalls, your athletic shorts instead bunched up to where your hip meets your thigh, a fact you try not to dwell on too much as your face floods with heat and b) covered in more bandages. “Oh. The explosion was that bad?”

“I’m not sure you want to see,” Mando says, trying to cover your legs again, but you push his hands away.

“This is my business. I need to see what repairs I’m going to need to make.” There’s a stubbornness in your voice that you know gets the point across, and Mando stills, his hands still clutching the blanket over your ankles. You spot your boots next to the foot of the cot and you reach for them, groaning in pain as you feel stitches on your back about to pull apart, straining your skin. “Fuck.”

“Here. Let me.” And then Mando does something he’s never seen you do before. He gets your boots and kneels in front of you, motioning for you to swing your feet over the edge of the cot. You obey, watching in awe (and a little bit of shock) as he carefully eases your feet into the boots and laces them up while they rest on his thighs, loose enough so as to not irritate the wound just above your left Achilles tendon. He pulls the edge of the socks just above where the boots meet your skin and you can’t stop yourself before your mind is wandering again- would the Mandalorian be this obedient, this serving, in bed? Would he obey your commands, do just as you asked, all to please you? Or would he instead command you, ordering you every which way to his whim? You blink to clear your thoughts as he offers you his hand, standing again, and you pull yourself up, slowly but surely.

The two of you slowly move towards the ramp before Mando presses the button to open it. Before it’s even fully open, though, you know it’s going to be bad. You can already tell because the instant the hatch is open more than a crack, the smell of smoke and dust fills your nostrils. Tears spring into your eyes again and you try to stifle them, but when you descend the ramp and see your hangar, dust still settling in the air, metal fragments scattered everywhere, and your beloved workbench reduced to splinters, a faint remnant of a structure the only evidence of its existence, your knees buckle, tears spill, and your walls break down. Every single hidden emotion you’ve kept bottled away, shuttered in the small compartment of your heart you don’t even let yourself acknowledge, comes spilling out in an ugly waterfall of tears, screaming, pounding the ramp you’re now sitting on, and body-shaking sobs. Mando sits next to you and you cry into his chest, the beskar chestplate shedding your tears like glass. They fall from your cheeks and run off the metal easily, leaving behind tiny droplets in their path. You’re not sure how long you sit there, crying amidst the graveyard of your hard work, but eventually the sobs stop shaking your body and you’ve cried so many tears your eyes run dry.

“It’s all gone. Everything I’ve worked for. Everything I’ve done on Nevarro to try to put the past behind me. To put the Empire behind me. It’s gone.”

“It’s not gone. We can find those filthy pirates who did this to you and make them pay. We can make them feel the grief and pain you’re feeling. We can do what they did to you to them.” Mando’s voice is fierce, his determination clear, but you shake your head.

“I thought you said that wasn’t safe.”

“All I said was that it isn’t safe for you here. I can protect you if you come with me. I can’t keep you safe if I’m out there hunting the pirates and you’re here. They know you’re here. That’s why they attacked this place specifically. They know the sentiment and attachment you hold to your hangar. If we’re tracking them and they don’t know it, how will they hurt you?”

“You’ve seen me shoot. I can protect myself well enough,” you fire back, your insistence on staying on Nevarro partially to repair your hangar but also because of the familiarity you have on the planet, as shithole-y of a place as it may be.

“Not if a whole clan of pirates comes to capture you.” Mando sighs, his exasperation with your stubbornness evident as he shifts his body so that he’s facing you. “Who knows who they’re working for? They could turn you in to the Republic. Worse, they could turn you in to the hands of the last bits of the Empire. Do you really want to risk getting sent back to Gideon just to stay on Nevarro?”

You cringe when he mentions Gideon. You’d mentioned your defection from the Empire relatively recently, a detail you only shared with those closest to you, a detail that not even Karga knew. You don’t want to admit that he’s right, looking down at your hands as they fidget with your pants and chewing on your lower lip in worry. Even though you’ve built yourself a life here, you know it’ll be safer by his side. Traveling the galaxy. You smile a bit, your cheeks breaking the crusted paths of tears at the motion. The thought of traveling the universe with Mando and Grogu seems sweet. Domestic, even. In your time under the Empire, you’d never even have fathomed that your future would unfold in the way it has: defecting, starting your own business on Nevarro, succeeding in said business and building a large customer group. You didn’t picture yourself in that way, but hey, it might be something you’d go for. Not like you had much of a life on Nevarro left after this explosion, everything you could possibly salvage from it likely obliterated to ash and hunks of metal. There’s still your house though. Maybe the pirates haven’t gotten to it. Maybe that little pocket of the world- of the universe, even- is still safe. Your belongings and personal items might still be just that: personal. “My house. I need my stuff if I’m going with you.”

Mando nods in agreement, his helmet tilted down at you. “Essentials only. We’ll go tonight.” At some point while you were crying, his arm wrapped around your shoulder, and you’ve just now noticed that it’s still there. You try not to overthink it, because he’s clearly just trying to comfort you because your life’s work was just destroyed in a matter of moments. That’s all. There’s nothing else about the gesture. It’s all comfort and no romantic feelings at all. No romance whatsoever. Nope. You nod, something strangely final about the whole situation.

Several hours later, under the cover of darkness, you find yourself sneaking through the roads of Nevarro behind Mando, his blaster at the ready and your own in your hand, ready to fire at anyone hostile enough to challenge the two of you. A few times, you’ve come across other people and have had to play it off as something other than sneaking back to your house like a kid who’s missed curfew, but so far all have gone without any issues. It’s only when you turn onto your street that you see someone standing outside your door, and Mando freezes, grabbing your wrist. You follow suit, turning your body so that you’re hidden by a doorway that juts out enough to cover you.

“Do you know them?” Mando whispers, his vocalizer barely picking up his voice. It comes out calm, but you can tell that he’s doing his best to hide the panic in his voice.

“No,” you whisper back. You try to sneak a glance around the doorway, to look at the stranger a little better, but Mando shoves your shoulders back so they’re pressed against the rough concrete behind you, your elbows and wounds scraping uncomfortably against the still-warm material. Warmer still, however, are Mando’s hands pressed… against your shoulders…

It’s only in that moment that you realize how close the two of you are to each other. His hands on your shoulders, your two feet between his own as your torso is pressed against the concrete, sunlight-warmed stone easing the goosebumps on your back, neck and arms. You hope he can’t feel the heat rapidly making its way up the back of your neck, spilling into your cheeks and shoulders in overflow.

“Does your house have a back door? There’s bound to be more than one of them. Pirates travel in packs.” You look back up at his helmet, into his visor where his eyes would be, and shake your head.

“Nope. Shitty Nevarro architecture. Blame Karga or whoever he employed to design our apartment systems.” Mando sighs, and you have a sinking feeling that you know what’s going to happen next. “What’s the plan?”

“How accurately can you shoot that thing while running?” Mando says, nodding towards the blaster still gripped tightly in your right hand.

And so, two minutes later, you find yourself running down the road to your apartment door as Mando shoots the pirates blasting aimlessly in hopes that they’ll hit either you or your companion who’s running just a few paces behind you. Once you make it to your door, you step over the body blocking the threshold and grimace, your fingers fumbling for your keycard. Yanking Mando through the door as you finally manage to unlock it, he practically topples on top of you as you shut the door behind you, grabbing your shoulders to steady you once he gets his own bearings. You can’t help but feel a warm tingling remaining where his hands were on your upper arms, brushing it off as the warmth from his body instead of anything romantic whatsoever. “Ow,” you hiss, lifting your shirt slightly. Some of your stitches pulled while you were running, one in your lower torso and another on the back of your right arm. Crimson blood slowly drips down from the wounds, soaking the thread holding them together.

“I’ll patch it up when we get back to the Crest. For now, pack whatever you can. I’ll keep watch. There’s bound to be more soon.” You nod and run to your bedroom, pulling a duffel bag out from under your bed and mindlessly shove as much stuff into it as you can-primarily clothes, but you manage to shove a couple of your comfort items and other special belongings into the exterior pockets.

“Okay. Clothes, dice bag, earrings, data pad, headphones, blasters, weapon maintenance kit… what am I missing?” A blaster shot startles you from your thoughts and you hear Mando yell something unintelligible from your front room. “Tea leaves!” You spring up, run into your kitchen, and grab the tin of tea leaves you prepare each night before you go to bed, ducking with a yelp when a shot narrowly misses your hand. “Jesus, Mando!”

“You didn’t tell me you were running in there, idiot!”

“Okay, whatever,” you yell back, pulling out your blaster and shooting another pirate trying to force his way into your home between his eyes without a second thought. “Let’s GO!” You sprint back into your bedroom and hiss-more stitches have pulled, this time on the back of your left thigh. Ensuring that the tin is securely closed, you shove it into the top of your duffel bag and zip it closed, looking over at Mando and holding your elbows out so that he can hook his arms into your armpits. “You fly, I shoot.”

He looks at you for a moment, shooting another pirate trying to shove his way through the door before speaking up. “Your stitches will pull.”

“I don’t care. Just get me off this planet. I’ve suddenly found a strong distaste for some of its inhabitants,” you say, grimacing as he kicks over another body and pulls the coin pouch out of the pirate’s pocket.

“Fine. Do you have room for these in your bag?” It’s in that moment that you notice his hand is full of coin pouches, ranging in size and color, all clearly very full with credits. Your jaw drops before you remember the task at hand-escaping Nevarro. You unzip the top of your bag and stuff the credit pouches in, then hastily zip it back up.

“Okay, let’s get the fuck out of here.” The two of you sprint out of your house, and in one smooth motion, you strap the duffel bag to your front, hold your arms out, and get swooped away, groaning when some of your stitches pull. You’re running on instinct, firing on any pirate either chasing after you or making their way towards your now-vacant house. Your legs dangle uselessly below you and your armpits and ribs slowly begin to burn, a low, subtle pain that will no doubt be stronger when the adrenaline wears off. Soon enough, though, the open ceiling of your hangar is visible and an inexplicable feeling of giddiness floods your body, the origin of which you’re unsure of. Either way, your feet touch down on the dirt floor and you’re running towards the open ramp on the Crest, Mando not three steps behind you. When your feet fall heavy on the ramp, running as fast as your injured body can muster, finally reaching the hull and hauling yourself up the ladder into the cockpit, the sense of relief you were hoping to overtake you doesn’t hit yet. Not when you’re still on Nevarro, the pirates chasing after you, trying to kill you in any way that they can.

Somehow, you and Mando manage to take off from Nevarro and exit the atmosphere with minimal damage to the Crest- after running a quick diagnostic scan with the ship’s programming, you’re able to determine that the only components that were damaged are a few scuffs on the hull and a tiny bit of loss of shield integrity. Nothing five minutes on the ground won’t fix. Once Mando puts the ship into hyperspace and enters the coordinates for your next destination (“I have a friend there who’ll let us lay low for a bit,” he says,) he turns to you, resting his forearm on his thigh. “How are your wounds?”

You shrug the comment away, lifting up your shirt to inspect your ribs. “Eh, not that bad. They’ll heal.” It’s only then that you notice the thick stream of crimson blood streaming down the side of your abdomen- one of the larger wounds had pulled, and the gauze covering it was soaked through and oozing blood. “Ah, shit. That’s a problem.”

Mando sighs, then stands up and descends the ladder, reappearing a few moments later with his first aid kit tucked under his arm. “Come here,” he says, motioning for you to move towards him. “Sit here.” He pulls over a crate for himself to sit on, allowing you to sit in his seat. You obey, sitting down awkwardly and trying to not pull or tear any other fragile injuries. You flinch when Mando touches you at first, the strong adhesive from the medical tape peeling away from your skin, some of the string keeping your stitches together pulling away with it and the gauze.

“Fuck,” you groan under your breath, the muscles in your abdomen quivering involuntarily at the pain. Sharp, stinging and obvious.

“Sorry,” Mando whispers, a sound likely barely picked up by the vocalizer in his helmet. He treats you like you’re made of porcelain, the touches of his gloveless hands barely ghosts against your skin. The scissors slice tentatively through the thin cord holding your cuts together, your wounds peeling open as the string falls away. “Hold this?” He hands you a small sterile metal tray, not unlike the one you saw at the foot of your bed when you woke up from the explosion.

“Yeah.” You hiss through your teeth as he pulls the first string out of your cut, knowing that this is just the first of many open wounds-you can feel them. Blood slowly filling gauze pads under your clothes, seeping on to the cotton of your clothes. Mando’s clothes. The string falls into the pan and he quickly stitches the cut back together, his hands working swiftly enough that barely any blood drips from the wound again while it’s open. You marvel at the care and caution Mando puts into the stitching, ensuring every stitch of the cord in your skin is tight enough to hold your skin together but loose enough to not cause any pain or discomfort beyond what’s normal with stitches. He repeats this process seven times, sanitizing everything diligently and taking great care to ensure your safety. It’s almost like he’s become a different person, the hard shell of physical armor remaining but some of the emotional barriers you’ve noticed have faltered slightly. They haven’t fallen altogether, and you don’t expect them ever to completely fall, but some pieces of them have. That much is evident with the fragility he treats you with, with the touches of his hands covered with sterile gloves barely ghosting against your skin as he patches you up.

You’re not sure how much time you spend there, sat in Mando’s chair in the cockpit of the Crest as he tends to your wounds, but before you even notice, he’s re-stitched all of your cuts and injuries and is sending you back down to rest in his bed. “I really don’t need rest,” you try to insist, failing when a yawn forces its way up your throat and through your mouth.

“Nice try. Go sleep. I’ll stay up here. Get settled.” You stare down his visor, eyebrows scrunched until another yawn forces its way out of your body and you give in.

“Fine.” You climb down the ladder, kick your shoes off and follow the dim light from the overheads and climb into the bed, trying not to agitate any of the new or old stitches. As soon as your head hits the pillow (Mando’s pillow…) you’re overcome with exhaustion as the adrenaline and excitement wears off from the day and your body finally has time to catch up with you. So, by the time you can even form one coherent thought about leaving Nevarro, your eyes grow heavy and you eventually give in to the warm cover of sleep.

Little did you know, however, that Mando had been fighting a panic attack the entire day. His concerns about your safety hadn’t ceased until the Crest was in hyperspace with the destination being far, far away from Nevarro. He checks on you frequently, the nerves in his stomach not fully dissipating, even as he sees your chest rising and falling steadily and the heat signature in your body regulating to a consistently healthy temperature.

He tells himself that he shouldn’t be so invested in your well-being, that he shouldn’t form emotional attachments to you because everyone he’s ever cared for has either died or left him, but he knows, in the back of his mind, that it’s far too late to back out of emotional attachments and possibly even attraction. So instead of facing his emotions, like a normal person likely would, he meticulously takes apart every single one of his weapons and cleans them until not a single speck of dust remains on any of them. Avoidance has always been his coping strategy when something goes awry and will continue to be his coping strategy. “If it ain’t broke,” he tells himself, yet he still knows that he is very much broken and needs some fixing.

Maybe a feisty little mechanic from Terra could fix you, his mind rings, loud and clear before he can stop it. Maybe that feisty little mechanic from Terra that’s sleeping in your bed on your ship that you likely helped escape certain death- maybe she’s the one that can finally see you for who you really are and fix you.

Little did he know, however, that you had been watching him while he cleaned most of his weapons, your body unmoving yet your eyes wandering his body, mostly focused on how his hands ran over the metal of his blasters in a similar way that his hands ran over your body. Eventually, once he’s long put his weapons away and climbed back into the cockpit, you call out his name, hoping he’ll come down to the hull where you lie. You delight in hearing his footsteps almost immediately moving towards the ladder and seeing his boots, then his legs, then his chest and his helmet climb down the ladder.

“How are you feeling?” You can barely open your mouth to reply before the lights go out, the ship falls out of hyperspace, and you’re left in silence, nothing penetrating the stifling lack of all sound but your and Mando’s breaths, yours slightly more ragged, panicked, and irregular, and his steady and deep. “Well, fuck.”

#mxstellatayte #stella writez #star wars #the mandalorian #the mandalorian/reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #din djarin x female reader #star wars fanfiction #star wars smut #baby yoda #grogu #din grogu

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apixrl · 4 years ago

Text

DROWSY.

levi ackerman x fem!reader

WARNING(S): none

word count: 3.4k

song: before i close my eyes // xxxtentacion

note(s): soft levi lives in my head rent free and that's perfectly okay he can stay for as long as he wants to

Your hand pressed against your back as you stretched, stifling a yawn that echoed through the hallway. You swore you could hear your joints wailing out in distress, every step feeling as though you were dragging a weight behind you that was five times your size. Your bed was calling out to you in more ways than you could count, the idea of snuggling under the covers absolutely heavenly.

It had been a long and tiresome day, to say the least. After waking up early and in bright spirits, you made the decision to go on a long morning jog. To ready yourself for a presumably easy day. But those words came back to bite you when Captain Levi dropped you and your comrades into an intense training segment that lasted all morning. Then proceeded a heavy clean of headquarters in the afternoon. Ordered to rid the underside of the tables of dust and to clear those sneaky corners of muck that had festered far too long. To put a long story short; you were about ready to drop dead on the floor by the time evening rolled on by.

You loved Levi with all your heart, but unfortunately, your relationship with him didn't come with any bonuses. Yes, you saw a softer side on occasion, but the man never allowed bias to take over during work hours. You were treated the same as the others; a soldier in the ranks. A member of Levi's squad. When you did right you were praised and when you did wrong you served the consequences. Levi would set you on a thirty lap run around the camp perimeter if he saw fit, and there was no getting out of it. As much as you could complain, you knew it was for the best. When it came down to it, Levi was your superior as well as his partner and there had to be some line between the two.

Plodding along the hallway, your bedroom door up ahead was your saviour. You could practically taste the sweet rest waiting for you on the other side. Though just before you could reach your salvation, a voice from the neighbouring room stopped you in your step and tore you away from it.

"Y/N,"

Levi.

It would be lying to say you didn't whimper, so close to a good night's sleep yet so far all in one go. But you weren't so selfish that you'd ignore your lover's call because you were simply exhausted. Yes, you considered it... but resisting the urge gave you credibility, right?

Regardless, you exhaled a sigh knowing it would be wrong not to respond. That man you called your partner had ears like a cat anyway. He probably heard you make your way down the hall or noticed your shadow under the door and had sensed your halt upon his call. So dragging your eyes away from the vision of your wonderfully made bed (Levi having been the one to tuck the sheets in that morning since he was the last one up. So no wonder you were fantasizing at the idea of collapsing on there) behind the door of your room, you set your gaze on the door to Levi's office instead.

You realised it was open just a tad, explaining Levi sensing your approach so easily. Pressing your hands against the wooden frame, you pushed it open and popped your head around the door, forcing your eyes open no matter how much they pleaded to close against the candlelight.

As expected, Levi was seated at the chair of his desk. Neck-deep in papers that he'd been working on most of the night. One shorter pile to the left and a taller one to the right - one pile waiting to be looked at whilst the other sat completed. You wondered which one that was... and prayed for Levi's sake it was the tallest pile to allow him a good night's sleep.

His greyed eyes didn't look up upon your entry, something you just managed to notice through the strands of wispy black locks atop Levi's head. That seemed to indicate he was focused on the task at hand, especially from the way his hand efficiently worked at the pieces of paper like it was on autopilot.

"Yes, love?" You asked, resting against the door for a brief moment as your tiredness caught up with you. If you had reacted to it a second later you believed you would have tipped over from loss of balance, and you were relieved when Levi spoke up once more - his voice jolting you upright.

"I need you to take some papers down to the Commander for me," Levi stated, a certain tone in his voice indicating his own form of tiredness. But you knew that rarely stopped him and his work, the man willing to stay up until the early hours of the morning just to get it finished.

His words made your body panic, unsure if it could muster a journey all the way to Erwin's whereabouts. You had barely walked up the stairs of headquarters well, let alone travelling back down them and then all the way back up again.

"It can't wait until tomorrow?" You tried, chewing the inside of your cheek gingerly. From the way Levi glanced over his wad of papers, grey eyes filled with doubt, you knew it was a longshot. "It's just late, that's all. You need to rest,"

"No," Levi ceased all action, slouching down in his seat briefly as his fingertips held the bridge of his nose. His version of a short break and a way to bury his annoyance down. It appeared to be one of those nights, where he was swamped with work and didn't have the opportunity to simply 'head to bed'. "I'm still nowhere near done, and I don't have the time to take the ones I've already looked at to Erwin because of that," It was there his hand propped up, elbow resting on his other which has splayed over his chest. He motioned you over, eyes skipping between you and the seat opposite him until you got the message.

You were delayed in realising, feeling guilty at your inability to proceed Levi's words. You heard them, but fatigue seemed to seize hold and throw them out the window before your brain could comprehend the meaning. You hoisted yourself off of the doorframe, letting the hinges squeak the door shut behind you as you made your way to Levi's desk. You then sat yourself down, hands pressed to the chair arms as your attention steered to your partner.

"Okay... so which pile am I taking?" Was your question, forcing a small smile to at least seem interested. The black-haired man straightened up, eyes skimming over the papers on his desk and seemingly on the floor too. That made your brow raise, head tilting to the side ever so slightly in wonder. What was behind the desk?

Levi proceeded to push his chair back with his feet, his head quickly disappearing under the table as if to grab something. You rested your cheek in your palm as you waited, a hint of a frown as you waited. Your assumptions were correct as, after a few seconds of scuffling around, Levi reappeared from under the desk - standing up to place yet another pile of paper wherever his desk had the space to hold it.

"This one," He addressed, exhaling heavily once he was comfortable in his seat again. Just when you thought that was it, Levi pushed the taller pile of papers forward as well, and it would be wrong to say you were joyful of the sight. In fact, you were very much dismayed, the sight of the multiple piles of papers meaning more than one trip.

Suddenly you wished the shorter pile was the finished one.

"And this one," Levi spoke with little character as per usual, gazing upon the piles of papers like they were nothing more than a pile of dirt. Clearly, he had experienced little joy going through them, but work never got done whilst complaining. The only words ringing in his mind to convince Levi to get his head down and focus. "You'll probably need to take two trips,"

"You don't say," You commented and sighed to yourself. For hours you had awaited your mattress and now look at you, even further away from reaching it as before. It was a big shame you woke up in such an energetic mood and was ending the day feeling like you couldn't lift a finger. "And if I cant find Commander Erwin?"

"He should be in his office," Levi returned. "But if not, place the right pile on his desk," He then gestured to the left, hand pressing on top for emphasis. "This one will need sorting, however. Just separate the tags in the stack and the drawer they belong in is on there. It shouldn't take you too long, just make sure the files are in the right place or Erwin won't be pleased. Oh, and try not to drop them, please? I'd rather not lose four hours worth of work because of your two left feet -," Levi was cut short by a sound he was not at all expecting. A snorting noise caught him off guard, but when he looked up at you in question the answers quickly came pouring in.

It appeared in Levi's ramble you had grown bored. As there you were, head lolling forwards as your arm tried to prop it up, eyes closed and snoring away to your heart's content. Levi quirked a brow at your behaviour, then scoffed lightly. The man couldn't say he was surprised, of course you would nod off to sleep exactly when he needed your help. At a time where he was swamped with things to do and an extra pair of hands wouldn't hurt.

"Y/N," He tried after a minute or so passed, Levi frowning at the lack of response. If anything, the snoring grew louder. It was there he tried again, a little more firmly and loudly but still, nothing.

Typical.

Levi sat there in silence and disbelief, watching your frame rise and fall with each intake of breath. Meanwhile, you simply slept on without a care in the world, but it's not like he could leave you there. Leaving you sleeping in such a way was bound to cause a nasty neck and backache the following morning. So with a sigh, Levi hoisted himself out of his chair and walked around his desk to your side. Then he knelt down to your level, hand landing on your shoulder to give you a gentle but firm shake.

"Y/N," Levi spoke, a little softer this time, all whilst trying to nudge you awake. It appeared you had only lightly nodded off, as, after three or four shakes, you stirred out of your little nap. Your eyes shot open to meet Levi's observing you closely, a hint of a frown to his face as he did. In your state you barely noticed though, too busy trying to shake off your drowsiness but failing miserably as your eyes merely drooped more.

"Levi?" You mumbled tiredly, lifting your gaze towards your lover, puzzled over why he was so close to you. "What is it?"

"You fell asleep," Levi said with hesitancy, glancing away from you for a second before he continued. "Is everything alright?"

"Hm? Yes... everything's fine," You reassured, sending him a reassuring smile. Levi narrowed his gaze, prompting you to keep going. "It's just been a long day, that's all,"

"I see," Levi nodded, noticing your lack of attentiveness and sleepy demeanour. All of which you tried to force back through your smile. But Levi knew you better than that. He could see straight through the façade just how you could see straight through his, acting as though you were fine when it was truly quite the opposite. That was enough for Levi to suspect something was up, and that little switch in his head that differed between his role as Captain and partner flipped in an instant.

"Sorry... y-you were saying something before I dropped off weren't you?" You asked and pointed to the papers on the table. "Something about them?"

Levi turned to look at where you gestured, seeing the papers that still needed taking to Erwin. He contemplated still asking for your help, but it was obvious from just the way you looked alone that you were long desperate for rest. So exhaling a small sigh, Levi reluctantly cast his gaze back onto you and shook his head.

"No, don't worry about it," He allowed his hand to leave your shoulder and moved it to your face. Where he tucked a few loose strands of your H/C hair behind your ear, continuing. "It can wait until tomorrow,"

"Are you sure?" You asked through a yawn, leaning into the hand that Levi proceeded to support your cheek with. The subtle graze of his thumb over your cheekbone relaxing you to the point sleep nearly stole you from him once more.

As much as he disliked tampering with his organised routine, Levi knew sending you on errands whilst so tired would do you no good the next day. Perhaps he had pushed you a little far without realising, the thought running through his mind later on in the morning. You'd been lagging behind your comrades more than usual. Much opposing to you typically being at the front of the group and urging them on over the other way around. Whilst it wasn't as obvious in the afternoon, the strain in your expression as you scrubbed the floors and countertops had peeked its way through to him. Levi knew you in and out, and the frustration displayed ran much deeper than that of germs and bacteria. That was blatant now more than ever, so the least you deserved was a good night's rest. Just because he could run on little hours of sleep didn't mean you could.

"Yeah," Levi admired you under the dim light of his office after he spoke. Your inattentive gaze somehow continued to hold such focus as you looked back at him. The way you smiled with such love and yearn. How your cheek felt warm in his palm like he was holding the entire world. Which he was really. He was holding his entire world.

"Oh... okay," You said and your eyes drooped shut, not reopening. That brought Levi to act, blinking out of his daze and pulling himself to his feet with a sharp inhale.

"Come on, let's get you to bed," He said and slipped his arms around you, lifting you into their secure hold. You didn't protest, too tired to make a sound as you adjusted to the new position. A comfier position that ensured security and safety. One hand supported your back as Levi's bicep acted as your pillow and his spare arm hooked under your legs. You could feel the ever so gentle thump of Levi's heartbeat close to your ear, much opposing to his regular temperament - curt and firm and even quite harsh at the most.

Levi carried you out of his office, using his foot to open the door as he proceeded to venture down the hall to your shared bedroom. The place you had been going to before you were called to his aid. You kept your eyes closed the entire time but didn't nod off just yet, the bobbing motion of Levi's walk both drifting and stirring you from sleep. It wasn't long before Levi was pulling back the sheets whilst he only just managed to hold you with one arm. You made it easier by wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, giggling lightly to yourself when you almost slipped. Somewhere in Levi's silence, he found it amusing. Perhaps not verbally placed, but you sensed it nonetheless. Still, he downplayed it with concern, his hand pressing against your back to hold you closely against his frame.

He placed you down with care, hand only leaving your back once it rested on the mattress. Sliding it out, it returned to the sheets as he placed them back over you. Meanwhile, you watched through half-lidded eyes, following where Levi's gaze trailed. Mainly sticking to the sheets he tucked in for you out of the goodness of his heart, though flickered back to you on occasion. His eyes contained a warmth that opposed their normal grey colour. A warmth that he usually failed to place into the spoken word and resorted to showing it rather than saying it.

Eventually, Levi finished, his hands stopping their skilful movement and pressing into the pillow on either side of your head. He was silent for a moment, observing your tiresome state and realising just how fatigued he was too. He battled the urge to collapse on the bed beside you, pull you into his arms and fall fast asleep. To ignore his duties for just one night. Give himself a treat and spend the night snoozing away like the everyday citizen. But Levi knew that was irresponsible. He had been irresponsible enough leaving the paperwork so late. It also wasn't the life he had been fated to lead, regardless of how pleasant the idea may be in the subconscious of his mind.

"I still have a lot of work to do," He uttered no louder than a whisper, exhaling deeply in an apologetic sigh and hating the idea of traipsing back to his office to work. "I'll have to join you later but I'm guessing you'll be asleep,"

"It's okay," You hummed, head tilting to the side as an innocent smile formed on your face. "Do I get a kiss good night, at least?"

Levi couldn't fight the small chuckle that escaped him, head proceeding to hang forwards and shake too and fro at your words. He truly felt he didn't deserve you and the love you gave him. Always so understanding, never complaining about his packed work schedule. How you made him feel steady and kept him sane. Perhaps it was because you were a soldier too and knew how time-consuming the job was, but Levi was grateful for all of it. The man met your eyes, a certain radiance in them that he'd refrain from showing to anyone else other than you.

"You're twenty-nine years old and you act like a child," He remarked with no ill intent, the laugh that elicited from you music to his ears.

"Yeah, and you chose to -," You were cut off, Levi leaning forwards to press his lips to yours in a tender kiss. You hummed in approval, forgetting the words you planned to say and instead enjoyed the display of affection. Levi lingered longer than usual, an indirect apology for the fact he had to leave you with the bed half cold. You didn't question it, knowing Levi's work never truly stopped and granted him a break. The fact he'd even paused just to tuck you in comfortably was enough to satisfy your needs, whether Levi would believe that or not was up to him. But your eyes fell closed, both from bliss and sleep catching up to claim control.

Gradually your lips loosened on Levi's, indicating you had nodded off. He opened his eyes and pulled back in question, watching your head tilt faintly to the side as your pillow held its weight. Levi exhaled deeply, leaning down to plant one final kiss on your forehead. Then he hoisted himself off of the bed and walked to the door.

"Good night, Y/N," He said once there, glancing back at you one final time. From where he stood, you appeared merrily at peace. Finally grateful for the embrace of your bedsheets after a dragging day of nonstop training. Levi did feel somewhat bad for being a cause for your tiredness, knowing that he could sometimes be cruel when playing his 'Captain' role. But he couldn't favour you just because of his feelings, and the fact you rarely made that an issue provided him relief like no other. Still, Levi's guilt asserted as he closed the bedroom door quietly behind him.

Why... it wouldn't be terrible if he let you sleep in a little bit past the wake-up call, would it?

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #attack on titan x reader #levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x y/n #shingeki no kyojin #levi ackerman fluff #fluff #x reader #anime x reader

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bratkook · 5 years ago

Text

rough hands. (m) jjk

pairing : tattooed!jungkook x tattooed!reader (slight fuckboy!jk)

word count : 12k, (i hate myself why cant i ever write anything shorter than 10k goodbye)

genre : (fr)enemies to lovers, smut, this is for @mygukandonly ty for the idea and for sharing my thirst for jungkook lmao also ps. if you read this/enjoy it pls reblog bc tumblrs tags are dead af tysm

warnings : overstimulation, dirty talk (its kinda sweet tho?), playful banter during sex, unprotected sex

summary : how is he meant to confess that he’d tear off his left arm for you if you asked when he can see the way you look at him in disgust when his nervous rambling leads to retelling the raunchy stories of girl’s past

The muffled sound of your roommate and his best friend laughing in the kitchen can be heard through your bedroom wall, a smile spreading across your face when you hear Hoseok’s telltale joyous laugh, no doubt in the middle of telling a story.

You rake your fingers through your hair once more, fluffing it up and stepping back from the mirror to give yourself a once over, your hands tugging down on the tight dress you had on. The black shiny latex hugging your curves in all the right spots and you smirk as excitement fills you when you think of the dumb shit you and your best friend Rina were going to get into tonight.

In the kitchen Hoseok pours another shot for himself and Jungkook, the two of them energized at going out tonight as well, the video game demo they had been working on at work had gotten approved, being given the green light to move further into it so they would be celebrating tonight. The rest of his friends were set to arrive at your shared apartment for some pregame drinks before they left to their designated bar of choice.

“Y/N! Take a shot.” Hoseok shouts out when you step out of the hallway, his head peeking out by the breakfast bar to see you. He’s wearing a simple white tshirt, his colorful tattooed arms on full display as he holds out a shot glass for you to take. As you step closer to grasp it Jungkook’s eyes bulge out at what you’re wearing, he chooses to throw back his shot, letting the burn of tequila take his mind off how hot you looked. Jungkook has had it bad for you for so long, you and Jungkook have ran in the same circle since high school, not exactly friends but there was always a mutual friend linking you two together.

Jeon Jungkook has always been shameless, even at the young age of 16, when his hair was all bangs and the only thing on his mind was bands, shows, and girls. His debauchery only worsened in college when his muscles bulked up and he started experimenting with tattoos, there is nothing horny college girls love more than a man with long black hair and inked sleeves so of course he embraced it.

The social circle you two shared slowly dwindled away after the first year of college as people dropped out, moved out of state or started a career while you finished your schooling. Because of that, you hadn’t really seen or heard much about Jungkook during your last year of college, not sure if he ever finished, dropped out or took a year off. It wasn’t until fate had you responding to a room mate needed ad that lead you to Jung Hoseok and in turn leading you right back to Jeon Jungkook, full circle.

And in that reunion it was made clear that he had stayed exactly the same, the same 16 year old mentality trapped inside a bulked out tattooed man, his new found goal being getting under your skin because he loved seeing you upset.

Your eyes meet Jungkook’s as you grab the shot glass, standing right beside Hoseok as he pours himself yet another shot. He just smirks at you, noticing your added height with the platform shoes you have on, “If you wear those shoes you can get on all the rides at Disney.”

He hides his smile behind the glass, seeing you roll your eyes as you throw back the shot, glaring at him once you swallow it, “Oh shut up, I’m normal sized, it’s not my fault you’re a fucking Titan.”

Hoseok laughs loudly at your comeback, his shoulders nudging Jungkook and seeing him fighting back a smile at your reaction, “Touché.”

The contents of the tequila bottle start to dry out so Hoseok pushes it away, opting for grabbing a cup to start making drinks to pace himself until his friends show up. You have the beginnings of a buzz warming you up, sliding out your phone to see that Rina texted you to come over, wanting to pregame as well before you went out together.

As you start texting her back your ears tune in to the story Jungkook had decided to start telling, reminiscing on the last time they had all gone out to that dive bar. His hands are animated as he tells Hoseok about the drunk girl he had his eyes on, the both of them ending up in the gross bathroom while she gave him a sloppy blowjob, stopping halfway through to puke all over the floor and how it had absolutely wounded his ego. Him and Hoseok are bent over in hysterics as you lock your phone and roll your eyes, like clockwork Jungkook had to start talking about his sexual escapades, “And that’s my cue to fuck off.”

You shove your phone into your tiny side bag as you start to walk away and Jungkook presses his lips together as he realizes once again he said something he shouldn’t have. Hoseok turns to look at you, “You sure you don’t wanna come out with us? It’ll be more fun than that fetish club you’re into.”

You laugh at him, acting as if he didn’t frequent that club as well, “Is Iseul joining you?”

He frowns at the mention of his girlfriend, getting a little sad that she would in fact not be joining him, “No, she’s got an early shift tomorrow so she cant.”

“Sorry but if she’s not there I’m not interested.” You tease with a shrug, throwing your arm up in a wave before leaving your apartment, the door slamming behind you.

Jungkook instantly sulks once you’re gone, mentally slapping himself for always managing to say stupid shit around you. He couldn’t help himself, the small crush he had spawned in high school when you were still the timid girl that wore band tees two sizes too big, and now that you had matured into this, all leather and stockings and tattoos that rivaled his, that crush had bloomed and with it came plenty of wet dreams and fantasies.

He knew he stuck his foot in his mouth every time you two ended up in the same vicinity but his usual confident and cocky self became a nervous fucking wreck around you. His brain chose to either rile you up with mean jokes or let his mouth run on autopilot. Unfortunately the only two topics programmed in consisted of shit regarding his job as an audio engineer for video games or his raunchy one night stands. More often than not it was the latter, talking about vulgar things made you walk away, if he talked about technical shit that you didn’t know about, it left room for questions from you and more of a chance for him to embarrass himself.

He uncaps the tequila bottle again and tips it back, taking a swig from the bottle and accepting that he’d have to live with annoying you from afar.

Its not until you come home that night, absolutely hammered, while hes there that he gets the first glimpse that maybe his dreams aren’t so far fetched. He’s stood in the doorway between the kitchen and living room, the buzz of the night having left him a while ago, a bowl of cheerios in his hand that he’s currently shoveling into his mouth when you stumble in, tripping over the doors threshold as you giggle and attempt to shut it quietly as to not wake up Hoseok.

Jungkook smirks with a mouthful of cereal as you press your forehead against the door and double over in hushed laughter, no doubt remembering something stupid that happened earlier. “You okay?” He finally speaks up, scaring you, you whip around in shock and slam your back against the door, a small whimper of pain leaving you as you slide down until your butt meets the floor.

“Oh shit.” He sets his bowl down and goes over to make sure you’re okay, your body is slumped on the floor with your legs sprawled out and he forces himself to just stare at your face, a small frown on it now that you realize how drunk you are. But thanks to that, the usual dont touch me attitude you normally have is missing, letting Jungkook scoop you up by the arms. He swallows as his fingers go down to tug the hem of your dress since it had rode up from you sliding down, his fingers lingering slightly on your thigh.

Your head lolls over now that he’s holding you up and away from the wall, a small smile on your face as you stare at him, your finger coming up to gently prod at the bar he has in the center of his lip, seeing them curl up as well because fuck are you drunk.

Your eyes are having trouble focusing on him with the dim light and the two shots you took just as you left the bar finally settling into your system but you make him out just fine, the weird orange glow coming from the kitchen illuminating him enough for you to see him. “You’re really cute in this lighting.” You slur out.

Jungkook just blushes, not knowing how to respond to you because you complimenting him was not the norm. When your brain decides that your head is far too heavy to hold up it drops back, showing him the expanse of your neck and the beautiful peony you have at the side of it, just under your ear, leading up to the spot where your neck meets your collarbone and Jungkook can’t stop himself from thinking of sucking hickeys into the skin there, the purple splotches coloring the blackwork tattoo.

“Wow, you’re sloshed.” He hauls you up, the muscles on his body clearly not being for show as he carries you to your room. He flicks the light on and gently places you on your mattress, hearing you groan in protest but otherwise not moving. His hands start to unbuckle the straps to your shoes, cute leopard print platform heels with the words doll face adorning the toe strap and it was very much you.

They land on your hardwood floor with a loud thud but you don’t register it, your eyes staying shut as you shove your face into your sheets. He opts for leaving you in your dress, shoes were fine but clothing was uncharted territory so he just unfolds the fluffy throw blanket at the edge of your bed and drapes it over you. His hands turn you over until you’re on your side, a stack of pillows at your back so he knows you won’t run the risk of choking on your puke if the situation arises. When he knows you’re no longer at risk of dying he starts to get up, your hands coming to grasp his and it startles him to see your drunk eyes blinking at him softly.

Your lips are moving but he can’t make out what you’re saying so he inches closer, “Huh?”

When hes about a foot away your hands cup his cheeks and bring him in for a quick kiss, the scent of vodka filling his nose as he feels the softness of your lips, “Thank you Jungkookie.” The phrase slurs together in an almost incomprehensible sentence but he hears it as he pulls back, your eyes shutting and your hands dropping and laying limp beside you as you knock out.

Jungkook just stands at the edge of your bed, watching you sleep for a moment before he scurries out to the living room, forgetting about his cereal and collapsing onto the couch to crash, his hands rubbing his eyes almost as if he’s trying to wake himself up from the dream he swears hes in.

His night had been restless, he couldn’t even blame it on sleeping on a couch, he usually did that when he and Hoseok went out and he had to carry his best friend home. No his dreams had consisted of you and that damned latex dress, the small innocent kiss you gave him spurring him on, so he was thankful when he woke up and no longer had to be scared of you walking in on him saying some shit in his sleep.

Hes currently sprawled out on the couch, shirtless with his grey sweats on, one hand tucked behind his head as the other fiddled with his phone, scrolling through instagram and shamelessly rewatching your story for the millionth time. He just couldn’t stop replaying a video of you speaking into the camera, very drunk with a massive smile as you tried to get your friend who was in the background to face the camera, erupting into a laugh that made him smile along.

His finger presses down on his screen, pausing the video as his ears pick up the sound of a bedroom door opening, either Hoseok was up or you were. He wasn’t sure who he was hoping for but when he sees his friend walk out of his room with bedhead he wishes it was you.

Hoseok smacks his lips together a few times, his squinty eyes looking at Jungkook as he smiles, “How’d those jäger shots treat you?”

Jungkook laughs as he recalls Hoseok egging everyone on to take more of them, sitting up and ruffling his wavy hair, “I can still bounce back as quick as I did when I was 16.”

Hoseok just groans, his palm rubbing his forehead, “Wait until you hit 26.” He waddled into the kitchen and begins rummaging around, the sound of pills shaking in a container being a telltale sign that Hoseok desperately needed advil.

“Hungry?” He calls out and Jungkook hums in response, he was very hungry, he hadn’t wanted to get up and make himself food since last time he did he had mistakenly used up the last of your oat milk and you had been furious, tossing the empty carton at his head when you had tried to make yourself a bowl of cereal. “You cool with pancakes?”

“Dude you could give me a still frozen eggo waffle and I’d be grateful.”

Hoseok laughs loudly at his statement, pots and pans clanking together as he sets up and Jungkook winces, your bedroom shared a wall with the kitchen so it was only a matter of time until the noise woke you up.

It takes roughly 15 minutes of Hoseok chatting and the noise of the mixer to stir you from your sleep. Your mouth is dry and your eyes are pulsing from your headache when you fully awake, pushing yourself up from your bed you’re confused as to how you even got into it. The black dress you wore dug into your skin, the straps leaving deep imprints in your shoulders from the way you slept.

“What the hell.” You moan out, rolling your neck and staring down at the mountain of pillows that were laid out in a specific shape. Had Hoseok hauled your ass to bed last night?

The muffled sounds of chatter start back up, the smell of pancakes slipping under the crack in your door and you grin, hoping Hoseok had added chocolate chips into the mix.

Pancakes were a necessity right now, your stomach felt hollow and from past experiences if you waited too long to eat after drinking all night your hangover would last way longer, so you stand up, your sore feet aching as you shuffle to your drawers and pull out comfortable clothes.

When your door creaks open Jungkook stops talking, his fork staying impaled in the pancakes as the sound of your feet padding on the hardwood floor gets closer. Hes sat on the tall barstool facing the breakfast bar, Hoseok stood on the other side of it, both of them in the middle of eating when you finally show yourself.

Your eyes zero in on Jungkook and you frown, hes sitting shirtless, half of his back and side facing you, letting you see the swirls of black ink that cover the majority of his body. Your eyes follow the dragon that starts on his shoulder, tracing the head all the way down as its body curves and twists until the tail peaks away under the hem of his sweats, but you can’t drool over him, no matter how delicious he looked so you opt for being a brat.

“Don’t you have a home?”

Hoseok chokes on his laughter, seeing Jungkooks cheeks redden as he stares back at his plate. Did you not remember planting one on him last night? You were very drunk but c’mon, could the universe throw him a bone for once.

“Here, your stacks are over there, chocolate chips and all.” Hoseok flicks behind him, your gaze following and seeing the plate of pancakes with your name written all over it. The smile you have contrasts deeply with the look you had just given Jungkook, you were a sucker for chocolate chip pancakes.

You walk into the kitchen space and fix yourself up a plate, scooping out some of the leftover eggs in the pan and choosing to stand next to Hobi instead of sitting beside Jungkook. You’re both crammed on the small counter space beside the sink, the two of you had never gotten around to buying a dining table and always suffered the consequences so you always managed.

You lift up the plate to your nose and inhale, sighing in appreciation, “Hoseok, Iseul is one lucky lady. Why hasn’t she put a ring on it yet?” You tease, setting the plate down and grabbing the syrup bottle to drown your pancakes in the sticky goodness.

Jungkook is blatantly staring at your plate in disgust, his eyes looking between his plate and your own, your pancakes covered in the thick syrup, the excess dripping off and pooling into your eggs.

“Jesus what.” You snap, setting the bottle down rather aggressively, sending him daggers as his face scrunches up at your food.

“Thats fucking disgusting.”

“You like your pancakes bone dry, I don’t fucking judge you so don’t judge me. We’ll see who’s laughing when you’re choking on your dry ass food.”

Hoseok just stands there as he eats his eggs, a stupid smirk on his face as you banter like children. It’s always entertaining for him, he wishes he could record every interaction because you and Jungkook were the same person, the same sick sense of humor and quick drags made for some interesting comebacks.

He can see Jungkook getting increasingly flustered as you both continue shooting insults at each other about breakfast food, the dreaded oat milk fiasco being brought up and when you point your fork at Jungkook threateningly thats when Hoseok steps in as referee. “Alright, alright children enough!”

He raises his arms up, silencing you both and forcing you to drop your makeshift weapon, “Jungkook, you know the oat milk scandal is a sensitive subject so minus 10 points for bringing it up.” Jungkook glares when you poke your tongue out at him, “And Y/N, Jungkooks right, you drowning your shit in syrup is disgusting so minus 15 points for that.” And now Jungkook is grinning at you mockingly, enjoying the shock on your face as you look at Hoseok, calling him a traitor and picking up your plate to go eat in your room since no one fucking appreciates me in this stupid house!

When your door slams shut Jungkook chuckles, his tongue prodding at his cheek as he shakes his head and resumes eating his breakfast. Hoseok holds his coffee cup next to his lip as he stares at his friend, “You two fight like a married couple.”

Jungkook’s reaction is immediate, scoffing and rolling his eyes, “She’s just annoying.”

Hoseok hums, nodding along like he believes Jungkook, “Ah, so are we both still pretending you don’t have it bad for her?”

That gets a real reaction from the younger boy, his eyes darting to the wall that you share with the kitchen before glaring back at his friend, “Dude!” He whines, his shoulders sagging, “Do you want her to hear you?” Hoseok just cackles, grabbing his dishes and placing them in the sink to start washing them. Jungkook just continues grumbling to himself, his fork clanking against the plate as he stabs his pancakes aggressively.

“Give yourself some credit Kook, she doesn’t hate you like you think she does.” Jungkook found that hard to believe, your morning greeting of accusing him of being homeless due to him always being at your place showed him how you really felt, but last night was the first time he had felt like maybe deep down you thought he was cute enough to kiss.

“Last night,” he starts off, setting his fork down, “she came home at like 4am totally wasted, I don’t even know how she managed to climb the stairs up to the front door. I carried her to bed and she uh, she kissed me.” He whispers the last part, his eyes glancing at the shared wall again, praying you were listening to music and not hearing this conversation.

Hoseok shuts off the faucet, whipping around with wide eyes, “Huh? Like coherently kissed you with tongue down your throat or like drunk peck kissed you?”

“The second one.”

The expression on Hoseoks face doesn’t comfort Jungkook, he’s pouting in sympathy, “I mean, she kisses Iseul with tongue and everything-”

“Okay but-wait what?” Jungkook stops himself from interrupting further, his interested piqued in hearing about you and Hoseok’s girlfriend making out. It was a regular occurrence, if you both got drunk enough the compliments began and before Hoseok knew it you and his girlfriend were swapping spit and then acting like nothing happened as you entered the dance floor.

His friend rolls his eyes at the look Jungkook throws at him, “Yeah, I think Iseul loves her more than me.”

“Okay well tell her to get in fucking line.” Jungkook jokes, “But no, she kissed me last night and considering she doesn’t like me within her bubble it has to mean something right?”

Hoseok pats his hands dry as he approaches the breakfast bar again, Jungkook looks unsure, his teeth nibbling on his lip piercing as he stares at him. The conversation had switched over drastically from Jungkook pretending he wouldn’t lay his body across a puddle of water for you to cross, now he looked like a nervous teenager that didn’t want to get rejected by his crush.

“I don’t know dude, you’re gonna have to say something to find out.”

Hoseok knew more than he would ever tell Jungkook, you had openly confessed to wanting to climb him like a tree only if he wore a muzzle a few months back so Hoseok knew Jungkook had a chance at least. The only issue was he wasn’t sure just sleeping with you would be enough for his friend, the crush he had been harboring was too strong for a one night stand and he wasn’t convinced you’d want the same so Hoseok kept his mouth shut, letting you two figure it out.

He tried his best to make it so you two would be around each other, always inviting Jungkook over or inviting you out with them but Jungkook never did himself any favors, he needed you guys to hang out in a different environment that didn’t require loud music and other girls so when his girlfriend suggests taking a weekend trip to her family’s lake cabin he doesn’t think twice before inviting you to join.

The weather lately had been miserable, the highs skyrocketing into the 100s so you didn’t hesitate to say yes, on the condition that you could bring your best friend with you just in case the rest of Hoseoks friends were just as immature as Jungkook was.

When the day comes you and your friend have to leave a few hours after the rest of the group does, having to wait for Rina to get off her short morning shift before you embark on the 2 hour drive. So walking into the cabin you’re met with some unfamiliar faces staring back at you from their place on the couch. You give a wave, spotting Iseul on a lounger, she smiles widely and hops up, bounding over to you and wrapping you in a hug.

“Yay, you made it!” She pulls back and greets Rina, standing beside you both and gesturing to the full room. “Guys this is Y/N and Rina.” They all wave back as she starts to introduce them in order, Jimin had red hair and a nose ring, Yoongi had grey hair and a rose tattoo on his hand, The last one to be introduced is Taehyung, brown hair and a wide smile, giving you and your friend a wave. Jungkook and Hoseok give you a wave as well, no introductions needed for them.

Due to your late arrival all the rooms have already been decided on, Jimin and Yoongi lucking out with securing the master suite but you and Rina had no complaints, grateful to have even been invited.

Now that introductions were out of the way and everyone was here Hoseok announces that hes gonna start up the grill outside to make some food. Everyone gets up to start assisting but you and Rina head back out to haul your bags in along with the alcohol and groceries you bought.

The weather is humid and gross, your skin tacky with sweat so you’re wearing the least amount of clothing you can. Already in a stringy gray bikini, a loose cut up tank top and the shortest shorts Jungkook has ever seen on you. Your tattoos on full display, the florals that cover your entire left arm, reaching your shoulder, he follows them up and over his eyes glued to the bold lines on your back that peek out when your shirt moves.

When you bend over to set down the box of drinks he stares at your ass, trailing down the soft skin of your thighs that were bare compared to the rest of your body. Tae elbows him harshly, “So thats Y/N I’m assuming?”

Jungkook grunts in response, swallowing when he sees you pull your hair up, exposing your neck and that tattoo he desperately wants to mark up, “You ever gonna make a move?”

“I don’t have the balls.”

Tae hums, “Great, well I do so see ya.” He slaps his arm and Jungkook thinks hes joking until Taehyung actually makes his way over to you, offering to help carry your bag to your room upstairs. The grateful smile you give him makes Jungkooks face twitch, you only ever smiled at him like that when you were wasted

Taehyung wasn’t actually going to hit on you, he wasn’t a cruel friend. He was just going to flirt harmlessly, give Jungkook a reason to fucking make a move. Rina is all giggles as she watches you follow Tae up the stairs, pointing towards the room you had been assigned.

As he walks in front of you, making friendly conversation you take the time to stare at him. It seems all of Jung Hoseoks friends were fucking god sent, Tae’s fluffy brown hair and kind eyes were easy to warm up to, his style more toned down than Jungkooks, only a few minimal tattoos scattered on his arms.

He sets your bag down on the bed and turns to you with his hands on his hips, “Thank you.” You mutter out, walking over to the window and shutting the blinds slightly to stop the sun from beating into the room and warming it up further.

“Yeah no problem, have you ever been here before?” He asks, making himself comfy on your bed.

“No, never. Super glad to finally have a friend who can say they have a lake house though.”

He agrees whole heartedly, the both of you making your way back out of the room and into the dining room to try to see what you could help out with.

It only takes less than a hour for everyone to gather around the table, munching on their hamburgers and hotdogs as you listen to Hoseok, Yoongi and Iseul talking about the summers they used to spend here during high school, all of them having grown up together.

“You two went to high school together also right?” Iseul speaks up when the laughter dies down, her fingers pointing between you and Jungkook. She smirks to herself when she sees the look on Jungkook’s face, swatting Hoseoks hand away from her side as he tries to pinch her for putting the two of you on the spot, he knows what shes up to.

“Oh, yeah we did.” You sigh, shaking your head as you think back to high school and all the cringeworthy things that happened. “Had a lot of mutual friends but uh, we didn’t have lake house summer hangouts like you guys did. The closest we got was backyard house shows during the summer that reeked of B.O.”

Jungkook lets out a laugh, nodding along as he remembers the shows your group would end up at. The group you had was a pretty huge on, all of the kids in your grade that liked the same music tended to bunch together and do things as a herd so even though you technically went to shows together it wasn’t one on one.

“Wait, do you remember that show the summer after high school where I dove off the stage–“

“Your dumbass always did that.”

He waves you off, determined to tell the story he sort of remembered, “I know, but this time all I remember was jumping off and then waking up with everyone huddled around me trying to call an ambulance.”

Your eyes widen as you recall the exact day he was talking about, it was a typical backyard show with too many underaged kids getting drunk off beer. Everything was set up like it normally was, a makeshift stage and amps against the brick wall with a small crowd huddled around it. The only difference was this house had a pool, an empty one, and although everyone had been cautioned to stay away, once people got hammered nothing mattered.

The crowd surrounding the stage was teetering close to the edge of the pool so you and your friend at the time chose to watch from the sidelines, and thats when a very drunk 17 year old Jungkook hopped onto the stage, wobbling onto the top of the drum kit and catapulting himself into the crowd. They had managed to catch him and started crowd surfing him back, right into the empty pool. Jungkook had been tossed into the deep end, head first and you had seen it all happen.

“There was so much fucking blood.” You shiver as you recall the group of you running into the pool to make sure he was alive. He had managed to bust his head open and as you saw him with blood dripping down his head you realized then that you really didn’t dislike him as much as you claimed you did because you really didn’t want him to die.

Jungkook throws his head back and laughs loudly, morbidly recalling how his friends had told him to go to the hospital in fear that he had a concussion or needed stitches and even though he said he was fine he was lowkey scared to sleep that night and not wake up the morning after.

Everyone laughs along, enjoying the way Jungkook turns a traumatic story into casual conversation. When Jimin asks what he did after he gained consciousness Jungkook just smirks as he drinks the last of his beer before shrugging, “I drank some more and got back into the crowd.”

You just cover your face in second hand embarrassment at the memory, a few laughs slipping out because yeah it had been slightly traumatic but also kinda funny.

“Have you changed much since high school?” You lift your head and see Taehyung had addressed his question to you and Jungkook chuckles under his breath, remembering your quiet demeanor.

It wasn’t until college that you came out of your shell, gaining confidence and experimenting with your fashion and hair colors, the tattoos covering your body increasing quickly. But Jungkook could say your personality has stayed the same, sure you were no longer timid, quick to bite back now but the personality he had found himself latching onto had stayed the same. Even when you two distanced yourselves he always thought of you, he liked to think it was fate that had you and him both knowing Hoseok.

“Definitely, for the better though.” Jungkook eyes his friend like a hawk, the small smirk on his face as he stares at you from across the table, making eye contact for a second before looking back at you. Jungkook sees the way you lean on the table, your cheeks tinting when you see the way he stares at you.

“I’d love to see photos, ya know, to compare.” The laugh you let out has Jungkook sulking. Taehyung was charming, all the girls flocking to him and usually Jungkook was the same but he turned into a jackass around you.

Hoseok sees his sulking friend and claps his hands to get everyones attention, “Alright I’m sure we’re all still sober enough to not fucking drown, lets go swim. I’m melting.”

Rina heads to the room to change since she was still in her work uniform so you wait for her on the back deck, resting on the porch rail and watching as they haul over fold out chairs and floaties to the water.

If you thought Hoseoks friends were hot fully clothed seeing them all taking their shirts off left you speechless, you stand with a wine cooler in your hand as one by one they start undressing. The only ones missing were Tae and Jungkook, both of them having been put on clean up duty.

“I wish this was a brazzers video and I was getting railed by all of them.” Your friend sighs as she pops up beside you and you just nod along, the two of you wiggling your eyebrows at each other.

“You coming?” Taehyung speaks up behind you, smiling to himself from having heard your friends statement and you two jump, your friend scattering away and saving herself from further embarrassment, she had her eyes set on Yoongi so thats who she was currently warming up to.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, taking in his shirtless body, his toned chest out in the sun like the golden god he was and then out comes Jungkook, his long black hair pushed off his face, fully shirtless in black swim trunks. As he stands next to Taehyung your mouth waters at the sight of both of them, Taehyung’s shoulders were wider than Jungkooks but the black and grey art work spanned across both of his arms and chest, leading to his back is definitely your type.

He catches you staring and smiles to himself, making a show of stretching his arm out to wrap around Taehyungs shoulders, shaking up his body, “Race you in?”

When he looks at you too you gulp down the last bit of your drink, setting down the bottle and slipping out of your clothes, not giving them a second glance as you scream out “Go!” and take off.

The dirt you run on slightly burns your feet and when you hear Jungkook and Taehyung catching up you scream, urging your legs to pick up the pace.

“Loser has to skinny dip!” Taehyung adds on to the rules, enjoying the annoyed look Jungkook sends his way, he knew what Taehyung was doing so he lurches forward until he’s right behind you.

You scream again when large tattooed arms wrap around you and haul you up and over their shoulder in a flash. You register that it’s Jungkook when you peak up and see Taehyung struggling to keep up, how Jungkook was able to carry you while also beating him had him baffled.

Jungkook would be damned if you had to strip in front of his friend so he feels no remorse, a smile stretching across his face when he hears you laughing, his hands are wrapped around your thighs just below your butt and he’s tempted to smack it but the cold water of the lake splashing onto his legs snaps him out of it.

“Fuck!” You screech as Jungkook enters the lake, the freezing water shocking you and he laughs again, sliding you off his shoulder to stand up on the lake bed.

“I didn’t expect it to be that cold.” He shivers next to you, dunking his head into the water before popping back up, his labret piercing glimmering in the sun.

Taehyung makes a show of splashing his way in, the water spraying everywhere and it has you shielding your face with a laugh, “Fucking cheater, is this your plan to see me naked Jungkookie?”

Jungkook smacks the water, the droplets spraying across Taehyungs face but he embraces it, laying back to float on the water with a smile, “No one said anything about getting naked until you spoke up, just say you wanna show off your monster cock and go.” He jokes, hearing Taehyung explode into laughter, choking slightly on the water as his head slips under from laughing.

You roll your eyes at the topic of dicks, “I don’t have a monster cock, unless you’re into that.” Taehyung teases you, trying to get further under Jungkook’s skin

“I could be.” You play along, it was now Jungkooks turn to roll his eyes, sinking further into the water until only his eyes were visible, could he drown himself here? He’s pretty sure you wouldn’t even notice if he didn’t come back up for air considering your eyes were glued to his friend. Jungkook was going to fucking strangle Hoseok for inviting him.

His eyes drift over to the right, seeing Hoseok, Iseul, Yoongi & Rina taking turns jumping off of it while Jimin floats on a flamingo floatie a few feet away. He starts to paddle his way over, not hearing any protest from you or his friend just reassures him that he made the right choice.

When Taehyung deems Jungkook is far enough he calls you closer, “Wanna know a secret?” That piques your interest, inching towards him with a curious face, “What if I told you I know someone who has a massive heart on for you.”

“Heart on?”

He laughs again, raking his hair off his face and nodding at you, “Yeah heart on, like a boner but for your heart.”

Note to self, yes all of Jung Hoseoks friends were just as immature as Jungkook was.

“I would tell you that I hope the person you say isn’t secretly married with kids.”

He floats onto his back again, his arms lazily paddling him to circle around you, “Oh no, our Jungkookie is definitely single.” He brings one hand up to cover his mouth, pretending to have slipped up.

“So what you’re saying is you don’t wanna fuck me?”

Your response is not one he expects but the way he bursts into laughter makes you smile, you had caught on to Taehyung’s antics, noting how he was friendly when you two were alone and only amped his flirting when Jungkook was present. You weren’t sure why he was using you to irritate Jungkook but if what he said was true it surprised you.

His loud laugh draws everyones attention and he rights himself up as to not choke on water again, “Like a brazzers video was it?” He teases, “He told me about your little smooch a few weeks ago.”

“Im sorry our little what?”

He wipes the water off his face, “Yeah, you came home drunk as fuck and he took you to bed and your predator ass planted one on him, with no consent. Shame on you.”

You splash water onto him, Jungkook sees it from his spot on the pier, a scowl on his face at seeing you acting playful with his friend, blissfully unaware that he was the topic of your discussion.

“Can you please grow a pair and tell her you love her.” Iseul moans out when she sees the look on the youngests face.

“Wait what?” Your friend asks and Jungkook turns around to give Iseul and Hoseok an exasperated look, “Seriously?”

Iseul just shrugs from her spot sat on the wood, not giving a damn about outing his crush in front of your friend and Hoseok just smiles, his foot planting on the center of Iseuls back and giving her a shove until she screams as she gets pushed into the water, beer bottle and all. He gives Jungkook a highfive until Iseul pops back up, her eyes full of rage as she holds up her ruined drink, “Jung Hoseok what the fuck!”

“Sorry babe, you kinda deserved it.”

Rina nudges Jungkook with her knee, her face making it very clear that Jungkook needs to fess up before she very loudly called you over. He sighs and hauls himself up until he’s standing and even though he’s towering over her Rinas face doesn’t soften, “Stop staring at me like that.” He grunts, “I just have a crush on her, its not like I confessed to something despicable.”

She crosses her hands over her chest as she stares at you and Taehyung still talking in the water and she can tell you’re not into him, you were both playful but she knew you very well, your flirting tactics not coming out to play with Taehyung but Jungkook doesn’t seem to notice this. She also knew that you’d secretly bend over for Jungkook if he ever asked but he didn’t have to know that right now, “Well you better say something cause it looks like your buddys making more progress in one day than you have the entire time you’ve known her.”

He groans in annoyance again, flicking water droplets at her face and deciding he was over this conversation, walking back to the cabin, not caring that he was dripping water everywhere.

You see him stalking away looking pissed off and Taehyung smirks, after coming to terms with the fact that you had in fact kissed Jeon Jungkook it only took a few more minutes of talking for you to also start confessing to not exactly being opposed to sleeping with him as well. Taehyung nudges your shoulder, “I swear to god if you don’t follow him I will be offended. No ones telling you to bang him, just talk because he swears you hate him.”

When you turn to glare at him he spits water at you until you’re relenting, “Fine, but if this is some sick prank I’ll shove my foot up your ass.”

“Ooh kinky.” He winks at you, laughing and beginning to paddle away when you turn and start wading out of the water. The sun beats on your back as you step out of the cold water, and you’re tempted to just go back and act like your conversation with Taehyung never happened but you’re curious now.

When you reach the back porch you hose yourself down, getting rid of any of the mud you trudged over before patting yourself dry with the towel you laid over the porch railing.

From the pier Iseul is pulling herself back up, announcing that she was about to go inside but Hoseok grabs her, all of them noticing you following Jungkook, “Fuck no, Y/N and Jungkook are the only ones in the house.”

She lets Hoseok keep his arms wrapped around her and smiles, crediting herself for being the one to push you two together and Hoseok groans, attempting to push her back into the water but she latches onto him, making them both tumble in with a splash.

You shut out their screams when you step into the house and close the sliding door, entering the kitchen and spotting Jungkook stood against the island, one of your wine coolers held against his lips. When he sees you staring at it he pulls it away quickly, “Shit, I’m sorry. I should’ve asked before grabbing one.” The last thing he needed was another oat milk fiasco.

You just shrug as you approach the island, resting your body against the granite across from him, “Nah, help yourself. Whats got your panties in a bunch?”

He sets the bottle down softly as he watches you, your hands clasped together, stretched out in front of you as you bent over the counter innocently. His teeth tug at the bar in the center of his lip, his inky strands covering his eyes but you can see his gaze peeking through, “Did I ever do anything to you for you to dislike me this much?”

You straighten up at his question, a frown tugging at your lips, you didn’t dislike him, you found him immature and he liked to push your buttons on purpose but you knew he was harmless. Obviously Jungkook didn’t know this considering Taehyung had just told you he thinks you hate him. “What, Jungkook I don’t dislike you?”

He scoffs, taking a swig of his drink with his brows raised, not believing you in the slightest, “Then why are you so mean to me when ever I’m around you.”

“Because you’re mean to me! You always say shit to get under my skin.”

Jungkook laughs at that, pushing his hair back and tossing the empty bottle into the paper bag set up on the counter, “Yeah because you’re easy to annoy.”

Your arms stretch out at his statement, “And so are you, you don’t see me moping like a baby. Besides I didn’t do anything to you out there so don’t try to pin your bad attitude on me today.”

He opens the fridge again, pulling out a water bottle instead before turning back around and staring at you, “Really, you didn’t do anything?”

You glare right back at him, walking around to meet him and snatch the water bottle out of his hands, call it even for him taking one of your wine coolers. “Please enlighten me on how I managed to ruin your day by not saying a word to you.”

Between you two running into the lake until he paddled away the only exchange you had was a curse word & Jungkook acknowledging the freezing water, where could you have possibly pissed him off.

He chooses on foregoing grabbing another water, his hands crossing over his chest, the muscles bulging out at the action but you force yourself to look away, “You objectifying my friend and talking about his monster cock isn’t you doing anything?”

You freeze from drinking the water, your cheeks ballooning out as you keep it in your mouth because what the fuck. Objectifying? You swallow the liquid, full on laughing now, theres no way he’s being serious. “You were the one that brought up his dick, are you dense?”

Okay, you had him there but he wasn’t going to admit defeat that easy, “Sure and you kept it going.”

You laugh louder at that, twisting the cap back onto the water bottle and tossing it at his chest lightly, smirking when you see him scramble to catch it, “The amount of times I’ve had to hear unwarranted stories about your dick in or around someone is fine but me joking with Taehyung is crossing a line?”

Jungkook presses his lips together, his mind repeating what everyone has been telling him all day. Tell her you jackass. “Yes because it fucking sucks hearing that shit from you.” He bites his tongue, stopping himself from blurting out the most important part, but his statement is enough to get you to believe what Taehyung had said earlier. Did Jungkook actually have a heart on for you?

“Why, are you jealous?”

“Yes.” He admits almost immediately, his response catching you both off guard, but the smirk on your face only gets bigger. Jungkook is wary of your reaction, not exactly fond of the way you look like you just caught your prey. When you reach out, your fingers gently touching his shoulders his wariness only deepens.

“Why would you be jealous about me wanting to fuck your friend?” Jungkook says nothing, your fingers continuing to trail up and down his shoulders softly and he likes the feeling of you touching him, wanting to lean into your touch but he’s not sure if you’re fucking with him or not. “Who knew all it would take was one kiss for Jeon Jungkook to get possessive.”

He blanches at your sentence, “Wait you remember?”

“Of course I do,” you lie, not wanting to tell him that Taehyung had been the one to remind you. You wanted to see how far you could push him until he admitted to something. The typical Jungkook you were used to was the one who went to bars and clubs and managed to score a handful of girls numbers before taking one home, the countless stories you’ve heard being proof of that. The Jungkook stood in front of you did not live up to the reputation you had seen.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I mean you were wasted so I just didn’t think you’d remember...” he trails off, unconsciously stepping back until hes pressed against the fridge.

“You wanna refresh my memory?” You’re half teasing him, half serious, enjoying seeing Jungkook looking like he’s about to explode.

He doesn’t get a chance to respond, the sound of the sliding door making you take a big step back before looking over. Jimin had his head peeking through the opening, a small grimace on his face as he realizes he interrupted something, “Sorry, we’re gonna go tubing if you guys wanna join.”

Jungkook hopes you say no because he can’t find the balls to speak up but you nod instead, turning to face Jungkook again, “Maybe later then.” Is all you say before turning around and following Jimin back out to the lake.

He watches you leave, bending over the island and groaning into the granite, where had that come from and why was he kinda into the way you spoke to him? Jungkook stands back up, taking a gulp of his water and following after you and Jimin.

Even when you’re all gathered on the boat, Rina being dragged in a giant circle tube beside Yoongi the both of them screaming, he can’t get your conversation out of him mind. His eyes focused in on seeing you laughing hysterically as you record your friend, a smile spreading across his face because your laugh is contagious.

When you hop onto the tube next, dragging Taehyung with you to further egg Jungkook on, Jimin slides over beside Jungkook and sighs, “Sorry about barging in earlier.” Jungkook just shakes his head, telling him not to worry about it, he didn’t mind it. Your words had spurred him on and all he wanted to do now was rip off that lifejacket you wore and take you in front of his friends but he knew no one would appreciate it.

Later in the night everyone gathers inside and does their own thing, a few people playing board games while you retreat into your room, feeling sluggish from the water and sun so you sleep through the dinner everyone eats.

When you finally emerge from the room, your hair damp from your shower you find the living room dimly lit and empty, the clock above the stove letting you know it was 9 at night. There was two plates left out on the counter, wrapped in foil and you knew it was meant for you. As you near it you see the scrap of paper next to it, Iseul’s handwriting standing out.

Left on a hike to go stargazing, text us when its clear to come back.

You frown at the message, what did she mean by that?

Regardless you peel back the foil and smile at the food she had left for you, popping it into the microwave and picking yourself up to hop onto the counter as you wait.

When you slip your phone out and start to scroll through your socials the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs scares you, your eyes flicking up and seeing Jungkook trudging down, a baggy crew neck on him and his face looking flushed from the sun hitting it.

“You didn’t go on the hike?” You ask as he approaches you slowly, his face looks sleepy and you can tell he also took a nap from the way his eyes blink at you lazily.

“Hike?” He rasps out, his hand ruffling up his already messy hair, a small frown on his face from the foggy feeling he still had from just waking up.

“Yeah,” you hum, pulling out your plate and starting to eat it on the counter, “they left on a hike or something. Theres a plate there if you haven’t already eaten.”

He looks at where you’re pointing and he smiles when he sees it, his eyes also spotting the note left and skimming it. His friends were such instigators.

He lingers behind you, torn between eating or doing something to you. You’re hunched over the counter, your legs rocking you against it as you happily much on some of the roasted potatoes. His eyes lingered on your legs, your skin still exposed in a loose pair of cotton shorts, a baggy tshirt hanging off your shoulder and letting him see the tattoo of a bee hovering over a sunflower.

You can feel him stood behind you and you freeze, looking over your shoulder at him with your brows raised, “Why are you standing like that?”

He shakes his head, relaxing the stiff way he stood and leaning against the counter instead, flicking his hair out of his face as you keep staring at him. “Just thinking about what you said earlier.”

You pop a piece of chicken in your mouth as you hum, “What did I say?” pretending to act confused, a smirk curling up on your lip when you see the deadpan look he give you as he pushes off the counter.

The nervous Jungkook from earlier is gone, the shock from you egging him on earlier had passed and it just solidified that he wanted to have you. “About me refreshing your memory of our little rendezvous.”

You laugh at his term, setting your fork down to fully turn to him, “Do you want me to kiss you again?”

He smirks at you, now standing a foot away from you, your back pressed against the counter as you craned your head up to stare at him, “Among other things.”

“Other things?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, his hand reaching out to cup under your chin gently, “I’d like to bend you over this counter and fuck you until you’re crying. If you’re into that.” He smiles at the small gasp you let out, your eyes gleaming with desire at his words. You had thought you had the one up on him earlier but his change was a welcomed one, you wanted to experience the Jungkook you had heard about, rough and cocky.

You rest back onto your elbows as you stare at him, letting his thumb rub under your lip, “Oh really? Are you all talk?”

Jungkook scoffs, dropping his hands to cage you between him and the counter, his head dropping down a bit until your noses nudged together. “No, I always deliver.”

You don’t get a chance to respond, his head tilting slightly until your lips are together, the cold bar of his piercing pressing against you. Jungkook feels you relax into the kiss, glad that you weren’t pushing him away like he always swore you would. When he tests the water, gently licking his way into your mouth you groan, your hands coming up to clutch onto his sweater to tug him closer until his leg is between yours.

Kissing Jungkook felt natural, maybe it was the pent of sexual frustration you two had apparently had with one another but you just wanted to get to it. You drop one hand to trail down his thigh, palming his growing erection through his sweats.

He groans, pulling back from the kiss to rest his forehead against your, his soft breaths hitting your face as you continue to stroke him. “Feel that?” He hums softly, “Just wanna fuck you.”

You laugh gently, kissing his neck and feeling him roll his hips into your grasp, “How are you supposed to make me cry when you’re this needy?” Your teeth nip his skin, his hips stuttering when you do.

Jungkook just chuckles, the sound continuing when he trails his own hand down until hes dipping into waistband of your shorts, his fingers coming into contact with the wet spot on your underwear, “Keep it up.” He warns, “I’ll remember that in a bit.”

Your hands tighten their hold on him when he pushes your underwear aside to touch you directly, his fingers teasing your skin softly until he’s rolling your clit in a tantalizing manner. When you drop your head back and glare at him he just smiles, “Who’s needy now?”

“Still not crying.” You bite back.

Jungkook looks at you with his brows raised, new set determination on his face as he nods, stepping back from you and hooking his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and underwear, tugging them down your legs in a flash.

The cool air inside hits your wet folds and you gasp, kicking your discarded clothing aside on the floor and letting him drop to his knees in front of you. His long hair falls in front of his eyes, his hands grasping the top of your thighs to slide your legs apart with a grin.

He can see you wanting to speak up so he beats you to the punch, his nose nudging into your clit as he teasingly dips his tongue in between your folds to lick a broad stripe up. You let out a shuddered laugh, your hands reaching down to tangle in his head when he spreads you open with his fingers and starts to eat you out like a man starved.

Your eyes shut, your head falling back at a particular hard suck he gives your clit, his tongue going back to circle around your entrance to lap up your wetness. He groans at the taste of you, your hands tugging at his hair when he falls into a rhythm that has you quivering.

He slips two fingers into you, the feeling of your walls clamping down on him making him moan in anticipation of how you would feel around his cock.

Just like Jungkook is in every aspect of his life, he’s shameless in the way he pleasures you, the sounds of him slurping against you in combination with his fingers thrusting into you has you hurdling towards the edge faster than you’d like to admit.

You rest your weight on your elbow behind you, feeling your legs start to tremble and Jungkook notices, his arm wrapping around your thigh to help stabilize you. He can’t even get himself to gloat at having you fall apart this quickly, instead he enjoys you rolling your hips into his face, tugging his hair hard, your inner walls spasming as you reach your climax.

“Oh fuck.” You moan out, squeezing your eyes shut as your whole body is lit up, Jungkooks tongue continuing to flick your clit as you cum, his fingers slowing down slightly as you come down.

He can hear you breathing harshly, your fingers gently raking through his hair while he gives your pussy one last kiss before hes standing back up. His mouth and chin are covered in your arousal, his hand tugs up his shirt to wipe at his face, peeling it off his body and tossing it carelessly onto the floor.

“You’re not crying but its a start.” He mumbles out, his eyes trailing over your face as you stare at him fucked out. His talk was true, the small tidbits you’ve heard of him being able to make girls cum in record time hadn’t been a lie to boost his ego.

You look between you both, seeing his cock tenting in his sweats and you smile as you reach your hand into them, wrapping around his heavy length. He sees how your eyes widen at his size, you can tell he’s big and you haven’t even properly seen it yet.

When you tug them off you marvel at his size, big dicks would forever be your weakness and of course he’d have one. “I really wanna suck your dick,” you start, a small smile creeping up on your face as you give his cock a small pump, “but I’m not trying to barf my dinner up on the floor. Can’t have two girls puking over your dick in your lifetime right?” You knew his dick would make you choke and if you hadn’t just eaten you wouldn’t care, but barfing was definitely not a kink of yours.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, a laugh escaping his lips, “You’re the worst.” He shuts his eyes as you both start to chuckle. Jungkook doesn’t care, he was trying to make you cry, he didn’t need to have his dick sucked to do that.

“Its not just my height thats Titan size huh.” He jokes, laughing harder when you release his dick and groan, your faux annoyance being shown when you let him slide your shirt off of you, his hands coming up to cup your exposed breasts.

“No, I am not calling your dick Titan sized.”

“Oh no?” He asks, stepping closer until his length is pressed between your folds, a slow thrust starting that has you groaning, “This Titan dick can make you feel real good though.” He can barely utter out the sentence until he’s laughing again, burying his head into your neck at how stupid he sounded.

“You’re insufferable, I swear if you have an attack on titan fantasy I am walking away.” He lets out a playful whine, his mouth latching onto that tattoo he always wanted to kiss, his tongue softly licking at the skin as he sucks it, pulling back and humming when he sees the purple splotch in between the petals of the peony.

“I’m not that big of a weeb, can still make you feel good tho.” He mutters giving your lips another kiss, feeling you smile against him, your hands pushing him back by the chest.

You turn around, bending over the counter and shaking your hips slightly, “Show me.”

He bites his lip, his eyes staring at the slick coating your pussy, trailing down your thighs and he feels his dick twitch, not needing to be told twice. Jungkook presses his length against you, rutting between your folds, the both of you sighing as he coats his dick in your wetness.

“Remember, I wanna see you crying.” Is all he says before he’s pushing into you, the tip of him slipping in and he marvels at the way you spread around his girth as he thrusts further into you, a small moan leaving you when he bottoms out.

You wanna tell him that you won’t be crying tonight but the way he fills you up has you seeing stars, his dick nudging all the right spots inside of you so all you can do is tighten your walls around him and gasp for him to move.

Jungkook grasps your hips, his thumb tracing the outline of your back tattoo as he pulls back and starts a slow pace, determined to find the rhythm that has you falling apart.

When your hands grip the counter in front of you, helplessly trying to find purchase, your fingers knock into your dinner plate and swipe it into the sink beside you but you don’t register the noise and Jungkook grins when he hears the loud moan coming from you when he dick hits the back wall of your cervix.

You’re still sensitive from your last orgasm, so the feel of his thick cock stretching you open has you keening, your hips rutting back to meet his thrusts that have grown in speed, “Who’s needy now huh?” He grunts out, loving the sound of your skin slapping together, “Trying to fuck yourself on my cock, maybe you should do all the work then.”

When his hips still you whimper, twisting your head around to see him giving you an evil smirk, “Go on.” He urges, guiding your hips with his hands to get your started.

A heavy sigh fills the air as your hands press firmly onto the counter to ground yourself as you start to rock back onto him, a slow start until your need to cum again takes over and you speed up your movements.

“Good girl.” He praises, his hand reaching forward to push your hair over your shoulder, his hand trailing down your spine until it reaches your ass, his hand palming your flesh as he groans when he locks into the view of his dick, seeing the way you’re creaming on it.

The sweetest moans reach his ears, he can feel the way your velvety walls tighten around him further, “Fuck Jungkook.” You moan out, you can feel the sweat building up on your skin from exertion and he takes sympathy on you, knowing you want to cum again.

He leans over a presses a kiss against your shoulder before he takes over again, resuming the brutal pace he was pounding you with earlier and you sigh in relief, fully slumping forward and letting him have his way with you.

“You feel so good Jungkookie.” You breathe out and he smiles as he lets his hand slip around to your front, his fingers finding your clit again and the contact has you moaning again. His rough hands helping you reach your peek again, “Oh my god, don’t stop.”

He doesn’t plan on it, loving the way you’re clamping down on him and mumbling nonsense into the cool granite, “Don’t worry, I got you.”

With a few more thrusts you’re falling apart, pressing your forehead against the counter and moaning his name out louder than you thought was possible. Your friends made a good call vacating the house because there was no way you’d be able to keep quiet.

“Thats it.” He coos, pulling his hand away from your clit without slowing down his pace. Your legs felt like jello, glad you had a place to rest on while he continued to jackhammer into you. The first signs of overstimulation started to prick into you, small whines leaving your lips and Jungkook takes notice.

He pulls out of you slowly, his hands grasping your hips to turn you around. Your body is pliable in his hands, letting him move you and haul you up onto the counter, your feet dangling off the edge and a hazy smile on your face.

He presses another kiss against you, letting your tongues tangle together as he grabs your arms and wraps them around his neck, coming back down to hook under your thighs as he slides back into you.

The way you groan into his mouth makes his cock throb, your soaking entrance letting him glide right into you, “Hurts.” You whine out softly when he starts to thrust, not sure if you’d be able to handle another orgasm but Jungkook shushes you softly with another kiss.

“You can do one more for me right baby?” He asks, sucking on your lower lip as he rocks into you slowly. His eyes are half lidded and you can feel how hard he is in you, your body still trembling slightly from your last orgasm but you nod anyways, letting him kiss his way down your face until he reaches your neck again, soft praises leaving his lips.

Your fingers tangle into his hair again as you slump against him, letting him hold you up. You trail along his tattoos, tracing the giant death moth spanned across his collarbone, the tip of the wing reaching the bottom of his neck.

He’s grunting softly against you, getting lost in the feeling of you, the added touches and kisses you plant on his skin igniting the fire inside him. His arms scoop you closer, his hands spreading against your lower back as he speeds up his thrusts, your legs still wrapped around his arms.

The way his dick curves inside you has you moaning again, the pleasure creeping back up and your head falls back as you feel the pressure building again. You’re not sure you could handle coming again but Jungkook seems determined to get you there, rolling into you, the feeling of his pelvis rubbing your clit is too much. Your hands cling onto his back, your fingers digging into the flames and dragon that occupied the space.

“Fuck I can feel you squeezing me.” He gasps out, “You can cum again sweetheart its okay.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, hearing him grunting into your ear, his voice dropping into a gravel as he nears his edge as well. You’re clinging onto him for your life, gasping loudly when you reach your third orgasm of the night, the force of it making your mind go blank.

You don’t tune into to the small shriek of his name, the growl he lets out when you tighten around him tighter than before, his hips rearing into yours in a sloppier way until he’s cumming, hips surging forward to bury himself deeper into you as his cock twitches.

You come back when he moans your name out, the feeling of his cum filling you up making you mewl against him. He thrusts shallowly a few more times before pulling out with a sigh, letting your legs fall limp over the edge.

His cum drips out of you, slipping through your folds and down your ass until it pools onto the counter beneath you and he smirks, his eyes coming up to look at you and his expression gets bigger when he sees the tear streaks on your cheeks. His hand cups them, his thumb sliding across your face and wiping them with a laugh, “I told you I’d make you cry.”

You don’t have it in you to be the usual brat you are with him, not after cumming this hard three times in a row so you just pout at him and lean forward to kiss him again, this time being more gentle and slow paced than the last.

“How was that?” He mumbles against your lips, letting you pull him in to you, wrapping your arms around his tiny waist as you nuzzle into his chest.

Jungkook feels you laughing against his skin, “How was that?” You mock as you give him a squeeze, “Let’s just say I’ll cry over your Titan cock any day.”

The both of you burst into laughter, Jungkook pressing a kiss onto the top of your head as you two just stay there. Jungkook and you had officially crossed the line from being bratty friends to sleeping with each other. Neither of you knew what it meant but it seemed like a conversation for tomorrow morning, right now you were content with just holding him.

So when your phone vibrates beside you you’re reluctant to pull away, so Jungkook compromises by reaching it for you and handing it over.

You see its a message from Iseul and you unlock it, your face heating up as you groan and show the message to Jungkook, his face turning just as red as he sees what she sent.

Iseul 10:15pm : Thank you for the show, I hope you two realize we have security cameras in the kitchen and living room you horn dogs.

The two of you peek over at the corner of the room giving a wave and smiling shyly at the blinking security camera staring back at you. Maybe she could send you the footage for keepsake.

#btsghostie #maknaesmutsociety #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts drabble #jeongguk smut #new

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folkloreguk · 4 years ago

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❥ My Sweet Evil Heart (C.Chanhee)

A/N: I wrote this as part of an angel/demon collab for The Boyz! You can find the masterlist HERE. This was really fun to write and I got to live out my alternate universe dream in which I'm a detective...I hope you like it, I'm always welcome to any form of feedback!

genre: demon!Chanhee, detective!reader, angst, fluff, reader is constantly sleep deprived, Chanhee is the sweetest demon ever

synopsis: You, a highly respected detective in your department, are investigating a case of a very strange demon who seems hesitant to do evil...but can you trust someone who is supposed to be the personification of wickedness?

words: ~ 10.6k

Have you ever met someone deeply unhappy? Someone who seems to, at all times, be fighting a war inside of themselves? Have you ever felt empathy for somebody, even though they tested you, over and over, as if the worst part inside of them was trying to make them lose you on purpose? Did you hold on and never stop believing in them? Or did you say something to drive them away, making them think they would only hurt you in the process of you trying to make them see clearer?

This is the story of a demon, whose every cell demurred at his evil nature. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves and start with the basics.

Being one of the head detectives at the local police station was not an easy-going, nor an amusing job. Whilst working on serious cases, lacking proper sleep was not an uncommon occurrence for you, and in some instances, self-care came up short until the mystery had been solved and the guilty ones were locked away. Every case pulled you in and swallowed you whole, keeping you deeply invested for days and nights until your brain felt like it had turned to mush and your body worked on autopilot, until you functioned a little like a highly intelligent zombie. And yet, you couldn’t imagine yourself doing anything else in your life. The thrill was close to an obsession, and seeing justice being served thanks to your work was more addicting than any drug could ever be to you.

Most crimes in your world were committed by demons, of course. They were your worst enemies, the monsters you saw in your nightmares and the reason you never strolled down a street without a gun by your hip. It wasn’t forbidden for them to walk the earth, so long as they kept to themselves. Their evil nature made it almost impossible for them to uphold these terms, though. You wished you could lock them all away in some putrid prison cell, or better yet, send them back to where they crawled out from originally. But the law couldn’t convict beings before they had done anything wrong. So, it was on you to make sure you kept an eye on the sinister beings, figure out what they were up to and stop them before they could actually hurt somebody. Like that morning, when you were called to a liquor store to investigate a break-in.

“My name is Y/F/N Y/L/N, I am the lead investigator,” you greeted the store owner with a handshake upon arrival. “Can you tell me exactly what happened?”

“I came here this morning at around 7 to open up the store. When I got out of my car, I saw the broken glass of the window,” he explained.

“What was taken from inside the store?” you inquired further.

“That’s the weird thing. Nothing is missing from inside,” he said.

“We might just be dealing with vandalism,” you thought out loud. “Do you have security cameras?”

He did, and so you went along with him to the back of the store. It was true, the interior of the shop seemed completely untouched. You suspected whoever had done this had never even intentioned on entering. There was a college campus not too far from the store, and you recalled countless times you had witnessed careless vandalism done by some intoxicated students during a Friday night. It was a very human-like crime. Demons weren’t known to do things by halves. Their crimes were usually the go-big-or-go-home-type of crimes. But then, when you watched the security footage, you were stunned.

At precisely 3:29 am, a dark figure appeared in front of the window. They lifted their arms, swinging a baseball bat against the glass. And against your speculation, they did climb through the hole in the window. With no mask or disguise whatsoever, the demon man looked right into the camera in the corner of the room. The abyss of darkness in his pitch black eyes was unmistakable. He looked around, as if he was debating on whether he should have done more, but then, to your utter confusion, spun around on his heel and climbed right back out the window.

You assured the store owner you would be looking into this case. With nothing left to do, you headed back to the police station. You had taken the security footage with you, and the moment you arrived in your office, you played it on your computer screen. Over and over - only puzzling you more, with each rerun you saw. You worried this might only be a warning. Not seldom had you been a witness to demons playing with their prey, feeding off the fear of innocent souls. Was this one indulging in one of those little twisted games? Right away, you uploaded the demon’s face onto the database for criminals, even if vandalism didn’t compare to the serious allegations that stood against other faces on that list. While you turned your attention to other cases, his features wouldn’t leave your mind. Even when you left your office at night, he was still the most prominent person in your memory.

By the time you began your walk to your home, the sun had disappeared. You couldn’t help it, even if technically you could finish work earlier, your desire to solve your assigned cases was always higher. Had you just walked home at 5 pm, you were sure to end up on your computer at home, researching and digging around on the web to discover possible clues. This way, at least you had all resources you would need at your office at the police station.

Now, in the dark, the streets were rather abandoned, most shops had already closed, and the moon dimly cast light through the clouds. Those conditions were what made it a breeze for you to notice your shadow. The figure had been following you for 5 minutes now. Judging by how carelessly loud their steps sounded and by their not-so subtle choices of hiding spots, you could tell this wasn’t something they had practice in. Purposely, you didn’t turn around, so they wouldn’t realize you had caught on to them a while ago. Instead, only a minute or so from your home, you took a turn left into an abandoned alleyway. Your hand was on the gun in your belt.

Just as you had stepped into the alley, you turned. He was right behind you. With dark orbs glaring and teeth snarling he came at you, knife in hand. Your eyes widened – you recalled his face vividly – as you took in the situation in the blink of an eye. After all, you had watched the security tape of him breaking into the liquor store countless times only hours ago. But you had the upper hand from the very moment you had spun around. His build wasn’t particularly strong, but you knew you should never underestimate demons. You grabbed his shoulders and along with him, your body crashed against the red brick wall to your left. He struggled against your grip, but his determined and feisty expression was the by far the most intimidating part about him. His face was inches from yours but looking into the sort of darkness that were demon’s eyes did nothing to you. Your hand was around his wrist with the knife – which he was aggressively trying to bring down on you – but only at first.

Because suddenly, something uncommon occurred. So uncommon, in fact, that not a single cell in your body could believe it. He willingly dropped the blade. It hit the asphalt, the metallic sound echoing in your ears. He relaxed his arm in your iron grip. Demons never gave up. They fought until you had forcefully brought them to the ground or done worse to them. Their ironic god-complex and evilness didn’t allow them to step away from a fight – until this one had come along, apparently. And then, as if his behavior hadn’t already stunned you enough, he did the unthinkable.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Without a doubt you thought you had misheard him. Swiftly, you pulled your gun out of your belt and pointed it at his face. One thing you knew. You weren’t going to play along in his little games. In panic, he rose his hands, showing defeat.

“Quit playing games, devil’s son,” you hissed. “What is it you’re trying to achieve here? You’re sorry? For what?”

He was hesitant. With every second, your curiosity only grew. Either, he was a skilled actor or…you had no idea what else it could’ve been about him.

“I almost killed you. That’s what I’m sorry for,” he said. “Does that get me a prison sentence?”

Your eye twitched because this didn’t seem right at all.

“You broke into a shop and attacked me, but then stopped out of your free will,” you assessed the situation. “You’ll most likely get away with a fine and your name in our register.”

If you had been awaiting an evil grin or any sort of enjoyment in his face, you’d be waiting endlessly. If anything, he seemed to be…disappointed?

“But you’re a cop, right?” he said. “You can lock me up, can’t you?”

“Didn’t you hear what I said? You won’t be locked up if you don’t commit a crime severe enough. As much as I hate it, considering you demons are running free, it’s the law,” you said.

“You don’t get it,” he said. And he was right, you really had no idea. “I should be locked up. You need to get me to jail before I hurt somebody.”

His face was dead serious, but you didn’t want to believe a single word. How could you, when your daily life consisted of hunting down his kind, because all they brought upon the earth was chaos and death?

“Give me one good reason why I should believe you,” you said, unimpressed.

“I will tell you anything you want to hear,” he said. “If you bring me to a police station. You guys have these lie detectors, don’t you? I will take a test if that’s what it takes for you to believe me.”

So, that was how half an hour later you still hadn’t returned at home, but rather found yourself back at the police station. Almost everyone had gone home by now, so you took the liberty to choose the biggest interrogation room available. A few minutes and he was sitting in front of you, hands in handcuffs and his body connected to the lie detector.

“Okay, here’s how this works. I’ll start by asking some simple questions, and then we’ll get to the bottom of whatever your intentions are,” you explained.

“Alright. Go ahead,” he said. This was your first time seeing a demon take this sort of test. Usually, you couldn’t be bothered because you knew all they did was lie whilst smiling you in the face.

“What’s your name?”

“Choi Chanhee.”

“Where were you born?”

“In hell.”

“Did you break into a liquor store last night?”

“Yes.”

“Did you intend on killing me tonight?”

“…Yes.”

“Is that your definite answer?”

“…No.”

“How come both of your last two answers are lies?” you asked. “You didn’t intend on killing me, but yes is your definite answer?”

“I can’t stop the evil in me but I’m trying,” he said. You were stunned. The answer was the most truthful of them all.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“I was never like the others since I came to earth. I’ve never felt a rush like they do, causing mischief and hurting humans. I don’t belong. It’s as if there was a demon inside of me, but it’s not controlling all of me, do you understand?” he said.

“I’m not sure, but go on,” you said.

“I don’t want to hurt anybody or destroy things. But on some days, I’m walking down the street and my body starts following the devil’s orders instead. I usually snap out of it quickly and stop myself. That’s why you’re still alive,” he explained.

“You’re telling me you’re some sort of good demon?” you asked. “Why don’t you go back to hell, if you’re struggling so much on earth?”

“I hate it there,” he said. “And either way, I’m banned from there forever.”

Your head raised as you stared at him.

“Banned?” you asked.

“I stopped a bunch of demons from killing a woman once,” he said. “Safe to say they weren’t happy to hear that, back at home. I couldn’t go back, even if I wanted to.”

“Can you tell me the name of the woman?” you asked. And he did. All this time, he really had been telling the truth. When you searched up the woman’s name in the computer, it only confirmed your suspicion. She really had been under attack when an unidentified person had interrupted and saved her life.

“I can tell you names of demons,” he said. “If you do me the favor of locking me up, I can sell out everyone I know about.”

You massaged the sides of your head and sighed. This guy really was one of a kind.

“I already told you, I can’t put you in jail for something you didn’t do,” you said. “That’s against the law, and then it’ll be me who ends up behind bars instead of you. I’ll have to let you go.”

“What if I mess up?” he said. The amounts of firsts you were experiencing in the timespan of an hour were giving you a headache. Never had you felt compassion for a demon before. But you were only human, and when you noticed the genuine concern and insecurity in his soft voice, you couldn’t stop yourself.

“How long have you been on earth for?” you asked.

“I don’t know, a few years, I guess?” he said.

“And in those few years, which of your deeds would you rate the most criminal out of all?” you asked. Any other demon would have been able to give you multiple answers, one more vicious than the other. He, on the other hand, took his time and even when he answered, he didn’t sound at all sure.

“I’ve broken into a house before, destroyed a car window and one time I stole a dog,” he confessed with his head tilted towards the floor.

“What happened to the dog?”

“I…gave it back,” he said. A laughter erupted from your throat against your will. In a friendly manner, you pat his shoulder before retrieving the keys to his handcuffs.

“Trust me, you’ll be just fine out there,” you said. “Whatever it is you’re doing to stop yourself from being evil, it’s working. I will let you go now."

Even though he wasn’t happy with your answer, he knew he had no choice but to comply. As you walked him through the hallways towards the exit of the station, you could only think of one thing: your beloved bed. Not only your body but especially your brain was drained from energy. You desperately needed a refill by getting a good night’s sleep.

“You’re the first person who’s been really kind to me,” he said, as you held the door open for him. The night air was cool, and you quickly zipped up your jacket to your chin.

“You gave me no reason not to be,” you replied.

“I almost stabbed you,” he said, bluntly.

“Almost.”

“For most people, me being a demon is reason enough to loathe me.”

“Well I guess I’m not most people,” you said. His smile was gentle, but his black eyes would always give him away. “I’ll be here at the station every day, if you have any concerns or need somebody to consult. But right now, all I want is my bed.”

“I understand,” he replied. “Thank you. Goodbye.”

“Good night,” you said, before you parted ways. Once more, you journeyed home. He remained on your mind until the moment you slipped off to dreamland that night.

The days passed without a trace of him. You followed your routine, but one thing you couldn’t help. You simply had to tell every person who worked with you about the changed demon you had met. No one really wanted to believe you. It was kind of understandable. Some thought you were testing their skills, seeing if they could figure out you were lying. Others went as far as to suspect your lack of sleep had given you hallucinations. But you didn’t let it go. And after all, you were a highly respected member of the police force. Some said they wanted to meet this demon gentleman, as they had renamed him.

But then you were called to a brand new homicide investigation and all of the jokes at the station were blown away by the intensity and buzz the case brought with it. You had a murder to solve. There was no place for sweet demon men in any part of your brain. Not for now. And as always, you slipped into old habits – staying up all night, living on coffee and quick meals – the toxic behavior was almost inescapable. Your fellow detectives tried their best to keep you healthy and most importantly, sane. They took you with them to get salad for lunch, invited you over for game nights (a futile attempt at giving you a break) and told you to go to sleep on time. After all, they needed your brain to function at full capacity for the case. You knew people were relying on your knowledge, and you weren’t doubting your capabilities. But a highly intelligent zombie was still a zombie. And so it happened that one Thursday night your boss sent you home. Not because you weren’t doing a good job – rather for of the opposite reason.

“You are allowed back at the station when you’ve caught a full night’s sleep. Do what it takes to take care of yourself,” your boss had said. Her tone displayed as much strictness as her eyes showed concern. Truth be told, you were too exhausted to even argue against her order. That’s when you knew. You really needed a rest. You dragged your body home.

“Hello sweetheart,” you greeted your pet bird, who chirped excitedly when you set foot into your apartment. “Guess what. I’m home early.”

As much as you wanted to drop into a slumber right away, your stomach growled. And you weren’t in the mood to wake up half-starved. As you prepared some left-overs from the fridge, you heard your bird call from the living room. “Peek-a-boo!” he sang. It caught your attention. He only played this game with you – when you were outside in your small garden and he was watching you through the window. So who exactly was he talking to, now?

You picked up a knife, because as a detective it was practically your job to be paranoid, and tiptoed into the living room. It would be harder for an intruder to spot you in the dark, so you pushed the light switch. Slowly, you advanced to the window and gently pulled the curtains aside. A shiver ran down your spine when you saw the figure standing between the trees. They didn’t seem to be hiding, if anything they were lazily resting their back against the garden fence. Maybe they weren’t aware you were watching them. Bold of them to assume they could intimidate you by acting so nonchalant. You cracked the window open slightly.

“If you don’t leave my property within the next ten seconds, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing,” you announced. The figure flinched. The moment he stepped into the moonlight and raised his arms, you remembered his face.

“Choi Chanhee?” You opened the terrasse door and stepped outside.

“Are you going to hurt me?” he asked, eyes glued to the knife in your hands. Quickly, you lowered your hand.

“What are you doing here?” you asked instead of answering his question.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” he admitted.

“And so you thought creeping around in a police woman’s backyard was an appropriate thing to do? Wait…have you been stalking me?” you asked. You should have cut back on the sharp tone, but you felt half-asleep and this was the last thing you needed. Plus, the immanent realization hit you, that you had not noticed him at all. You had been so caught up in your work that you had not recognized a demon lingering around your home address, watching you. It hurt your pride a little – and could have ended very differently, had it been a more malovent demon than the one standing in front of you. This one looked terrified, kneading his hands nervously.

“I thought you wouldn’t be upset with me…that maybe you would understand. Because you’ve been the only one who’s listened to me. I’m just trying to find a purpose,” he said, “And my head tells me you’re the right direction.”

Demons. They’ve always had a fondness for the dramatic. But his words tore at your heart strings. His behavior resembled a child who had done wrong and was in the process of being scolded.

“Do you have no home?” you asked, softening your voice.

“I’ve lived with other demons. But they don’t want me there, anymore,” he said. For obvious reasons, you thought. Your head was racing. There was no way you could leave him standing there in the cold. But letting a demon into your home sounded like you must have had a death wish. It’s not like you didn’t have enough space, though. With an extra guest bedroom that nobody had ever used before, he would be just fine. There was no excuse. You cursed your parents for making you get a bigger apartment “In case you got married and had children soon.” You never know what could happen, they had said. And how wrong they had been, but how right they had been on that last part.

“Would you say you’re a tidy person?” you asked. A gigantic yawn came over you, and once again your stomach grumbled.

“What? I mean…I think so?” he said.

“Are you hungry?” You were in disbelief. Maybe it was the zombie in you that had a heart so soft, it took pity on a demon.

“I’m starving,” he said.

And that was how you came to have dinner with a demon. Spoiler alert: It wouldn’t be the last time. You ate quietly, trying hard to fight tiredness but it was no use. Afterwards, you showed him the room he could stay in.

“How do I make this up to you?” he asked.

“We’ll think about that another time, alright?” you said, “I need to sleep now. I’ve got an unsolved murder case waiting on me tomorrow.”

That night, you locked your bedroom door and slept with your gun on your nightstand. Just in case. Even though you were almost fully convinced the demon in the bedroom across the hall was more harmless than a five-year-old, he was still a demon.

When you woke up and saw your boss’ message on your phone, you couldn’t believe it. She wanted you to stay at home for the day. Apparently, you needed the rest and she had no interest in getting into trouble for overworking you (which she obviously wasn’t, you were the one doing this to yourself). When you walked down the stairs, you had almost forgotten about the previous night. It felt a little like it had all just been one wild fever dream – that was, until you spotted the demon sitting on your sofa, your pet bird on his shoulder.

“I let him out, I hope that was okay,” he said. You were dumbfounded. “Listen, I just wanted to say…thank you. Tell me whatever you need me to do and I’ll get it done for you.”

You wanted to go to work. But you knew he would be no help making that possible. Your mind was already wandering off to your case, the tips of your fingers burning with anticipation to search the internet for clues. Your grumbling belly interrupted your eagerness.

“Um…you could go to the grocery store for me?” you asked.

You went back to work the next day. Unsure of what to do, you decided to keep your demon housemate a secret for now. The other detectives would have probably written you off as insane, and you needed them to take you seriously. To be fair, maybe you were a little crazy. But he had been really good on the first day. Only one incident, which involved him dropping an egg on the kitchen floor, stood out to you. Of course, that could happen to anyone. But any other person would not have apologized in the way that he did. Normal people wouldn’t have acted so guilty, had it been an accident. But as long as his malice remained to that extent, you could live with it. You almost laughed at the idea of him purposely watching the egg roll off the counter and not doing anything.

He sure was strange. But little did you know, his egg-dropping shananigans were only the beginning of his uncontrollable little pranks he would pull on you.

Once he let your bird fly out the window. When you came home you discovered him outside, talking to your bird, begging him to come back inside. Little did he know, all it took was a whistle and a few treats and you had him sitting on your shoulder, ready to go back inside. One night you returned home to find him staring at the ceiling in the dining room, a kitchen towel in his hand. When you asked him what he was trying to achieve there, he told you there was a mosquito sitting above him.

“So, why don’t you kill it?” you asked. He looked shocked.

“Kill it?” he asked, “We should probably just shoo it outside.”

That’s when you knew. Choi Chanhee wouldn’t hurt a fly. Literally. All those times you had worried about leaving him home alone with your bird vanished in an instant as you laughed.

“You’re right. Killing is one of the worst sins. But sometimes, especially when it comes to mosquitoes, you don’t need to worry about any consequences. If anything, I’ll be grateful,” you assured him.

Another instance made you think maybe you had been too quick to judge him as harmless. When you walked into your bathroom in the morning, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you almost jumped out of your skin. A red substance stuck to your mirror in what seemed to be random shapes. On impulse, you called his name. On second look, you realized what he had done. The red was merely ketchup, and the random shapes weren’t so random, but they spelled “meeting at 2 pm”. When Chanhee appeared in the doorframe, he already wore his sorry expression.

“What did you think you were doing here?” you said. “You know where the post-it notes are!”

“I- He- The demon in me wanted to scare you…I’m so sorry,” he said. It was difficult to be mad at him when he was so sweet. You had, after all, told him to remind you of your meeting you had that day. He was so easy to forgive, too. Whenever he went to buy groceries, he returned with a bouquet of flowers, and after he had figured out your favorite candy, he made sure you never ran out of your supply. You liked being alone, but suddenly it felt nice to have someone waiting for you at home. A warm sensation filled your heart whenever he asked you about your day during dinner.

Even if after dinner you had to argue with him as if he was your son, because the demon in him had decided to take on the form of a teenage boy who was too lazy to take out the trash. You were still seated at the table, rolling your eyes at the demon’s horrible attempt at being evil.

“Don’t make me ask you one more time,” you threatened him, although you didn’t know what you would have done had he continued to argue against you. Only when he reached for the knife that he had already put down tidily on his plate, your eyes widened. His knuckles were white around the metal and you leaned back instinctively. Your gun was still in your belt – you had sat down for dinner straight after returning home – but you didn’t want to use it. Not on him.

“Chanhee,” you spoke in a calm tone. His face was unreadable. He wasn’t making eye contact. Instead, his gaze was glued onto the blade in his hand, staring blankly. His eyes blinked, almost robotically. Something changed in his demeanor then. There was a tremble in the hand that was clutching the knife. It grew more uneasy by each passing moment. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you kept your eyes trained on him, trusting your reflexes.

“Fine,” he suddenly said in a grumpy tone. Then he dropped the knife. The metallic sound rang in your ears for seconds afterward. You let out the breath you didn’t know you had been holding on to, as you watched him get up and retrieve the full trash bag from under the sink. You had been sleeping with your bedroom door unlocked for weeks. Even though it pained you, that night you locked your door again.

At 3:28 am you awoke to the sound of breaking glass. You allowed yourself to yawn and rub the sleep out of your eyes for just a moment, then you were on your feet. Gun in hand, you opened your door. Across the hall, the door to Chanhee’s room stood ajar. Light came from downstairs.

“Chanhee?” you called quietly. No answer. But your ears picked up shuffling and the sound of shards of glass being moved around. You approached slowly, trying not to give yourself away. Then you heard the quiet sobs. Your arm with the gun dropped to your side when you stepped into the kitchen.

He was sitting on the floor like he was one of the shattered pieces of glass himself. When he saw you, he flinched and tried to dry away his tears. But it was no use. They kept coming, and you had already seen them either way.

“I dropped it on purpose,” he said, referring to the broken glass. Another sob went through his body, making your chest ache at the sight of him. “I’m sorry.”

“I have nine more of those. It’s alright,” you assured him. Gently, you sat down by his side. You put your arms around his hunched frame. He stiffened at first but calmed his muscles after a moment and let you hold him.

“Shh, it’s okay,” you said. Whatever it was that was hurting him so much, you’d be here to fight it off for him.

“I can’t stop the evil in me,” he cried. His weeps seeped through your skin and tugged at your organs. It felt like a thousand tiny, sharp needles in your heart.

“It’s a part of you. It’ll never fully go away. But look at you, you’re doing such a good job holding it inside of you,” you whispered. He shuddered.

“I tried to kill you,” he stated. “I don’t deserve you. You’re so kind. You do all this for me, and I tried to kill you.”

“But you didn’t,” you said. “And that’s what counts. We all have urges inside of us…but it’s what we end up doing that truly counts and makes us who we are.”

“But it’s so hard,” he cried. His face was in the crook of your neck as he sniffled. The small teardrops that touched your skin felt like ice. “And all I do is bother you. I’m an inconvenience. Why don’t you just lock me up with the other demons? Why give me another chance every time I mess up?”

You couldn’t believe he would hate himself so much. Chanhee had more compassion than a lot of the humans you knew had. Some days he sat and pet your bird for hours just because it made him happy, he always had money on him to give to the homeless people in front of the grocery store and he almost cried thinking he forgot to pay for an item at the store (which you had obviously paid for).

“How could you even compare yourself to other demons?” you said. “If you want, I will take you in to work with me sometime. Then you’ll see the atrocities others commit. Even among humans, you’d still be sorted into the best of the best. I believe in you and that you will do good.”

He only sobbed harder at what you had said, and you felt the need to pull him in just a little tighter. You softly rocked your bodies in an attempt to calm him down.

“I would fall apart without you.” Between the hiccups and tears his words sounded like a broken confession, but that’s why they hit so hard.

“You’re not alone in this. I’m here for you,” you whispered, lips right by his ear. Your hands were in his hair, stroking his head as if you could pour all your emotions into this one gesture. What else could you do to show him you would never abandon him the way his demon people had? And it seemed to do the trick. His fists that had been clutching your shirt loosened up and his sorrowful crying turned into mellow breathing on your skin.

“Aren’t you sleepy?” you asked. “Let’s get you back to sleep. Tomorrow things will be better.”

“I haven’t been able to sleep well for three days,” he said. “But I need to clean this up first.”

He let go of you and started to pick up shards of glass. There was still a haggard expression on him, and his cheeks were painted red and tear stained. And yet he was determined.

“Let me do this,” you said, touching his arm. “You can’t even keep your eyes open. Go to bed, Chanhee.”

This time, he didn’t argue. But his good behavior didn’t stop the apologetic, almost battered look at you. He knew you would be by his side no matter what – but what he needed most was his own forgiveness. And you could tell by the way he spoke about himself that it would take a while until he was ready to accept himself as he was.

You heard his heavy steps on the stairs as he walked to his room. Quickly, you gathered the biggest shards of glass and then used a hand brush to collect the tiny pieces. This wasn’t what you had signed up for when you had taken him in. You thought you’d have to argue with him daily and that you’d miss having your personal space and privacy. You knew it would be new, living with another person after living alone for so long. But nothing could have prepared you for the way Chanhee had swept you off your feet with his adorable charms. You didn’t need to fake excitement when you came home to him, nor did you ever have to force yourself to tell him about your day or have any conversation with him, for that matter. He was truly enchanting with the way he made you care so much. Especially when you had assumed all demons were your sworn enemies.

When you finally dragged your tired body upstairs, you softly pushed open the door to his room, only to see him lying wide awake.

“Can’t sleep?” you asked. “Even though you’re so exhausted?”

“No,” he spoke. Even his voice made no attempt at hiding the sleepiness. His look was pleading. “Can you please stay with me…just for a little while?”

There was no way you could say no to his lovely gaze and messy hair and outstretched arms. So, you crawled in next to him under the covers. Your faces were inches apart. The last time you had been looking into a demon’s eyes this close-up he had been lying face-up and dead on the side of a road. Those eyes had been lifeless, and yet you felt like they had still held so much ferociousness, even in death. Now you only saw concern and genuine care in the black orbs across from you. You admired his softly sculpted face. It was one that seemed like it would much rather belong to an angel.

“You’ve been working so much,” he whispered. “You must be much more tired than me.”

“I’m used to it,” you said, “I enjoy my work because I’m doing it to help others.”

“You’re a good person,” he stated. There was something in his voice you couldn’t make out. Regret? Admiration?Maybe it was both.

“So are you, Chanhee,” you said. Without second thought, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his cheek. He didn’t flinch nor pull away. Instead, his pretty lips curled into a smile as he closed his eyes, ready to finally drift off to dreamland.

From that night on he seemed to improve a little, day by day. No more breaking things or having to argue about simple house chores. It occurred to you almost as if he had turned into something more human – so much that you dared to take him to work with you. People there had found the idea of your new demon friend strange, and you were sure some would take more than a little convincing to let down their guard around him. You couldn’t blame them for the prejudices – you had once been the same, after all. But Chanhee was okay with it, even when you had explained to him that some people might hate him, just because of his black eyes and what they meant to people. He had lived years of receiving that sort of treatment. Nonetheless, it pained you to think about how used he was to it. It took bravery and thick skin to walk into a police station the way he did that day. He was fascinated, looking behind the scenes. Perhaps you found it amusing how alarmed everyone was when they first laid eyes on him at the station. His ability to turn around their views of his species within twenty seconds or less was nothing but astonishing. He very willingly took it upon himself to walk down to the nearest coffee shop and order ten cups, also earning him the sympathy from the last few sceptics. When you were deep in conversation with another detective, discussing the possible whereabouts of a highly wanted demon, Chanhee suddenly interrupted you.

“I know an underground club where they like to go after…committing crimes,” he said. “Every demon in this city knows about it.”

At that moment you realized his full potential and what good he could really do. That was, if he was ready to sacrifice his people. But he just had – without even blinking. He could be an immense help to you.

“Young man I can see you have a bright future, should you ever decide to join the police force,” said your boss from across the room. Seemed like she had the same idea as you. Chanhee only smiled shyly but couldn’t hide the glint of pride in his eyes.

The following days you instantly made arrangements to get Chanhee an interview with the head of the station. He had been scared, at first.

“What if the other people there hate me?” he suspected.

“They might make assumptions about you in their heads, you know, because you’re a demon. They only know demons to be evil. But the moment they realize how good of a person you are, I promise they’ll change their mind,” you said. “You’ll be precious to us, and if you want to do good, the police is where you can be the most helpful. You’ll change lives, maybe even save people.”

“Yes, I want to help,” he said. “I’m done with my kind.”

“I’ll talk to my boss tomorrow,” you assured him. “If you’re too anxious to come in to the station, maybe she’ll allow you to work from home, from my office here. This is just a try, okay? If you really enjoy this work, you’ll have to learn and earn your badge.”

The way he looked at you filled you with so much pride. He seemed to have found some hope. Like he could finally spend his time in a productive and truly good manner. You couldn’t wait to see how he would do.

A tiring day and many discussions with higher-ups at workplace later, you returned at your home, late at always. Your fingers tingled with excitement and you wanted to yell for Chanhee the moment you walked through your door. You had managed to score an internship for him at your station. He was allowed to start as early as the following week. As you walked up the stairs, following the shuffling noise you heard, you imagined his face when you told him the news. You knew he’d be ecstatic. His smile would make you so happy, and you almost grinned at the mere thought of it. The noises were coming out of your office.

“Hi, Chanhee. Guess what my boss-,” you started. Then you fell speechless. Paper was scattered all over the floor. Drawers stood wide open. The orderly sorted piles of case files you had been working on were dispersed into every corner of the small room. Photos and pieces of paper were falling out of the folders. And in midst of it all stood Chanhee.

“Y/N- I’m so-,” he said, helpless.

“Don’t,” you said. Every ounce of excitement was gone from your voice, replaced by an ice cold tone you didn’t know you had in you. He flinched, but you couldn’t keep in what you had to say. “You’re impossible. I can’t fucking believe this! These are real cases, Chanhee! I’m trying to save real people here! This isn’t some broken mirror or a spilled cup of water. I can look past a shattered glass, but this is too much…I honestly thought you were getting better…”

Somewhere you knew you were being too harsh. But your job was your entire reason for existing. This was your life mission, laid out in front of you as if a hurricane had rampaged through the room. It would take days for you to rearrange the files. You weren’t even sure if you’d be able to find the correct places for each piece of paper.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice cracking because he was about to cry.

“I don’t want to see you right now. Please get out. I need to clean this up and you can’t help me with this,” you said, trying hard not to scream out of frustration. Your eyes were already scanning the floor. You had no idea where to even start. With low-hanging shoulders and teary eyes that were threatening to spill over, Chanhee slipped past you. He granted you one more look before he scurried out of the office like a frightened animal.

Even though your stomach was grumbling from starvation and you could barely stay awake – as always – you needed to get some of the cleaning done. Now. Or you would go insane. Plus, you needed time away from Chanhee. While you collected the paper from every inch of the wooden floor, guilt slowly started to nag at you. You had never raised your voice at him to this extent. And he was sensitive. It wasn’t his fault, that’s what you always told him when he blamed himself for messing things up. He knew that. You cursed at yourself. How could you be so impulsive? All too well you knew how he felt about his demon half. You were supposed to be there for him, to tell him he was doing a good job and to make sure he didn’t beat himself up. Now you had achieved the complete opposite. A dull ache in your chest accompanied your hungry stomach.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. In a haze, you stepped down the stairs and to the door. You needed to apologize to Chanhee. When you opened the door, a delivery girl from your favorite restaurant stood there, handing you an order. You were puzzled.

“Already payed for,” she checked with a beaming smile, “Enjoy your meal!”

“Thank you,” you said, voice numb. Before you knew it, she had turned on her heel and was on the way back to the car.

“Chanhee! Your food is here,” you shouted, assuming he was the one who had made the order. You got no answer. When you set the bag down on the kitchen table, you saw a note, addressed to you.

Y/N,

Words can’t express how sorry I am about what I’ve done. All my life I only wanted someone to love me. In you, I thought I might have found what I had been searching for all this time. But I messed up. I always do. I drove you away from what we had. I’ve wondered why I always end up disappointing people. Now I know it’s because it’s the only thing I’m truly good at. You deserve someone you can trust blindly, someone who will walk through fire for you, someone who will take a bullet for you. I can’t give you that. I can’t even trust myself. Thank you for giving me a home and for being the most generous person I have ever met. You will always be in my sweet evil heart. Don’t worry about me too much. I will find my way and you will find yours. Who knows, our paths may cross again. I ordered your favorite food. I know you’re always starving when you get home from work. Enjoy it and don’t let it go cold. Make sure you get enough sleep tonight, and don’t forget to take your water bottle with you tomorrow, you left it here this morning.

I’ll hold you in my happiest thoughts forever,

Chanhee

You only snapped out of your motionless state when one single tear dropped down your cheek and onto the note. A heavy blanket of sorrow and regret sunk into your whole body. The emotions seeped through your skin and before you knew it, you were a sobbing mess on the kitchen floor. You wanted to take him in your arms and tell him you forgave him. Hell, you had forgiven him minutes after you had yelled at him. You should have gone to him then. Had you only apologized quickly enough, perhaps he’d still be here. Then he’d be eating dinner with you, and although you’d be frustrated, you both wouldn’t be alone.

Your tears fell into your food while you ate it, unable to control your sadness and frustration you had against yourself. They mixed with the shower water as you stood in silence under the hot stream, overthinking everything. Your pillow was wet from the crying as you struggled to fall asleep. Like a broken-hearted zombie you trudged across the hall and into his room. Chanhee’s covers still smelled like him and you hugged them tightly, as if you could hold a piece of him and bring him back that way. But there was nothing you could have done. He had left, and it was alone your fault.

The next day passed like a vivid fever dream. While you were sat in your meeting, you couldn’t possibly focus on the case your team was discussing. Instead, you pondered whether your makeup was able to conceal your puffy face and the dark circles under your eyes. If it was obvious, at least people didn’t seem to point it out. Maybe they were so used to seeing you tired that it would take a lot more than some tiredness and lack of concentration to arise concern. It was the first time in years you really wanted to go home after work. In fact, you couldn’t stand the laughter and good mood at the police station for one more second. All you wanted to do was scream and cry, and seeing people joke around without any idea about your feelings only intensified your desire. Of course, you could have confided in somebody. But you were afraid they would tell you Serves you right or I told you. You don’t think you’d be able to handle those blatant assumptions and the mocking.

Your plan for the night was set: You’d sit in the bathtub for half an hour, then you’d wrap yourself into a human burrito in a blanket and fill your brain with some brutal movie that would make your life seem like it was mere child’s play. But as most things in your life lately, nothing went as planned. Because after only five minutes in the hot tub, your phone rang on the other side of the room. The first time you ignored it. You really tried. But then it rang again, and you looked up to see the caller ID. It was your boss.

You groaned and quickly stood up, not giving up on the prospects of a peaceful night just yet. But then you heard her message – a break-in at a bank, one dead bank employee, five hostages, a possible shoot out. They were calling for back up. And when there was a chance to throw bad guys behind bars, the most inviting bath or an exciting movie suddenly turned dull.

Not fifteen minutes later you had jumped out the bath, gotten dressed in your uniform, taken your gun and ammunition, and were pulling up at the scene your boss had ordered you to. The bank was in the city center, close to the main square. The police team was stationed in a side street. Some of the team had already been sent to the front of the bank, where the police was attempting to make contact with the robbers.

“They’re holding four hostages in the back of the bank. One of them is at the front, right by the glass doors for us to see. The robbers have guns to their heads. If we come closer, they’ll shoot them,” your colleague informed you.

“Demons?” you asked. Against your will, Chanhee appeared in your mind. You wondered how he was doing. Was he hiding out in somebody else’s garden right now? Had he found a bed to sleep in? Then you quickly shook your head. This was not the time for heavy emotions of any kind.

“Yes. Five of them,” your colleague added. You huffed.

“What do they want us to do? Are they demanding anything?” you asked.

“They want us to let them leave with the money,” she said. You grinned bitterly and nodded.

“What about the back entrance?” you asked. You knew the layout of this bank and had been there multiple times in the past.

“That’s our route. Besides the one at the front, the other demons are inside the bank. The entrance isn’t guarded. A team of four will go to the back and try to sneak up on them. When we have a clear line of fire on all the robbers, we’ll take them out at the same time,” she explained.

“Alright,” you nodded, fixing your bulletproof vest around your upper body. You were ready for this. To others, missions like these would have been nerve-wrecking, and you would have been lying if you said you were completely calm. But the adrenaline was already rushing through your body, and fear was something you hadn’t felt since your very first operation.

“All ready?” your colleague asked the other two members of the team who would go into the bank. You received nods and professional expressions. You had all trained together and were used to functioning like one unit. Sticking close together, you rounded the bank, using a side street so the demons wouldn’t see you approaching. In your ear, the voice of your boss was giving orders and checking in on you. The street was dark and devoid of any life except for your team. Multiple of the surrounding streets had been evacuated and shut off to the public. The scene had something straight out of a heist movie. Except this time, the robbers weren’t going to pull of the perfect theft and get away. You would make sure of it.

“We’re almost there,” you said. “Twenty meters to the entrance. Awaiting permission to go inside.”

“You have permission,” your boss spoke over your earpiece. One last look at your teammates, and you were on the move. Sneaking inside soundlessly was easy. The backrooms were all empty. As you passed abandoned offices, you saw knocked over office equipment and paper scattered on the floors. Lamps had been left on and you heard the faint buzzing of a running computer that was most certainly unoccupied. Moving swiftly, you walked along the corridors, guns pointed ahead at all times. Your teamwork was untouchable. One of you made sure the path was clear, then the rest followed.

“You are one room away from the entry hall,” your boss said.

“Understood,” you answered and slowed down your steps. A cat wouldn’t have been able to walk more silently than you did. Now your ears picked up voices. Somebody was crying. There was shuffling of feet on marble.

“Shut up!” a male voice yelled. The crying faded out into muteness. In the dark, you could make out figures. A few countertops and a good distance separated you and your team from the demons and the hostages. You nodded to your colleagues and they understood. The four of you parted ways, moving into the room and taking shelter behind the bank counters. Once again, you checked the situation. Close to you, four hostages sat on the floor. A woman was still crying, and you could tell she was struggling to keep herself quiet. Around them, four demons stood, dressed in black. Their ski masks kept their faces hidden, but their body languages told you enough. They were not to be messed with. By the far entrance, the fifth demon was positioned with the remaining hostage, and you could spot the police cars outside in the town square. From behind your hiding spots, each of your teammates had a clear line of fire on the demons. The fifth one would be taken out from police outside the bank. You were just about to send a signal to your boss to let her know you were in position. Suddenly, the scraping of feet on the floor alarmed you.

“What was that?” one of the demons barked. The noise had come from your colleague beside you, who was now flinching. You had no time to think. No time to complain about her mistake. If you didn’t act now, they were going to close in on you.

You jumped up, pointing your gun at the closest demon. Right away, the remaining demons had their guns aimed at the hostages’ heads. Your colleagues had done as you, guns held towards the demons. Now you got a proper look at them. They were towering over the hostages, who were crouched on the floor in intimidation. The one in front of you only chuckled. Humans didn’t laugh like this. It was pure malice and recklessness displayed in front of you.

“I thought we told you to stay away,” he began. The only thing you could truly note about him was his mouth. The rest was covered by his mask and where the white of eyes should have been, two orbs of darkness sat, eying you like prey.

“Let the hostages go and we won’t shoot you,” you ordered, with a surprisingly calm voice.

“And why would we do that when we can just kill them?” he asked. His gaze momentarily focused on his fellow demons, as if he was a stand-up comedian and he had just delivered the funniest punch line.

“You will die if you harm even one of the hostages,” you stated.

“Oh, is that so? Humans never learn, do they?” he said. This monster was completely insane. And suicidal too, it seemed. “Go on, shoot.”

First, you thought he was urging your team to shoot. Then you realized, he was looking at the demon closest to you. The very demon you had your gun pointed at. He was asking the other demon to shoot at the hostages. You were preparing to pull the trigger.

But then your mind started racing. You stared at him intensely as your heartbeat quickened uncontrollably in your chest. The dark eyes. The soft lips. His skinny frame and gentle hands. You knew exactly who this demon was. You’d be able to pick him out of any crowd. What the hell was he doing here?

“Shoot!” the bigger demon shouted again, but Chanhee didn’t budge.

“I told you he was goddamn useless,” one of the others said. “Get rid of him.”

“You don’t deserve any of this money,” the bigger demon snarled, and his hand went to his belt. You knew there were human lives on the line. What you were about to do could be considered not only stupid, but wildly imprudent. Emotions were supposed to be left out of police operations. But how could you not have been blind with shock? You were going to let your heart control your body over your mind, and if it was deadly so be it. The bigger demon was now raising his arm at Chanhee.

Before you knew it, you had jumped out from behind the counter. You mirrored the demon’s actions and you pointed at him, pulling the trigger. At the same time, his gun went off. Just in time, you had pushed your body between the two demons.

“Y/N!” Chanhee shouted.

The bullet hit your shoulder and you fell backwards. Burning heat spread through your insides as you stumbled and reached for anything, anyone to hold on to. You could only think of Chanhee, and how your bullet had pierced through the big demon’s skull perfectly. Then, your colleagues opened the gunfire. The shots sounded almost muffled through the intense amount of adrenaline in your blood and the initial effect of being hit. Your body fell to the ground with a heavy thud, and a wave of agony spread through you. You grimaced at the excruciating pain, hands grasping at your shoulder. All you could see was white, before you sank onto your back and the world went dark.

~approximately 18 months later~

“Y/N,” Chanhee said, for the sixth time within the last ten minutes. You pressed your phone harder against your ear, holding it up with your shoulder. Your hands were too busy writing a police report on your laptop.

“Chanhee, I promise I’m writing the last few sentences already,” you assured him. He liked it when you came home early, leaving enough time to relax on the couch with him, instead of falling into bed like a corpse. Today, he was especially insistent, urging you to stay on the phone with him until you had finally packed up your things and left the police department. You guessed he was just trying to make sure you couldn’t stop somewhere along the way and start working on something new. And maybe that fear wasn’t so far off the truth.

“I’m done,” you said. “Status report: I’m switching off the laptop. Now I’m taking my bag. I’m getting up. I’m locking my office behind me. I’ll be home in twenty minutes or less.”

His laughter on the other side of the line made you smile. You couldn’t wait to see his face and get to hug him.

“Alright. I can’t wait,” he said. “I’ll see you.”

The walk home was calm. A soft breeze went through your hair and in the distance, you heard sirens of an ambulance. Promptly you were catapulted back to your memories and into the vehicle after you had been shot. Going in and out of consciousness, you kept repeating one name: Chanhee. When you woke up in the hospital bed, you half-expected him to be sitting there, waiting for you to wake up. But of course that was not the case. He had committed a crime – or at least tried to commit one. The prosecution was in his favor. They acknowledged his compliance with the police and his hesitation to hurt the hostage. Plus, he sold out the other demons and showed no resistance at any point. His regret and sorrow was apparent, nonetheless his mistake caused him 11 months in prison – by far less than the other robbers got.

People had called you insane for standing by him. Others thought you brave and newspapers named him the first good demon in the world. Every week you visited him in prison, often more than once. You made the most of your short time to talk, and with your kindest words you let him know that you were still here for him. Every visit you learned a bit more about how he had ended up in that bank.

After he had walked out on you, he had nowhere to go. So, after strolling the street mazes for days he found himself in the very demon night club he had once warned you about. Most unsavory figures twisted his mind into thinking doing good was no use. They made him believe he would never be able to escape the demon in him, and he might as well embrace the malice. They more or less pulled him along to the robbery, while he overthought the whole thing. It hurt you, seeing him cry as he recounted how scared he was when he saw the hostages. Some of them ended up injured, but all survived. You knew he would have never forgiven himself, had one of them died.

The day you picked him up from prison was a day you’d never forget. Holding each other in your arms felt so right, and you had missed it tremendously. His months at the prison hadn’t been easy, but you made sure he felt loved and cared for when he finally returned. He almost refused to believe that you would open your doors to him again. It was no question to you. You’d always be here for him. Even when he insisted you keep your office at home locked at all times. You trusted him almost a hundred percent by now. His demon only came out rarely, especially in times of stress or intense negative emotions. But you only treated him with kindness, and he gave back just as much of it.

“Chanhee I’m home!” you shouted as you entered your home.

“I’m up here,” he spoke. You ran up the stairs, excited to see him. Your eyes fell onto the open door of your office. For a moment, your heartbeat quickened as you approached it. You must have forgotten to lock the door that morning. Slowly, you pushed it open.

“Hello,” he grinned. You only chuckled as you watched him, sitting by your desk, a book in his hands. “I hope you don’t mind me being in here. This chair is so comfortable.”

“It’s all good,” you said. “Do you know what day it is today?”

“Umm…Friday?” he asked.

“It’s been exactly two years since you first started living here,” you said. “I think we should get some take out and celebrate, what do you say?”

“I can’t believe it’s been two years,” he said. “I’d love that. And you know what? I think I’m ready to start the internship at the police station.”

You smiled proudly. He had put his book down and was getting up.

“You’re going to do good things,” you said, wrapping your arms around him. He finally had found his place. His home. And you were never going to give up on him.

#chanhee scenarios #new scenarios #tbz new scenarios #tattoos #the boyz icons #the boyz scenarios #tbz scenarios #tbz imagines #tbz angst #tbz fluff #chanhee fluff #chanhee angst #chanhee x reader #kpop fluff #kpop angst #demon au #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines

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hotdogct · 4 years ago

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blooms in adversity ||| n.jm

pairing: na jaemin x reader genre: angst-ish, fluff. words: 1.8k a/n: you ever get rejected from a job and have a complete meltdown over your future hahahahahhaaa just asking for a friend :) title is an obvious nod to ‘mulan’, i listened to way too much hippo campus while writing this. enjoy!!!

network tags: @czennienet

At this time we have decided to move forward with other candidates in the hiring process. Thank you for your interest and we wish you the best of luck in the future.

The rejection email might’ve landed in your inbox late in the afternoon, but you had been anticipating its arrival all day long - the thought of it lingering, stagnant, weighing heavily on your brain like a storm cloud that refused to pass.

Jaemin knew this, anticipated it. It’s why the two of you were outside, taking full advantage of the warmth the sun was providing this late spring day. After noticing the neglected planter on your balcony in the early days of your relationship, Jaemin wouldn’t stop nagging you about his ‘legendary’ green thumb. As soon as winter began to fade to spring he began to wax poetic, explaining the overwhelming benefits plant ownership has on a person and pretty please can-he-take-you-to-the-nursery and-

It’s not that you didn’t appreciate flowers. Some of your fondest memories of the early stages of your relationship were the bouquets Jaemin would spoil you with at each date - how you used to keep them on display prominently in the kitchen, a silent reminder of his newly blooming affection towards you. Even after they wilted, lost their petals, there was seldom time to mourn. A new bouquet would always take its place, and the absentminded cycle could continue.

Absentminded. That was your whole problem, the reason for the sad remains of dead flowers residing in the neglected planter. You had started off with the brightest of intentions when moving into your first apartment - wanting to establish routine and create the perfect place to unwind at the end of the day.

Nervously you had browsed the outdoor section of the nearest hardware store, shaky hands brushing over begonias and marigolds, before settling on a flat of dusty pink petunias to take home. None of these names meant anything to you, no terms familiar. Equipped with extra gardening tools courtesy of your mother, you spent that afternoon carefully digging into the soil. Gently sitting each starter petunia into place and covering their roots as if tucking in a child for the night. For the next few days, you’d make sure to have your daily nightcap of wine out on the balcony, watch the sunset and water the planter.

But one day you forgot. The next you were tired. Then you went out of town for the weekend. And at that point, shame left you frozen. Rather than attempting to salvage your petunias, you passively let the entire idea and label of “plant mom” slip from your brain. A pattern that followed you your entire life - never quite being able to follow through, see something to completion. Sometimes you almost feel as wilted as the abandoned petunias themselves.

This was why Jaemin, with his prince-like features, his romantic gestures and bouquets, swept you off your feet almost instantly. Rather than nagging you about a drawer being left open in the kitchen, a light left on in the living room, the messy dining room table after a night of arts and crafts, he would simply take care of whatever chaos you had left in your wake. You might’ve been a storm, tremendous and unpredictable. Yet Jaemin thought there was nothing more beautiful, and decided he was up for the thrill of the chase.

So it was only fair to humor him, to try again at the “plant mom” thing. After his consistent nagging reached a crescendo that rivaled only the oncoming cicada brood in terms of volume, you found yourselves strolling through the nearby nursery bright and early on a weekend morning.

“You’ve put this off all Spring long,” Jaemin lamented, gesturing wildly with his hand at the expanse of greenhouses before the two of you. “And look! Now there’s nothing pretty left!”

“What are you talking about, Na?” You could easily spot at least three to four different flats of colorful starters that had already caught your eye, and started to walk tentatively over in their direction. Before you could get too far, Jaemin’s firm grasp on your wrist prevented you from moving much further, a pout apparent upon his features. Instead he pivoted you both in the opposite direction, towards the more complex greenery and shrubs. You shot Jaemin a confused glance, which only led to a small laugh escaping his lips, followed by words that left your cheeks as crimson as the nearby roses:

“Those flowers weren’t nearly pretty enough for the balcony, let alone pretty enough for you.”

It had been Jaemin who had pushed you to apply for this job. You were blinded by the familiarity of the stressful retail gig you held long before the two of you even met. The ever changing schedule, along with the grueling work and constant understaffing was your unshifting reality. But you had health benefits and a small, but earnest 401K started - what could you really complain about?

Turns out, quite a bit. It wasn’t until one late night in bed, where Jaemin was massaging your back and shoulders wordlessly after a brutal shift - doing his best to water and tend to you, his most beautiful flower. Silently pressing his hands firmly on, around, all over your shoulder blades in a busy pattern, he tried his best to keep his anger contained to the intensity of his movements. How could they neglect you so? A flower of your caliber needed full sun - and Jaemin didn’t need to feel the tight knots your muscles had twisted themselves into to know that you were wilted. While he was especially gifted at keeping his mouth shut, a brief look at your pained, exhausted expression was all it took for him to slip, speak up.

“You deserve better than this.”

Immediately wide eyed despite how tired you were seconds before, Jaemin realized the vagueness of the previous thought, and clarified, pulling away from your body so that you could roll over, sit up. “N-not like that. This job is going to kill you.”

Your face softened. While stubborn to a fault, even you could admit Jaemin’s argument was sound. When was enough enough?

And then, doubt. Before you could even begin to imagine the possibilities, the blue sky ideas that could await you. Instead, you immediately hone in on the skills you don’t possess, requirements you don’t meet. The idea of not running on automatic, the thought of having to try, of doing something new. The overwhelming fear of rejection. Pulse racing now, each shallow breath in only made the thorns that had grown around your ego constrict themselves further, pressing in uncomfortably.

Jaemin’s arms find their way around your trembling body seconds later, his added weight bringing you back down to earth. You periodically feel his lips leaving gentle kisses, pressed with the utmost care along the back of your neck, the curve of your shoulder. In between, ghost whispers of comfort land reassuringly in your ear.

“You have so much to offer the world.”

“You deserve to be somewhere where you can shine.”

“Let's get you blooming again, yeah?”

The smile that graced Jaemin’s face when you told him you had a second interview scheduled was so bright it could probably be seen from outer space. True to his word, over the last month he helped revise your resume, hunt for job listings, prepare for interviews late into the night. There was gradually less and less tension in your muscles when Jaemin would massage almost nightly. Buds slowly began to appear on your stems, where rot had once been.

The second interview went great - or so you had thought. Then the hours after turned into a day, then two, then the week passed without hearing back. Your expectations had plummeted like a sagging helium balloon, days past its prime. The subject went unmentioned by both you and Jaemin, the silence instead speaking volumes.

The two of you were out on the balcony, music blaring. You’re sitting on an uncomfortable stool watching Jaemin below you, donned in a gardening visor and bright pink gloves. He was planting the flowers you were absolutely frightened to take care of, when the rejection email arrived, unceremoniously.

You blink once, twice, comprehending the words on your phone screen individually. Move forward - are you now set back? Other candidates - no, that’s you, you feel like the “other”, luck - you’ll need it, alright-

Deep breath.

You look over and down. Jaemin is so heavily invested in covering a starter daisy just right with soil that he missed your initial reaction, your brief show of raw emotion. Sensing your eyes on him, he looks up at you, squinting into the sun, smiles bright. If autopilot didn’t fail you now, the small smile on your face would convince him you’re fine, everything was fine.

But Jaemin was intuitive, he was smart, and he knew better. The speaker was playing some cheerful pop song, the weather was cooperating and tolerable. His nail beds were caked with dirt and soil, a favorite feeling of his from childhood that comes with the satisfaction of gardening. His wide eyes were still studying you. There you were, his radiant flower, sitting in the fullest and brightest of sun, and he had nurtured you back to growth.

So why weren’t you blooming?

“Are you okay?”

A small chuckle leaves your lips, knowing the truth and the inevitability of it all. This time when you blink once, twice, in an attempt to avoid Jaemin’s overwhelming gaze, you can feel hot liquid streaming down your cheeks, taste the saltiness of the tears once they hit your lips. You can hear the clatter of gardening tools being abandoned, plastic flats of flowers being shoved aside, and you can feel Jaemin’s broad frame envelop you seconds later, almost knocking both of you off the stool.

You lose track of the time, sobbing into Jaemin’s chest. An exaltation of the saddest manner, but necessary when coming from someone as normally stoic as you. His tight grip around you never wavered, the softest of rocking motions to settle you down, his familiar hands massaging at your weary frame. Loving words on loop from his lips.

“This is just a minor setback...it’s alright...”

“They don’t know what they’re missing.”

“We’ll get you back out there tomorrow.”

Eventually your brain stops screaming, though a headache remains. Your breath steadies into a slow rhythm. As quickly as it had arrived, the overwhelming anxiety courtesy of the rejection email disappeared. The once raging storm had subsided.

And still, Jaemin thought, there was nothing more beautiful.

#na jaemin #nct fanfic #nct dream fanfic #nct fluff #jaemin #nct scenarios #na jaemin fluff #na jaemin fic #jaemin fic #jaemin fluff #nct x reader #jaemin x reader #nct dream fluff

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theseshipsshallsail · 4 years ago

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The first time it hits him is over the garden table that first sun-kissed morning in B. A potent combination of jet lag and sheer exhaustion had kept him on autopilot the day before, capable of pleasantries and the occasional handshake, but one face had blurred into another midway over the Atlantic, and it took collapsing into a dead sleep to gather his wits about him.

Breakfast is laid out in an impressive spread, and the combined aroma of freshly baked bread and citrus in the air is enough to leave his mouth watering. It’s a feast for the senses in more ways than one, and from the corner of his eye Oliver watches as Elio leans back in his chair, fingers drumming out a rhythm he can’t quite place. Each tap finds its way to his ears, impossibly loud and clear despite the lively conversation, and just when he recognises a movement from Bach’s Goldberg Variations, Elio ups the ante by humming along under his breath.

Oliver keeps up his end of the discussion with Samuel and Annella, but his sudden awareness of Elio as a whole - and not just the distantly polite teenager whose room he’s usurped for the next six weeks - is staggering. His brain feels full to bursting, absorbing every detail in a way he’s never experienced before. Or perhaps in a way he’s never dared acknowledge. He’s always had a type, and stunning green eyes in a face framed by dark curls tick all his boxes. He sits up straight, drawing the attention of that piercing gaze, and whereas yesterday he might have been able to brush it off, the certain realization that he finds Elio Perlman attractive is somewhat alarming.

It would be easier, he knows, if it was purely physical, but the more time they spend together, the more he realises that Elio’s mind is equally captivating. He could have deduced that from his bedroom alone - the posters on the wall, the contents of his bookcase, the score sheets and cassette tapes that litter every surface - but there’s something else. Something deeper. More profound. He’s wise beyond his age - that much is obvious - but the teasing smirk as they banter back and forth makes Oliver suspect his thoughts are like an open book, no matter how hard he tries to cover the page.

Human beings are capricious, and Elio is predictable in his unpredictability. He’s a force of nature, and loath as he is to admit it, Oliver knows that a boy seven years his junior is dangerously close to prising apart the ever-increasing gaps in his thread-bare armour.

It’s fascinating, the way he wears his emotions so close to the surface, hiding nothing from his friends and family. The freedom to be who he is, without the weight of expectation bearing down upon his shoulders, is unlike anything he’s ever encountered. They’re on the verge of something he dare not approach, and each time he finds himself distracted by swaths of pale skin or softly spoken words, Oliver reminds himself that he’s here as a guest. Nothing more.

And he’s successful, for the most part. He holds his ground, not willing to retreat, but not ready to stand tall and accept the challenge, either. It’s safe, to a degree, the attraction he harbours, because regardless of the way his heart soars in his chest, Elio is too young, too straight, and entirely off limits.

And then, a blush.

What started as a benign fantasy becomes something so much more as Oliver looks up from their shared notepad and notices the pinkness on Elio’s cheeks. He turns away quickly, but the expression on his face speaks volumes to the curiosity of someone who isn’t sure what they want - of someone who’s discovering something about themselves they’re not quite sure what to do with - and it’s revolutionary.

In the days that follow there’s a steady, orbital pull. A waiting game - the rules of which he’s yet to decipher. Their mutual interest is undeniable, and the growing itch in Oliver’s palms to reach out and touch is in no way helped by the mantra of want, take, have that dogs his every step. The slow burn of arousal makes it harder to control, but he manages. He does. And then -

“Just play it will you?”

“The same one?”

“The same one.”

Elio jumps to his feet and strides towards the house, and Oliver, powerless to resist, follows in his wake. He sits down at the piano, elegant fingers gliding over the ivory keys, and Oliver lets his mind wander as he coaxes the requested melody from the antique instrument. It’s different though - more frenetic than the gentle melody from the garden - and Elio explains that he’s playing it the way Liszt would if he played Bach’s version. The way his mind works is remarkable, and back and forth they go, flirting through the music, until he finally plays the same stirring refrain from outside.

So yes, his attraction is manageable. Right up until the night Oliver wakes with a gasp, his body wanting, and the memory of a breathy sigh causing the blood to surge in his veins. There’s a cold sweat on his forehead, and the phantom scrape of Elio’s teeth across his collarbone leaves him flushed and disoriented. Heart pounding, he stares up at the cracks in the ceiling, the knots in his stomach coiling even further as he slowly stretches out across the mattress, needing to confirm that he’s definitely alone.

He is - of course he is - and Oliver drags a hand over his face before bunching his sheets to the side, one hand sliding down to pluck the damp cotton of his boxers away from his leaking erection. His resolve to be good does little to stop the images playing behind his eyelids, and a shiver races down his spine as he pictures himself pinned to the bed, Elio moving slowly above him, the low growl of filthy promises urging him higher and higher.

Again, he tells himself it doesn’t mean anything, that his physical desire is still on a tight leash. He can’t control what his body reacts to, or the direction his psyche chooses to steer his dreams, but he’s under no obligation to act on it.

Not now.

Not ever.

“Completely harmless,” he murmurs, Bach’s Capriccio in B flat major ringing in his ears as he strokes himself to completion, Elio’s name caught in his throat in a last ditch attempt at censure.

#call me by your name #fanfic #elio x oliver #oliver pov

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actuallybarb · 4 years ago

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The Aftermath ~ Part 10

Summary: y/n almost murders someone but jake peralta talks her out of it

Pairing: peter parker x reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, trauma, the end is nigh

Word Count: 2095

A/N: it’s almost done.

//////////

Wong dropped Peter and I off on the roof of my apartment. “Stay safe.” Then he was gone, and we were alone. Well, alone until the calvary could get there. The Avengers were working with the FBI and the Nine-Nine for a perimeter, but I didn’t really think it would matter. This person was clearly determined to get to me, they wouldn’t let a police perimeter get in the way.

“Who do you think it is?” Peter asked quietly, his eyes on the sky. He was decked out in his Spider-Man suit, his first appearance since his name was cleared, and I could feel his leg bouncing with joy. Sam mentioned a suit at some point for me, but we were a bit preoccupied to actually get around to it. I had to make do with my Vans and the comm in my ear.

I kept my eyes on the ground. My apartment building wasn’t exceedingly tall, but it gave me a fairly good vantage point for the happenings of New York City. “Someone from Beck’s crew. I did kind of ruin their lives, someone is bound to be pissed as hell.”

“I didn’t even — do you feel that?”

It started out subtle. Barely a flinch. But then the ground started to shake harder and harder. And then I saw the cause.

Sand. Tons of it. Rolling in from the coast.

And straight toward a person.

The sand piled around him and he just kept getting bigger and bigger until a giant sand man was standing in the middle of Fourth Street.

And all I could think of was Mr. Sandman by The Chordettes.

“Y/N Y/L/N!” he (It? Do we even worry about proper pronouns?) shouted. Peter flinched at how loud his voice was, but that was the least of my concerns. “It is time for you to meet your doom!”

“Good!” I shouted back. “Make it quick, I hear they have unlimited mimosas in heaven!”

Maybe (definitely) my self-preservation skills were skewed, but I couldn’t miss the opportunity. And the longer I had him monologuing, the longer he didn’t kill people.

“You made me become this,” he shouted again, “and now you will pay the price!”

Then he slammed his sand-fist as close to me and Peter as he could reach.

“At least he just got right to the point,” I mumbled. I looked at Peter. “I’m really hoping him being this big makes him slower. I’ll see if I can do something about the sand.”

“I’ll try and web him up, see if we can topple him over.”

“Great.” Peter swung away and I lifted myself between buildings, trying to get close enough without being in hitting distance.

Sand is trickier than rocks because the particles are loose. But if I could compress them, or maybe add some water...

Fuck it, let’s just do it.

I got closer (my first mistake) until I could feel the sand particles whirling around me. I latched onto a few (my second mistake) and tried to pull them away from the Sand Man (my third mistake).

Why are these mistakes, Y/N, this sounds like a foolproof plan.

Well, you see, I thought I was pulling the sand away from the body.

Nope.

I was pulling the Sand Man toward me.

And I realized it a second too late.

His hand swiped me off the roof and sent me crashing into the ground below. “You won’t fool me so easily, Y/N. You’re going to pay for what you did.” I brushed the gravel off my palms and groaned as I stood up, my ribs on fire. Before I could get my bearings, though, sand started to swirl around me and lifted me into the sky. Sand Man tossed me around like a rag doll, trying to give me whiplash, before he threw me up in the air and let me fall, no support.

He wasn’t expecting Peter, though.

“I gotcha,” his voice rang in my ear. We landed a couple blocks away and his hands immediately reached for my shoulders. “Are you okay, are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” I snapped probably a bit too harshly. “Look, if we’re going to be successful at all with this thing, just assume I’m okay, okay? Thanks for catching me.” I leaned forward and kissed him right on his jaw, mask and all, then I ran back into the center of the street.

“You want a piece of me?” I shouted at him (I’ve decided on ‘him’). “Come and get me.”

Then I pulled a Bolin and made the street split with lava.

Peter stayed up top and tried to tie up the Sand Man, but I pushed the lava forward, underneath his feet. I was hoping it would start to melt the sand, but he just compressed the particles and held his ground.

“It’s like he is the sand,” Peter’s voice echoed in my ear.

He is the sand.

“I have an idea! I could really use some back up.”

“What’s up?” Peter, Sam, and Wanda met me on the ground.

“Distract him. Get as many bits of sand away from him as possible. Not enough to notice, but enough to start shaking him down. Got it?”

They nodded. “You’re the boss, Y/N,” Sam said with a wink, then he flew up in the sky.

I stayed low, but close. And I let my senses take over.

This guy, he was literally the sand. The more sand, the bigger he got. So, take away the sand, and he’ll get smaller. I just had to keep the sand away.

I was chucking rocks and balls of fire and gusts of air at the Sand Man, but that was all on autopilot. The main part of my brain was focusing on the sand that fell, and making sure to blow it far enough away to stop him from getting it back so quickly.

And it started to work. Slowly but surely, Sand Man was getting smaller, and he didn’t notice.

But he would eventually, and I needed a plan for that.

Sand castles stick together better when the sand is damp, that’s just how they work. But when sand is too wet, it falls apart.

No sand, no man.

“When you guys see the big wave coming in, get the hell out of here, got it?”

“Y/N, what are you planning?”

“It’s kind of a long shot, but just let me try it. Keep the sand away until the last second, okay?”

I walked out into the middle of the road and reached for the water. There were thousands of gallons rushing beneath me, but those were too damaging to New York City, and it’s been through enough. I reached further and further until I felt the salt of the ocean and I let it take over my senses. There was a huge tug in my gut and the sound of the waves rushed over my ears.

I looked at the Sand Man, the guy responsible for my parents’ disappearance, the guy who had made my life a living hell the past week, and I screamed.

A huge maverick of a wave came through New York City and crashed on the Sand Man. Wanda, Peter, and Sam got out of the way just in time.

The Sand Man toppled over and lost even more sand, but he started to get back up.

“Hell no.” My hand formed a fist and I felt the water following my movements. The huge water fist came up and landed one huge uppercut to his jaw and sent him down all over again. Then I made my own hurricane with him in the middle of it. More and more sand was lost in the water, and once he was down to size...

I dropped him.

But he didn’t have Peter to catch him.

He slammed against the asphalt and finally dissipated into a normal-sized man, even if he was still made out of sand. I unclenched my fists and the water made its way back to the ocean, taking a few park benches and a hot dog stand with it.

I stood over him and shouted, “Who the hell are you?” hoping he would open his eyes at my unrelenting fury. This jackass had my parents, I wasn’t going to show mercy.

And he had the audacity to laugh. “You’ll never find them, Y/N. Over my dead body.”

My hands flickered with lightning. “That can be arranged.”

“No killing, Y/N,” a new voice rang out in my ear.

“Jake? You’re on comms?”

“I know, cool, right? I’m talking directly into Spider-Man’s ear. Whatever, anyway, no killing, we still need information from him.”

I glared at the Sand Man and he just blinked lazily at me. “What’s your name?”

“Like I said, over my—“ I zapped him once, just a little spark, but his body (can we even call it that? it’s literally sand) shuddered. “Bitch.”

“That’s not very nice.” Peter landed softly beside me and glared at him too, his mask eyes narrowed. “If anyone’s a bitch, here, it’s definitely you.” Sam and Wanda joined us on the ground, and eventually the 99 joined us too, Jake at the front.

“Y/N that was awesome! The way you got the huge wave to come through and then you made a hurricane and ohmygoditsspiderman.” Jake couldn’t help but start blushing, just a little bit. “Can — can I have your autograph?”

Peter glanced at me, a smirk on my face, before responding, “Uh, yeah, sure, ‘course. You got a pen and paper?”

“How are we supposed to cuff this guy?” Diaz asked, looking at the Sand Man. “Last I checked sand isn’t the most stable.”

We all just kind of looked at each other for a second before I stepped forward and grabbed Sand Man’s wrists. My concentration was kind of shot, but I had enough left to focus all of my energy into my hands, heating them to a temperature well above comfortable. Slowly, glass started to form from the melted sand, and I slammed his wrists together, bonding them. “You’re not going anywhere any time soon.”

“That seems like cruel and unusual punishment.”

“Tell me where my parents are and maybe I’ll let you out.”

He just grinned and followed the detectives into the squad car, where Detective Diaz may or may not have smashed some sand in the door.

I turned to Peter and wrapped my arm around his waist. “Can we go?”

“I don’t see why not.” His grip tightened around me and we swung out of the wreckage. I completely wrapped my legs around his hips and latched my other arm around his shoulders, but I kept my eyes wide open.

I could get used to this.

I recognized the apartment building we landed on — I’d visited Peter up here plenty of times to remember the small dying plant in the corner of the roof and the twinkle lights that ran out of battery a long time ago. “C’mon,” Peter said as he started for the fire escape, “let’s get cleaned up.”

May washed my jeans while I showered and I airbended them dry, but my shirt was torn to pieces. Peter left out his old band t-shirt, but I could barely get it on. My rib cage was already starting to splotch with blue and purple bruises, and with my adrenaline wearing off, I felt every hit I took today. After a few grunts a multiple hisses of pain I looked over at my jeans then back down at my legs and had one definitive thought: “there’s no way in hell I’m putting those back on.”

I stuck my head out the bathroom door and whispered, “Pst, Peter.”

His own head popped out of his bedroom door. “What?”

“Can I steal some sweats?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” His head disappeared and reappeared a second later. “Here.”

“Thanks.” A couple more grunts later and I was completely dressed in Peter Parker’s wardrobe (no complaints there). I walked back into his room and he was laying on his bed, Gilmore Girls playing on his laptop. “I got you hooked, didn’t I?”

“I just want Luke and Lorelai to end up together, is that too much to ask?”

I snickered. “No.” I laid down beside him and, ignoring the painful protests my ribs screamed at me, I curled into his side. We got ten minutes into an episode before I whispered, “Do you really think we’ll find them?”

“Yeah, I really do.”

His heart was steady.

tags: @eridanuswave @vampirestrawberries @yougottalovefandoms

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #spiderman #spiderman far from home #marvel #mcu #marvel comics #peter parker imagine #peter parker series #peter parker oneshot #avengers #peter parker x mj #ned leeds #michelle jones #flash thompson #reader insert

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crow-writes-stuff · 5 years ago

Text

Help me sleep

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dazai Osamu & Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), possible Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs) Characters: Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs) Additional Tags: Whumptober 2020, Sleep Deprivation, Sleep Deprived Dazai Osamu, Nakahara Chuuya Takes Care of Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), Sharing a Bed, Literal Sleeping Together, Post-Decay of Angels Arc (Bungou Stray Dogs) Series: Part 6 of Soukoku Whumptober 2020 Summary:

Dazai can't sleep. He finally asks Chuuya for help.

Ao3

Dazai stares blankly at the papers in front of him. He's trying to make sense of the black squiggly lines all across them. "Dazai-san?" Atsushi interrupts his concentration. "Hm?" Dazai asks without looking up. Atsushi fidgets with his belt before answering: "You seem really tired. Maybe you should finish early today?" Aw, he's concerned about Dazai! He finally looks up and gives Atsushi a smile. "What makes you say that?" More fidgeting. "Uh, well... For one, the papers you've been looking at are upside-down." Oh. Hm. That explains his troubles. Dazai shrugs and stands up. "Maybe you're right," he says with a cheerful voice, "tell Kunikida I'm calling in sick." This takes Atsushi by surprise, and he stammers through his response. Did he expect more resistance? "Oh, um, s-sure. But, uh, Dazai-san?" Dazai suppresses a sigh and looks back at Atsushi. "Yes?" The boy's expression is absolutely sincere when he asks: "Are you alright? You've been acting a bit strange lately. Everyone is worried." Ah, so Dazai has not been hiding it as well as he thought. He waves Atsushi off with a lazy smile. "I'll be fine, no need worry." That at least seems to placate the other for the moment, and he lets Dazai leave without further questions. Technically, Dazai didn't lie. He is sure that he'll be fine. Eventually. For now, he's leaning against the wall of the staircase and looks down at his shaking hands.

He's so tired. He has barely been sleeping, ever since... Ever since the whole disaster of the Decay of Angels situation. Sure, it worked out for them in the end, but Dazai's mind has known no rest. And neither has his body. He has tried almost everything he could think off to finally get some sleep but to no avail. Logically he knows that he only has two options left. Three, if he considers a successful suicide an option. He really, really would rather avoid both options. Which is precisely what he has done until now. The first is simple and would probably be effective as well. But taking drugs, even if they're regular sleeping pills, leads down a path he knows all too well. So that's a no from him. The second option is the last resort in every case. But what choice does he have at this point? Of course, he could go home and fail to rest again. But he knows how much his body can take and it won't be long until it reaches its limit. Death due to lack of sleep is not what he had pictured for himself.

Dazai sighs and fumbles with his coat to get his phone. The screen looks blurry to him, but that isn't the phones fault. Besides, he doesn't need to see to find what he's looking for. He starts the call and holds the phone to his ear. While listening to the quiet beeps of the starting connection, he sinks down the wall. Might as well sit down while he waits. It doesn't take long for the call to be picked up. "What the fuck do you want?" snarls an all too familiar voice. Dazai smiles. Good old Chuuya. His smile quickly falls again, and he takes a breath. He doesn't want to do this, but he's out of options.

"I need your help." The line goes completely silent. Dazai isn't too worried, though. Because as much as they fight with each other, their partnership has always been build on one fundamental truth; If one of them needs help, the other will provide it. As predicted, Chuuya soon asks: "What do you need?" His voice is even, but Dazai likes to imagine he hears a tiny hint of worry. Dazai almost wants to laugh, but he can't muster the energy. He's going to sound so pathetic. "I can't sleep." Another moment of quiet before Chuuya says: "Dazai if this is some kind of joke..." "It's not," he's quick to respond, "I think... I think I haven't slept for more than two hours this past week." The fact that he's unsure speaks for itself. He can hear a quiet sigh at the other end of the line. "Okay," Chuuya says, "Are you at the Agency?" Dazai nods before he remembers that Chuuya can't tell. His brain really isn't at its regular capacity. "I am." He hears quiet rustling and imagines that Chuuya is sitting at his desk, probably doing paperwork. "Wait there. I'm going to pick you up." The line goes dead without Chuuya waiting for confirmation. He knows Dazai will comply. He's the one that asked for help after all.

Dazai continues staring at the black screen of his phone, before resting his head on his knees. He just wants to finally sleep for more than a few minutes.

He sighs and checks the time. With a start, he realises that he already zoned out for a while. Time to go outside. He doesn't want Chuuya to come in here and perhaps run into someone else from the Agency. That would take to much explaining. Something Dazai does not have the energy for.

He makes his way downstairs and notices that he's swaying slightly. Looks like his sense of balance is also affected by the exhaustion. He's honestly a bit disappointed by his body.

Outside he leans against a wall for support. He doesn't have to wait long for Chuuya to turn up. The expensive red car is an instant giveaway even before it slows to a stop. No one gets out, so Dazai makes his way to the passenger door. He sinks into the leather seat without looking at Chuuya. Chuuya is looking at him, though. Dazai can feel his eyes as if they're burning into his skin. Finally, Chuuya turns to look at the street again. "Seatbelt," he says and starts the car again. He waits for Dazai to comply before driving off. Dazai really wants to make a joke, but his mind is blank. Chuuya usually isn't this concerned with safety, he's pretty confident in his driving. But Dazai notices that the seatbelt prevents him from slumping forward. So he settles back, his head leaning at the window. Perhaps that was the intention.

A hand on his shoulders brings him out of his thoughts. The engine is turned off, and Chuuya is looking at him again. They've already reached their destination. Said destination clearly being the underground garage of Chuuya's home. Dazai isn't surprised. They get out of the car and Dazai trails behind Chuuya as they make their way up to his apartment. He has stuffed his hands into his pockets. Chuuya has probably already noticed the shaking though. As much as Dazai likes to make fun of him, the other is far from stupid.

Dazai goes through the motions of taking off his coat and shoes entirely on autopilot. He only really comes back when a cup of hot tea is placed on the table on front of him. He doesn't even remember sitting down on the couch. Chuuya is sitting across from him. Neither of them has spoken since they started driving. Dazai already thinks that Chuuya is merely waiting him out when his expectations get defied. "This is going on since you came back?" Chuuya's talking about his little prison cell where he tried getting information from Dostoevsky. Of course, Dazai hadn't gotten out, until the threat of the Decay of Angels had been neutralised. But Chuuya is right. Dazai nods. "It's gotten worse over time." In the beginning, he had thought that it would be a temporary thing. That he'd soon be back to his old self. Sleeping on his desk if he wanted, head clear when needed. Instead, he just got less and less sleep.

Chuuya doesn't pressure him into talking more, and he appreciates it. He slowly drinks his tea. It's some kind of herbal mixture, presumably to help him sleep. He already tried that, but he doesn't comment on it. It won't hurt either.

He's staring at his empty cup when Chuuya stands up with a sigh. "Come on then." Dazai looks up at the offered hand and allows himself a tiny smile. Chuuya isn't looking at him anyway. He lets Chuuya pull him to his feet, and they head towards the elaborate bedroom. It's not the first time Dazai is here, but he's still fascinated by the giant dark wood bed frame and the deep red sheets. Chuuya once said, that now that he has money, he's not going to compromise on his own comfort. Looking at the bed, Dazai gets why.

Chuuya is already undressing when Dazai comes out of his thoughts. He turns around and starts unbuttoning his shirt. He places it on one of the chairs in the corner, his pants and socks soon following. When only his underwear is left, he turns back to the bed, where Chuuya already sits crosslegged with the blanket folded back. He's changed into a pair of pyjama pants and is leaning against the headboard. Dazai feels a slight pang at the few unfamiliar scars he spots. He ignores it however and starts crawling into bed. Chuuya easily puts his arms around Dazai and pulls him against his chest. This is far from the first time they have shared a bed. They shift until they're both comfortable, with Dazai having slung one arm over Chuuya, his head resting on the other's chest and their legs tangled together. Dazai closes his eyes, listening to the steady heartbeat of his partner. They may no longer work together, but he's never really stopped seeing Chuuya as that.

Chuuya starts gently playing with his hair and Dazai sighs. He had hoped that he would just fall instantly asleep, but that doesn't seem to be the case. "Everyone is safe," Chuuya says softly, and Dazai stiffens. How does he know what's on his mind? Chuuya sighs now. "So that is what's keeping you up? You're worrying about what happened to your friends." He pauses, waiting for a reaction that doesn't come. "And what you could have done differently to prevent it in the first place." Dazai squeezes his eyes even closer. Chuuya is right. "And you're probably trying to come up with a thousand plans to prevent something like this from happening again." Chuuya definitely knows him too well. Not that Dazai regrets this in any way. Chuuya always was weirdly insightful. And he's the only one with whom Dazai can be truly honest, even if he often isn't. He nods slightly, not reacting otherwise.

Chuuya's voice is gentle when he continues: "You're not going to like it, but there wasn't anything you could have done differently. We were all taken by surprise." He's still stroking Dazai's head, and he relaxes a little again. "And you can't prevent your friends from ever getting hurt again. But when it happens," Chuuya sounds like he's smiling now, "you'll find a way to get them out of it." Dazai sighs softly. Perhaps Chuuya is right once again. "And you won't be alone," Chuuya whispers finally.

Dazai smiles as he finally relaxes completely. Chuuya isn't going to leave. No matter how much he hurt him in the past, they're still partners. Dazai is safe with him. Probably the safest he'll ever be.

"Chibi is getting sentimental," he mutters, barely conscious at this point. Chuuya laughs softly. "Go to sleep, idiot." And Dazai does. Because Chuuya is right. Whatever comes next, he won't be alone to handle it.

#whumptober2020 #no.23 #sleep deprivation #Bungou Stray Dogs #fic #bsd #bungo stray dogs #soukoku #dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya

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billie-ford · 5 years ago

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The Day Will Come When You Won’t Be

“I am going to beat the holy fuck, fucking, fuckity fuck outta one of you sorry fucks.”

Those crude words had been the last Billie had heard before looking between her family; kneeling in the hard gravel, sweating, illuminated by the yellow head lights of the heavy duty trucks surrounding them and shaking from the unrelenting cold. It was the cold - or it was the fear. Billie had given Maggie her coat, but even the fur lined denim couldn’t seize the quake of terror in her bones. Her eyes, wide and glossy, didn’t follow the man as he paced in front of her group, only catching the reflective glint of barbed wire as he passed her by. She wanted to look at him. To square her shoulders like the ginger brute to her left and stare with an unwavering anger before standing, fighting them all off like the hero in all of those action movies.

But she wasn’t their hero. And she was so, so scared.

His pacing continued, his boots kicked gravel into their laps and he waved his weapon of choice frivolously while uttering:

“Eenie, meenie, miney, mo..”

Maggie, hunched over in pain, searched the gravel to her left. Her hand found Billie’s and she gave it a tight squeeze, somewhere between fear and comfort. She heaved and whimpered, snot and hot tears and sweat dampened every inch of her face and the hand she so desperately grabbed was an anchor to keep her from completely doubling over - preparing herself for the worst. They were out here for her, warranting her safety, now she couldn’t ensure theirs.

“-and you...are...it.”

The rapid beating of her heart reached her ears, blocking out all other sounds as if she were suddenly thrusted underwater, hands around her throat. Drowning and choking. It was heartbreak she was feeling. Maggie gripped her hand tighter and her breath drew sharply.

“You can breathe. You can blink. You can cry. Hell, you’re all gonna be doing that.”

The first crack of bat on skull met her ear. So vivid and echoing that she questioned if she had been the one to receive the blow. But as the blood splattered on her clothes, on her sweat soaked skin, and she listened to the repeating squelch of brain matter and cracking skull she felt nothing but dread. Unfortunately, she was not the one taking the blows. Now she had to watch as her older brother’s head was beaten into an unrecognizable pulp.

1991

Little feet stomped along the carpeted hallway from the stairs to the dead end. “Abraham? Are you awake?” The seven year old’s shaky voice couldn’t have been louder than a mouse as she knocked carefully on her older brother’s bedroom door. Another sharp crack of thunder caused the child to yelp, banging on the door this time and yelling his name.

The door creaked and with a hand scratching at his curly red fro, Abraham was half awake and staring down at his kid sister. The paper she had taped to his door within the year said it all - B.F.G.

He was looming - all six foot two of him - but his smile was soft, and as another crack of thunder startled the child he guided her into the room and let her bury herself beneath his multitude of quilts.

“Aren’t you too old to be scared of thunderstorms, pup?”

He was already in bed, eyes closed and half muffled by his pillow before she could unveil herself from the quilt. She wormed her way in the crook of his arm and laid staring at the shadows that danced on the ceiling, her arms crossed evasively. “No..”

“What’s so bad ‘bout ‘em anyways? I think they’re calming..”

“It’s so quiet..then it’s so loud. Like scary movies.” She wasn’t a big fan of scary movies.

“You shouldn’t be watching scary movies.” “But I watch them with you.” “Well I ain’t your daddy.”

Another crack. Despite his teasing, Abraham’s arm instinctively tightened around his little sister and a calloused paw - good for catching a football or starting fights with the other college students - stroked her wild curls.

“I would beat those storms up if I could, ya know. And I’d tell ‘em Big Bad Billie sent me. Maybe I’d let you get a good few kicks in too.” This got a smile from the child. She believed him.

“I wish you could always be around..”

Abraham sat up, his head in his hand and frowned down at the child who glowed dark blue in the moonlight. There was a melancholic air to her naturally, perplexing for someone her age, and that cloud of sadness only seemed to grow heavier with the days counting down to his return to campus. He could see it now; their father holding the back of her shirt tightly as he pulled out of the driveway in his beat up hand-me-down truck. She’d scream and cry and kick and eventually break away from his grasp before running after the truck yelling over and over, “take me with you! just take me too!”

He would just have to keep driving or else his rain cloud would burst too.

“I’m always here for you, pup. Even when I ain’t here.” “That doesn’t make sense.”

He chuckled. “I mean I ain’t never gonna leave you forever. Think about it; I’m only gone for a few weeks until the next break then I’m right back here. When I am gone I call you every night. I send you those little cards from campus. When I’m gone, off to school or work, I’m always thinkin’ aboutcha. When I come home I don’t leave your side. You know I’m always here for you, pup. That means I’ll always protect ya. You know that right?”

“Yeah..” “Y’know you’re tough too right?” “Guess so..” “Betchu didn’t even notice the storm died out.”

Like a dog hearing the mailman she perked up and looked outside. No thunder, no lightning, not even a sprinkle of rain. The trees now danced slowly with the wind and a branch just beyond the glass waved at her lazily. “I didn’t even hear it stop..”

“‘Cause you ain’t all that scared. It’s just all in your head, pup.” “Can I still sleep in here then?” “Well yeah. Or less you done woke me up for nothin’.”

Dawn had broke more than an hour ago. The truck was filled with uneasy silence. Faces were dried with blood and tears and breaths were ragged. Sasha sat in the back seat, stroking Maggie’s still damp hair as her head rested, exhausted, in her lap. All three women were emotionally and physically drained. Sasha stared blankly at the back of Billie’s head, every so often attempting to open her mouth and speak but the only sound that managed to come out was a strangled gasp. She drove in stunned silence. Never looking at the two women in the back seat. Her muscles looked lack, spent, as she loosely gripped the steering wheel and her tired eyes brimmed with sadness while focusing on the road ahead. At least she looked to be focused, Sasha had grown use to the far away look that overcame Billie from time to time; when she had switched into autopilot and let her muscle memory guide her to where she needed to be.

“How are you?” Sasha finally croaked after what felt like hours of silence.

“No better than you.”

Sasha had only been dating Abraham for a handful of months, but she had known him for much longer. Loved him for much longer. She loved him like she had known him her whole life and in terms of before and after - she almost did. In his final moments, she had been the only one to receive his recognition - maybe Billie too - but Sasha wouldn’t look away. Only until she had to. Only when the sound of his brutal death made her lunch churn in her stomach and rise to her throat did she find the gravel beneath her. A simple hand gesture, a trademark peace sign, was all Abraham had to send one last goodbye to the two he loved the most.

“Are you going back?” “I have to make sure Maggie’s a’right first.” “What about Rosita?” “She has the others.”

Sasha fell quiet with a nod. Billie was lost, that much she could see. That thousand yard stare usual came with a silent racking of her brain. She didn’t say another word the entire drive, turning her attention back to Maggie who was now looking up at her through half-lidded eyes.

“You were out...out here for me.” “We still are.”

Billie followed Maggie on wobbly legs. She was sobbing, Billie’s last statement only making it worse. She reached out for her, her hand brushed off as Maggie kneeled in front of what remained of her husband, the father of her unborn child. Glenn Rhee. The pizza boy that convinced Billie to join him and his group when she was on her own.

She owed him everything.

“I can make it now, I need you to go back. I can’t have you out here - I can’t have you all out here I need you to go back.”

Billie crouched down beside her, hands squeezing comfort into her trembling shoulders. “I’m not leaving you out here alone,” her voice cracked. “I’m here for you. We’re all here for you.”

Billie hurt for Maggie. Maggie hurt for Billie. They hurt for everyone and everyone hurt for them.

“I’m taking them. I’m taking you too.”

Hilltop opened their gates upon recognizing the face behind the wheel of the pickup. Looks of confusion morphed to frowns of sorrow when Billie emerged from the truck, revealing the headless bodies laid in the bed with the simple muttering of, Negan.

She assisted Sasha in bringing Maggie to her feet and led her further into the compound. “Get her to Carson.” Billie croaked. “You go with her, Sash. Make sure she has a familiar face to wake up to.”

“What about them-” “I’ll handle it. Please go.”

She was apprehensive, staring at Billie with worry and only beginning her trek to the infirmary when Maggie’s weight slumped over on her. “Anything we can do to help?” A number of Hilltop members surrounded her. Those who have been so kind to them all, dead and alive, before this.

“Show me where I can bury them.

#the day will come when you wont be #chapter one #writing #fanfiction #twd #oc #billie ford #abraham ford #sasha williams #maggie rhee

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ja-baby · 5 years ago

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《 Cont. from x // @chords-of-justice 》

He's late to the scene.

Usually Klavier is the first to notice something amiss. To catch the scent of potential evidence and chase it like a bloodhound. However, he supposes he shouldn't be too wounded by being second to important proof. It's in the WTA's nature to bring about new possibilities, after all. Apollo seemed to be inheriting that trait from his new mentor quite well.

It was because of him that Klavier was here in the first place.

Apollo had pulled through in court, and now there was the threat of new suspects. And Gavin figured, being a rockstar and all, he probably shouldn't leave any rock unturned.

Ugh, that's a corny joke even for me. Which means I definitely have to tell it to herr Justice.

Unfortunately, any crack at puns died in his throat once he crossed the warehouse threshold.

A figure, hunched on their hands and knees. Their movements were too sloppy. Too shaky and off balance. Klavier watched as they kept at their goal of standing up, only to be forced back down by the weight of their own limbs. Something was wrong. These were not the movements of someone who was dusting for prints or examining blood. These were the dizzy actions of someone who needed help.

His heart stuttered.

He would recognize that red outfit anywhere.

He was calling out before his brain could even catch up, legs surging forward to clamber beside Apollo. As if it belongs there, Klavier's hand rests at Apollo's lower back, gently coaxing him back down. His mind feels like it's on autopilot. Weird, fuzzy mind autopilot as he goes through what to do to help. The feeling was familiar -- reminiscent of when Daryan had once almost choked to death.

He remembered how everything had passed in such a blur. Even now he wasn't sure how his body knew what to do before he could even process it. One second he's hearing Daryan's choked cries from another room. The next he's performing the Heimlich maneuver and his friend is spitting up stringy bacon from his breakfast sandwich.

He wonders if it's from years of murder cases and high school emergency lectures that he's able to perform well in these situations. Somehow, that doesn't seem right though. Sure, Klavier knows it plays a part. But even with training, people tend to freeze when faced with the real thing. A lifeless doll is nothing compared to a real deteriorating body. Maybe he's just lucky. That, or failure is scary enough to keep him moving.

The threat of what could happen if he doesn't act drives him even now.

Klavier whispers reassurances as he looks over Apollo. It terrifies him to think of what he could be facing.

Gunshot wound? Stabbing? Where's the blood? There's no blood-

A groan redirects Gavin's attention to Apollo's face. Or where his face would be, if the smaller were not still lowered toward the ground. Instead he's met with the back of Apollo's head...and he finally notices it.

A bump. Swelling and angry.

It didn't take long for Klavier to piece it all together. That didn't make the lurch in his belly any less violent though.

A head wound. He might have trauma. Have to keep him still. Can't move him unless necessary. Can't move his neck. Keep head and shoulders elevated. Watch for changes in breathing. Is he breathing? God, he could have a seizure-

The big difference between a choking victim and a potential head trauma victim was: One of these things he could do nothing about. He could press at someone's stomach, sure. However, he was not a doctor. He could do nothing for skull or brain damage. That realization was quickly making him feel helpless. Was inducing panic at a time where he needed to be calm. His hands fight tremors as he pulls out his phone, taking a few seconds longer than he'd like to properly dial 911.

“No... I gotta...Cl...client... there’s proof he didn’t..."

Every word seems to douse his body in ice. Apollo's words match his actions. Stunted. Strange. Slurred. Which threatened a very scary thought:

Concussion.

He doesn't register the voice on the other end of the phone. His attention is latched solely onto the wilted syllables, following the lips hiding beside clutched fists.

"...saw someone, I think...?”

Someone?

Someone to press for information?

Or someone...who would kill to hide information?

Everything comes together in ugly little puzzle pieces. The picture it forms is less than pretty, and incredibly anger inducing. Before he knows it a scowl is overtaking his features. This was no accident. This was on purpose. Whatever evidence Apollo had stumbled upon, it was important enough to add another murder to someone's record. No. Not murder. Apollo isn't dead yet. No! Why yet? He isn't going to die at all.

"Are you there? Hello? Are you alright?"

The growingly concerned and insistent voice on the line snaps him out of it. If only enough to provide details on their predicament. He hurriedly offers their location and the possibility of both a concussion and threat on the scene. All the while he's pulling off his jacket, hoping desperately that if it's folded enough it could provide enough elevation for Apollo's head.

Unfortunately for him, Apollo has other ideas.

Once again, Apollo is forcing his way up. Throughout their time together, Klavier has learned a lot about the defense attorney. The most prominent fact being he's as stubborn as a mule. Gavin wonders if that runs in the family -- the WTA family at least. As he speaks with the emergency dispatcher, he can hear Apollo trying to get his attention. Perhaps he misheard, considering he's both balancing Apollo, fear, and the call, but he could've sworn he heard the smaller mumble something about needing a flashlight? A blackout? Klavier didn't understand anything he was talking about. If anything, it only furthered the concern that Apollo needed help.

Klavier places his newly folded jacket on the ground, hand gesturing for Apollo to lay back down. The other obviously isn't having it. Instead he confusedly fumbles out his own phone. Gavin takes in his increasing irritation and muddled nature as he shakes at the device. As if it was the one that knocked him across the head. Well, it may not be the one that swelled that bump. But with that bright screen, it'll certainly make Apollo's headache worse. While he doesn't hang up, Gavin does put his phone down in favor of assessing the other.

He's about to tell Apollo to put his mobile down. To sit still and rest until the ambulance and authorities arrive. It all dies on his tongue though, pushed back down by Apollo's startling query.

"Where are you?"

It's such a strange question. So odd that for a few moments it leaves him disoriented. Where? What did he mean? Gavin was right here. Granted, Klavier had paced a bit during his call, examining the surroundings for clues and taking in a suspicious fire extinguisher as he did so. Even so, he made sure to never go too far. To stay where both Apollo could see him and he could see Apollo. Maybe it was hard to see with a concussion. Maybe it was like being drunk but worse -- where there were three of every person instead of one, each spinning like in the cartoons. Maybe there was more of him than Apollo was used to.

Or maybe...there was none of him.

A request for a flashlight. Concern for a blackout. Irritation with a phone's brightness. And finally, not knowing the prosecutor's location.

Klavier had a theory as to what this could mean.

He desperately hopes he's wrong.

Cautiously, as if worried he'll startle Apollo if he moves too quickly, he makes his way back to the sitting figure. When he crouches down, he does so slowly, hoping that this will alert Apollo of his presence.

"Apollo...?"

A whisper. He doesn't want to speak too loud. Doesn't even want to speak at a normal volume in case the sudden closeness causes alarm. And yet, he knows that if his speculation is right... Apollo will be scared either way. His hands softly gather Apollo's, pulling away the neglected phone so it can be replaced with his fingers. He's quiet for a moment. Unsure of how to tackle this in a way that results in the smallest amount of fear possible. Eventually he settles for presenting the facts.

"Apollo...there is no blackout...the lights are on"

A pause. Was that the right choice? Or has he chosen the wrong evidence? Presented it at the wrong time? He's itching to run a hand in his hair. Instead he settles on giving Apollo's hands a gentle squeeze.

"Both an ambulance and the authorities are on their way. Everything will be okay. I'm right here. I won't leave you"

He has to ask. He knows he has to ask. He hates that he has to ask but he needs to.

He looks Apollo in the eyes. The gaze he meets is foggy, and that fog makes Klavier feel like he can't see either. He can't see Apollo in that cloudy haze.

"Apollo...can you not...see me...?"

#{oh boy hurty time}#{ thread: blind justice }#{ scream it out ! : chords of justice }

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kenzieam · 5 years ago

Text

The Tutor - Chapter Three

Pairing: AU Bucky X Levi

Rating: M (my usual, lovelies)

Warnings: language, drama, angst, mentions of abuse

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@iammarylastar @captstefanbrandt @jewels2876 @moonbeambucky @badassbaker @everythingisoverrated @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @oliviastan17 @igothroughphasesalot @sashli @lorilane33 @pinknerdpanda

I KNOW I’M MISSING TAGS, PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT IN

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Levi the jock needs help in high school and her twin brother, Steve, volunteers his newest friend, Bucky. Seemingly just to piss her off, Bucky accepts but soon realizes there’s more to the Levi than she lets the average spectator see.

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I’m an attention whore with cabin fever, I’d love to hear what you all think about my newest story, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE leave a review, my Lovelies!

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Okay... Brock’s dead.... now what??????

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Steve stared at the phone in shock for a beat before looking up at Levi with disbelieving eyes. “Brock is dead.”

Levi turned to Bucky, eyes huge in her pale face, mouth working as she tried to speak. Sudden, unexpected tears glittered in her eyes but there was no time right now to puzzle out why. Steve looked back and forth from his sister to Bucky a few times before pulling impatiently on her arm.

“C’mon, we gotta go! Mom’s hysterical!”

Levi let herself be draw away, but her eyes stayed locked on Bucky’s and he could only stare helplessly back.

What the fuck was happening?

It wasn’t until he heard the screech of tires as Steve raced away did Bucky break out of his stunned trance, looking around blankly as the rest of the world continued on unawares.

Had Levi had something to do with this? His mind mused but he shut the thought down quickly. There was no way Levi had anything to do with her stepdad’s death… right?

Having no heart for Christmas shopping right now, Bucky opted to go home but found himself pacing his room restlessly, body on autopilot while his mind raced over all the possibilities. The way Levi had looked at him when she’d learned, had there been a kernel of guilt in her amethyst eyes?

No. It couldn’t have been, Levi wasn’t like that.

But how could he know for sure, he’d only been friends with Levi for a few months… had both the twins been involved?

This was crazy and Bucky firmly told that part of his brain to shut the fuck up. He didn’t need to watch his sisters tonight and he was desperate to help Levi, anyway he could. Without engaging any more brain cells with potential objections, Bucky stuffed a few clothes into his backpack and strode from the room.

“Mom?” He bellowed as he crashed down the stairs.

His mom appeared, flour coating her hands; the girls giggling in the kitchen told him they were baking together. “What, Bear?”

Bucky Bear. He towered over his mother by a good eight inches and she still called him by his childhood nickname.

“I gotta go-”

“What happened?” Her voice lost its levity, became pure concerned mother. She’d met Levi a few times and seemed to genuinely like her.

“Levi… her stepdad. Her mom called right after school, he’s dead.”

Flour spread to her face as she clapped her hand to her mouth, and it would have been funny under any other circumstances. “Oh no, that poor girl.”

“I’m going over there-”

His mom opened her mouth to argue but Bucky interrupted.

“I’m going Mom, Levi needs me. I’ll stay over if she asks me.”

His mom sighed, seeing she would get nowhere arguing with her firstborn. “Alright, but don’t get in the way.”

Bucky nodded and turned to leave but she called his name again, a hesitation in her voice. Almost warily, she reached out and rested her hand on his arm. “James, don’t take this the wrong way but… I’ve seen how you look at Levi-”

“Mom!”

“-and right now, she’s not thinking clearly… don’t do anything you might regret later. People sometimes seek the wrong type of intimacy when they’re vulnerable.”

Bucky frowned, the fact that he would, in a heartbeat, give himself to Levi if she asked him was besides the point. “No. Jesus, Ma; how can you even think that right now?”

Color highlighted her cheeks. “Just mind what I said. She needs a friend right now, that’s all.”

Bucky would deal with the absurdity of that later, right now Levi needed him. Nodding once more, he left his mom standing unhappily in the entrance, staring after him as he left.

Two unmarked police cars and unfamiliar Mercedes sat in the driveway and Bucky pulled to the side, out of the way. Fingers of doubt trailed cold up his spine, what was he doing here? He hadn’t been invited; he’d never even been here before. What did he think he was doing, muscling in on this private scene? But the look in Levi’s eyes as Steve had dragged her away made up his mind; her tongue had been frozen, but her eyes had begged him to help. Shouldering his pack, Bucky walked to the door and knocked.

A cop answered, frowning at him. “And you are?” The Sahara held more moisture.

“He’s a friend, let him in!” Steve shouted from somewhere in the background. Bucky held his face neutral, but he itched to sneer smugly at the cop glowering at him. His eyes adjusting to the dark interior, Bucky looked around, searching for Levi.

Spotting her, he strode directly to her, stopping just short of pulling her into his arms. A few feet away, Steve spoke quietly with a detective. Levi stood by herself, her arms hugging her own body and, as Bucky reached her side, she tore her gaze away from her brother and focused on him.

“Bucky,” she murmured, then her face crumpled, and she turned to him as he opened his arms automatically, scurrying into his embrace and crushing her face against his chest. Heart hammering, he rubbed calming circles on her back with one hand and cupped the back of her head with the other, murmuring soothingly even though he had no idea what to say.

Steve finished with the detective and turned to approach Bucky and Lev when a tall man appeared from the main floor hallway. Clad in chinos and a crisp white button-down, he didn’t need the addition of the stethoscope around his neck to say he was a doctor. Seeing the twins, he strode towards them, barely sparing Bucky a glance.

“Your mother is resting.” He stated, his voice low and calming. “I needed to sedate her, and she will most likely sleep through the night. I placed a call to my clinic’s pharmacy; they will be delivering a few prescriptions soon. One is a sedative for if she gets too anxious during the day, the other is a sleeping pill for night. My colleague is a grief counsellor and I’ve asked him to come by tomorrow morning to speak with your mother. He may recommend further appointments; please don’t hesitate to speak with him yourself if you need.”

“Thank you,” Steve answered, stepping away from Levi and Bucky leadingly, the doctor following so they could speak in low voices.

“What can I do?” Bucky asked quietly, at a loss.

Levi didn’t answer, only burrowed closer.

Within a few minutes, the doctor and cops had left and the silence in the house was deafening. Steve rubbed at the back of his neck, looking lost for a heartbeat before setting his jaw and turning to walk towards his sister. His eyes flicked to Bucky’s for a moment before dropping back to Levi, still secure in his arms.

“I’m going to go look in on Mom.” He murmured before disappearing down the hall.

Bucky pulled away from Levi slightly, tilting her head up with his hand and searched her face. She tried to smile reassuringly, but the tears still running down her cheeks gave her away.

“Why am I crying, Bucky?” She whispered. “I hated him.”

Bucky couldn’t think of an answer, reaching up to brush her tears away instead. A deep tender desire filled him, the urge to do almost anything to take away Levi’s pain. Unable to find any words, he pulled her back to him; surprising himself, and Levi, if she hadn’t been too distracted to notice, when he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

Steve reappeared, jaw flexing but relief flashed in his eyes when he saw Levi still in Bucky’s embrace.

“Let’s order out, go upstairs and relax; maybe watch some movies? Okay?” His eyes again hit Bucky’s, telling him he was invited too then looked back down at his sister, waiting for her answer.

Without lifting her head, she nodded against Bucky’s chest.

“Do you need to call anybody?” Bucky asked Steve quietly. “Family? Tell them about Brock?”

Steve grimaced. “She’s down for the count right now, but Mom will want to do that herself, trust me. The woman deals with things by going Type A, right Lev?” He tried for a jocular tone, but it fell short and he swallowed, eyes searching his sister’s face before sighing and turning to the stairs. “C’mon.”

Steve lead them to a large family room on the second floor. Like everything else in the McMansion, it was monstrous and sumptuous, a huge 75” flatscreen on the wall and a sprawling sectional in front of it. When Steve went downstairs again to answer the door to the pharmacy delivery and order the pizza, Lev took the opportunity to start pushing around equally enormous cushioned ottomans, creating a large, padded platform inside the sectional, a veritable nest piled high with blankets and pillows. Larger than a king-size bed, there was room for all three of them to spread out, but Bucky doubted Levi would stray too far away from either him or Steve.

When she was finished, Levi tugged distractedly at her shirt, then glanced up at Bucky. “I’m going to have a shower and change.”

“I’ll go help Steve.” Bucky supplied, flashing her a reassuring smile before turning and hurrying downstairs.

Steve sat at the kitchen island, fingers tracing the pattern of the butcher block distractedly. Hearing Bucky, he glanced up and gave a weak smile. Bucky took the stool next to him but didn’t speak.

“Aortic aneurysm.” Steve finally murmured. “He came home early from his office; told Mom he had a stomach-ache and collapsed.”

Bucky remained silent, knowing his participation wasn’t wanted or needed right now.

Steve huffed out a loud breath as he scrubbed his hands over his face, turning it into a long, drawn out growling sound before dropping his hands again and staring hard at a small scabbed-over mark on his knuckles. “The man’s done nothing but make mine and my sister’s life hell for the last ten years and then he has to up and die, just blink out like a fucking light.”

Without paying for his sins, Bucky heard clearly. Reaching over, he rested his hand on Steve’s shoulder silently and held it there. Steve glanced over at him and flashed a hard grin, opened his mouth to say something more but the doorbell interrupted him, and he stood wearily to answer it. As he passed Bucky’s back, he paused, “I’ll be up soon, can you go sit with Levi? I don’t know what she’s thinking right now, and it scares me.”

“Sure, brother.” Bucky answered, climbing off the stool and heading for the stairs. The voices of Steve and the delivery person fading as he climbed. Just as he reached the landing, a door opened across the monster family room and Levi stepped out, towel drying her hair. Although she was clad in sweats and a hoodie, Bucky’s man-brain forged ahead without orders and, using the template of her Halloween costume, visualized her curves underneath, earning a stern warning from the rest of his head.

Seeing him, she managed a weak smile and ventured to the platform she’d created, settling down in the middle. Bucky kicked off his shoes and followed, leaning back on a monstrous pile of pillows beside Levi when she patted the spot next to her. The other side of her remained free for Steve and she grabbed the remote, bringing up a variety of menus on the television screen. Even as her thumb tapped at the remote, flipping through menus, Levi’s attention wasn’t on it.

“He’s really dead,” she muttered, eyes still locked on the screen. Bucky turned his head to look at her, but she didn’t look away from the tv. “Bastard spends the last decade with me and my brother under his thumb and then fucks off.” She threw the remote down and wiped angrily at her cheeks.

Bucky rolled onto his side to face her and reached out, taking her hand. She let him, and glanced his way, angry spots of color on her cheeks.

“I didn’t even get to show him.” She continued, her voice low. “I didn’t even get to prove to the prick that I was more than the spoiled little princess he said I was. That I was smart and worthy and going to make something of myself. The fucker got the last laugh anyway.”

“No,” Bucky murmured quietly. “He didn’t. You and Steve win, because you’re still here and you will make something of yourself.”

“I’m quitting the teams.”

“What? But Levi, that’s your-”

“I hate it, I hate them. I’m not as talented as Steve and I was only there for the scholarships anyway.” She turned on her side and clasped tighter at Bucky’s hand, pulling their hands up under her chin. “I want to try Architecture; I mean, I’d be behind all the others who’ve been working toward that for years, but I can take a year off and get experience interning somewhere-”

“Or just enroll in general studies.” Bucky added. With me, at the nearest community college.

“Yeah,” Levi agreed, warming to the idea. “I can work for awhile and save-”

“Or,” Bucky couldn’t help interrupting, throwing out a telepathic “Fuck you, Brock Rumslow’ as he did. “Your mom can take Brock’s money and help you.”

Levi frowned, considering. “I don’t know if I want-”

“It’ll be the ultimate ‘Fuck You’. The bastard held out on you, but you take it anyway; you and Steve deserve it, for all the shit he pulled.”

Levi shrugged, not totally convinced but then the doorbell rang again, and the first real smile Bucky had seen since they’d left school earlier lit up Levi’s face.

“Pizza’s here. C’mon.”

Levi and Steve checked on their mom once more before going back upstairs and setting out the bounty. Steve had gone all out, two large pizzas, wings and a massive pan of brownies from the local restaurant and Levi had raided the fridge, stocking a small wheeled cooler with all manner of beverages. To look from the outside, their actions resembled a party, a feast to celebrate Brock’s death, but Bucky knew it was much more. Sure, there was a relief in the air, but Bucky saw that this gathering was more for comfort and reassurance right now; the twins battening down the hatches and bringing Bucky along with them and that made him wonder gloomily if he was the twin’s only true friend.

Steve was hugely popular, lettered and hero-worshiped for his skills on the school’s teams but those that surrounded him at school were a posse; hang-arounds and fans only. The same was true of Levi, if she wasn’t followed for her own status on the teams then it was due to her being Steve’s sister. They’d brought Bucky into their sectional sanctuary because he was the only one who liked the twins for who they were, not what they were and that simultaneously broke and warmed his heart.

After a brief tussle between the siblings that Bucky wisely stayed out of, a movie was chosen, and pizza slices divvied up. For the longest time after his dad’s death, simple luxuries such as restaurant food had been out of reach for his family and the ability to just sit and feast on seemingly unlimited pizza was a novelty Bucky had not yet grown used to.

As he marveled silently over it, Bucky watched the twin’s shed their masks, the front they put on for the world, and let down their guard. Levi was far from the spoiled princess he’d witnessed at their first meeting on the sidewalk, a soft gentleness about her that thankfully had not been corrupted or shattered by her stepfather’s cruelty; and Steve was far deeper and intelligent than the carefree jock he was forced to play for the crowd. People didn’t like their heroes complicated, nor their princesses bare and natural and perhaps the greatest tragedy that had befallen the twins, beyond an abusive stepfather, were the expectations, the dance they were required to perform as both schoolyard stars and taken-on children of a public businessman like Brock Rumslow.

Before long, the pizzas were all but forgotten and, after both siblings had gone back down to check on and sit with their mother for a while, night was falling, and Levi was yawning against Bucky’s shoulder. While Steve perched a few feet away, Levi had snuggled right close to Bucky, burrowing under a blanket and against him. They shared a stack of pillows and, after a while, when Steve didn’t yank them apart, Bucky even gave in to his cravings and wrapped his arm around Levi to hold her closer. Her head on his shoulder was a comforting weight and, while her hand didn’t stray from its place on his chest, its presence there made warmth seep through his body.

It bordered on heavenly, the chance to just relax like this, and while the reason behind it was unfortunate, if only for the grief it was putting their mother through, Bucky wished that this night would never end.

At some point Bucky fell asleep, and a gentle nudge to the shoulder woke him the next morning. He blinked, inhaling sharply and raised his head, looking around in confusion for the source of the poke. Steve loomed over him, a wry grin on his face.

“Sleep well?” He quipped and, when Bucky frowned, puzzled, he jerked his chin to Bucky’s side. Turning to look, Bucky saw Levi, still curled into his side. His arm was still around her and he’d been resting his head on hers, his face buried in her hair. Levi’s fingers curled into his shirt and she clung to him, spider-monkeyed around him like a body pillow.

“Sorry.” Bucky mumbled, although he wasn’t really but it seemed appropriate to apologize to the big brother of the girl you had just slept beside.

“Don’t be.” Steve replied briskly, offering Bucky half of his toasted pop-tart and settling back on the cushions nearby. “She needs friends; I need to be her brother.”

“Would you…? I mean…” Bucky broke off, not even sure what he was asking even as his cheeks began to heat.

A knowing gleam in Steve’s eye told Bucky that he’d been paying far more attention than Bucky first realized. “She’s had enough guys mess with her head to get to her body.”

“I would never-”

“I know, but it doesn’t change the fact that she needs, she deserves, something real and genuine.”

Bucky looked squarely at Steve and, although the thought had never truly coalesced in his mind before, although he’d never really let himself explore the possibility and, to be honest, he had no idea where Levi’s mind was on the topic; he knew, deep down in a place that maybe had always known, from the very moment he’d turned on that sidewalk to see who the hell was yelling his name; in that instant that it was absolute truth.

“It’s real to me.”

#bucky barnes #au bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #au bucky fanfic #au bucky fanfiction #au bucky barnes fanfic #au bucky barnes fantiction #bucky x lev #bucky x levi #bucky x oc #au bucky romance #au bucky angst #au bucky drama

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violetsmoak · 6 years ago

Text

Pieces of April [1/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099044/chapters/50202530

Summary: On the anniversary of his death, Jason’s second life takes an abrupt new turn and he’s faced with a challenge that neither Batman nor the All-Caste prepared him for.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Warning(s): Past Jason/Isabel, kidfic, minor canon character death (pretty sure you can guess who), I’ll add more warnings/tags as I think of them.

Canon-Compliance: Takes place in between the two RHATO series, so after Roy and Kori and before Artemis and Bizarro. Jason and Isabel Ardila

Author’s Note: Exactly what it says on the can. I’ve had this idea kicking around my head for a while, getting in the way of finishing the next chapter of Philtatos and I figured if I started jotting down the basics of it, I could stop thinking about it.

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Despite the carefully cultivated exterior of a hardened criminal, Jason Todd is remarkably straight edge.

After what happened to his mother, drugs were never going to be a thing; he stopped smoking long before a lunatic clown beat him to death; and though his preferred hangouts tend to be bars, that’s more to keep an eye out for trouble than for slinging back shots.

There are exceptions, of course.

Coping with any kind of murder that involves kids. The days immediately following another one of Joker’s breakouts and inevitable mind games. Some of the worse fights with Bruce. And certain anniversaries.

Days like today, when all he is boils down to traumatic flashbacks of metal caving in his lungs and high-pitched laughter, and mounting fear turned to begging for the end. Circular thoughts and ‘what-ifs’ that he ignores or pushes to the back of his mind every other day of the year are stronger now, now occupy his mind with the stubbornness of a cancer.

Today’s a day for hard whiskey and keep it coming until he can’t see straight, for everything to melt away behind a fog of false levity until he wakes up again and he can forget for another year.

He’s nearing that point when his phone rings.

It’s not the harsh tune of I Hate Everything About You that he’s programmed for any of the Bats civilian phone lines, but a generic ringtone. Not a call to offer sympathy, but not an emergency.

(If they couldn’t reach the comm in his helmet, they’d just show up.)

He ignores it, goes back to his drink.

There’s a brief silence once it goes to voicemail, and then ten seconds later it rings again. The bartender is giving him a look with raised eyebrows, but Jason just gestures for another finger of whiskey.

Around the fifth time, Jason picks up the phone if only to turn the damn thing off or chuck it at a wall, but pauses at the Caller ID—Gotham General.

What the hell…?

No one he knows would contact him on a public hospital line.

His thumbs fumble as he accepts the call, but even as he barks out, “What?”, he hears a static click and the electronic monotone of his voicemail bidding the incoming caller leave a message.

There’s a pause, and then a stranger’s tired voice comes on the line.

“This message is for Jason Ardila. I’m Dr. Kerry at Gotham General Hospital. We have you listed as the primary contact for Isabel Ardila.” Jason straightens up as best he can at this. “I have news regarding your wife’s condition. It would be best if you came to the hospital as soon as possible. You can reach me at—”

He rattles off a number but Jason doesn’t catch it, mind whirling.

Isabel? Emergency contact? What the hell? Wife? Even more what the hell. At least she knew not to give his real name, but...again, why call him? They aren’t exactly close, and he hasn’t seen or spoke to Isabel since that thing at Elysium.

That was…what…last July?

He counts back again, needing to check his math against his alcohol muzzled brain. In any case, it’s a few months shy of a year, which makes it more than random she’s calling him now.

Wait…

“—can’t make it here within the next two hours, please contact a hospital representative to assist you.”

The message ends.

Jason stares blearily at the phone for several minutes, trying to put his thoughts in order.

Something needles at the back of his mind, and his thumb smudges across the screen to open his browser, pulling up Gotham General’s staff directory. It takes longer than he’d like to navigate, squinting at text that’s far too small before he remembers he can resize that shit, and finally he locates—

Dr. David Kerry, M.D., F.A.C. S., Obstetrician.

Jason’s stomach lurches.

He counts back again.

April back to July.

Almost nine months.

Nine months since the last time he and Isabel—

No. No way, it must be a coincidence. Probably she just got into some trouble. Trouble that needs the Red Hood to solve, and that’s why she named me as contact.

He scrubs a hand down his face, trying for sobriety.

But then why didn’t she call me and tell me? Why wait until she’s at the goddamn hospital?

And under the care of an obstetrician. That’s…the thing he’s most concerned about.

There’s no way. She said she was seeing someone, if there were anything, it would have to do with him. But then…why contact me and not him?

He’s dimly aware of shrugging his jacket back on, of throwing a bunch of bills on the bar-top and wandering out despite the barkeeper saying something to him. Of getting out into the chill and damp spring air, trying to hail a cab, because yeah, the bike he left in the alley has an autopilot feature, but Jason doesn’t feel like risking road rash if he slips off it on a sharp turn. Which he might do, considering he drops his wallet twice trying to put it back in his jacket.

Also, if he and Isabel need to make a quick exit if she’s hurt, it will be easier for him to steal a car later than try to put her on a bike. And if she’s not alone—

Don’t think about it.

As he gets his wallet back in his pocket, he remembers he basically gave the barkeep all his cash, and shit, does he even have anything left? This means he’s going to waste time going back in and taking it back since the guy hasn’t exactly followed him out to return it. Probably thinks it’s a tip or—

Jason stiffens, that sixth sense honed from a childhood on the street and training under the most paranoid man in the world bypassing his otherwise alcohol clouded senses to warn him. Someone’s behind him.

“Whoever you are, you really don’t want to test me right now,” he growls, speech only a little slurred. Shit-faced or not, he’s still a better fighter than any low-tier thug in Gotham.

“I’m not testing anything, except how much your situational awareness sucks when you’re drunk.”

The voice is dry and familiar, and Jason turns around, half-expecting to come face to face with Red Robin crouched in the shadows. Instead, Tim Drake is several feet away, dressed casually and leaning against a sports car that has no business idling on the streets of Burnley.

Jason didn’t hear him pull up, which means he’s been here a while—and he didn’t notice him.

Need to sober up now.

“The hell are you doing here, Drake?” he snarls to cover up his obvious impaired reactions.

“It’s the 27th,” the younger man says, slow and careful. “I’m keeping an eye on you.”

Of course, he knows what day it is…

Jason bares his teeth. “In case I do something crazy? Decide to go on a rampage?”

“In case you needed a ride home or someone to talk to or just make sure you don’t choke on your own vomit,” Drake retorts.

“Aren’t you the little do-gooder. How’d you even find me?”

“Roy Harper called me out of the blue. He told me someone should check in on you, and he figured for some reason I’m the best candidate to look in on you.” He shrugs and there’s a frown of confusion on his face. “Don’t know why he thinks so, considering our history.”

Jason suspects it has to do with Drake being the one who got him the information needed to find and save Roy’s ass in Qurac, but he’s not about to say so.

“Doesn’t answer how you knew I was here.”

Drake raises an eyebrow at that because, yeah, they both know how he found him.

Damn stalker.

Jason rolls his eyes. “Whatever. You found me. You saw me. Now step off, I’m trying to get a cab.”

He turns away and starts heading up the street to the busier intersection.

“Headed to another bar?” Drake wants to know, uncertain, like he’s trying not to sound judgemental.

“No, screw you very much, I need to get to Gotham General.”

And it’s further proof of how much his mind and his reflexes are on a roller coaster tonight, because he’s actually started the hand that falls upon his shoulder. As it turns him around, he instinctively lashes out with a right hook, but Drake dodges it with embarrassing ease.

His eyes are raking over Jason, up-and-down, re-assessing. “You hurt?”

He’s fishing, Jason thinks; none of them have gone to the hospital for an injury that wasn’t faked in years, least of all Bruce Wayne’s legally dead ex-son. Perhaps that’s why he’s able to detect the genuine concern in the bland question. It’s not laid on as thickly as Dick might do, or tinged with the hint of judgement and self-recrimination from Bruce.

Maybe that’s why he finds himself admitting, “Someone I know might be.”

The younger man nods, understanding; some of the intentness leaves his face.

“I could give you a ride,” he offers, nodding his head at the car. “I could get you there faster than a cab could.”

It’s on the tip of Jason’s tongue to refuse, before he remembers he has no cash.

He glances back at the bar once more, wondering if it’s the better option to “haggle” with the barkeep to get his money back. Suspects that will lead to a fight, which if Drake insists on hanging around (which he suspects he will, even if it’s just watching him from a distance, the creep) he’ll probably intervene in and—

This is getting too complicated.

“Fine,” he sighs at last, earning a blink of surprise from Drake.

No kidding. I’m surprised, too.

Still, if there’s anything going down at the hospital, if this is a trap or something, and Jason needs to ensure Isabel gets out alright, however much he is off his game right now, having Red Robin backing him up wouldn’t be the worst thing ever.

It’s not like they’ve never worked together before, or kicked ass doing it.

Jason course corrects once more, heading for the car. Still, he can’t help making a comment, just to show how much he’d rather not be doing this. “But if we’re doing this chauffeuring thing, you’re gonna keep your mouth shut about it. And fork over whatever coffee I know you have in that shitbox of yours.”

Tim is the one who bares his teeth this time, a sharp, cold smile that Jason suspects is the last thing his enemies ever see. “Call my car a shitbox again, and you can walk.”

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Next Chapter

#violetsmoak #violet writes #jaytim #jaytim fanfic #kidfic #babyfic #enemies to lovers #or rather reluctant allies to lovers

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kessielrg · 5 years ago

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[DA + KH] Hurricane and Venus

Summary: In which Ventus is distracted by an Orlesian bard. Inspired by, but not directly related to @chibi-mushroom's Dragon Age AU for Kingdom Hearts, because I needed an excuse to write about Sabrina and Ventus again. It’s been over a year, and that’s too long.

Rating: K+

Word Count: 2,448

She had been following the trio for three solid days now. If the older two had noticed, they certainly didn't let it show easily. Not that she actually had plans on intercepting them at any point. By now, rumors and legends could easily identify the blue haired woman in that trio; the Gray Warden, the Hero of Ferelden, Aqua Amell. Traveling with her were two male companions, one about the same age and one younger. The one close in age to Aqua was another Gray Warden; Terra. The younger one, the one she was slowly growing an odd fondness for as she watched the trio travel, was actually the son of a Ferelden arl; Ventus.

The trio were on a mission, given to them by a friend, and it was one that she could have been a part of. But seeing the trio now? From just watching them deal with wildlife, and bandits, and those dumb enough to make known that they were hunting the trio down, she realized that she had made the smarter move here. Old habits wouldn't let her stop watching them, however. She simply wasn't trained to remain idle when people of interest came along.

And Ventus? He was very much a person of interest to her.

She just needed to get a little bit closer…

. . .

At first, Ventus thought he was going insane, hearing flute music come from somewhere deeper in the woods. Terra didn't seem to notice it, and Aqua had already gone out to scout the area. He didn't really tell Terra that he was going -more of an over the shoulder 'I'll be back' kinda deal- but he didn't expect that flute to be so far into Ferelden's dense forests either. The idea that he shouldn't have come alone didn't even hit him until the music suddenly stopped. Dead silence rang in the young man's ears. He considered tracing back to their campsite before he heard someone say;

“You must be some kind of idiot- following strange music in the woods like this.”

Surprised, Ventus turned around and found himself almost face to face with someone new. This person was a young woman, her shoulder length raven hair tightly curled and gently resting on her left shoulder. An ornate mask, designed in the shape of a rabbit head, covered her face- preventing him from knowing what her eye color was.

Ventus knew that, because she wore a mask, it meant that she had come from Orlais. He wouldn't have assumed that at first, though. Her voice barely contained the familiar Orlesian accent- only coming through with the way she'd lengthen her 'A's and 'S's. He wondered if it meant she was Ferelden, then taken in by an Orlesian family. Or perhaps it was the other way around, and she was losing the accent? Was that even a thing?

“W-who are you?” Ventus questioned. “And why are you-” he didn't finish his sentence, because his mouth almost betrayed him by saying 'so pretty.' And that was ridiculous. He didn't even know her; for all he knew, she was another one of Luxu's guards sent to kill them. Besides, how could he find her pretty when there was so little of her to be seen? The mask covered most of her face, and her clothing hid even the tiniest bit of skin from showing.

The woman straightened up a little at him. She walked toward him, offering her hand out in peace.

“The name's Sabrina. Means 'princess.'”

“You should be.” Ven sighed before he could stop himself. When he realized what he said, he flinched and quickly started to babble, “I-I-I mean, you… you should be going! Y-yeah! Going! I'm a lot more dangerous than I look! Oh yes, you haven't seen nothing yet. Absolutely nothing.”

“Just shake my hand, you idiot.”

Ventus suppressed the urge to say 'Yes ma'am' before quickly taking her hand. Her hand was much smaller than his- with a jolt he wondered if it meant that she was younger than him too. He had been so focused on how small her hand was that he nearly jumped out of his skin when she asked; “And what's your name?”

“Ventus.” he replied, almost too quick and with a high squeak. “Ven. Ventus.”

“Well, which one is it?”

“My friends usually call me Ven.”

“So what am I to you?”

“I… I don't know yet.” he admitted. “We just met.”

Sabrina's mouth curled as she thought this over. She eventually started to bob her head in agreement. “Not a bad answer.” the young woman decided. Ven momentarily froze. Had there been a wrong answer? What if he did give bad answer? Of course, he wasn't completely defenseless, but if this was just an elaborate ambush…

“I've been watching you and your friends for awhile.” Sabrina then decided to tell him. “If I wanted to kill you, I would be dead just like the other morons that tried to intercept you three.”

Well, that answered that question.

“Then why are you here?” Ventus wondered. “If you're not here to kill us, and you've been watching us for this long, then why make yourself known now?”

For this, Sabrina offered a small roll of her shoulder. “I guess...” she mused, “I guess I wanted to see you.”

Ven's face suddenly became a deep scarlet in surprise. “Me?”

The young woman nodded her head, folding her arms in thought before looking back up at him.

“How long have you been away from home?” she softly inquired. “A week? A month?”

“Well, it's been… uh… um...”

Sabrina took a rather large step toward him. They weren't close enough to actually touch each other, but Ven could almost feel the heat come off of her. He could definitely feel the intensity of her eyes from behind that mask, though. It was an odd feeling- simultaneously making his heart race and his stomach queasy.

“You're just so… green.” she continued to observe. “And I don't mean by how obviously nauseated you are to be in my presence. No, there's this innocence to you. Like your whole body radiates in a warm light...”

Another step forward and Ven was sure she could hear his ragged breathing. He could definitely hear her softly exhale as she looked over him. Ventus tilted his head, slightly, at her. He couldn't describe it. He just wanted… something. Something he was sure Sabrina could give if they were just a little bit closer.

Likewise, Sabrina was trying very hard to fight the thoughts she was having. Ventus wasn't the first she'd been this curious about. Her training as a bard dictated that she was to never get attached to anyone. Too bad that they were close enough now that if she didn't stare into his deep blue eyes, then she'd be looking at his lips. She was sure they were very inexperienced. Inexperienced boys were the absolute worst- but they were more susceptible to distraction..

“Ventus,” Sabrina carefully said in a low voice, “Have you ever given someone a thimble?”

“A thimble?” he repeated, his voice reduced to a husking rasp. He was drifting closer to her now. He could almost see that the eyes of her mask were covered in some kind of mesh- half lidded dark brown eyes were hidden under them.

“A thimble is a precious thing.” she informed him, mirroring his movements. “You should never give them out lightly.”

“Never?”

Sabrina let out a soft laughter. “Well, I guess one misplaced thimble wouldn't hurt...”

Ven didn't know who was the first to kiss the other, but at that point it took him a moment to realize that they even were. His brain ran off into autopilot as his heart pounded in his ears. He could barely notice that Sabrina had made a small movement before deepening their embrace. The young woman was the one to break the kiss. It was with a surprised gasp as she pushed Ven a small distance away. Ventus could only stumble backward a bit- his mind was reeling from what had just happened.

“Drop the knife.” a voice resembling Terra's carefully demanded.

Ventus's mind was still in a fog. Knife? He didn't have a…

“Urg, fine.” Sabrina grumbled. The sound of something heavy hit the dirt ground with a thud. Ventus's eyes trained numbly to the ground. Sure enough, there was a knife laying there. A very ornate one too, with hand pressed curls on the handle and a very sharp blade.

Ventus looked up at Sabrina to find her mouth in a thin line. He noticed something shining behind her- his heart jolted in shock to find that it was Terra's sword. Commanding the sword was Terra himself, his face red with anger and looking hard enough to kill. That was when Ven woke from his stupor and moved quite a bit away from Sabrian.

“Terra, don't!” he started to plead, waving his hands in defense. “She was just…!”

“She was just about to kill you, Ven.” came the blunt interruption. To Sabrina he said, “And just give me one good reason why I shouldn't run you through with my sword. No one assaults my friends. No one.”

“Assault?” Sabrina repeated- a small, bemused chuckle crossing her lips. “I hardly consider it assault when he was the one leading.”

Terra growled before pressing his sword further into Sabrina's back. The young woman let out a small sound of surprise in response.

“Stop Terra!” Ventus cried. “This isn't like what happened with Aqua! Let her go!”

“I'm gonna tell you what I told him,” Sabrina said to Terra from over her shoulder, “If I really wanted to kill you, I'd already be dead. I'm practically a foot in the grave now and I've barely done a thing!”

“Please Terra,” Ven once more tried to plead. “Just put the sword down.”

The look on Terra's face indicated that he did not plan on standing down. It was with a lot of reluctance that he moved the sword from Sabrina's back- pointing it to the ground, but not placing it back in its sheath. Freed from the spot, Sabrina bent down to retrieve her knife, but was quickly stopped by Terra placing his blade right in her eyesight.

“You can leave that there for a little longer.”

The side glare the bard gave him was a dark one, but she didn't argue against it. She came back up to cross her arms in defiance.

“You're being so unfair.” the bard pouted. “Poisoned Apple didn't even have poison in it today.”

“Poisoned Apple?” questioned Terra, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

“The knife.” she explained, even giving a small gesture to the object. “That's what I've called it. There's a hidden compartment in the handle that holds poison. When it cuts, it releases the poison. The knife has been in the deIsigny family for generations.”

“deIsigny?”

“A fallen noble house from Orlais. You may be more familiar with the derogatory name 'Disney.'”

“Well that explains the mask...” Terra mumbled over his shoulder.

“As if it were ever in doubt?” Sabrina teasingly mused.

“I thought the symbol of the deIsgny family was a mouse?” Ventus then interjected. “If you're from the deIsgny family, then why are you wearing a rabbit mask?”

“You really are kinda innocent, aren't you?” the bard laughed. Not unkindly, but it wasn't intended to be pleasant either. “Heraldry of a noble house can change for many reasons; their main source of income switches, sometimes the old one was just plain ugly to look at, or -in the case of deIsgny- their golden child gets snatched up by the Circle and is never heard from again.”

“You know quite a bit about nobility.” Terra noted. To this, Sabrina merely shrugged.

“What can I say? I enjoy The Game.”

Terra's body tensed upon hearing this. His grip on his sword tightened as it took it with both hands. “Ven has absolutely nothing to do with Orlesian politics.” he told her.

If they had seen it, both boys would have seen Sabrina cock an eyebrow at him. “No?” she mused. “I heard he was Orlesian by blood. That makes him a player by proxy.”

“Ven has nothing to do with Orelsian politics.” Terra repeated, this time much darker. This led him to finally ask, “Who sent you? And why are they after Ven?”

“Well, someone tried to buy me to kill all three of you off. But I declined.”

“Why?”

“Because you three aren't truly part of The Game, that's why.” There was a small huff before the prudent addition of, “But I'm a curious girl. Goldilocks over there was a lot cuter close up than I thought.”

Ventus's cheeks flared a deep scarlet, but Terra still wasn't budging.

“Who tried to hire you?” Terra questioned. “Who?”

“Terra? Ven? What's going on?”

The two young men and the bard turned their attention to the newcomer. The bard held her breath in realizing that it was the Hero of Ferelden herself. If there was anyone who could easily kill her for kissing a naive moron, Aqua Amell was the one Sabrina was sure would do it. At least, that's how the rumors went. Seeing the Hero of Ferelden now was soon proving at least two thirds of those rumors false.

“It's nothing, Aqua,” Terra tried to quickly dismiss, “We were just...”

“I was just leaving.”

All attention turned to Sabrina now. A devious smile traced itself on her lips- this was her favorite position, with all eyes on her. In a single motion, she bent down at the hip to neatly scoop up her knife, placing it in a holder attached to her upper leg. Her head was held particularly high as she started to leave. Sabrina stopped next to Ventus- their shoulders brushing slightly.

“If you ever find yourself in Orlais,” Sabrina started to muse before moving a bit closer to his ear, “Come find me.”

Sabrina's fingers gently grazed against his own, causing a small shiver to run up Ven's spine- his lips parting slightly to let out a breath he didn't know he was holding until then. The bard could not hide the satisfied smirk on her lips as she departed. Even moments after she was out of eye range, her presence was still felt between Terra, Aqua, and Ventus.

“Ven,” Aqua eventually spoke up, breaking the silence, “Are you alright?”

For a moment, the younger between the three of them didn't react. Slowly, Ven started to look up at his friends with a wide smile.

“I'm fine.” he assured them. “But I think I just gave away my first thimble.”

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