#the drop down options are giant and so trying to swipe to see all the tumvlr notifications is a pain | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

harryspet · 4 years

Text

rogue angel [2] bucky barnes

[Warnings] darky bucky barnes x reader, noncon forced aged regression, daddy bucky, dd lg dynamic, ab dl dynamic, very light bondage, drugging, angst

A/N: I got a wayyy better response on the first chapter than I expected! Thank you all so much for reading! I guess I would call this chapter more of a filler with the reader just adjusting to her new life.

In which someone actually starts to care for you.

series masterlist

word count: 2.9k

You were strapped to a table, serums of their making pumping into your body, a contraption attached to your head designed to send electric waves through your skin. You screamed for hours. Why didn’t you stop screaming? It never helped. It never made them stop the pain. Perhaps it was because your mind was so empty.

You sat up straight, startled, at the memory. That’s when you realized Bucky’s hands were undoing the gag around your mouth, “I’ve got ya, angel,” You heard him say, finally able to close your lips together. You hadn’t even noticed that he’d carried you upstairs and ran a bath for you until you were actually sitting in the tub.

It wasn’t the being naked that frightened you, it was the soothing hand on your back and fingers rubbing soap into your skin. The traumatizing memory had taken you away for a moment but now you were back in reality, where something even worse was happening.

You had wet yourself in front of him and, like you were a child, he had cleaned you up. You couldn’t remember what it was like to be a child, you only knew what they had taught you about youth. In your opinion, the milestones seemed a bit boring, something you didn’t mind skipping. What use would pink overalls and bubble baths be to Hydra?

It wasn’t like you had much choice when Bucky brought the washcloth between your legs, you had much control over them as a baby doe.

“Is your arm waterproof?” You asked, your curiosity striking you.

Bucky chuckled, “For the most part, yes, but I try not to shower with it.” You nodded and had a feeling that Bucky was just happy that you were interacting with him in any capacity.

“What … what are you going to do to me here?” There had to be other reasons why he was keeping you in the middle of nowhere.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Y/N.”

That wouldn’t be your name. No matter how much he said it, it would never belong to you.

“But you want to turn me against them? Like Steve Rogers did to you?” Bucky pressed the cloth against your shoulder, swiping down your arm. The soap smelled like warm vanilla and, you wouldn’t admit it, but you liked it.

“Steve and I already had an emotional connection, we were friends. That’s what helped me realize their lies. You don’t have any ties so I thought I could help build you one, with me.”

With him. As your Daddy.

Maybe you could pretend, you thought. As soon as his guard was down, you could make a move, “I’ve never needed anyone.”

“It’s not a bad thing to need someone,” Bucky spoke earnestly but you only rolled your eyes.

You didn’t protest when he lifted you from the tub or when he held your body as he dried every inch of your skin. Your teeth were gritted the entire time but your current plan was to comply and cause him to let his guard down. Even Bucky seemed surprised that you weren’t fighting him.

He carried you from the bathroom into your “new room” which you didn’t get a chance to fully take in before. The walls and the furniture were both white but everything else seemed to be full of pastels. There was a bed fit with light pink sheets, mint green pillows, and lots of stuffed animals. A toy chest sat beneath the window and a giant, oversized rabbit sat right next to it.

It was eerily calm in the room and you could see the last shreds of sunlight coming in through the white curtains on the windows. He set you gently on the twin bed and you watched as he crossed the plush white carpet towards a large white armoire. Your eyes widened as it opened, revealing a rainbow assortment of clothes.

You took a wild guess and assumed they were all in your size. How long had he been planning this?

“What’s your favorite color, angel?” You met his blue eyes and found a soft expression on his face. You thought for a moment before shrugging. You hadn’t thought about it nor did you think it really mattered. He continued, “Hmmm, unicorns or spaceships?”

He held out the options for you to see and you winced, “Why can’t I wear normal clothes?”

“You’re too small for big girl clothes,” He spoke, making the decision for you. Spaceships it was.

“I am a-” You stopped yourself. You could do it, you told yourself.

You let him slip the onesie over your head which was white and had little planets and spaceships printed on it. He urged you to lay down flat and that was when he reached into a drawer beneath a bed. As soon as you saw it, your plan went out the window, “No, no, I’m not wearing that!” You stared at the pink pull-up he’d grabbed, “I’m not a baby, you fu-”

He pinned your hands down above your head and you desperately tried to move your legs, “What if you have another accident?” He continued, slipping one of your feet into one of the holes.

“Please,” Bucky paused, and even you hadn’t expected the word to leave your mouth, “I won’t have another one.”

“Say ‘Please, Daddy’” You scowled at him, “It’s hard for me to listen when you don’t address me properly, angel.”

You shut your eyes, taking a deep breath before swallowing the small shred of pride you had left, “P-Please … D-Daddy,” You stuttered out.

Bucky smiled, the hand that wasn’t pinning your arm was rubbing your legs soothingly, “Good girl, angel, now ask Daddy for what you want. Use your big girl words.”

“Can I … Can I please wear regular-”

“Big girl panties,” He interjected, correcting you.

You gritted your teeth, “Can I please wear big girl panties ... “ He waited patiently, knowing the word was on the tip of your tongue, “Daddy?”

Bucky smirked, loving the name on your lips, “How about this, angel?” You struggled as he continued to slide it on you, “If you eat all of your dinner and you keep this dry all night, I’ll let you wear big girl panties. I’ll even let you pick the pair.”

Clearly, he hadn’t completely gotten rid of his sadistic side when he left Hydra. You felt that as soon as he buttoned the onesie closed.

You hated him but you had to admit he was smart. You couldn’t refuse to eat or you’d risk further embarrassment tomorrow. Tomorrow. It was starting to sink in that you’d be here for a while.

After he’d put the clothes on you, he’d brushed out your hair, tying it back for you. His movements were a little clumsy but you could feel his happiness as he accomplished each task. It seemed like he had been practicing.

He was even more excited to present you with a small, bear plushie that he thought would bring you comfort.

He brought you down to the living room, setting you on the plush couch before ordering you to sit still while he went to retrieve something. Something he wanted to show you. As he walked out of the room, you looked around, noting the coziness of the room but also the locks on every window.

You were mapping it out when suddenly heard the subtle sound of nails scratching against the floor. A dog ran into the room, jumping onto the couch and attacking you with a lick to the face, “Y/N, meet Archer,” You were unsure of how to interact with the creature for a moment until you decided to brush behind his ears. The husky dog seemed to like it, nuzzling further into you.

You couldn’t remember ever petting a dog before and you had no idea they could be so … friendly. Archer seemed to already love you as he continuously lapped at your face.

Bucky could see you letting your wall down and, deciding not to interrupt that, he left to start on dinner. He figured Archer would keep you busy and also let him know if you tried to escape.

When dinner was almost read, Bucky walked back into the living room to find you sitting on the living room carpet, playing tug of war with the stuffed animal. Archer easily ripped off the bear’s head and you giggled … Bucky actually heard you giggle.

“Bad dog, Archie,” He scolded the dog as Archer dropped the bear’s head into Bucky’s hand obediently, “We don’t chew on Y/N’s toys.”

“No, look, he likes it!” You protested, insisting that Archer get to destroy the rest of the toy, handing archer the rest of the bear. You clapped your hands as Archer ran around the living room, shaking it in his mouth.

Bucky sighed, figuring he could try to tame an assassin but he couldn’t stop her from liking to watch things be dismembered.

“Alright, dinner time,” Bucky lifted you from the carpet, carrying you into the kitchen, Archer in tow. He helped you wash your hands before sitting you down in your seat at the dining table. You were like a little doll, helpless but it didn’t seem like Bucky mined doing every little thing for you.

You and Bucky were eating the same meal but his plate looked vastly different than yours. Your plate was flower printed and was separated into sections. Your steak was cut up into already tiny pieces and your fork was barely sharp enough to pick up your food. And then there was the dreaded sippy cup that he expected you to drink from.

You held your fork, staring at the plate as Bucky started to cut his own steak, “Big girl panties,” Bucky winked, bringing a piece of steak to his mouth, “Remember? You have to eat all of it. I know you’re starving.”

Whatever leverage Bucky he could get, he used. He had to get her used to eating regularly and not using it as a way to protest.

You poked at your broccoli before bringing a piece to your mouth, “Good job, angel,” He praised you as you continued to eat. You were starving and this is exactly what your body was craving. You finished your plate faster than either of you expected and Bucky asked, “Do you want more?”

You immediately shook your head even though it was far from the truth.

Bucky could tell you were lying and you flashed him a look of surprise as he slid the rest of his food onto your plate, cutting up the steak into small pieces for you, “Eat some more,” He told you and you lifted your fork again.

It confused you, why he even cared about you. No matter how sinister his intentions might be, you found it was strange that he showed you even a little bit of compassion.

Bucky watched you as you finished the rest of the food and he was satisfied when you cleaned your plate again. Thinking about the condition he found you in, he figured that you hadn’t been eating much since you were forced to abandon Hydra.

He understood the mental battle you were going through right now and he was expecting it would be a while before you slipped into little space but he’d be patient.

Bucky watched from the doorway as you played with Archie on the floor of your bedroom. You seemed to already have him better trained than Bucky ever did. Bucky noticed the less he interfered, the more you seemed to slip into things. He even noticed you sipping at your sippy cup and, as your actions grew lazier, he knew the sedative was kicking in.

He had to get you a sleeping schedule as well. You’d fall into things better with patterns. Consistency was another thing that made humans feel safe.

Your eyes felt heavy as you laid down on the carpet. Everything in this house was so … soft. Archie pranced over to you, licking at your chin and you pushed him away, a lazy grin on your face.

You felt Bucky’s arms around you before you even noticed he had approached you, “I think it’s bedtime, princess,” Princess, that was a new one.

“I’m not tired,” You moaned, sleepily, as he scooped you into his arm, “Archie save me … I’m being taken.”

Bucky chuckled, setting you down into the bed, and pulling a blanket over you, “It’s Archie’s bedtime too,” Bucky spoke softly, “Why don’t you say goodnight?”

You watched as she raised her hand to wave at the dog sitting idly by, “N-Night Archie,” Bucky’s heart warmed at the sight, noting how cute you were when you were tired. Bucky whistled and the dog pranced out of the room, his tail wagging.

“He’ll be here in the morning,” Bucky assured you, sitting down at the edge of the bed. His hands touched your hair, soothing brushing it back with his fingers. Your eyes were already closed, a stuffed giraffe tucked into you.

“What … about … you?”

“I’ll be here too, angel,” With that, she seemed to drift off into sleep.

You awoke to sunlight on your face and the sound of birds chirping. For a moment, you looked around and felt safe … until the panic settled in. You started to move your legs, realizing you could finally move them a bit but, as you pulled the blanket off, you saw a cuff wrapped around your right leg.

You investigated, finding it attached to a chain that seemed to be connected to the bed itself. You pulled at it with all the strength you could muster and nothing. It was a powerful magnet just like that gag he had put on you.

You had fallen asleep? You couldn’t think about it that long as Bucky appeared, opening the door slowly. Maybe there was some type of camera in here that was tracking your movements for him. You didn’t put it past him.

“Good morning, princess,” He greeted you and you noted his dark t-shirt and basketball shorts. You didn’t think he’d look normal in clothes typical for relaxing. He walked over, reaching down to undo the restraint but he paused, “Don’t you have something to say to Daddy?”

Great, you thought, sighing, “Good morning, Daddy,” Bucky imagined a point in the future where you spoke words like that enthusiastically. With that small sign of submission, Bucky undid the restraint and you noted he didn’t even use a special key. Maybe it had something to do with his arm?

“Sleep well?” You nodded though you knew that was probably due to whatever he had put in your drink, “It’s nice out so I was thinking we’d go out after breakfast, what do you think?”

“Go where?” You raised an eyebrow. He only narrowed his eyes at you, expecting you to add a formality, “Go where Daddy?” You corrected yourself, a fake smile on your face.

“Down by the lake, for a picnic,” How romantic, you thought, wanting to roll your eyes, “What would you like to wear, angel?”

“Something normal preferably,” You were long overdue for a spanking, Bucky thought. He had to remind himself that it was only your first day here and there’d probably be lots of punishments in your future.

“I thought you wanted those big girl panties... maybe you’ve gotten used to you little girl ones?” You paused, unwilling to admit that you had forgotten about them.

A staring contest ensued as he waited for you to back down and, as he expected, you did, “I like the color red … Daddy.”

Bucky was satisfied and you were glad you were getting a little bit of your womanhood back. You hadn’t even noticed how subtle he was with his system of rewards and punishments. With every good thing you did, he praised you and when you made snarky comments he threatened to put the pampers back on you.

He brought you to the bathroom to relieve yourself, very awkwardly, and to brush your teeth. After, he picked out a red gingham dress whose skirt barely covered your bottom and allowed your bubblegum pink underwear to peak out beneath it. He matched it with a pair of black mary jane shoes and, as a cherry on top, he tied a red bow into your hair.

You sat on the bathroom counter, watching him as he did his work. Looking at his face, you could tell he liked dressing you up, and, although you didn’t hate the dress, you didn’t like the unfamiliarity of it. You’d never dressed like this before and it made you feel a little insecure which made you even more frustrated.

You looked back into the mirror and your eyes widened. You had never looked so … feminine. Your face had even gained some color and you had to poke your face to make sure it was real, “You look beautiful, angel,” Bucky’s words took you back. You’d never heard that from someone other than the old men you were forced to flirt with on missions.

You shook your head, embarrassed, but Bucky continued, “You do.”

You looked at him, trying to read his blue eyes, and you froze as he leaned in to place a gentle kiss on your forehead.

Never had someone done that either, “You’re heaven-sent, I’m sure of it. You’ve just been lost for a little while, that’s all.”

You felt something foreign, like that thing inside your chest was finally beating.

Send me an ask if you’d like to be added to the taglist! If there’s something you want to see in this series, I’m open to ideas, just send me an ask! Hope you enjoyed!

#dark fic #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky #dark!bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky fic #bucky fluff #dark bucky x reader #winter soldier #marvel #marvel smut #dark marvel #mcu fanfiction #mcu x reader #mcu smut #avengers x y/n #florence pugh

874 notes · View notes

addicted2escapism · 4 years

Text

flecks of gold | geraskier

summary: Jaskier has spent a little too much time without shifting, and Geralt is starting to see the signs.

read it on ao3

Two weeks among civilization had shaped up to be a little too long for Jaskier. But the bard and his Witcher had been gifted with a lucky streak of continuous contracts and inns desperate for music. The troubadour had made every second of this time as grand as could be, keeping a permanent airiness of superiority about him as people called and praised his name.

But Geralt could see the signs.

He noticed when Jaskier shut down any form of slander towards the witcher, his words sounding like a hiss, and his voice edged upon gravelly in a way that made Geralt’s fingers twitch at his side. He wanted to grab the collar of the bard’s doublet and yank him back just in case, similar to scruffing a cat. He noticed the flecks of gold detailing Jaskier’s blue eyes when he woke up in the morning. He noticed how Jaskier was extra quick to snark at him, purposefully trying to rile him up while traveling on The Path.

But finally, finally, the trail came to an end. Their next stop offered no opportunity for monster hunting, and was run by a stingy innkeeper whose bar was successful without Jaskier’s famous ballads. They stayed the night and left again in the morning. Geralt declared that they needed to travel further than the next village over, a journey that would force them to camp in the woods overnight.

On The Path, Jaskier waited about two minutes before shifting into his second form. One moment, a human bard strolled beside Geralt and Roach, and a blink later a large jaguar was brushing against his legs. Golden eyes looked up into the Witcher’s, and Jaskier gave a soft chirp before he darted away, running ahead through the forest. He weaved in and out of sight, leaping through tall grass and stretching his limbs the way he’d been longing for. Roach startled when Jaskier scaled a tree in pursuit of a bird, and Geralt calmed her by stroking her neck.

The trio had only been traveling for a mere half hour when Geralt felt it: eyes on him that made the back of his neck tingle down to the base of his spine. The Witcher looked over his shoulder. A few feet away, Jaskier was frozen mid-prowl. He had one paw lifted in the air, eyes wide, and a low tail that Geralt assumed had been slithering left and right across the ground. He made a convincing statue.

“No.” Geralt growled, halting Roach and narrowing his cat-like eyes at the jaguar. Jaskier didn’t acknowledge his warning, making no move to end his hunt, or even blink.

Geralt held back a sigh, regretting his decision to walk with Jaskier instead of riding on Roach. He turned back around slowly, keeping his gaze on the cat for as long as possible. When Jaskier didn’t make any move to attack, Geralt and Roach walked on. It was going to be a long day.

The Witcher continued like this, leading Roach next to him while Jaksier crept behind him in slow motion. Geralt wondered if he really thought he was going undetected. The feeling of constantly being watched put him on edge, but he’d been around this version of Jaskier enough to be able to differentiate the sensation from any actual danger. Unfortunately for Roach, that wasn’t the case. Geralt couldn’t blame her, as smart as she was, Roach was just a horse and Jaskier was a predator. The longer the stalking went on, the increasingly skittish she became. Geralt had half a mind to Axii her, but since Jaskier wasn’t a real monster, he didn’t want to get in the habit of doing so.

This time, the Witcher didn’t hold back his sigh. He turned off the path into the woods, scouting for a location where Roach could have a snack. After clearing the area of any potentially poisonous plants, Geralt throws the reins over her head and sends her on her way.

“Fine.” Geralt caves, turning around to see Jaskier frozen once more. The Witcher waves a hand in a ‘come here’ sort of gesture. “We’ll stop here for a bit, so-“

His sentence goes unfinished as the jaguar leaps, pouncing onto the other man, and Geralt lets himself be pushed to the ground. Jaskier’s large paws press into Geralt’s chest as he settles over the man, opening his mouth to nip at Geralt’s jaw. The Witcher won’t let Jaskier win so easily, though, so he pushes the jaguar off with one arm and hops to his feet. Jaskier swipes at Geralt’s leg, trying to pull it towards him with both his front paws. It hardly takes any effort for Geralt to yank his leg out of the jaguar’s grasp, but Jaskier seems to be anticipating this, as he immediately snags the leather sleeve of Geralt’s jacket between his teeth. He lowers his body to the ground, stabilizing himself as he pulls Geralt’s arm with him, the Witcher having no other option but to follow the movement or risk damage to his jacket. He bends over, and Jaskier takes advantage of his unbalanced posture, releasing the jacket and jumping to lunge at Geralt again.

They both tumble into the grass, Jaskier forcing Geralt to the ground with all of his body weight. The jaguar’s face was extremely close to the Witcher’s. Paws gripped broad shoulders, claws elongated and digging into leather. Jaskier growls, low in his throat with a rumble that echoes throughout his whole body. Geralt knows where this is going. He swiftly pushes the jaguar’s face away with one hand, interrupting Jaskier’s open-mouthed descent to his neck.

As much as Geralt trusted Jaskier not to injure him, the bard had a habit of getting carried away, and would have to shift a few more times before Geralt let him get so close to his jugular. The cat huffed and blinked from the Witcher’s hand being so close to his eye, but then leans his cheek into the Witcher’s palm. The affection only lasts a moment before Jaskier turns his face in an attempt to gnaw on Geralt’s fingers.

“Ok, you won. Are you done now?” Geralt asks, glancing to the left to check if Roach was still around. She stood a few feet away with several blades of grass sticking out of her mouth, looking a bit offended by the roughhousing that had just taken place. A sharp fang catches the skin on his index finger, drawing the smallest drop of blood, and Geralt pulls his hand away with a feigned, “Ouch.”

Jaskier narrows his eyes, looking like he’d roll them if he could. Despite what his expression portrayed, Jaskier withdrew his claws and released the man he had pinned to the ground. The relief from pressure didn’t last long for Geralt, because instead of Jaskier moving off, he settled his whole body weight over the Witcher’s torso. It was natural for Geralt’s hands to stroke through the fur on Jaskier’s back, who was looking at Geralt and slowly closing his eyes, before dropping his head and rubbing his cheek against the leather beneath him.

Jaskier’s fur was almost unnaturally soft, and dense enough for a person’s hands to get lost in. They laid together in silence, listening to the wind whisper through the leaves on trees and bushes, and to the steady sound of Roach chewing mouthfuls of grass. Jaskier’s tail flitted around lazily, bouncing left and right beside their bodies. It didn’t take long for his tail to portray his restless energy, something Geralt had learned to look out for during his time traveling with Jaskier like this. This time, the jaguar was quick, giving himself away with only a few agitated flicks of his tail before his jaw was clamped down upon Geralt’s bicep.

“Jaskier..” Geralt begins to warn, but the bite was quick and powerful, Jaskier withdrawing almost immediately as if he was expecting retaliation from the Witcher. It wasn’t an unjust expectation, sometimes Geralt had to resort to squeezing the fat on the back of his neck to get him to let go when Jaskier became a bit... bite friendly. The jaguar wore a smug expression, as if he was proud of himself for landing an extra hit on Geralt, and rose to his feet, trotting a few feet away and looking down The Path. A signal that he was ready to move on.

Geralt shook his head at his friend’s behavior, but followed his lead nonetheless. He was just glad Jaskier didn’t bite through his jacket. A short whistle had Roach striding closer and standing patiently to let Geralt place his left foot in the stirrup and swing his right leg over. They trotted to where Jaskier was waiting, who was already distracted by a giant beetle that was flying around his head. Geralt spurred Roach on, clicking and digging his heels into her sides, taking off at a canter.

He smirked.

“Race you to the next town.”

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher fic #big cat jaskier #my writing #i hope this is good #gem writes

133 notes · View notes

justjessame · 3 years

Text

Starting Over Chapter 20

While I waited for more pineapples, which came here and there, I got refamiliarized with the feel of a camera in my hand. Not a cellphone, but a real camera. Connie had been right, there was a list of names, in Mom’s handwriting because clearly Dad had asked her to write them out so I wouldn’t have to decipher his chicken scratch, with notes and contact information.

I didn’t watch the news. Call me a coward, but honestly, I was afraid I’d see Bucky’s face - marked as a terrorist or worse - and my anxiety would ratchet beyond anything a tiny pineapple would ever hope to diffuse.

I read the notes Mom had made next to each contact Dad had made - what each person had wanted from me before I called or emailed, the likelihood they would be helpful in the path my Dad seemed more certain of than me. Some wanted a portfolio to grade, or judge, before they would speak to me by phone - digital would be fine. Others wanted actual prints, and a list of the sizes, finishes, and subjects they expected were included along with how they expected those prints to be presented. There were a few that wanted to speak to me first, an appointment and a face to face meeting to see if I was a good fit to apprentice with them or if I would even work well with the image the gallery they worked with expected.

It was overwhelming, but I felt excited by it. More excited than I had felt during the resume padding and the multiple visits to the similar, yet slightly different job search sites online where I was ONLY that resume among thousands of other resumes.

I decided that I would contact the names that wanted nothing more than a call or an appointment first, since those required nothing more than my person and my voice. The options that required portfolios and prints I could work on while I waited for the face to face appointment times. I started making a list of all the places and subjects that I wanted to shoot. Wishing that Bucky was home, because those sharp angles of his face would look amazing in any light.

I guess I got caught up in pineapples and picture taking. I had Bryn at the park - she was chasing bubbles that were being blown by a machine I found in my closet and I was snapping pictures when I heard the first gasp. At first I assumed that one of the other little kids had fallen off a swing or took a nose dive into the sandbox, but then more followed and I called Bryn to me and looked up to see adults holding their cell phones up with their hands over their mouths.

I looked up, checking the sky to be sure that we weren’t about to have a giant purple asshole situation again, but the blue sky was ringed with fluffy white clouds and nothing else. Smiling down at Bryn I told her that we should gather our stuff and go see if her mommy wanted to have lunch. She was in a giggly mood, and since my car was parked close by, the top up and the doors locked - just in case - we gathered up our things, alright I gathered the and she ‘helped’, and she was strapped into her seat while I was trying very hard to NOT look at my cell phone.

The salon was silent when we walked in, and Bryn seemed to pick up on it, running to Connie with a loud, “MOMMY!”

I felt more self conscious than I had since the first time, since no one seemed to be willing to meet my gaze, not even Connie. By the time I got to her station, my arm weighed down with Bryn’s bag full of stuff, I was terrified. “What’s going on?” My lips were numb and I still hadn’t looked at my phone.

“Let’s go to the breakroom and get something to drink!” Connie’s voice was strained, too perky, too upbeat. “You two look like you had fun at the park.” I followed her, my feet like lead, but I had to know, and she wanted us to be alone.

“Connie?” It wasn’t loud, but we were finally alone, so it didn’t have to be. Not that the salon was exactly hopping.

“I’m guessing you haven’t seen the news?” She was getting a juice box for Bryn out of the fridge, but she didn’t wait to hear me answer. “The new Captain America?” My stomach was knotting the longer she took to spit whatever horrible news it was out. “He murdered someone with the shield in full view of God and everyone -” I waited, there had to be more. “Including Bucky and Sam.” Shit.

I sat down in the chair closest to me, but I don’t know how I managed it. Every part of me felt numb. Captain America murdered someone - with the shield - in public.

“Here,” Connie put a soda in front of me. “Drink. You look like a sheet.” I sipped at the can, but couldn’t taste anything. “Check your phone, it’s ringing.” Was it?

I pulled it out, almost dropping it, but she took it from me and swiped it so it answered the ringing and then hit the speaker button. “Hello?” Was that my voice? Shit. “Hello.”

“Brooke?” I let out a breath. Bucky. “Brooke, are you ok?” I nearly laughed, was I ok?

“Are you?” I shook my head. “I’m alright, Bucky.” I could almost feel my lips again. “ Where are you?”

He sighed and I knew he wasn’t in Brooklyn. “Not home. Not yet.” He told me that he had a few more things to do before he could come back to New York, but that he wasn’t ‘off the grid’ anymore. “No more pineapples,” I could hear the smile on his lips.

“Good, I hate pineapples.” I exhaled. “I miss you.”

“I miss you.” And I wondered how we could miss one another already, but we did. So strange. “I have to go -”

“I really hate those four words,” I murmured. “Come home soon, would you?”

“Gold star, right?” Bucky reminded me, and I smiled.

“Damn straight, Bucky.” And then Connie’s mini me reminded me that little pitchers have big ears.

“Damn trait, Buck!” Bryn yelled and my eyes went wide and Connie slapped her hand over her own mouth.

“Um, Brooke?” Bucky sounded confused and I bit my lip as a chuckle hit me hard and fast. “Do you have an echo?”

“Yeah, her name is Bryn.” I managed. “Say bye, Bryn!” She did and then I echoed her. “Bye, Buck.”

“Bye, Brooke and Bryn.” He offered, chuckling.

I looked at Connie when the call ended with wide eyes. “I’m so sorry -” but her shoulders were shaking with laughter.

“That was TOTALLY worth it.” She got out. “But you owe the swear jar fifty cents.”

#bucky barnes/oc #the falcon and the winter soldier #fluff #eventual smut #slow burn

8 notes · View notes

baby-grayson · 4 years

Text

Kind Stranger|Part 4|GBD

Read Part 1 Here Read Part 2 Here Read Part 3 Here Word Count: 3k Tags: @evergreendolan @someonetogray @vintagedolan @prettyboydolan @dolansficsandpics @graysavant @baby-turtles Image Credit to @graysonsbailey (her edits are THE BEST)

Ethan heard the front door close behind Grayson, but he was surprised by his brother’s embrace soon after. Ethan wrapped his arms around Grayson, somewhat confused while asking, “Whats up bro?” Grayson spoke from within the crook between Ethan’s shoulder and his back. “I love you bro” Ethan, still holding onto Grayson but, getting more confused by the moment replied, “I love you too bro”

Grayson pulled back to look at his brother, “I know you want the best for me and I’m sorry about what I said last weekend. I’m sorry for springing the news about Kate on you like that. But you should know that she makes me happy.” Ethan pulled back slightly at the mention of her name, a part of him had forgotten about her. But he released a small smile when he saw the kind, puppy dog eyes his brother gave him. A part of Ethan recognized these eyes as the look Grayson wore many times when they were teenagers: Grayson declared he met his soulmate no less than seven times. Grayson took the upturn of Ethan’s lips as a sign to continue, “I’m going out with her tomorrow.” Ethan tried to maintain a happy look for Grayson’s sake but inside he was skeptical. “I’m happy for you,” he started, “just be careful.” Ethan was the older brother afterall, even though Grayson was bigger in every way. But it was often Grayson’s’ big heart that needed Ethan’s protection the most. As if on cue, Grayson’s phone sounded with a ping. He dropped his arms from Ethan as the twins stepped apart. Ethan saw Grayson’s entire face turn upward when he looked down, “Is that her?” Grayson nodded, looking up to meet his brother’s eyes. Ethan felt like a third wheel and decided to leave the room. Grayson did not notice his brother step out of the room, too involved with the virtual version of Kate in his hands. He read her text a few times over: I hope living with your brother isn’t getting too unbearable. Grayson pressed his tongue between his front teeth as he smiled and typed: We’re pretty good at making up. Suddenly, he regretted the way that sounded. Does that sound too touchy feely? She’s going to think they fight all the time…well they DO fight all the time. He followed with: We never picked a time for tomorrow.

He swayed in his seat when she replied: I’m free all day, so whatever works for you works for me :)

Grayson sat in thought, trying to figure out the optimal time to visit an aquarium on a Tuesday. He knew he would wake up at 7AM and want to eat breakfast. Vainly, he questioned whether he should work out before going out with her. He knew his muscles would appear plumper and more impressive if he did. The idea of working out triggered the thought of showering and doing his hair. He tried to add everything together in his before writing: I can pick you up at 9:15 :) ****

A low, slung towel draped around Grayson’s waist while he picked out his outfit. He mixed and matched a variety of pieces, while cursing at himself for not bringing more options to the rental he was sharing with Ethan. He tried on a button-down shirt and some dark jeans before deciding that he looked way too formal for an aquarium on a Tuesday morning. He traded the button down for plain white shirt and looked in the mirror. He gulped down hard and stripped down to his underwear. He threw his clothes on the floor. He decided on a comfortable blue sweatshirt and shorts. Peering in the mirror, he wondered if he looked seasonally challenged with his long sleeves and exposed legs.

Grayson swiped the keys to the van from the top of his dresser. The keys to his shiny Porche were collecting dust in a jacket pocket Grayson hadn’t worn in months. The sports car was left to waste in the driveway while Grayson pulled out the van and set his phone to navigate for Kate’s apartment. Despite his usual confident demeanor, Grayson’s thoughts betrayed his self-esteem. Was he wearing enough cologne? Was he wearing too much cologne? Should he be earlier? Was he too early, should he be fashionably late?

He pulled onto her street, regretting his sweatshirt as he sweated like a sinner in a church. He almost didn’t recognize this part of LA. Graffiti lined some of the shopfronts; trash lined the street drains; people walked with their eyes pointed down. Grayson didn’t frequent this side of the city often. He pulled up to her apartment, beaming when he saw her sitting on the front steps of a large, white apartment building. Grayson stepped out of the van as Kate picked her purse off the stairs. “You ready?” her voice was sweet. When Grayson nodded, she added “Thank you again for offering to show me around.” “Not a Problem,” Not a problem at all.. Grayson opened the passenger side door of the van for the Kate, but immediately noticed her small stature. Kate tentatively raised her bad leg up to the edge of the van, intending to swing up to the van seat. She took in a sharp breath when Grayson’s large hands found firmly held her waist and lifted her up. Kate’s face converted to a blush tone while she muttered a few words of thanks, while Grayson grinned ear to ear and closed the door behind her.

******

“Tropical fish are actually migrating away from the tropics,” Kate remarked, and she and Grayson watched the insides of a large tank. They walked slowly, taking in more of each other than the aquatic life around them. “It’s because climate change altered the warm currents coming from the South Pacific.” Grayson nodded and took in a slow breath. How does he say this without sounding like an ass? “Why do you know so much?” Okay, maybe that was a little asinine. “You have all the facts, even back at the beach.”

The top of Kate’s cheeks turned a shade of pink, making Grayson regret asking anything. “I’m a Ph.D student at UCLA.” Grayson stopped walking. “I’m trying to be a doctor of Environmental Engineering; I do research in the effects of climate change.” Grayson’s mouth hung open slightly. He struggled to find the words to describe what he was thinking. He struggled to find the thoughts he was thinking. “That’s so cool,” his voice unsteady with awe. “I love the planet” Didn’t everyone? “I’m a vegan.” Kate started laughing, seeing through Grayson’s astonished exterior. “I’m not, guess I’m a bad environmentalist.” Grayson grinned and bit his lip, looking down at her. Her aura was infectious, her presence asked him to be the best version of Grayson.

“I miss Philly though. Home is home, you can’t beat that.” Kate almost looked wistful. “What’s it like?” “It’s a city of neighborhoods, there are so many different personalities in a really small area. In one day, you can visit Beverly Hills, San Francisco, and Nashville all at once. And the food is so good!” Kate gushed, more missing her home than telling Grayson about it. Her eyes went somewhere else for a second before meeting his gaze as he spoke.

“Complete opposite of New Jersey, “Grayson nearly laughed. “My brother and I used to ride our bikes and these four wheelers all the time. When we weren’t in school, we were usually covered in mud. This one time my brother and I were riding our bikes up this hill, and when we made it to the top—I shit you not—we saw a giant grizzly bear.” Kate’s eyes went wide, “No Way!” Grayson nodded vigorously, “We ran like hell. But then we got to the crest of the hill—this is where I am the hero in the story—I remembered from TV that you’re supposed to stay super still to avoid bears. And that’s how I saved my brother’s life when we were like seven.” Grayson wore a triumphant look, eliciting a giggle out of Kate. “So you know, come to me if you ever need rescuing from a bear.” “Hopefully I won’t ever need to,” the erupted in laughs together. Kate threw her head back and Grayson felt his face go warm when he realized how melodic she sounded.

“I do need to ask you a favor though,” Grayson’s eared perked up as Kate started, “Could you take a few touristy pictures of me to send to my mom back in Philly?” Grayson smiled brightly and nodded, “Of course I can. What about in front of the dolphin wall?” The thought of Kate sending cute pictures was endearing to Grayson, it reminded him to send pictures to his own mother. Grayson stood back and framed the picture in his phone while Kate sat on a ledge in front of a tiled wall. Her wide smile warmed Grayson’s heart. He was really so happy to take that picture, to create a memory of how beautiful and happy she was in that moment. Kate bounced off the ledge and over to Grayson to inspect the pictures he took before “Do you want any?” Grayson nodded and handed her the phone. He went to sit in front of the wall while Kate started taking pictures. Grayson smiled wide, saying “cheeeeeese” and garnering a warm laugh from Kate. Grayson pulled up the hood on his baby blue sweatshirt, hearing more giggles from Kate.

An older woman with two kids by her side gently tapped Kate on the shoulder and offered to take a picture of her and Grayson together. She sat beside Grayson, while he wrapped a muscular arm around her petite frame. She leaned her head in toward him, letting him drink in her sweet scent. ****

Grayson parked the van in front of Kate’s apartment. He turned toward her; his stomach became a ballroom for butterflies. Grayson tried to muster up words but found them lodged in this throat. Kate smiled at him, her eyes turning up, “I had a great time today. Thanks for bringing me out. It’s hard since I don’t really know anyone in the city.”

Grayson took in a large breath, he reached for her hand. He interlocked their fingers and noted how her dainty, soft hand felt against his large, rough one. He felt his face turn warm and his eyes go slightly glossy when he caught her looking down at their hands. “I had a great time too,” Grayson’s entire being felt light and airy despite his size. They took a minute to look at each other, letting the silence fill the cabin of the van. Grayson broke the silence and the stare to look at her apartment, “Do you live alone?” Kate nodded and pointed to a window on the left side of the building, “Yeah, it’s not much but it’s what I can do on a grad student’s salary. You know the life.” Kate chuckled and looked at Grayson, expecting a knowing look of understanding. Instead, she was confused by the slightly blank look in his usually warm brown eyes. Grayson looked at the floor of the van and muttered, “Yeah LA life is hard.” He remembered that he was holding hands with a beautiful girl and that now was not the time to be awkward. He gave her tiny hand an affectionate squeeze and followed with, “I’m glad I can make it easier for you.” Cheesy. Cheesy. Cheesy. He could do better.

Kate smiled at him, kindly. Grayson’s anxious inner monologue paused to make way for an affectionate, puppy dog smile. Kate ran her thumb gently over his from where they interlocked. Grayson felt a warm, happy feeling bubble up in his stomach. He squeezed Kate’s hand again, appreciating how familiar the feeling of her tiny hand was starting to feel. Grayson bit at his bottom lip. I should say something. I should say something. I should do something. He was looked down and didn’t notice Kate’s gaze to melt into a similar version of Grayson’s puppy dog stare. Her eyes wore pointed down slightly and her pupils widened, fixated on the enigmatic, hypnotizing, Adonis of a man sitting next to her. “Hey Gray,” her voice was just above a whisper, gentle, and kind. Grayson removed his eyed from the floor, escaping the trap of his thoughts while he looked back at her, “Yes?” Kate crashed her lips onto Grayson’s. Her lips wrapped onto his top lip while he ran a hand through her long dark hard, resting it on the back of her head as he pulled her in closer. Kate laid a hand against his chest, feeling his firm pec underneath her fingers. Grayson leaned into her, kissing her back and taking in her bottom lip: nearly intoxicated from her scent. At that moment, every love song Grayson had ever heard played in his head. I have loved you for a thousand years, I’ll love you for a thousand more…..And All of Me Loves All of You, love all your curves and all your edges…When I see your face, there’s not a thing that I would change

*****

Grayson bounced through his front door, whistling a happy tune and rocking on his heels as he stopped in the kitchen. Ethan looked up from where he sat at the island, “You’re happy.” Grayson nodded and pulled up a seat next to Ethan. “I had my date. It was perfect dude,” Ethan recognized the wide-eyed look on Grayson’s face. “She’s amazing, like actually the coolest person I’ve ever met.”

“I’m happy for you dude. Did you talk to her about..everything?” Ethan didn’t feel like referring to the episode of Grayson yelling in a New Jersey diner parking lot.

“No. But wait until you hear this, she’s like a scientist who is trying to save the planet” Grayson beamed, very proud of his not-girlfriend. His beam dimmed when he saw the solemn look on Ethan’s face. “You should tell her Gray,” Ethan didn’t try to disguise the pragmatism in his voice. Grayson the romantic often forgot the hectic life of Grayson the business man; Ethan was the only thing keeping Icarus from flying into the sun.

“We just had our first date, I’m not about to show her everything I’ve been up to for the past five years” Grayson’s defensive tone did not match his relaxed demeanor.

“Look, Gray, if this is going to get serious. She deserves to know. You’d be doing yourself and her a favor by having this conversation sooner rather than later.”

***

Grayson’s wet hair soaked his pillowcase that night. The towel he wore out of the shower laid strewn on the floor. A thin white sheet rested over his waistline. He grabbed his phone from his nightstand. His intentions were to call Kate. He thought back to what Ethan said, about inviting her over to purposefully talk about what he did for a living. The idea of the conversation he didn’t want to have sat uncomfortably in his mind: not because he thought she would react badly but because he refused to accept that what his life was special enough to warrant a dedicated conversation. He was not looking forward to it. However, he was looking forward to kissing her again.

Her lips were plush and soft. Her tiny hands framed his face to well when she pulled him in earlier. Her sweet, citrusy scent only got better with proximity; her entire essence was completely decadent to him. She was like a guilty pleasure; there was something so invigorating about the escape she offered him. She intoxicated him: demanding the attention of every single one of his senses when they were together in an indulgent and dizzying way. She ignited his most innocent and romantic fantasies: he dreamt of sleepy Sunday mornings in a plush bed, dancing barefoot in the kitchen in the refrigerator light, and sharing the stars under the night sky from the safety of a shared sleeping bag. In a deeper place, Grayson’s other nighttime daydreams took hold: took enough hold to cause the thin sheet of fabric over his waist to start to bulge. Before his bodily functions got the better of him, the wet, naked, smitten man picked up the phone to call his not-girlfriend.

“Hey there,” her voice was sweet and song-like. Grayson felt a smile grow on his lips. “Miss me already?”

Grayson’s mouth went slightly dry when he thought of how to respond. Instinctively, he wanted to say miss you all the time. But he decided that was too much for after their first date. “I wanted to hear your voice,” oh shit, that was creepy. He quickly followed up with his next comment, hoping the first part wouldn’t sit on Kate’s ears for too long “I wanted to invite you over tomorrow.” He took a breath, thinking that he sounded like a second grader inviting their friend over for a game of soccer.

“That sounds good! You mean over like to hang out at your apartment?” Kate asked which elicited a blush from Grayson, maybe he did imply a non-truth earlier today. “Yes, kind of, I share a house with my brother not an apartment.” Grayson sounded formal; he knew he sounded format.

“Oh,” Grayson noted the hint of surprise in Kate’s voice, “Is your brother going to be there?” “He should be but I’m not entirely sure.” From the other side of the phone, Kate’s thoughts stopped for a minute. Was the genuine, sweet guy who could barely muster up the courage to kiss her really asking her to hang out at his house when no one else was home? “I would ask you on another real date, but it’s hard since everything is closed” Grayson felt bad for giving her a half-truth. He also felt thankful that his thin white sheet was soaking up the sweat from one of his hands. From the other side of LA, Kate nodded but then realized he couldn’t see her. “Text me the address and I’ll be there. Same time tomorrow morning?” “Great!” Grayson grinned, his smile beaming at the ceiling above him. His toes wiggled underneath his sheet, dancing in celebration for his romantic victory. Riding the high of today he felt the courage in his stomach build until it bursted out of his lips as “I had the best time today.” “I did too,” Grayson heard Kate’s smile through the phone. “And Grayson..” she started cautiously, “you’re a good kisser.” Grayson’s blush overtook his face. His stomach bubbled with a mixture of confidence, victory, nervousness, joy, romance, and surprise. “You are too,” and with that he felt his happiness bulge under his sheets once more and instantly knew he should gently end their call before his excitement turned his white sheet into a tent. A/N: Hello! This chapter was really hard for me to write, any feedback is valuable! I tried to make this progress the story, give the correct amount of information, but also be kind of fluffy. Let me know what you thought~

#fluff #grayson #grayson dolan #dolan #dolan twin #dolantwins #youtuber #fanfic #fanfictions #fanfiction #ethan #ethandolan #graysonXoc

86 notes · View notes

ateezmakemeweep · 4 years

Photo

richboy!seonghwa (part 20)

word count: 5k

slight angst, fluff

(part 19) (series masterlist)

a week after yeosang's conversation with seonghwa, you both had your first official date. and in true fashion, he hadn't given you any warning about it.

because when you plopped down in his passenger seat that friday afternoon, you were ready for him to drop you home so you could spend the night in bed and finish your drama.

you made sure to tell him all about the absurd developments that had happened thus far: a car accident, two comas, followed by inevitable amnesia, a kidnapping and now a potential long-lost brother.

"we don't really know if they're actually brothers or if he's just pretending to be so he can get close to-"

and it's because of your rambling that you don't notice he passed your house, that he'd been going in the very opposite direction for about fifteen minutes, until he pulled into a random parking lot full of retail stores.

"where are we?" you suddenly squeak in confusion.

"no, please, go on about that ridiculous soap opera," he says dryly, "i've been so intrigued."

you narrow your eyes at his sarcastic tone, bending down to look around at the stores before back to him.

"i'm serious, yeosang!"

"so am i!" he quips, "but i think i'm more interested in the love triangle, because i know there's one. let me guess, the main lead is a good boy, handsome and probably pretty perfect while the other one is-"

"a giant asshole? dark? tortured? and the one who kidnapped her? yes," you snap, "so it's all feeling very familiar right about now."

he turns off the engine with a snort, jumping out of the car before going around to open your passenger side door. but despite his act of chivalry, you stay inside belligerently while keeping your eyes narrowed at him.

"why do you have to be like this?" he asks, letting out a heavy sigh.

"why can't you just tell me why we're here? you were supposed to bring me home," you whine.

"and now we have a date tonight, so let's go."

your mouth falling open causes a smirk to cross his face before he promptly turns around and makes his way toward the strip of stores. you let out an annoyed huff watching him cockily walk away from his car, not once turning around to see if you're following him.

and why would he when he knows you're going too? because you're quick to get out and follow after him out of pure confusion and interest, the sound of his door slamming and your yelp of "wait!" causing a content smile to cross his face.

"we're gonna paint your entire house?!" you squeal in the aisle five minutes later, eyes roaming over what seems like hundreds of cans of paint and color options on the wall.

"the pool-house," he corrects gently, arms folded over the front of the cart as he watches you have a slight mental breakdown in the middle of the store.

"ugh, what a rich boy thing to say," you scoff before adding, "and are you really trying to pass off making us do manual labor as a first date?"

"oh, i'm sorry, were you expecting a helicopter ride to a rooftop dinner in paris?" he asks, arms bumping as you walk next to each other. "and here i thought you were a humble girl."

you scoff at him again and he bites his lip so he doesn't burst out laughing at your disgusted face. "that doesn't even deserve a response and you know it."

"okay, then how about you shut your mouth and pick a color."

and apparently your complaints of 'manual labor' from just ten seconds ago are long forgotten because he watches your whole face brighten, an excited gasp of "i get to choose?!" escaping your mouth before you excitedly flip through the color splotches.

now that you think about it, it's actually quite a humble thing for a person with money to do. you had always assumed one would hire professionals to paint their homes, not wanting to put in the time and tedious work themselves.

because when you and your parents moved into your new house, you painted all the walls yourselves and it's clear by the numerous drip marks and laughable areas of uneven color. but it had been a fun bonding experience that you never thought in a million years you'd be sharing with the boy next to you.

"this is pretty," you say quietly, tapping your finger on a light yellow that has his face falling into a grimace.

"it's not for a nursery, y/n," he mumbles from behind you, the close proximity of his voice causing you to jump. you hadn't realized he had moved closer to you as you browsed, his chest now pressed up right against your back. you feel the breath of his words grazing your skin as he looks over your shoulder.

"how 'bout that?" he asks, his arm brushing yours as he points to the most hideous shade of brown you'd ever seen.

"that is so ugly," you bluntly state, his deep chuckle rumbling in your ear as he pulls his arm back to rest on your shoulder. you try not to jump at the open affection and touch he's giving you, his hand ever so often squeezing gently.

"oooh, what about this?" you ask, craning your neck up to show him the color sample. your cheeks nearly touch from how close your faces are now, holding your breath as you watch him look at it before meeting your gaze. you resist the urge to swallow nervously, his teasing eyes now looking right into yours.

"pretty," he mumbles, "it'll do."

you snap yourself out of it and nod, moving yourself in front of the cart and pretending to read all about what sheen to buy. because "flat? semi-gloss? matte? how are we to know?" you awkwardly choke out.

your cheeks warm when your hear his chuckle, his footsteps moving toward you until his arms reach around you to grasp the bar of the cart.

"you know, you talk a lot of shit one minute and then get unbelievably nervous the next," he lowly mumbles in your ear. "quite easily, might i add."

"i'm not nervous," you snap, placing your hands in the middle of the bar as you to start to push it down the aisle. "what gave you that impression?"

but nervous, you are. because how could you not be, with your body trapped between him and the cart? feeling his steady heartbeat against your back and the breath of his laughter in your ear.

"nothing," he hums, grateful you're in front of him so you don't see his smirk. you two walk through the store like that, his arms around you as you both clumsily push the cart and buy the rest of the supplies for your 'date.'

"oh, my god and why are you using so much!" yeosang complains an hour later; he made sure to cover the floor that morning and felt very grateful for it since you were, apparently, quite the messy painter.

"okay, weren't you supposed to be doing that wall!" you squeal, shoving him away before continuing to roll on the light blue paint. the both of you were happy with the choice, a nice, very much needed contrast to the black, modern furniture in the pool house.

it was overwhelmingly obvious it was the space of a boy who lived alone, walls bare of photos and the only pop of color coming from the extra set of red towels his mom had left in the kitchen. you had been refraining from asking more about the situation, curious if he ever ventured out into the main house or made it a point to avoid it at all costs.

"if you somehow manage to destroy this floor, i will-"

and that's how the first tragedy started, you so boldly dipping your finger in the tray and poking two blue dots on his face. he stared at you in shock for a second, like he was trying to decipher if you really just did that, while you held back the laugh desperate to bubble out of your chest.

"you didn't."

"i did," you say playfully, "and it shut you up for a few seconds so i just might do it-"

roller in hand, he's quick to smear it over your entire cheek, wet paint grazing your skin and the stray hairs that have fallen out of your bun. your gasp and open-mouthed stare causes his deep chuckle to echo through the pool-house, a sound so foreign to those walls.

"you got my whole face!" you yelp, holding your own roller out like it's a weapon. "i did two little specks on your cheek."

"two specks too many and now you look ridiculous. so i hope you're hap-"

you quickly roll the paint over both his cheeks now, first the right then the left, before dropping it in the pan and running over to the safe zone in the kitchen.

a smile crosses your face as you look at him with a giggle, the boy just standing there in disbelief before his neck snaps up to look at you.

"you're done," is all you hear his deep voice say, the dark teasing causing excitement to run through you until you see him going over to pick up the roller you dropped.

"yeosang, no," you get out, watching his figure stomp towards you, both paint weapons in hand before a nervous laugh erupts. "yeosang, no! the floor isn't-"

you run to lock yourself into the bathroom when you feel paint cover the back of your neck, a scream leaving your mouth as his arm wraps around your waist. "stop it," you squeal, wriggling against him but it only causes him to tighten his hold.

"no way, you started this!" he says, smiling at the giggles that leave your mouth despite the messy paint covering your bodies. your hands fly to his arms, attempting to pry them off as you move against him before the roller blindly swipes over the other side of your face.

"yeosang! my eye!" you gasp, hand flying up to cover it. he immediately drops the rollers onto the hardwood floor, quickly turning you in his hold and bringing his hands to your face.

"shit," he grunts out, his hand on your cheeks as he assess your face. "did i get a lot in?"

"yes!" you whine, "i'm gonna be blind now! what the hell!"

"i'm sorry," he says, "let me see it." his touch is soft on your face, his finger grazing your cheek in an attempt to knock your hold off. but you refuse, head turning to the side causing him to huff.

"c'mon, y/n, let me see."

a small whine leaves your mouth as you rub at your eye, a soft deep beg of "please," leaving his lips as he watches your face twist into a grimace.

and the gentleness in his voice almost makes you feel bad for your next move, skirting around him to take a hold of both the rollers with your unharmed eyes popped open.

your innocent giggle only heightens when you see the look that crosses his face, a hint of disbelief and anger with maybe even the tiniest inkling of pride; because perhaps he can even appreciate a sneaky move like that.

"that was dirty," he says lowly, shaking his head as a smile pulls at his lips.

"you're dirty!" you yelp, walking backwards with the rollers outstretched. "now, i will give this back if you stop talking shit and just paint your side.

"but there's no reason for you to use-"

you push the roller towards him threateningly, hoping to see him draw back in fear but per usual he just looks at you in amusement, eyebrow raised with a smirk.

"okay, fine," he says, throwing his hands up defensively because cute. "i won't talk shit about how you waste gallons of paint and drip it down the walls when you could just-"

"shh, all you needed to say was i won't talk shit," you say, sending him a teasing smile before politely putting down the roller on his side. "now i will be minding my own business over there."

he watches you prance over to the other side of the room, rolling over the blue paint far too many times before smearing it carelessly on the walls. he resists the urge to groan until you turn around and look at him, nodding your head at him excitedly.

because even though he'll have to go over it with extra diligence tomorrow, he can't quite find it in himself to care. not when he looks over to see you wiggling happily as you paint, humming under your breath before a shy look crosses your face when you catch his gaze.

he bites his lip so he doesn't chuckle, snapping his head back to the wall to paint. and it goes pretty smoothly for both of you, minimal arguing and instead falling into an accidental game of 21 questions.

"okay, i have another one," you say, hands on your hips as you look up at the rest of the wall, "how are we supposed to get up there?" because while you were able to get most of it, there was still a hint of the original white wall at the top.

you eye the ladder he brings out warily, testing it out and shaking on it. "okay, well obviously you should be staying still," he says with a roll of his eyes. you side-eye him coldly, asking him if he really knows how many injuries are caused by these death traps before shooing him away with the roller.

and you're almost done with the wall when your own impending ladder doom comes. paintbrush exchanged for the roller, you stretch up to cover the wall with one final swipe when you feel the shaky, metal clatter beneath you.

you quickly grab onto the side, letting out a silent gasp before taking a few seconds to steady yourself. and you only try again because you feel steady enough, rising up on your tippy toes to get one last swipe when the clattering is back.

your foot wobbles unsteadily first, the metal plank noisy and trembling beneath you before you completely lose your footing. your arm desperately reaches out to grab the side but you miss, letting out a squeal of yeosang's name before you feel two strong hands on your waist.

his arm wraps around you before plopping you down on the ground safely, spinning you in his hold with a blank look in his eyes.

"you gotta be kidding me," he says, humor lacing in his tone. you look up to see his eyes on you, the warm teasing look causing your cheeks to flush in embarrassment and maybe something else.

"that wasn't my fault," you say, poking his chest lightly.

"oh no?" he hums, "because i think that's what you get for making me think i made you blind for a minute."

you cover your mouth with a giggle, both of you looking around at the light blue walls as his hands still rest on you. "i think we did a good job."

"we did, right?" he hums, his hand coming up to scratch some of the dry paint off your face. "i think we're done for the day. even though half of it is on your face and the other half is still soaked onto your roller."

he sees the fire in your eyes before your hand comes up to smack him, gently grabbing your wrist to halt it. "i'm kidding, i'm kidding," he says, resisting the urge to laugh at you.

you let out a tiny huff, your hand coming up to the back of your neck covered with the uncomfortable stiffness of dried paint.

"you wanna take a shower?" and whether it's because of his deep, smooth voice or the idea of him asking you that, your eyes widen.

"alone. do you wanna take a shower alone, you sicko," he says, moving a dried, blue strand of a hair out of your face before smirking. "unless..."

another resounding smack on his arm echoes through the house, a chuckle leaving his mouth before he takes your hand in his and leads you into the bathroom.

astounded by just how long his hot water lasts, you probably spent far too much time in there. rinsing your hair and body as clumps of blue swirl down the drain. you put on the sweatpants and t-shirt he left folded on the sink for you, inhaling the scent of detergent and his natural scent before being greeted by the sight of him standing over the oven.

the smell of spices fill the small space, the evening breeze coming through the opened windows so you guys don't get gassed out by paint fumes. you pad over to see him stirring noodles, peeking over his shoulder on your tippy toes.

"i didn't know you could cook."

"of course i can," he says cockily, "a guy's gotta eat, right?"

he scoops a noodle out of the pot to feed it to you when he turns to see a slight pout on your face, his words making something tug at your heart.

"what happened now?" he huffs, pushing the spoon between your lips with a concerned look on his face. he watches you furrow your eyebrows at him but chew nonetheless, giving him a thumbs up before you lean back on the counter.

"nothing," you squeak after swallowing, "i just..." you notice now his hair is damp and his body's void of paint. "wait, did you shower also?"

"yes," he says, raising his eyebrow at your confusion. "in case you forgot, the real house is just a few feet away."

"oh..." so that answers your question from before. "i wasn't sure if you..."

"went in there?" he offers with a smirk. you shyly nod, your lips pursing into one another nervously. because nothing could ruin a date more than mentioning a possibly strained relationship with his only remaining parent.

"i usually don't, my step-dad's a bit of dick," he grumbles before his eyebrows raise sarcastically, "so naturally, we don't get along."

"but you're not a dick," you mumble.

because he can be, you'll be the first to admit it, but at his core it's becoming more and more obvious he's just a little damaged. horrific childhood experiences and the effects of needing to grow up quickly shaping him into a person whose first instinct is to hurt people so they can't hurt him first.

he turns to look at you with a smirk, his hands gripping your hips suddenly and lifting you to sit on the counter with a squeal. "did hell just freeze over?"

an exasperated look crosses your face, letting out a tiny sigh that causes his lips to turn into a soft smile.

"you can be a dick, more often than not," you make sure to clarify, "but you're not a dick. or a bad person."

his eyes roam over your face, a strange feeling shooting through his heart before he leans forward to peck your lips. your eyes widen at the easy, casual way in which he does it, before his warm mouth is on yours. he smiles against your lips when he feels them part, his hand moving to rest on your thigh as he slips his tongue in cheekily.

you bite down on his lower lip thinking you'll have the upper-hand now until a squeal leaves your mouth at his hand tightening on your thigh.

"stop it," you mumble against his lips.

"you stop it," he counters, dipping his head to place a lingering kiss on your neck. "getting so brave like you won't be a shy mess in three seconds."

the hissing sound of water overflowing has yeosang pulling himself away from you, turning down the heat as you watch him stir with a smile. your eyes roam over his face, chiseled jaw and perfect cheekbones and his damp, dark hair falling into natural waves.

you ask if you can help do anything and even though he says no, you take it upon yourself to set the small table for two. he shakes his head at you so brazenly going through his cabinets for cups and bowls but a part of him loves seeing you that comfortable. because the whole thing is really so domestic, a day of shopping and painting completed with dinner and a movie at home.

yeosang watches you take the first bite, anticipation written all over his face as you swirl the noodles and messily plop them in your mouth. his smile widens when you exclaim how good it is, the shyest "thanks" leaving him as he dabs at your mouth with a napkin.

he pulls back to see a blush creeping up on your face and has the balls to laugh, like you're not supposed to be flustered by him being like this.

"stop laughing," you whine, throwing your hands over your cheeks.

"i can't help it," he smiles, that uncharacteristic softness slipping back into his tone. "you're cute."

an awkward giggle leaves your mouth, shaking your head at him.

"what?" he asks, nodding his head toward you with a smirk.

"what do you mean, what?!" you squeak, "who are you to make me feel this flustered?"

his loud chuckle booms through the pool-house, turning his head to the side so you don't see just how wide his smile could get. and it's brewing in him to blurt out that you're his, that you've been his for quite some time and now he hopes to make it official.

but he waits for dinner to finish, poking fun at your messy eating habits and pink cheeks while you scoff at him and kick his legs under the table. you quickly gather the dishes as he goes to set the living room up with a movie and an array of blankets and pillows on the couch.

"yeosang, no, wait, i'm almost-"

his arm tightly wraps around your waist while the other one reaches out to turn off the faucet before he dragging you towards the couch. he throws himself down, your body falling right onto his and if your arms didn't reach out to stop yourself you probably would've face planted right onto him.

"that isn't fair, you cooked," you whine with a pout, "the least i could've done was clean up."

"well, i can think of other ways for you to make it up to me," he mumbles, pulling your face down till your lips are only a few inches away.

"wow, aren't you so smooth," you say back, words sarcastic and biting despite your heated gaze falling to his lips.

his confident assertion of "yes" causes you to giggle until your lips meet again tonight, mouths parting on one another as you quickly fall into the steady, natural movements. because kissing him shouldn't be this easy, your lips shouldn't fit and melt into each other so perfectly.

but it is, tongues clashing and breathy sighs leaving your mouths as you both feel yourselves quickly getting more heated. his hands grip your hips roughly, your own coming up to rest on the arm of the couch to give you more leverage.

and then in a daring move, you plop yourself down a little more on his lap, smirking against his lips when you hear a harsh hiss leave his mouth.

"careful," he warns lowly, feeling his adam's apple bob when you start to slowly kiss and lick and bite down his neck.

but because you wanna do the exact opposite, because you wanna see him close to losing his control and composure, you suddenly lean yourself back and pull him up just to straddle his hips with a playful wiggle of your eyebrows.

"now why would i wanna do that?" you mumble, turning your head to the side coyly, "when i could just get you-"

he pulls your face down you meet his again, mouths crashing as he completely dominates the kiss. his tongue pushing past your lips as he swallows your surprised groans and squeaks, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

"yeosang," you whine when he pulls away, taking a fist full of your hair and tugging your neck back ever so slightly. his hot, wet tongue trails down your skin before he bites down, sucking that sensitive spot right above your collar bone causing a strangled, extremely obvious moan to leave your mouth.

"so that's what you sound like," he hums against your skin. your head snaps back up when he pulls your hair again, your overwhelmed heated gazes meeting.

"what do you sound like?" you ask, attempting to grind yourself down on his lap before his hands fly to your waist to halt it.

"we're not talking about me, baby," he hums. "we're talking about you."

your wide eyes stare back at him, like you're already completely trapped under the spell he's about to put on you.

"you're mine now. you know that, right?"

and despite the lust and desire creeping through your veins, the slight building of pressure between your legs, your heart still jumps and flutters and your glossy eyes widen. because you shouldn't like that so much. like the sound of him telling you your his.

"hm?" he hums, pulling your head down to peck your lips. you try to deepen the kiss but he quickly pulls away, leaned back cockily as he roams over your flushed face. "do you like that? do you want that?"

"to be...yours?" you ask breathily, turning your head to the side questioningly. "like...your girlfriend?"

he smirks at the title, watching your chest heave up and down and trying to control his own. because the feeling of you under him is killing him, especially when you've been moving back and forth so teasingly. but he has to make sure this is done tonight, right now, at this very moment.

"if you want that," he hums.

"i want to," you say and it's surprisingly sweet despite the compromising position. so maybe that's why he asks you for clarification, asks to hear you say "i wanna be yours" fully as you stare at him with want and need and desire.

"good," he says with finality.

and something about the whole situation then causes you to giggle, your head throw back in laughter as your hazy mind thinks back to the first time you had the (dis)pleasure of meeting this man.

"um...i'm y/n, by the way," you tell the boy quietly causing him to stop short and you nearly bump into him. he turns around, looking at you with a quizzical expression and you swallow the panic rising in your throat. "thank you...i know this is probably the last thing you wanna do during your lunch period so i really appreciate-"

"yeah, you're right," he snaps, rolling his eyes, "so why don't you just shut up and follow me?"

"oh god, what has you laughing now?" he asks, tone dripping with annoyance despite the humor laced in it.

"nothing," you say innocently, smiling brightly at him. "but you know, i've been having some trouble with my work, maybe you can like tutor me or-"

your words are quickly cut off by his lips crashing on to yours one final time, giggling against his mouth as you wrap your arms around his shoulders to deepen the kiss.

and it's your very giggles and sighs that can be heard through the backyard later that night, hongjoong and seonghwa deciding to creep through their friend's yard and inform him of their plan to go to the amusement park tomorrow.

"was it san's idea?" seonghwa asks as they open the gate quietly, the automatic light shining down on them in the dark night.

"of course, the giant baby," hongjoong quips causing seonghwa to laugh quietly. they make their way towards the pool house when the smaller boy hesitantly speaks up again. "how are you with y/n? should we invite her too?"

a small sigh leaves the boy as he shrugs, watching the water ripple through yeosang's heated pool from the chilly breeze. because he's been trying to slowly talk to you again, refusing to go back to his seat in 4th period but at least acknowledging you know with polite smiles and waves.

"we're fine, i guess...i just feel so stupid to be...upset about it still. because we were never anything," he explains, "and now i feel bad because i can barely talk to her in class but here i am being friend's with yeosang again."

"well yeah," hongjoong says, "but you didn't have, like, crazy feelings for him and want to kiss him."

seonghwa quietly chuckles as he nods his head because "that's true, i definitely don't wanna kiss yeosang."

hongjoong squints as he makes his way closer to the pool house door, seeing what looks like two figures on the couch lit up the flashing television. he only needs to take three steps closer to see it's you straddling yeosang's lap in a heated make-out session.

his eyes widen before he throws out his arm to stop seonghwa, the boy nearly falling forward.

"what are you doing?"

"he's busy," is the only thing hongjoong says, "let's go. we'll just text him."

"wait, what? how do you know?" seonghwa questions, something about his friend's tone unnerving him.

"i can just tell, c'mon," hongjoong says, attempting to push seonghwa back towards the pool. but it only heightens the boy's suspicions, moving his friends arm out of the way before his eyes look through the glass door into the pool house.

and it's at that exact moment you pull back from yeosang's lips with a giggle, your head thrown back in laughter before your squeal rings through the open window as he pushes you back down onto the couch.

seonghwa's quick to snap his gaze away, mumbling "oh," under his breath and trying to ignore the awful pang in his chest. because he's been working not to be angry or upset, understanding just how important you must be to his best friend for him to open up to you and form some sort of bond.

but that doesn't mean he wanted to see that, see you both so happy and giggly as you sit there on his lap and he gets to hold you. he stomps out of the backyard, ignoring the conflicting emotions of pain and anger and resentment swirling in his body.

hongjoong follows the boy with a sigh, grateful he was able to catch the gate before it swung back with a bang.

"are you okay?" the smaller boy asks stupidly; but what else can one say after seeing that?

"yeah."

but both the boys can hear that he's not okay, that maybe dealing with this is gonna be a lot harder than he thought.

(part 21)

#seonghwa #yeosang #seonghwa fluff #yeosang fluff #seonghwa angst #yeosang angst #ateez fic #seonghwa fic #yeosang fic #ateez fluff #ateez angst

298 notes · View notes

marvelous-writer · 4 years

Text

Responsible for Making Sure You’re Responsible

Summary: Peter knows he’s hurt badly enough that he can’t just slap a bunch of band-aids on his injuries, and especially the giant, still-oozing puncture wounds on his back and along his shoulders from the tips of Toomes’ wings. But it’s not like he can just stumble into an emergency room and ask to get stitched up. So where to go instead?

May would have a heart attack if she saw him right now, not to mention immediately figure out his secret. Ned would also definitely freak out, probably waking his parents in the process. Mr. Stark was an option, but Peter wasn’t about to bother him, not after how the man had made it crystal clear that he didn’t want anything to do with Peter ever again.

So no hospital, no May, no Ned, and no Mr. Stark just left… Happy.

Or: following his final fight with the Vulture, Peter is left grievously injured and in need of some serious help. Cue Happy to the rescue.

Word count: 6,880

A/N: Me and @blondsak‘s first collab!!!

Link to read on AO3

Peter doesn’t know how he made it from the Coney Island Cyclone all the way to Avengers Tower. To be honest, the entire journey was a bit of a blur as his steadily bleeding injuries throbbed painfully in protest from all the web-slinging.

When his feet hit the landing pad of the Tower, Peter distantly wonders why he had decided to come here, of all places. Even through his foggy brain, he knows he’s hurt badly enough that he couldn’t just slap a band-aid on the many deep cuts, burns and bruises littering his whole body, especially the giant puncture wounds on his back and along his shoulders from the tips of Toomes’ wings. But then again, it’s not like he could just stumble into an emergency room and ask to get stitched up. At least, not wearing his original Spider-Man costume, which - though basically rags now - was still far too easily identifiable beneath all the stains and grime.

As for going home, that was definitely ruled out—May would have a heart attack if she saw him right now. Peter could maybe have chanced going to Ned’s, but Ned would have almost definitely freaked out at the sight of him, which would have led to his parents waking up and Peter losing any hope of his secret - not that it was still much of one anymore, but still, he had to try, didn’t he? - staying under wraps. So Ned’s place was out, too. Mr. Stark was another option, but Peter wasn’t about to bother him, not after how the man had made it crystal clear in the form of a forced walk of shame from Brooklyn to Queens - in Hello Kitty pajama pants, no less - that he didn’t want anything to do with Peter ever again.

So no hospital, no May, no Ned, and no Mr. Stark just left… Happy.

It’s definitely not ideal, but the fact remains that Happy’s his best bet right now, and Peter, well—Peter is pretty desperate. And the only place he knows Happy could be was back at the Tower, from where he assumes the man had been overseeing the move before the plane took off and Peter’s night went from really, really bad to totally screwed.

With a deep, weary sigh Peter limps towards the glass doors, one hand pressed firmly against a shoulder in a futile effort to staunch the worst of the bleeding, surprised to find that the door is unlocked as he steps inside. He’s too out of it to notice that the once well-furnished living room is now completely empty. He passes by the kitchen, looking around at the vacant space. He doesn’t exactly know where he’s going to be honest. There’s a small tingling at the back of his head, the only warning he gets before an unfamiliar face comes around the corner from the hallway, a small squeak of surprise coming from the man - a security guard, by the looks of his uniform - at the sight of him.

“Don’t come any closer! I’ll—I’ll shoot!” the guard cries out, though it comes out shaky, like he’s scared or maybe just inexperienced. All the same Peter doesn’t hesitate to put up his throbbing arms in temporary submission, biting back a groan from the pain. The shaking flashlight suddenly stills on Peter’s chest, the guard taking in the tattered remains of Peter’s homemade suit. His going wide as he exclaims, “Wait—you’re Spider-Man! What are you doing here?” Then, all shakiness gone and replaced with excitement, “Are you here on Avengers business?”

“No, it’s n-nothing like that,” Peter weakly replies. “I actually need to talk to–”

“I heard that you were, like, an honorary Avenger now,” the guard interrupts, seemingly not noticing Peter’s injured state. “Is that true? I mean, I saw that on The Bugle’s Twitter page but I wasn’t sure if it was true. But I guess you did fight with Iron Man against the Rogue Avengers, which was totally awesome by the way! That basically means you are then, right?”

Peter’s head is spinning from all of the questions, worsening his pounding headache. He closes his eyes beneath what’s left of his mask, gritting his teeth.

The guard must take his silence as affirmation, continuing, “I knew it! My buddy Marv keeps saying there’s no way they’d add a low-level vigilante from Queens to their roster, but then he’s always been more of a Cap guy and anyway, he’s from Brooklyn so what does he–”

“S-sorry, but—where’s Happy Hogan?” Peter interrupts with as much force as he can. He’s starting to feel really lightheaded, and he can’t afford to let himself pass out in front of an overexcited Spider-Man fan, and especially one who was obsessed enough to believe any Spider-Man news that came from The Bugle—a news site that Peter knows for a fact offers a substantial reward for any proof of Spider-Man’s identity. “L-look, I need to speak to Happy right now. It’s a-an emergency.”

“Uh, okay, sure,” the guard replies after a moment, looking slightly put out even as he pulls out his cell phone and starts swiping through it, putting it up to his ear as he continues to eye Peter curiously. Normally Peter would have no issue hearing the ringing and Happy picking up, but he’s just so tired. Instead finds himself zoning out even as the guard starts rambling to the other person about Spider-Man showing up, until–

Peter startles when someone pokes him in the arm, looking up to see the guard is now standing right in front of him, holding out his phone. “He says he wants to talk to you.”

Trying to blink the exhaustion out of his eyes, Peter nods and takes the device. “Hey, Happy.”

“Kid,” Happy replies with a sigh, the relief in his tone something Peter’s never heard from him before. “You have no idea how glad I am that you’re okay.”

“Me too,” Peter agrees without thinking, then blinking slowly again, “but uh, about that–”

“Look, this line isn’t exactly secure,” Happy interrupts, and now Peter hears voices shouting in the background, along with what sounds like large trucks rumbling, “and neither is the tower anymore, for that matter. How about you head to my place? We’re just about finished getting the tech loaded and off the beach.”

“Oh, um, okay,” Peter replies numbly, the fog in his brain clearing just enough for him to memorize Happy’s address—relieved when he realizes it’s still in Manhattan, and in the Upper East Side at that. Happy doesn’t really come across as a glitzy kind of guy, but Peter supposes it makes sense that Mr. Stark would pay him very well, considering his job title and all.

“...still there, kid? You get that?”

“Wha’?” Peter asks dumbly, pulled out of a second daze in as many minutes. Man, he really needs to focus if he wants to make it to Happy’s in one piece. “Oh y-yeah, yeah. I’ll meet you there, Happy.”

There’s a pause then, as if Happy is mulling something over. But whatever it is he must let it go, saying instead, “I’ll see you there. And no dawdling at the churro stand, you hear me?”

The line clicks before Peter can reply. Wearily he drops the phone from his ear, passing it back to the guard. “Thanks.”

Not wanting to invite further conversation, he immediately starts limping back toward the landing pad—only to come to a halt when the guard calls after him.

With a sigh Peter turns around, “Yeah?”

But where he expected the guard to bombard him with more questions, or maybe ask him for an autograph, the man looks only worried now. “Just wanted to check, uh—you sure you’re gonna be okay? ‘Cause to be honest, you don’t look too good.”

Peter smiles behind the torn mask, feeling a tiny bit of warmth spark in his chest at the man’s concern. It’s almost enough to overtake the cold that’s already seeped into him—Peter suppressing a shudder as the two war for dominance.

“Thanks, b-but, I’ll be okay.”

“If you say so,” the guard says after a few moments, clearly not buying it. But he doesn’t say anything else and after a pause Peter turns away again, stumbling over to the doors and back outside. The chill of the night air seems to sink right into his bones, and this time Peter can’t stop the whole-body shiver that wracks him.

“Okay, you j-just gotta make it to Happy’s and then he’ll s-stitch you up and you’ll be f-fine,” he says to himself—taking a deep breath as he tries to shore up enough strength for the trip. “C’mon Spider-Man. Just this one l-last thing and then you can rest.”

With those words of self-encouragement Peter sends a web out and jumps over the edge, falling and falling only to shoot out another web and clumsily catch himself—ignoring the deep stabbing pain as his bodyweight pulls on the injured shoulder, feeling another burst of warmth flow down his back.

Gritting his teeth, Peter takes aim for the Upper East Side, willing away the tendrils of darkness that keep pulling at his mind as he flies through the air, focusing on nothing else but getting to Happy’s place and continuing to talk to himself just to stay awake.

“You got th-this, Spider-Man. Just get to Happy’s and th-then you can s-sleep,” he whispers just as Happy’s building comes into view.

With no small amount of giddy relief he lands on the small balcony and wrenches open the sliding glass door.

“S-s-see Happy? No d-dawdling,” he announces with a lazy smile, only to belatedly realize the place is still dark. Distantly his mind registers that he must have beat Happy here.

For a few moments Peter sways, before he hears a dripping sound.

“Wha’s l-leakin’?” he asks the empty room. He glances down when he hears yet another drip, blinking dumbly when he sees it’s coming from him.

His blood, landing onto what has to be super-expensive carpet. Shit!

“Ohhh no,” Peter whispers, looking around in a panicked daze. Everything is starting to go blurry now and no—he can’t pass out here! Happy already barely tolerates him… what will he say if he comes back to find Peter ruined his floor?

“Think, Peter, think,” he says to himself, before stumbling through the apartment toward the hallway—cursing when he trips over the edge of the coffee table, knocking over a plant on his way down. For a second he just breathes as he lies on the floor, eyes closing as he nearly gives in to the exhaustion… only to grit his teeth and stumble back onto his feet.

He leans heavily against the hallway wall for support as he staggers toward the bathroom.

“M-made it,” he whispers as he crosses the threshold. He clutches at whatever is within reach as he hauls himself across the tiled floor, spots gathering in his vision. But by some miracle he eventually manages to collapse over the edge of the tub, curling up against the far corner of the porcelain.

With a sigh of relief Peter finally allows his eyes to close and stay closed, telling himself that he’s safe now. After all, Happy is on his way, and he’ll handle everything for Peter, just like he does for Mr. Stark, right?

Right, Peter thinks.

It’s the last thought he has for a while.

_______________________________________________________________

“Come on! It’s a frickin’ yield sign!” Happy yells as he blares his horn at the car in front of him. He’s been stuck at this intersection for over seven minutes now, chipping away at what little patience he has left now that he’s back in Manhattan, yet still too far from Peter.

Because frankly, it’s a miracle the kid is even alive after a crash like that. The minutes after he’d first seen the scrawled note - during which he’d frantically searched the wreckage for a matching teenaged vigilante to go with the copious bloodstains strewn about the sand - will forever haunt Happy, especially knowing that Peter had been on the downed plane.

And while at first he’d been relieved to hear that Spider-Man was at the tower and looking for him, when he’d heard how out of it the kid sounded on the phone… well, let’s just say it had reminded him far too much of a different reckless superhero he knew, albeit back in the man’s less sober days.

But where back then he’d been saving Tony from choking on his own vomit, tonight had raised red flags in Happy’s mind for other reasons. Because Peter wasn’t drunk or high, no—he was injured, badly enough that he was spacing out and slurring his words.

Happy can only hope it’s just a minor concussion, and not something worse. Because if anything happened to that kid, he would never forgive himself for it, and not only because Tony would have his head. Peter’s aunt was at home waiting for him, probably wondering where the hell he is at twelve-thirty in the morning on a Saturday night.

He recalls then what he’d told the kid not a week earlier, when Peter had called while he’d been busy and distracted preparing for Moving Day: "Stay away from anything dangerous. I'm responsible for making sure you're responsible, okay?"

Happy chews on the inside of his cheek, feeling another cry of worry-induced—and if he’s honest, guilt-induced—road rage rise up in his throat, only to force himself to swallow it back down.

He’s not going to let himself lose it, not yet. Because Peter has to be okay. He has to be, because Happy doesn’t know how he’ll live with himself if he isn’t.

It takes him twenty minutes before he arrives at his apartment building, not stopping to talk to his doorman as he quickly gets into the elevator.

“Come on, come on…” Happy mumbles to himself as he impatiently punches at his floor’s button as the polished elevator doors slide shut in front of him.

He all but runs out when the doors slide open on his floor—only to nearly crash into his next door neighbor Ms. Devine and her yappy shih-tzu, Mr. Fluffers.

“Sorry, Ellie,” Happy hastily apologizes, then when Mr. Fluffers growls at him, adds in a faux-casual voice, “Taking the dog for a late night walk?”

“Fluffy here runs on his own schedule,” the older woman responds kindly enough, only to narrow her eyes as if sniffing out a chance for gossip fodder. “And what has you hurrying home in such a rush after midnight?”

Making sure Spider-Man isn’t bleeding to death in my apartment. “Just checking that I didn’t leave my oven on.”

Ms. Devine continues to stare suspiciously for a few moments, before smiling tiredly and saying, “I’ve done that before.”

“Haven’t we all,” Happy says with a polite smile as he walks around her, reaching in his pocket for his keys. “Have a good evening,” he adds rather dismissively, not looking back at what he is sure is a disapproving glare.

He waits until she turns the corner before racing down the rest of the hallway. Happy stops at his door, hands shaking as he fumbles to slide the key into the lock on the knob, scared of what he’ll find inside. He braces himself as he steps into the dark entryway, shutting the door behind him—careful to lock the deadbolt just in case Ms. Devine gets any ideas and decides to make an impromptu housecall.

“Peter?” he calls out as he walks further in, feeling around the wall for the light switch, his hand meeting something wet. He finds the switch and the lights come on—only to gasp at the sight just mere feet away from his face. All along the light grey wall of his living room and turning down the hallway are long, broken, halting finger trails of red. With growing horror, Happy realizes it can only be one thing— blood.

Fear shoots through Happy as he turns away from the blood-smeared wall, finding a trail of red droplets along with a plant lying on its side on the floor—its dirt burrowing into the carpet and mixing with more blood stains, as though whoever knocked it over had landed in the mess and only barely managed to get back on their feet.

“Oh shit,” Happy breathes out as he follows the bloodied dirt trail, leading to the bathroom down the hall, finding the door open with the lights on. “Peter?” he frantically calls out.

Stepping a foot inside, it looks like something straight out of a horror movie. There’s smears of blood across the floor, as well as a handprint on the edge of the sink. Happy’s eyes scan over the scene before they settle on the blue and red— too much red —covered figure lying in the tub.

“Oh my God,” Happy exclaims as he rushes forward and bends over the edge, hands hovering over Peter’s all-too-still form. Shit shit shit!!!

“Kid? Peter?” Happy calls as he shakes the kid’s shoulder, gently at first and then more forcefully—closing his eyes and taking a deep breath in relief when the kid lets out a weak, pained groan.

“H’py? S’ you?” Peter mumbles, lifting his head, the goggles of his ridiculous homemade mask squinting in the lighting.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Happy says with no small amount of relief. Placing his hands under the kid’s armpits, he helps Peter’s slumping form straighten a little bit, alarm growing when he spots a pool of blood beneath the kid’s form, standing out against the pristine white tub floor. Happy reaches up and carefully peels off the torn remnants of the mask, revealing Peter’s pale and dazed face. His curls are slightly damp and sticking to his sweaty forehead. Unsure what to ask first, Happy blurts out, “What are you doing in the bathtub?”

Peter blinks slowly. “May says tomato sauce is… is hard t’ get out…”

Happy brows pull together in confusion. “Tomato sauce? Kid—what are you talking about? You’re bleeding.”

Peter nods slowly, his chin dropping to his chest as he blinks with half-lidded eyes. “S’ what I said…” he mumbles, his eyes closing further.

“Hey, hey, hey—no falling asleep on me. I have to make sure you don’t have a concussion or anything,” Happy tells him sternly.

“But m’ tired,” Peter mumbles, words slurring together slightly.

“I know, and you can sleep soon. Let’s just get you out of the tub and cleaned up first, okay?”

“M’kay,” Peter mumbles, blinking sluggishly.

Happy helps him out of the tub, practically carrying him with how wobbly the kid’s legs are, and sits him down on the closed toilet seat. “Do you promise to stay upright if I let you go?”

Peter gives the tiniest of nods, before slowly slumping sideways until his head and the ball of his shoulder hit the tiled wall. Happy waits until he feels confident Peter is safely propped before nodding back, patting him gently on the arm and leaving the bathroom. He practically runs into the kitchen, grabbing two pills of prescription strength ibuprofen and filling a glass of water heading back the way he came.

“Here kid, take these,” he says, depositing the pills in Peter’s open palm and then holding the glass for him after he puts them in his mouth, helping the kid take a sip to get them down, then a few long gulps to quench his thirst. Satisfied, Happy sets down the glass and moves to the cabinet under the sink, pulling out his heavy-duty first aid kit.

For as much as he had ignored the kid the past few months—and he’d be beating himself up about that for a good long while after this, no doubt—Happy had taken one aspect of his reluctant side gig of Spider-Man’s Keeper very seriously from the get-go, and that was preparing for a night just like this. One where Peter would call because he was injured and needed help getting patched up, and Happy would grumble but give him his address and tell him to swing over.

As such, he had promptly taken his SI company credit card details and ordered an expensive, industrial-sized first aid kit to keep at home. He had hoped he wouldn’t ever have to use it, of course. But for now, he just finds he’s glad he had the foresight to plan for such a scenario—knowing that if he hadn’t, they’d be in a lot more trouble right now than they already are.

“M’ really sorry, H’ppy,” Peter whispers as he watches Happy unclasp the kit and start pulling out supplies, carefully laying them out on the bathroom counter. Happy glances over at him, relieved to see the kid seems more coherent now that he’s both hydrated and medicated. “I didn’t... didn’t know where to go, and m-May would freak out—”

“Kid, it's okay. I’m glad you’re here and not bleeding out in some alley,” Happy interjects as he grabs some face cloths from the small bathroom linen closet. Finally, with everything set up on the counter within easy reach, Happy turns back to Peter.. “Let’s get you out of that hoodie so I can see how bad it is.”

Getting the top part of the kid’s homemade costume off of him is a bit of a struggle, but Happy takes it slow as Peter struggles to lift his arms above his head, parts of the fabric sticking to his skin with dried blood. Once it’s off, Happy’s stomach drops at the sight of the dark bruises blooming across the kid’s torso, as well as the cuts and deep puncture marks on his left shoulder. Just from being at the crash sight he knew it had been one hell of a fight, but seeing the consequences in the form of the actual wounds littering Peter’s young body brings it home in an entirely different way.

“Happy?” Peter’s voice takes him out of his thoughts, looking up to see a puzzled look on the kid’s overly pale face.

“Yeah,” Happy nods, blinking a few times and forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. He turns the faucet on, rolling up his shirt sleeves and washing his hands and forearms thoroughly before running the face cloths under warm water, wringing them out. “This might sting a little,” he warns as he kneels down in front of Peter, bringing a cloth down to one of the sluggishly bleeding cuts, earning a pained groan.

After a few minutes, Happy’s managed to clean and bandage the cuts. The two puncture wounds on the kid’s back were shallow enough that they only needed to be cleaned and bandaged, but the two on his chest just below his clavicles would both need a couple of stitches. The only problem being that said kid is half-asleep and fading fast right in front of him.

“I’m gonna have to stitch these chest wounds up, alright? Think you can hold on for a few more minutes?” Happy asks.

Peter blinks heavily a few times, clearly struggling to keep his eyes open. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” Happy says as he reaches up for the first aid kit from the sink countertop, grabbing the suture packet inside. He wipes away the blood and disinfects the left-side wound first—being the more serious of the two—before taking out the pre-threaded needle from the package. “Ready?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Peter replies with a shaky nod, cautiously eyeing the needle before closing his eyes as if bracing himself.

“Try not to squirm too much, kid,” Happy says before getting to work. To his surprise, besides a slight flinch with every pull of the thread Peter remains obediently still, and Happy wonders if he’s had to do this himself a time or two—feeling a pang of distress at the idea of the kid alone in his bathroom with nothing but his aunt’s sewing kit for supplies, biting down on a washcloth to muffle any noises of pain as he shakingly attends to all manner of jagged cuts and wounds.

He wants to think he’s just being dramatic imagining such a thing, but still he refuses to ask Peter—deciding not knowing is better than having his suspicions confirmed. As it is, the kid stays completely stoic even as Happy finishes stitching up the left wound and moves on to the right, being sure to be careful and thorough but still going as fast he can—knowing the kid is operating on his last reserves.

“Alright, your torso is good to go,” he says as he finishes pressing a bandage over the second line of stitches, looking back up at Peter. “I need you to tell me the truth now. Do you have any other wounds that need seeing to? Because this isn’t the time for modesty if you do.”

Peter blinks slowly, before looking down at his legs. Happy watches in patient silence as the kid seems to take stock of himself—taking the chance to give a cursory once-over of the kid’s sweats. He personally doesn’t see any stains that seem to indicate more than shallow cuts, and is relieved when the kid looks back up only to shake his head.

“I think ‘m okay now,” the kid says, voice weak but tone honest enough that Happy believes him.

“Alright,” Happy says simply, getting back to his feet—ignoring the way his knees crack and protest at the movement. “I’ll be right back. Try to drink more water if you can. No passing out while I’m gone.”

Peter doesn’t reply but also doesn’t slump any further, which Happy takes as acknowledgement enough before he swiftly moves back into the hallway, heading for his bedroom. He grabs one of his old Stillman’s Gym t-shirts and a pair of drawstring sweatpants that no longer fit him before going back to the bathroom—heartened to see the kid is still awake, albeit barely.

“Lift your arms,” he orders, watching as Peter does so as much as his injuries will allow before pulling the t-shirt over the kid’s head and getting his arms through the holes. “Think you can stand up and get those ruined pants off?” he asks next, Peter taking a deep breath before nodding determinedly. Happy can’t help but hover as he watches the kid stumble to his feet, using one arm to lean against the wall for support as with the other he fumbles with his waistband. Happy pointedly doesn’t watch, just leans over and stares at where the torn sweats are pooled at the kid’s feet as holds open the clean pair of sweatpants so Peter can step into them, lifting them up to the kid’s knees and letting go as soon as Peter has a good enough grip to pull them up the rest of the way himself.

Leaning back up, Happy does one last visual assessment to make sure he’s not missing any hidden injuries. Satisfied, he carefully wraps an arm around the kid’s uninjured lower back, leading him out the bathroom door and down the hallway.

It’s a testament to how absolutely exhausted Peter must be that he doesn’t ask any questions as Happy guides him into the guest bedroom, pulling back the covers and helping him settle in beneath the sheets.

“Th’ks, Hap,” Peter mumbles, eyes closing. He’s out almost immediately. Happy shakes his head as he watches the kid for a few more moments, making sure that his breaths are deep and even and pressing two fingers to the kid’s neck, double-checking his pulse. But everything seems to be fine, and Happy lets out a long sigh, giving himself just a few seconds to collect his thoughts as he tiredly rubs a hand over his face.

Tonight was close—way, way too close. And besides that sociopath Toomes, the blame for it rests squarely on exactly two people’s shoulders—neither of which are Peter.

With that thought in mind, Happy gives the kid one last look before walking to the door. He closes it most of the way but leaves it just open enough so that he can peek in later, making a mental note to leave Peter a glass of water and some more pills for when he wakes up.

He silently makes his way back into the living room—pointedly not looking at the dried blood streaked across the walls and staining the carpet—and pulls out his cellphone.

He’s not too surprised to see he has a dozen missed calls from just the last hour, most of them from his team with the exception of one from Pepper and two from Tony. He debates calling Pepper back first—having no doubt she needs some answers about exactly how everything went to shit tonight so they can start getting ahead of the morning news cycle—but in the end selects Tony’s name. He finds himself mildly stunned when the man picks up on the first ring.

“Hap?”

“It’s me, boss.”

“Good. Listen, Fri’s been keeping me updated on the crash and apparently there’s evidence the kid was there but ran off, is that–”

“Don’t worry, I found him,” Happy says with a sigh. “He’s injured but he’ll survive.”

“Thank god,” Tony replies, and the sheer relief in his voice is enough that Happy is left surprised by him for the second time in under a minute. Tony wasn’t usually so transparently sincere when it came to those outside his inner circle, but his genuine concern for Peter couldn’t be more clear. Happy can’t help but wonder when that development happened, though—on second thought—he supposes he’s not all that shocked it did. The kid can be annoyingly endearing.

“That said, you’re gonna have to call May Parker and come up with a whopper of a good story,” Happy continues, “‘cause I sure as hell ain’t taking him back to Queens yet, what with the shape he’s in.”

“Sure, sure, I’ll figure out something.” A pause. “How bad is it? And where are you two? Does he need–”

“He went to the tower looking for me, after. One of the guards rang, and I told him to meet me at my place,” Happy explains. “Kid took some serious licks during the fight with Toomes but I managed to get him patched up. He’s sleeping now.”

“Good, that’s good.”

And now they’re at the part of the conversation that Happy would rather not deal with. But it’s no longer something he can afford to avoid, not after stitching up the passed out child down the hall. Because Peter is just a child—only fifteen, for Christ’s sake. Happy swipes a hand over his face again, shaking his head—hating that he ever let himself forget that.

“Listen, bo—Tony,” he begins, “you know I’m not one to actually speak my mind too often, but this was… Look. I don’t know much but I do know that kid needs his suit back, and probably a whole hell of a lot more from you—from both of us—from now on. Because this? This was an absolute shitshow as it was, and if he hadn’t been okay, I don’t know if—”

“You don’t have to tell me how bad I fucked up, Hap, I'm well aware,” Tony interjects, but there’s no anger in his tone, just weariness. “And just so we’re clear, this isn’t gonna happen again—I’ve already got a plan. As soon as the kid’s healed up he’s coming out to the compound. I’ve decided to make him a full team member—got a new nanosuit ready for him and everything.”

Happy frowns. He’s not sure making Peter an Avenger is any better for his safety than taking his suit away was. But then, if there’s one thing Happy tries to keep out of, it’s all the team drama and politics that Tony seems to constantly be dealing with. As long as the kid’s identity is safe, he supposes it might not be a bad idea—if Peter even wants it, that is.

“Just make sure you let him know it’s a choice and not a demand, boss.”

“Of course I’ll make sure he knows that,” Tony says irritably, but Happy knows him well enough to recognize that he’s only annoyed because he understands exactly why Happy felt the need to say as much. After all, taking the kid to Germany, making Happy his main contact, keeping him out of the loop with the Toomes investigation, taking away the suit… Tony hadn’t given Peter much choice in anything up to now.

Happy thinks about pressing the point, but decides it’s not worth it. Him and Tony might not be on the exact same page but they’re at least reading the same book, and that’ll have to do for now. In any case, Happy doesn’t intend to go anywhere, so if the time comes to set Tony straight again where the kid is concerned—he’ll be there then, too.

“Alright, well, if that’s everything for now I think I’m gonna try to catch a few winks while the kid is out,” Happy says. “He should be recovered enough to go home tomorrow, so you can tell his aunt to expect him then.”

“Got it, and yeah, I should hit the hay soon too,” Tony replies with a long sigh. “Get myself ready for the PR storm that’s no doubt already brewing.”

Silence again, and Happy thinks about apologizing for what happened—knowing all too well that if he’d just listened to Peter’s friend when the kid popped up on his screen, this whole mess might have been mostly prevented. But he clenches his jaw instead. He has things to apologize for, certainly—but it’s not Tony who needs to hear them.

“Tell Peter I'll be in touch soon,” Tony continues when Happy doesn't respond. “And Hap? Thank you.”

Happy pauses, uncertain exactly which thing in particular he's being thanked for. It could be for looking after the kid, or for saying his piece just now, or simply general gratitude for all the years he's faithfully had Tony’s back. He supposes it doesn't matter which one it is though, not really. The reply is the same.

“No problem, boss.”

With a small smile, he hangs up.

In a span of an hour, Happy’s managed to scrub every last drop of blood from the floors, walls and the bathroom. The last thing he wanted was for the kid to wake up and see the mess in the morning. He also threw the tattered remains of his suit in the washing machine and then into the dryer—one less thing for Peter to worry about.

Tossing the bloody used paper towels in a plastic bag, Happy disposes of it in the kitchen trash can, leaving it hopefully out of sight and out of mind.

If only the sight of an unconscious and injured Peter in his bathtub could be as easily forgotten.

Casting his guilt aside for now, he grabs a glass from the cabinet and fills it up halfway, along with a few ibuprofen in a plastic Dixie cup. Turning off all the lights, Happy heads back down the hallway to the guest bedroom.

He quietly pushes the door open with his foot and walks over to the bed, placing the water and pills on the nightstand within easy reach. Happy’s eyes fall on the kid, who is passed out, his mouth hanging open slightly. Another small smile finds its way to his face as an odd feeling spreads through his chest at the sight. Before he can talk himself out of it, Happy reaches a hand out, placing his palm on the kid’s forehead. He tells himself it's to check for signs of fever, but if it's also to physically reassure himself the kid is going to be okay, well, nobody’s gonna know anyway.

“You’re gonna make my hair turn grey before its time, kid,” he whispers, receiving a soft sleep-sigh in return when he drops his hand. “And that’s only if Tony doesn’t manage it first.”

With a fond shake of his head, Happy makes his way out of the room, sparing one last glance at the sleeping teen before closing the door behind himself, leaving it open a crack once again. He heads to his room, choosing to leave his door open as well so he can hear should Peter wake up and need him. Going through his nightly bedtime ritual, his mind races with everything on his agenda for tomorrow—dealing with Damage Control’s rather displeased (to put it mildly) reaction to the plane crash and the almost-stolen tech, the inevitable PR nightmare, and finally, scheduling security detail for Pepper as she makes the rounds of meetings she'll undoubtedly have handling her end of all the former.

But right now, those things don’t seem as important. The important thing is the injured fifteen year old sleeping in his guest bedroom. The very one who he was supposed to be watching out for, and who he completely and utterly let down.

As he lays down in bed and turns off his lamp, Happy vows to himself to be better from now on. Better at being there for Peter, even if that involves the kid talking his ears off with stories about school, his adventures patrolling Queens or all the annoying pop culture references he can't seem to stop making. From seeing everything Tony’s been through he knows the superhero business can be a lonely one, and Happy doesn’t want that for Peter. The kid should know he has more than just his teenage buddy in his corner. Which is why as soon as he can tomorrow, he is going to tell Peter exactly that.

With that last thought in mind, Happy closes his eyes, soon drifting off.

________________________________________________________________

It’s close to seven-thirty in the morning and Happy is sitting at the center island in the kitchen, all dressed and ready for the day, sipping from a mug of coffee. Despite it being Saturday, he still has a lot of work to do, starting with driving Peter home.

He’d better get the kid up now so he has a chance to wake up a little and eat something before he goes home and faces the music with his aunt—Happy shooting off a quick text to Tony asking what cover story he gave Mrs. Parker so he can make sure their stories line up. And once he’s got that taken care of with the kid, Happy can apologize to him for the dismissiveness he’s shown over the past few months and explain how things are going to be different from now on.

First though, he needs to get Peter’s suit out of the dryer. But when Happy goes to grab it, he finds the machine empty. Confused, he heads back down the hall, stopping outside the guest room and knocking softly. “Peter?”

He’s met with silence on the other end. Happy’s brows pull together as worry pools in his gut. “Kid? I’m coming in.”

But when he opens the door, he finds it to also be empty—the bed neatly made. Happy walks further into the room, seeing that the window is slightly ajar, the curtains gently blowing in the wind.

“So much for that talk,” Happy mutters to himself with a sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. He can only hope the kid doesn't blow his cover with his aunt. Should Peter reveal everything, he has no doubt his phone—being the only connection the kid has at the moment to reach Tony—will be blowing up with calls and texts from an understandably irate May Parker. While Happy is personally of the mind that she deserves to know the truth, he’d rather not deal with putting out that particular fire on top of everything else on his plate today.

He’s about to walk out of the room, but something on the nightstand catches his eye. Happy goes over and picks up a small folded piece of paper, finding neat handwriting inside.

Dear Happy,

Thanks for helping me last night and letting me stay over. I would have let you know I was leaving but you were sleeping and after how late I made you stay up, I didn't want to bother you.

Also, don't be mad but I thought you should know that you snore REALLY loud. I'm no doctor but you might want to get that checked out.

Sincerely,

Peter Parker

“That little shit,” Happy murmurs, reading over the part about his snoring again with no small amount of disgruntlement. Yet all the same he makes a mental note to call his doctor later in the day and make an appointment.

After all, he might have missed out for the time being on the big talk he had planned. But actually paying attention and taking Peter more seriously? Letting him know in every way he can that he’s listening, that the kid can trust that he’ll be there if he needs him?

Taking responsibility for all that begins right now.

#hurt/comfort #Peter WHUMP #hurt Peter #whump #Protective Happy Hogan #Happy Hogan Deserves A Nap #Not Hoco complaint #spider-man homecoming #spider-man #happy hogan #tony stark #iron man #peter parker whump #blood and injury #light angst

52 notes · View notes

lihikainanea · 4 years

Note

night time has fallen and I’m fuckin FUSSY and all of the fussy Tiger blurbs are hittin’ hard tonight BUT i just had a thought as i do it myself <s>because i too have a oral fixation</s>: Tiger chewing on toothpicks??? - 🐎

Oh man babes, this got me all kinds of fucked up so let’s talk about it.

I’ve seen this habit frequently in smokers, especially if they are in a circumstance that doesn’t allow them to smoke, or they’re trying to quit. Gum, too--in fact, that’s the only plausible reason I can think of as to why Bill was allowed to attend the first IT premiere in LA with that giant fucking obnoxious wad of gum in his mouth that he also chewed obnoxiously. I’m sorry, I love the dude. I do. But publicists are trained for this. And if I was his publicist, the only way I’d allow that to happen is if he genuinely told me he needed it to stay calm--which I suspect may have been the case.

Otherwise it would have been a situation like me chasing around a dog 4x my size going “What are you chewing on? Show me! What’s in your mouth? GIVE IT TO ME GET BACK HERE--”

But right, listen, tiger does it to pacify her oral fixation when she can’t have Bill’s thumb. Except you know who notices? You know who gets really needy when this happens?

Bill.

Listen, tiger barely registers that she has an oral fixation, right? That sounds like loser talk to her. Tiger doesn’t need anything.

But maybe Bill has been real soff for his sweet girl these days, just a little more protective of her because she’s been a bit tired and wearing herself a bit thin as she’s prone to do. And maybe he doesn’t realize it, but perhaps he has also been a bit tired, a bit stressed or anxious, and his default when he feels that way is to just focus on her and all of her needs, make sure they’re taken care of, because that’s what makes him feel better.

So look, maybe they’re out. And it’s probably something still low key-- a friend is having a small group over for dinner and game night or something. And tiger is probably a bit restless, a bit indecisive, a bit fussy but maybe she thinks that going over and spending some time with some friends--her Big Dude there too--might do her some good, get her mind off things. She can have some good dranks, let her competitive streak run a little wild, and overall just...replace some antsy feeling with some good ones. Bill is not convinced, but tiger doesn’t really leave room for negotiation. She’s going, Big Bird.

And look, tiger is kind of right. Sometimes this plan backfires--when you’re fussy and you surround yourself with people, god that can backfire drastically--but sometimes, it also...it just doesn’t. Maybe she is having a good time, or at the very least, she’s focused on something different. There’s some good wine flowing, some good food, and everybody is just kind of moving around and chatting and it’s nice.

And it’s not that tiger is getting more fussy, necessarily, but it’s just that maybe she’s letting her guard down a bit, she’s finally got some good feelings, and whether she realizes it or not it has her kind of reaching for some comfort--and her first inclination, which she never realizes--is to try and pacify her little oral fixation.

It starts out with a thumb nail, the way she just chews idly on it, but then she realizes that that’s gross so Bill keeps seeing her drop her hand quickly. But then she finishes her martini, polishes off the olives--and she keeps the toothpick. She sticks it in her mouth and kind of just chews lightly on it, keeps it there, swipes her tongue around it.

And look, when Bill sees that? He’s dying. Because he knows. He’s not sure if she’s getting even fussier because she hasn’t shot him that look of total despair yet, that look that says oh god please big guy get me outta here, or if maybe she’s starting to float (in a really mild way) and she’s just trying to latch onto something that gives her comfort.

And she can’t have his thumb, so she kind of settles for a toothpick instead.

Bill just wants to pick her up, cart her to a quiet room and put her on her knees, jam his thumb in there instead for her to have. Bill watches her mouth wrap around the toothpick, toss it to the other side of her cheek, and suddenly his hands are twitching to have that warm mouth around one of his fingers, her happy sigh that she inevitably lets out, the small pleased noise and the way her whole body just relaxes.

Suddenly, Bill is the one getting real needy. His own primal need for her, to protect and provide and comfort, is blazing and the more she self-soothes with something else, the more Bill is ready to roar like a caveman and drag her out of there.

I’ll bet he eventually does.

Maybe he just walks up to her at one point, gives her a gentle smile even though he’s about ready to explode, and grabs the toothpick gently from her lips.

“This is bad for your teeth kid,” he says softly, “And it’s very, very bad for me.”

“Why?” she asks, and god she looks so sweet--her face all pinched in concern, her eyes wide. He wants to run his thumb gently across her bottom lip, but already they’re standing a little too close and looking at each other a little too intensely and Bill knows that he needs to just take a small step back if they have any hope of keeping their little secret for a bit longer.

He doesn’t step back--he just can’t bring himself too--but he does scan the area, make sure that nobody is paying attention to them, before he leans in a little closer to her ear. Tiger can't even stop herself from resting a hand on his warm chest.

“Because if you want something in your mouth,” he murmurs, “I have better options.”

“Oh,” she says softly, “I didn’t...I didn’t realize.”

He smiles gently at her, and it’s everything boyish and lopsided.

“Are you okay?” he asks genuinely, and she nods. It’s sincere.

“Yeah, I’m finally not as antsy about everything. This is a nice distraction,” she says, but then she eyes him, “Are....you okay?”

Man, she knows. She knows when her Good Dude needs something, and Jesus he’s not worked up but seeing her trying to get some comfort and self-soothe just flared up all of his protector streak that has been extra loud lately, and once that’s raring I’ll bet he needs her help to settle it. So he gives her a bit of a sheepish look, because for once he’s all needy and he most definitely needs her to help calm him down.

“Can I steal you for five minutes?” he asks lowly, and she nods. Her reaction is immediate, and Bill just melts.

“Come on,” she grabs his hand, calls out to the general crowd something about going to see something outside, and she drags him out. A little ways down the road maybe they find a secluded spot--a park bench with a nice covering of trees, and since it’s pretty late in the night, nobody is around. Tiger waits as Bill does a quick sweep of the bench for spiders since she’s terrified, and he shakes out his hands then sits, opening his arms to her. She crawls onto his lap, rests her head on his shoulder, and lifts his thumb to her lips. She gives it a small kiss before pushing it in, and Bill exhales a loud sigh.

“Thanks kid,” he murmurs into her hair as she makes that little pleased noise he needed to hear, “I owe you one.”

#sub tiger #BFF!Bill #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard drabble

42 notes · View notes

perseusjackson-jasongrace · 4 years

Text

I Am Lost

Masterlist

do i still taste like war?

can you still feel the battles on my skin

stitched across my back

am i still rebuilding

bone by fragile bone?

-what does forgiveness taste like? (r.n.)

It has been three weeks since the end of the Giant war. Three weeks of trying to build some semblance of normal. Of burning flags and wiping tears. Of visiting the medical rooms and silently cursing the gods for their arrogance. Campers wandered around, lost dulled looks in their once bright eyes. The little ones, sheltered by wood nymphs and aging satyrs in that violent week, ran around tugging at each other, and causing small forms of chaos. It was a grace that they had been spared the horrors of war.

Percy Jackson was swinging from the hammock in his cabin, staring at the rolling waves that crashed to the beat of his heart. His mind was faraway, wandering through the clouds, looking for meaning amongst fallen leaves, trying to breathe life into fallen embers.

He thought about seeking out his girlfriend, but a knot formed tight and heavy in his chest. It was a new, unwelcome feeling. The first time he thought it was nerves— not surprising when it came to her. She had always made him a little gooey on the inside, like the thrill of a plunging drop, like something exciting, and unfamiliar. But then he had met her in front of the great hall and those nerves had grown into this unbearable weight, pressing down on his lungs.

She had looked at him and some fleeting shadow brushed past her eyes. It was less than a second, but he had caught it, felt it like ice in his veins. Fear.

He shrugged it off that first time but their interactions since had become choppy, robotic.

He spent more time between his cabin and the training room. Hours upon hours, twirling and stabbing Riptide into dummies. He had only been interrupted twice. Once when a gaggle of children came in to stare. He only noticed because they clapped after he sent a dummy flying across the room.

He had laughed at them and brought them closer so they could learn. Camp activities were not yet restored to the scheduled times so some of the children hadn't any training with the weapons. They gasped and giggled as he helped a little boy shoot a pretend arrow. As he helped little Alec with their wooden dagger.

The second time when a friend had leaned against the doorway, a corded arm held above their face to block the sun streaming in.

"Percy," The voice was low, raspy in it's softness.

He let it wash over him but didn't acknowledge it, instead rolling his shoulders and pounding at the punching bag once more. Sweat dripped down his forehead, catching on his cheekbones.

"Percy!"

He dropped his head back, letting the timbered roof see his smile.

"Need something Grace?"

"You need to take a break."

"I'm not tired. But thank you for the concern."

"Bullshit, you've been at it for two hours."

That startled him, eyes squinting as he checked the clock on the far side of the room. His gaze travelled across the beams and landed on concerned blue eyes.

"I didn't realize it had been that long."

The blonde moved into the room, "You are killing yourself."

He shrugged, pulling off the tape around his hands, "So what?"

Jason's eyes whipped to his, something like devastation on his princely face, "What do you mean?"

His smile was cruel, "Did you come here for any particular reason?"

The blonde made to step forward, but then thought better of it. "I've just come to tell you that we've been summoned to the dining hall and—" He paused, taking a deep breath as if to gather courage, "And to ask if I could join you tomorrow?"

"Here?" He frowned.

"Yes, I could do with some training. Ever since Hera wiped my memories, I've been struggling to refamiliarise myself with the strategies I learnt at SPQR. I was hoping you could teach me?"

He tilted his head, studying his friend, "Sure." He said after a moment, "But only if we can learn a little more about combining our power."

"Why would you want to do that?"

He shrugged, "Call it curiosity."

The Son of Jupiter seemed to think about it for a bit, weighing his options as if life were a sensitive scale. "Deal."

Now he swung from his hammock, striking match sticks against the wood posts, watching as they flared, burned, suffocated. The smoke, he thought, was pretty in its evanesce.

A knock at the door scraped his mind to the present. He debated not answering but where else would he be if not here. So he jumped down and strolled through the cabin.

"Annabeth, hey."

"Percy," She gave a tight-lipped smile, "Can we go for a walk?"

"Uh sure," He disappeared for a moment, grabbing a cap and Riptide from the table.

"So what's up?"

"Percy," She said his name like it exhausted her.

"Are you okay?" He frowned, lifting his hand to feel her forehead.

She sidestepped him, kicking at the ground in false distraction.

"I— we—" She took a deep breath, "Piper and I are going to New Rome for the rest of the summer. Reyna invited us and since we're the only two who haven't gotten the chance to explore, we figured now was a good time to start."

"Oh cool, when do we leave?"

She winced, looked up at him with those swirling grey eyes he had loved like adventure, like hope, like something new.

"No Percy not we. Me and, and Piper. Just us. I think we need some rest. Some time to just be safe and do what we want. We need a break."

"You want a break?" His lungs felt too small, heart stammering like a stick record, mind buried in quicksand.

"Yes," She said it with certainty. As if she had thought about it enough to remove even her own doubt.

"From Camp Half-Blood or from me?"

Her face looked stricken, like she hadn't considered it, like they were one and the same. Maybe they were.

"Both?" She was less certain now, fumbling on loose stones.

"Do you want to break up?" Words were cotton threads sown into his tongue.

"Yes, no, maybe, I don't know!" She cried.

"Annabeth," Anguish was a mercy.

"I think it's best if we go our separate ways, for now anyway."

"What do you mean separate ways?" His throat was adorned with a necklace of rope, "We have been on the same path since we were twelve. We have followed each other into and out of battle. Have taken daggers, swords, curses for each other. We have experienced firsts, seconds, life together."

Her tears were endless, but her expression was without doubt, "I love you. I think a part of me will always love you, but times are changing, and I have to learn who I am without worrying about how to keep myself safe. I have to live Percy. I have been surviving for too long."

He sunk to the grassy hill; his knees too weak to hold him.

"Maybe someday," She started softly, "Maybe someday we will find our way back."

He looked up at her, pain making her blurry, a silhouette, unrecognisable. "I am not lost."

She crouched down, until they were staring into each other. He knew she could see the words written in his eyes, as she always had. For all they struggled with their dyslexia she had always been able to read him like a cherished book.

"I will miss you Percy."

He didn't reply, didn't have the words even if he wanted to. She kissed his cheek, wiped a stray tear and left him on half-blood hill, her blonde curls ruffling in the lowly breeze.

***

A week later Percy was waking before the sun, nightmares and heartache refusing to evict from his body. He scrubbed a hand over his face and slid out of bed. If the day was to start now, without his choice he could at least decide what to do with it.

It was no surprise then that Jason Grace found him in his newfound second home, amongst the ratty dummies, slashing Riptide through their stuffed insides.

"Do you ever sleep?"

He snorted, not faltering as he pretended to dodge and then swiped his sword low.

"Who are you fighting for?"

The questions caught him off guard, stumbling to his knees. Jason was at his side in an instance, supple fingers wrapping under his arms to haul him up. They settled on the bench, backs against the wall, hands flexing and clenching. The quiet was so loud in his head, like a ringing that never stopped.

"I am fighting for myself." He finally exhaled.

"I am fighting because I have been doing it for so long, I do not know any other way."

The Son of Jupiter didn't say anything, didn't even look his way. Percy settled further into his position, content to lapse into silence. His turmoil had been his friend for these long years, and he has learnt its language.

"When I was with Lupa," Jason started, "She used to say a wolf who is separated from the pack is only alone if they do not howl. Mostly it was a lesson for the cubs, so they knew to call if they ever got lost. But I liked it because it reminded me that telling someone you are lost may not make you less lost but will make you less alone. Someone will find their way to you."

They did not speak again, happy to be silent companions.

The day passed by in a blur of preparation. It was already halfway through the summer and as they did each year the Half-Blood Feast would mark the occasion. Percy helped where he could, picking strawberries at the request of Juniper, and pulling his weight in the dining hall by scrubbing at the concrete slabs on which they ate.

By the time night fell his bones were creaking like hollowed stairs. But he was excited. If for nothing else but the sense of routine and joy this festival brought after such horrible events. He tugged on a plain blue t-shirt and a fresh pair of jeans. It did not count as dressing up, but it felt nice to put effort into something. Albeit his hair couldn't be tamed, wild curls sticking every which way.

"Percy," A knock sounded at his door.

With a final glance at his appearance he stepped out, taking a deep breath of ocean air.

His heart skipped a beat, skipped two. It wasn't beating at all. Beating too fast to feel. Jason Grace was leaning against a marbled column, a halo of sunshine around his head and a blue shirt making his eyes as bright as the cerulean skies.

"We're matching!"

"The camp store does not have much variety." He grinned, "Although I think I'm pulling it off much better than you Grace."

It was a lie of course, Jason looked ethereal.

"I have to agree," The blonde winked.

Percy laughed, rolling his eyes as they made their way to the dining hall.

"A pity we can't sit together," Jason frowned.

"Maybe Chiron will make an exception today, since it is a special occasion."

"We can ask, the worst he can do is say no."

Minutes later they were seated at the same table while everyone gathered together.

The feast was as glorious as it had always been. Food to feed nations, fill homes, warm bellies. The sounds of laughter were a balm to his soul. He turned to his dinner partner, to see him with a soft smile on his face, eyes bouncing from table to table.

"It's nice isn't it?" He muttered, "To see them happy."

"I don't have the words." Blonde hair fell into his eyes as he shook his head. "It has felt like an eternity since we were all together, under the same roof."

They looked at each other then, twin flames dancing in their eyes.

"What do you plan to do after the summer?"

"I want to finish school. Want to finish something that doesn't involve in my death, or that of my friends."

Jason nodded, "It would be nice wouldn't it, to feel not constantly in danger. Although around you that may be a little hard."

"What do you mean?" Percy narrowed his eyes.

"If you were a Disney prince, you'd be Prince Danger."

"You think I could be a Disney prince?" He scrunched his nose teasingly.

"I think you can be a lot of things." That smile was cheeky, wicked.

"Is this the part where you say, 'I can even be your boyfriend'?"

Jason's answering laugh was bright and beautiful.

When dinner was finished and campfire songs had been sung till their throats were raw, the crowd finally dispersed, heading back to cabins for the night. He lost his dinner mate at some point in the singing and his other friends had long since disappeared. He didn't quite feel like tucking himself into a cold bed only for sleep to abandon him. The Son of Poseidon shucked off his shoes, stepping onto the sun-warmed sand and let his feet sink into the world. He walked towards the ocean, along the shoreline; let the water wash over his bared skin.

"Jackson!" A call sounded from faraway.

He stopped, turning to see Jason running towards him and couldn't help the smile that pulled at his lips.

"Hey, I wondered where you ran off to?"

"Got pulled away by Nico. He wanted to talk."

"It's nice. That he has you." Percy had been relieved to learn Nico confided in someone. And a part of him had been shamefully grateful it wasn't him. He did not know, was almost one hundred percent certain he wasn't fit to be someone's confidant, or mentor, or whatever it was that he would have become to the younger demigod. He had proved that the big brother role was not for him and he would not disappoint Nico again, or Bianca.

"So," Jason knocked his shoulder lightly, "What's got you lost in thought?"

"Bold of you to assume I think."

The blonde shook his head in amusement, "Do you ever wonder what our lives would have been like if we weren't demigods?"

He snorted, "More often than is healthy. It's like an obnoxious alarm that goes off at the most inconvenient times. When I'm in battle, just before I fall asleep, when I see my mom after an age, when I saw New Rome, when i—" He glanced at his friend, wishing the moon was brighter so he could see those comforting blue eyes.

"When you what?"

He shook his head, "Doesn't matter."

The Son of Jupiter tugged at his arm, pulled them closer.

"Sometimes I wish I had met certain people in a coffee shop on a winter morning, or at school on the way to class, or just anywhere but in the middle of war and prophecies."

Their foreheads fell together, sharing icy air.

"Wouldn't that have been nice?" He breathed.

"Jason I can't do this right now. I—" He winced, "I loved her."

"But did you?" The blonde muttered, "Really?"

"Yes. I did." His voice was hard with the truth. "You do not get to discredit my love just because the relationship it bloomed in has ended." He pulled away, turning to face the sea.

"You're right." He stepped back, scratched at his neck, "You're right, and I'm sorry."

"Did you ever love Piper?"

"I thought I did. But I don't think I really know what love is."

"Maybe it changes," The Son of Poseidon whispered, "But with her it was adventure."

They sat down on the sand, uncaring of the waves that soaked through their clothes.

"What do you want it to be like next?"

"What do you mean?"

"If it changes, what do you want next?"

"It will feel like home."

69 notes · View notes

velvetsehun · 5 years

Text

Born To Die| OSH | 02

Pairing: Oh Sehun x Reader Genre: Mafia!Sehun Rating: 18+ Warnings: violence, gun use, mature language, smut (in future chapters), slow burn(?) Words: 14.6k Summary: a collusions of worlds is supposed to kill, but what if it can do something else?

A/N: woah this took a lot out of me but she’s here! chapter two!! Get a snack, buckled in, this is gonna be a long one! I hope you all enjoy, and if you have any feedback or wanna chat about the story just drop into my inbox! happy reading~ TW// Warning this part contains some material that might be sensitive to readers as it depicts scenes of intense violence and gun use, discretion is advised. Masterlist | Next

“STOP HER”

Resonated through the estate as you booked it out the gates and into the night, your heart drumming wildly in your chest, drowning the sounds out of your ears, so much so you didn’t even flinch when another round was fired your way, your hands grasping onto Baekhyun’s gun for dear life as you ran down the road near the estate.

The moon was spreading her pale yellow light across the roads and the dense forests surrounding it, making the landscape look almost ethereal to the eye – or so it would be if you weren’t distracted by the fact your ankles felt like they were going to snap running in a pair of heeled boots any second. Bolting out of the house and into the open certainly didn’t feel like the best idea anymore, you were glancing over your shoulder as you sprinted – the large house you were kept in merely a picture in the distance and you ran as fast as you could away from the place, and with your body giving up on you, like everything that fuelled you with every passed with each step, fading pathetically, you would have been happy to be free, if you didn’t see hear the sounds of yelling in the night and car headlines start to peak over the darkness.

The road to the house was as expected; empty, nothing there, secluded from everyone, and while that might have worked for the aesthetic of keeping the house a secret it wasn’t working in your favour. Like a nerve, you were exposed running along the straight road, the cars, if they were going as fast as you thought, were going to catch up with you soon. Stopping to take a breath was dangerous, but you needed to if you didn’t want to pass out any time soon. Deterring from the road to a tree that marked the start of the forest, you felt like wheezing your lungs out as you doubled over.

“I’m so fucking out of shape,” You thought to yourself as you held onto your own knees with a cough, your lungs and limbs were burning from the battering you had taken – and while you managed to get a good distance away from the house before you forced yourself into cardiac arrest you knew it was just a pipe dream to think you could take it easy. You were still too close to the house for comfort, if it was in sight it was dangerous – the guard that caught you didn’t exactly see what way you went but you knew that they probably had enough resources on hand to cover this area, glancing at the watch on your wrist you winced at the time; 4:58 am. You had been running for about 20 minutes, and that meant you were still close to the house, Sehun’s men had cars – and a lot of them, you had to keep moving.

“Keeping on the road is too dangerous,” You thought, looking around at everything, you were concealed by trees for the most part right now, looking out at the dull tarmac, your back leaning against a tree, “I also don’t have any clue where I am, or what direction to go in” Your hand was still grasping the gun you stole very tight, your knuckles burning with the severity of the hold. Being honest, this was the dumbest idea you’d ever came up with, you weren’t equipped mentally or physically for a breakout and chase in the middle of the night – you weren’t even equipped to find the will power to make it into work every day.

“Not that it matters now,” You thought with a sigh, “My job is as good is gone”

The sun wasn’t coming up for another couple of hours, the bite in the air telling you winter was still here, not like it would have left the couple hours you were kidnapped; you were out in the cold without any form of warm clothing, covered in scrapes, bruises and cuts, and dizzy from drugs, being out here wasn’t going to be kind to your body if you kept still. But honestly, looking at the house in the distance, you wanted to just walk back and face what you did, even if it meant leaving with a bullet between your eyes.

“I am not dying here.” The words you spoke to Baekhyun as you robbed him blind echoed in your head as your eyes kept flickering around, thinking of giving up felt nice, the idea walking back to it all felt nice – but after everything you have done, you knew that you had to keep going, even if you felt like a giant idiot, you said yourself. “I am not dying here.” You nodded still out of breath, looking at the watch again; 5:00 am. Taking the road was asking for your death quicker, and while you weren’t the biggest fan of the dark you looked with a grimace behind you.

“Forest it is then…” You thought with a shiver, it was a dense forest with large spruces packed together but it was your only option. Your boots weren’t meant for running or hiking through forests but you took a hesitant step into the trees, the moonlight being blocked out by the foliage, with tendrils of it only peeking through at some points – it was too dark to see but you could hear the rumble of an engine getting closer with bated breath and a burn of your legs you jogged into the dark, but possible, death trap.

“I hope Baekhyun is one of the people with a flashlight on his keys…”

Sehun wondered if it was possible to die from being close to someone else’s stupidity as he sat at his desk and stared down the one person who caused all this. His two brothers from earlier had scattered as soon as he demanded that he found their stray, their eyes wide as they pulled out their phones, yelling orders out instantly.

“At least they know how to do their job,” He thought with a giant sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, a small gesture to try and bring himself back to reality, “Let’s hope they do it right.”

“So,” Sehun started with a deep grumble of his chest, his hand clutching onto his empty glass, “Run me past what happened exactly?”

Baekhyun looked in simple terms, pathetic, sitting in the chair in front of Sehun’s desk holding an icepack to his head while Jongdae tried to clean him up the best he could. His temple was badly bruised, the discolouration spreading to the skin around his eye as everything inflamed in a mess of blood.

“Well…” Baekhyun began, flinching as Jongdae moved his icepack to dap a cotton swab on the offending cut, “She sprung out of nowhere and she got me”

“She got you?” Sehun raised his eyebrows, holding his glass out to some underman he didn’t know the name of, an amber liquid soon returning to the glass, “With what exactly?” He pressed, annoyed.

“A paperweight,” Baekhyun mumbled so low Sehun couldn’t hear, but Jongdae did – his shoulders jumping with a snigger as he kept cleaning his brother up. Baekhyun’s eyes flickering to his laughing friend with a glare that made him screw his face up in pain.

“A what?” Sehun wanted to hear him say it, Chanyeol had already told him but he wanted to hear it from the devil’s mouth, “Speak up Baekhyun.”

“A paperweight.” He hissed, annoyed, “A fucking crystal paperweight, do you need me to yell it from the top of the damn house?” He swiped Jongdae’s hands away as the man stood back to look at Sehun with a smug smile directed at his brother.

“So, you’re telling me,” Sehun started calmly, placing his glass down on the desk after taking a long sip, his eyes never leaving Baekhyun, “A drugged girl managed to get you with a paperweight after hiding from you in a tiny room that has no closets or bathrooms?” Baekhyun kept quiet as Sehun stood from his desk, the annoyed man tossing his suit jacket off with a huff.

“She then managed to get out of the room she proceeded to lock you in” He ranted gesturing to Baekhyun before turning to Jongdae, “Got down two flights of stairs in a house riddled with mafia members and out the fucking door and front gate?” He looked at the two of them with a fire in his eyes, Jongdae still looked at amused at the situation, knowing full well she got past him too, but it died down a little looking at his boss.

“What do the two of you have to say for yourselves?” Sehun raised his voice, slamming his hands on the desk, the glass on it jumped with the force – a slosh of liquid spilling out.

“Uh.” Jongdae started with a timid smile, “She also robbed Baekhyun.”

You could cut the tension in the room with a knife but that statement tossed everything up in the air as the two other males tossed their hands up in the air with a shout of his name, Baekhyun looking particularly pissed, that wasn’t something their boss was supposed to know.

“Jongdae.” Baekhyun hissed, reaching out to swipe at the man.

“She did what?” Sehun hissed, getting angrier at the girl and Baekhyun.

“She uh…” Baekhyun started but Jongdae quickly cut him off.

“After she got him,” He started, “She robbed him, took his watch, keys for the compound, his cash” His eyes flicked to Baekhyun who was looking down, “His gun… But left his wallet with his cards and his phone” He looked at Sehun who was staring holes into Baekhyun.

“So, you’re telling me that she shot out the window of my car, with YOUR gun?” Sehun snapped at Baekhyun, the latter merely nodding at the statement, “You’re also telling me we have a random girl on the loose who’s carrying around your 50-calibre eagle and the keys to the place?” Baekhyun looked like he wanted to die on the spot as Sehun kept going.

“The same gun you used to help shoot up a bar 7 hours prior, the one that has our gangs’ symbol on it and your fingerprints, along with the keys to get into this place?” Sehun was shouting now, with good reason, “You do realise that if she gets to anyone that can call the police we’re fucked right? You know this much?” Jongdae and Baekhyun flinched.

“Her face isn’t over the news yet as missing, but I’m guessing it will be soon,” Sehun was still ranting, swiping his hand over his face in frustration, “How could you be so stupid?”

“Jongdae buzzed me before I went up and told me that she was still out!” Baekhyun defended, “I didn’t exactly think she’d be up and kicking when I got there, that’s why I didn’t take Chanyeol.” Jongdae looked offended.

“Don’t blame this on me, You’re the one who let her hide behind a door and didn’t check the room before you started toying with her” Jongdae argued back.

“I don’t care who you want to blame this on,” Sehun snapped at them before downing his drink, “Our bargaining chip is missing and you two are to blame.”

“Shouldn’t Kyungsoo have been keeping an eye on the cameras?” Baekhyun mumbled slouching in his chair, clearly exhausted.

“Don’t blame this on me.” A new voice entered the room, Do Kyungsoo sauntering into the room like nothing bad was happening, holding a laptop in his hand with a blank look, “I wasn’t the that got taken out with a paperweight.”

“What were you doing then?” Baekhyun glared at him as Kyungsoo nodded at his aggravated boss, looking at the room with a sigh before placing the open laptop on the desk, ignoring him.

“Security footage from the last hour and a half,” Kyungsoo started, “It’s going to just annoy you watching it, but here you go.”

Sehun just shook his head as he pressed the play button, the rest of his brothers leaning in to watch what was going on. It was a short piece of footage as Kyungsoo had taken the liberty to speed it up for them, but the annoyance didn’t leave Sehun’s body as he watched the girl walk out of the room and make her way down the hallway, Baekhyun’s gun clearly in her hand. The camera switched to the POV of her walking back towards the stairs, looking at what he knew was his men’s rooms, before descending them. The camera switched again to a view of Jongdae and Minseok talking not too far from the stairs, a blur of her being seen passing just by them in plain sight, and it was at that point Sehun had enough – his hand swiping out to slam the electronic shut with force.

“The two of you are the biggest idiots I’ve ever met,” Sehun hissed, falling back into his chair with a grunt, “You better hope she’s found, or it's your heads being given to the police.” He threatened them, glaring.

“I stand by what I said,” Baekhyun began, as Jongdae resumed cleaning his open wound, “Why wasn’t Soo watching the camera’s?” Hissing as rubbing alcohol was used to clean it out.

“I was cleaning up the mess you left at the bar,” The man in question deadpanned annoyed he was being blamed for this, “Plus I had to drop Yixing off at the drop off point for a trade.”

“I gave Kyungsoo a job to do,” Sehun cut in, signalling for another drink, “Yixing is off getting some information on the sort of trade’s Byung-Chul was doing with our money, Kyungsoo was taking him to the drop off point and staking out for a bit”

“I got back to hearing you got outnumbered by a paperweight and Minseok dying in the foyer with laughter,” Kyungsoo rolled his eyes, sitting on the armrest of the empty chair next to Baekhyun, “What’s being done about the girl?” He turned his attention to his boss who was looking at the wall with a look on his face.

“Chanyeol and Junmyeon took Jongin to brief some of the men,” He started before taking a long drink, “They’re searching in the area in cars and on foot, she won’t have got far”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” Jongdae hummed, his now gloved hands threading a needle much to Baekhyun’s horror, “As much as I hate to admit it, what she did was impressive, she left anything we could track her with, even got away with a decent amount of his money” Jongdae smirked at Baekhyun who huffed.

“Impressively stupid,” Kyungsoo droned, “She got out but now what? She’s got a gang of people hunting her, and all she has is a gun she can’t use.”

“At least she turned the safety off this time,” Baekhyun laughed, but he was quickly shut up as Jongdae flicked his wound, his eyes watering as he yelped. The eyes in the room were glaring at him.

“We’ll wait for an update,” Sehun glared at Baekhyun, “Until then, Jongdae consider stitching his mouth up too.”

“On it, boss,” The latter laughed, handing his makeshift patient a towel.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Baekhyun looked at him and the needle.

“Bite on it,” Jongdae smirked, “Medical bay was out of anaesthetic” Baekhyun paled and silenced but it soon was replaced by the sound of his muffled cries and swears as Jongdae got to work.

“It’s going to be a long day,” Sehun thought, downing another drink, “A very long day”

You joked about Baekhyun having a flashlight on his keys but after a few minutes of walking in the forest you checked out of curiosity, the heavy carabiner that rattled in your pocket had a plethora of things on it; about a dozen keys in all shapes were in order by numbers, a pocket knife handy tool, a mini flashlight, and a key fob that looked like it got you into an apartment - you breathed a sigh of relief as you clicked the small handheld flashlight on. The forest was pitch black the more you walked into it, trying to walk along with the direction of the road and not further into the abyss but navigating in the dark was hard, the flashlight only took the edge off minorly– the unknowing and knowing what was out there prickled your skin up more than the cold did.

You had not a single clue where you were; you knew you were out of the city deep into the desolate lands that surround it, but it didn’t tell you much about the space – the forest was thick, the roads silent and there didn’t seem to be any neighbouring houses to the place you’d gotten out of, you were at this point playing Bear Grylls out here.

“Stay calm,” You affirmed yourself, taking deep breaths to keep your heart regular, the running done a number on you, “Let’s hope whoever is following you think’s that you’re dumb enough to stay on the roads,” You began in your head looking around, “And not dumb enough to walk into thick woodland areas with no idea where you are going...”

Baekhyun’s gun was tucked into your apron, your hand now being occupied by the hand knife you’d pried from the carabiner – for the second time this morning you felt like you were in survival game are you divided your attention on looking at the muddy floor and looking at this multi-tool Baekhyun thought was a good idea to keep on his keys. It was expensive, and so far you’d only flipped the knife out, but you were still trying to work the thing out – it was pointless trying to play with the thing, but it was a distraction from the fact that you could die anything in these damn woods.

“I wonder if he’s woken up yet?” You pondered to yourself fiddling with the knife, you strayed a little off the path you set but it wasn’t too bad, you knew you just had to run to the left to get back to the road, but it was still quiet, no cars had pass yet, “I hope he’s not too mad I stole his stuff,” You chuckled, flipping another smaller knife up, “Who am I kidding he will slaughter me if Sehun doesn’t get his hands on me first.”

You stopped in the middle of a small clearing in the forest, the plants probably looked beautiful during the day looked like spindled figures swaying hauntingly in the dark as you glanced around, shining your light on anything that looked out of place – you had stopped for a second to ease the burning in the legs, from the running to hiking through woodland areas that were uneven ground in heels was not kind on your body, but frankly, none of this was. Your body felt disgusting, sluggish, sore and battered by the last 7 hours – it truly was not your calling to be at a part of whatever life this was, or whatever life Byung-Chul had tossed you into unknowingly, you knew that much.

“What would have happened if I stayed?” You wondered as you limped to a nearby stump, the glass that was still stuck in your knees was getting bothersome, and frankly it looked horrifying as you shined your light on it, using your nails to try as get some bigger pieces out, “I’d either be dead, tortured, or maybe by some miracle id be safe.” You winced, gritting your teeth as you pulled a piece out, “The last one seems unlikely, but it would be better than sitting in the fucking woods playing doctor to myself.”

Your knees looked disgusting; you had glass in your knees and hands, the latter of which that was caked with no only Jaewoo’s blood but Baekhyun’s and your own, your stomach feel like it had cotton stuffed into it and your head thumped like a drum – your body was exhausted but here you were, sitting on a tree stump with nothing but a tiny flashlight to guide the way.

You had cried earlier when you thought Sehun was coming for you, and you maybe let a few tears shed as you run for your dear life from the house but now? You strangely felt detached from the situation, Byung-Chul had got mixed up with gang business – the clues were pointing to it, but you didn’t watch the news often so whoever they were was a guess to you, and the realisation that you’d tried to shoot a powerful gang member and knocked another out was something that no one would ever believe you did, but here you were, sitting like a rock waiting to feel something.

“I think I’m broken,” You sighed to yourself out loud, it was the first time you’d spoken in a while and your throat still felt like shit, “I’ll add dehydration to the list of things I have to deal with.” You chuckled to yourself.

“I’m losing it,” You dragged your grubby hands over your face, ignoring the pain from pushing glass further into your skin, “I’m talking to myself in the woods, armed with a gang member stolen good and a body that’s ready to crumble.” You spoke into your hands,

“I hope I freeze to death out here, put me out of my misery.” You begged to no one. It felt like you went into a trance as you clicked the light off to save battery, not knowing how long you’d be out here, staring out into the dark was calming now – the cold wind and whistles from the weather feeling like you were in another dimension, but that could also be the drugs finally wearing off, god knows maybe that was what pushed you to act like this. You feared the dark for the right reason; you didn’t know what lurked in the inky depths of it, your apartment was on a rougher side of the city – something out of a shitty aesthetic blog, you didn’t live the high life but you got by.

“I wonder if anyone is looking for me?” Your mind rattled, the police had been to the bar as you heard earlier, “Or do they think I’m one of the bodies at the bar, head blown apart?” It was a scary thought, but not as scary as light started to bleed through the trees.

“Shit,” You leapt up with a grit of your teeth, “Someone is coming” You scuttled around slightly before stepping over the stump you were sitting on, grabbing everything you dropped onto it and ran behind a bigger tree, crouching down with a bite of your tongue as the protest in your knees.

The gun was gripped in your hands again, quickly clicking off the safety as you peaked at the clearing that wasn’t too far from the tree. Voices were filling the area.

“So far nothing east of the house,” The voice got closer, you held your breath and tried to move as little as possible as a bigger light filled the clearing, “If she went this direction she might have known this was taking you north into the city, Yeol.” It was two armed men, you didn’t recognise either of them, they weren’t at the bar earlier.

“North…” You thought lowering your head taking in the information, “The city is north...”

“I don’t care if she isn’t there, Jongin” A deep voice filled the clearing from the small speaker, now he sounded familiar, he sounded like that guy that was with Sehun at the bar, “Just keep walking, Jun and I are driving into the city to see if she’s gone back to the bar” He sounded stressed, rightly so, this Jongin guy had stopped now listening to the call, “Baekhyun is awake and talking, Sehun just called, keep going north then circle back”

“And what if Minseok and I still find nothing?” He rolled his eyes. He was gorgeous too so was his companion, “Do we rendezvous back at the compound or?” Minseok hadn’t spoken but he was looking around the clearing with a sharp eye.

“Why is everyone in this fucking gang hot as fuck?”You seethed to yourself, “I’m being hunted by a hoard of hot men.”

“Jongin…” Minseok slapped his shoulder, the latter looking annoyed with whoever this Yeol was, “Do you see that?” He shined the light on the stump you had been sitting on.

“Circle back,” Yeol was speaking but Jongin wasn’t listening, his eyes training on whatever Minseok was looking at, “There’s a rest stop just North West of the house, you won’t be too far from it”

“One second, Yeol…” Jongin he interrupted him, “Minseok, shine that light there.” You pressed your back into the tree as light flooded into your peripheral vision, trying to look as small as possible, the strong floodlight torch made it look like daylight in the clearing – which terrified you. They just at to look a little harder and they’d see you, the gun pressed into your stomach, ready-to-use if you needed to.

“Is that glass?” Minseok quizzed, the sound of him coming closer frightened you, “Jongin it's bloody glass.” You didn’t peak around and look; you hoped the big tree covered you.

“Chanyeol?” Jongin sounded confused, “Did the target have any glass in or on her?” The sentence sounded ridiculous, but your heart was hammering too hard right now to appreciate the situation.

“Glass?” Chanyeol perked up, “Yes, yes she did!” He practically yelled down the phone, you imagined the pair jumped at the intensity, “Baekhyun dragged her through glass, she will be riddled with the stuff!” He sounded very cheery at your demise.

“Bastard.” You shut your eyes, praying to whatever was out there that they’d take the accidental bait and leave.

“So, she’s gone this way?” Minseok asked, “Do you think she’s still around?” He asked the light rushed to one side, the opposite of where you were.

“Doubt it,” Jongin said, Chanyeol was still yelling down the phone, “She got a head start on us”

“She’s also injured,” Minseok tutted, no one was listening to what Chanyeol was saying, “She can’t have got far.”

“Guess we’ll see…” Jongin sighed, “This better be worth it, Chanyeol” He directed the conversation to their friend.

“No,” Chanyeol started, “This is great it means she’s still in the area, keep heading North, Minseok is right she won’t have got far” He faded out for a second, talking to someone else, “Jun and I are going to let Sehun know, keep looking, we’re almost at the bar �� we’re going to get whatever she’s left there.”

“Why?” Jongin sounded confused again. “Just in case she makes it out of the woods and into the city,” He started, “She’s not going to have anything there, we’ll have someone stakeout just in case she shows.” He finished.

“You’re the boss,” Jongin sounded tired, “We’ll call you if we find anything.” He sighed.

“Good,” Chanyeol spoke to him, “Tell Soo to monitor the highway camera’s, if she’s lurking around it won’t be long till she’s found, I can feel it.” He sounded like he was giving a motivational speech. You merely rolled your eyes.

“Sure thing, Yeol” Jongin chuckled at him, “Speak to you soon, tell the boss we said hi.” The sound of a click sounded; he’d hung up. You had to be silent now that Chanyeol wasn’t here to distract them.

“I’m sure he’ll be delighted,” Minseok mumbled, “Bastard yelled the whole house done from the moment she went missing.”

“Understandable,” Jongin sounded like he was walking around now, the crunch of the leaves shattering under his feet, “Byung-Chul owes us a lot of money, she’s our bargaining chip right now and she’s on the run.” The light kept moving and you begged it didn’t come anywhere near you.

“What idiot leaves evidence she was here?” Minseok spoke.

“This fucking idiot that’s who,” You wanted to yell, your lip was raw from pulling on it with your teeth, a metallic taste filling your mouth, “Keep. Walking.”

“Give her credit, Min” Jongin chuckled, “She got past you and Jongdae just fine” He teased his companion. You could feel Minseok rolling his eyes.

“Whatever,” The man mumbled annoyed, “Let’s just keep walking, god knows where she is now.”

“I’m right here.” You rolled your eyes.

There was a heavy beat of silence that filled the void as you watched the light fade from the place, spilling into the trees ahead of Jongin and Minseok as they retreated from clearing – taking their godly light with them. You fell slack against the tree as soon as you deemed it safe enough too, your body aching with the tension – your mind was trying to take in what happened just now. You weren’t sure if they had no faith in your escape skills if they didn’t bother to check the area or if they were useless.

“Probably a bit of both,” You thought bitterly, as much as they scared the shit out of you because they had no clue you were listening to them you got some valuable information from them. “They’re walking North, they said there’s a rest stop North West that isn’t too far from here.”

“If I stray off the path, I might make it to the rest stop” You spoke to yourself quietly standing up, they hadn’t left that long ago you were testing fate, “If I can make it to the rest stop I might get some help.” Baekhyun’s pocketknife had a tiny compass on the hilt of it.

Right now, it was too dangerous to use the flashlight just in case you alerted your hunters, but you pulled it out anyway, screwing your eyes to look at the tiny thing.

“North.” You thought pointing in the direction that the men went, “They weren’t lying”

You breathed a sigh of relief. North and North West had a big enough gap between them you felt somewhat comfortable walking the new path, you still couldn’t risk turning on the flashlight again just in case, but you could at least still try to get to the rest stop. It was your only hope, Chanyeol and whoever this Jun was had taken a car to the city which meant that it was far enough that walking would not get you there anytime soon.

“Let’s hope someone there can help me” You sighed in your head

After getting off the phone with Jongin and Minseok, Chanyeol felt a tad better about the situation at hand, even with Junmyeon telling them they weren’t out of the woods yet till they found the girl. The tall red head felt better, regardless. The car to the bar was silent, the two of them not doing much talking because of stress and the fact that if they didn’t find or at least get a lead on the girl Sehun would have their heads along with Baekhyun’s for the taking, it was a tense ride, hell it was a tense couple of hours. The pair of them hadn’t called their boss yet, they’d had an update he was getting his way through a lovely bottle of single malt while Baekhyun howled the compound down at the hands of Dr. Jongdae.

“Is this girl worth it?” Chanyeol asked with a sigh, opting to break the suffering silence, Jun was at the wheel of the car, speeding through the city “I mean, I get Byung-Chul owes us a lot of money and stuff but really? Is the girl worth all this trouble?” Chanyeol ranted slightly. He much like everyone else in the compound wanted to go to sleep after the shootout, but that was hours ago, and this random girl had decided that it would not happen.

“Franky, she’s not worth this chase at all,” Junmyeon started, sounding as aggravated as the rest of them, “But what Sehun says goes, even if it makes no sense and has all of us up at crackass of dawn looking for the most useless person in this whole scenario, no offense to the girl.” Chanyeol wanted to roll his eyes.

“Doesn’t Byung-Chul have a wife? Kids?” Chanyeol ranted, “Literally anything else? Why are we running around after a random bar worker?”

“Listen Chanyeol,” Junmyeon sighed heavily, “Your guess is as good as mine, Sehun thinks the police and stuff pressuring and raiding Byung-Chul will open him up to talking to us, or at least giving us a chance to strike” His eyes flicked to the redhead, “I tried to reason with him but let’s be real, he’s desperate or at least his version of it–and as powerful as we are, Byung-Chul laundered a lot of cash from us and he’s used it elsewhere, that sorta stuff doesn’t just get dealt with.”

“Still no one is telling me how this girl will make anything better,” Chanyeol huffed, “Can’t Soo or something hack into his accounts? Wire the money back?”

Junmyeon doesn’t say it often but Chanyeol’s naivety was something he wished the tall man never lost, all of them had their own stories and their own backgrounds that brought them together, but Chanyeol was the last to join the 9 brothers, and as hardened of a gang member he had become over the years, his tall companion never lost that child in him. It was times like these he could see it clear as day how his past very much still ran with him, he’d grown up very different to Sehun, Yixing, Baekhyun and himself—he wasn’t born into a mafia family or tethered along with its antics. No, Chanyeol was another kind of member, much like Kyungsoo, this wasn’t their initial life, but fate had bent their hands to be here. While it was a breath of life in the repetitiveness of what they knew, it was also dangerous to not completely understand why you did things.

“It’s the principle, Yeol,” Junmyeon reminded him softly, if his own father had taught him anything it was that sometimes yelling about things would not make people listen, “Byung-Chul has wronged us, that isn’t something you let go easily, it makes you seem weak to others if you just forgive without retaliation” He glanced at him again, he was sulking in the passenger seat, “As for the girl, I get where Sehun is coming from–collateral damage even in the smallest amount can give you the upper hand, Byung-Chul doesn’t have the resources to just make this all go away, the police will interrogate and raid him, to them an innocent girl is missing and another worker is dead.”

“I’ll never understand how your damn families do things,” Chanyeol sighed, “It’s always a rule or vague motto for something” He waved him off, Junmyeon merely smiled lightly but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“It’s been six years, Yeol” Junmyeon started, “You’ll get a hang of it, be thankful you didn’t have to grow up like us.” Junmyeon mumbled the last part, and if Chanyeol caught it he said nothing.

As much as Junmyeon wanted to believe in Sehun and follow him through it all like he’d promised, it was times like these he wished his younger brother would just listen to anyone else–they may not be bound by blood was they were damn near close enough. Running the family “business” that stretched back decades wasn’t an easy task, everyone who grew up in this life knew this–they’d seen the crumble of lives before their very eyes at the hands of the job, some more than others.

For the longest time, everyone had lived very much in the bliss that the end would never come, ignorance was part of the job; you lived very much like you were going to die an hour from now. But times has changed and the mentality of caring for your own very much concreted itself into the new generation's mind, it wasn’t without reason, they’d all lost someone close to them, and Junmyeon fought every day to makes sure it wasn’t a brother they ran the chance of losing.

Sehun, mostly in Junmyeon eyes, wasn’t meant to step up to be the leader when he did–he was merely a teenager at the time and while he’d had grown into the job over the years, he like the rest of them still slipped up. Byung-Chul was never supposed to get an ounce of their money in the first place, it was something that was very much debated amongst the brothers in the beginning but as power goes, what Sehun ruled as bible everyone else had to go with–even if no one agreed, the arrangement had landed them here, chasing someone through the city, and Junmyeon hoped that maybe this would spark some sense into their still bratty leader.

“Jun?” Chanyeol grumbled out slightly as they pulled up a few blocked from the bar, it was still dead morning but there were police riffling the area, the two of them seeing the flashing blue lights up ahead and out of the ally they parked in, “How exactly are we going to get past them? The place is still packed.”

“Like the past,” Junmyeon sighed slightly, reaching into the glove compartment, grasping two masks and tossing one of them at the man, “Put that on”

“We’re breaking in?” There was a glint in Chanyeol’s eyes, for all it was worth he loved his job in a weird way, “Like for real? No sending in under-men to do it?” Junmyeon merely chuckled.

“Yes, Yeol,” He started pulling the mask over his face and taking anything recognisable off his body, “We’re doing the breaking in this time, I’ve got someone a few blocks over ready to create a distraction if things go sour.” Chanyeol was following his lead, pulling the mask over his vibrant hair, dumping his rings and chain into the glove compartment while he was at it.

“What’s the plan, chief?” Chanyeol chuckled, taking his gun out of his waistband, checking to see how many bullets he had left in his magazine, “What exactly are we taking,”

“The girls stuff,” Junmyeon said, doing the same thing as him, “We get in and out, get the girls stuff, if she comes sniffing around later she won’t have much to find here–police will be gone by sunrise as usual, we take away her illusion of safety.”

“Soo said he saw her tucking her phone under the bar earlier,” Chanyeol stated fixing himself, he could feel the adrenaline thrumming in his veins now – the brothers rarely did the dirty breaking and entering unless it was a big case they were doing, and even at that the smaller members were sent in, Chanyeol knew he stood out like a sore thumb sometimes, “Cameras showed a small backroom behind the bar, if we’re lucky the police haven’t taken her stuff for evidence yet.”

“They haven’t,” Jun hummed, much to Chanyeol’s confusion, “They’ve been pulling and bagging bullets for the last few hours, Baekhyun got a put trigger happy in there, plus Soo delayed the police call until we could wipe the bar for any incriminating evidence.” He answered his unsaid question.

“How do you know all this?” Chanyeol was disbelieved at his older brother, “Like serious? You know too much”

“I have my people,” Junmyeon smirked slightly, “Police code doesn’t mean much if you wave a bit of persuasion in their face.” Chanyeol merely chuckled at this before tucking his gun back into his waistband and making sure he had everything he needed.

It was silent in the car for a second before Jun’s phone lit up with a message. The two of them halting what they were doing to peer at the screen, it was their tip off.

“We better get a move on,” Jun said opening his car door, Chanyeol following him, closing it was a small thud as the two of them went into hyperaware mode, “Remember the plan, in and out, we have 15 minutes at the max.” Junmyeon nodded.

“Don’t fuck this up, or Sehun will make you wish you can stay in whatever jail cell they put you in”

If you knew that walking North West was going to be harder than just walking straight North and risking being shot by two beautiful men you would have taken it because honestly like everything else in the last few hours, this was not worth it. The lands that the forest was on was not what you thought it was, walking deeper into the place you soon realised that it was steep with hills, ditches, and everything else that could abuse your poor ankles. It wasn’t even a few minutes after you’d set off that you’d fallen down a hill because of the lack of light you were conserving so Jongin and his friend couldn’t find you, but if the birds scattering the trees weren’t enough to go by, the sound of the shocked scream you’d let out after falling told them you were in there with them.

It dazed you for a few seconds after rolling down the hill; branches, thorns, rocks, cutting everything that was exposed of your skin at the moment, and like the glass in your knees it was something you would have to ignore for a second because as soon as you’d realised what had happened you were up on your aching feet and dashing into whatever direction you could, your hands frantically checking that you had everything you set off.

“Keys, gun, knife, money, watch, got it.” You panted to yourself in your head, as your heels sank into the mud with every step of the sprint “Sanity, dignity and total control of your actions? Gone”

Twigs and branches were whipping against your face as you stumbled through the forest, catching in your hair and tugging you back every so often as you tried to avoid and jump over fallen pieces of trees that were places to elegantly in your way, you felt repetitive constantly talking in your head about how much your shoes not made for this but your ankles felt close to snapping in half as you tripped your way through the dark. If Jongin and his friend were following you they weren’t doing a very good job, or they had lost you again, but regardless you still ran like your life depends on it, ironically it did.

The pitch-black wasn’t something you could find time to focus on amongst the running, unlike your prior fears, but you tried your best to avoid all the obstacles in your way. Your face felt warm and cold at the same time; the raw wounds caused by the whipping trees, coupled with the flush of your cheeks from the extortion on your body caused part of it to heat while the rest of you froze to death because of lack of proper clothing and general fear. Tonight really had done a number on you, probably more than you thought it was going to but here you were anyway, running for your life again.

With burning legs and strangled lungs, you could have cried after what felt like 30 minutes of running when you eventually saw a parting in the trees for the first time in miles, coming to a stop to lean against one of them you gazed as what looked like a soft light breaking through ahead.

“Doesn’t look like taillights,” You thought to yourself, wheezing slightly to try to regulate your lungs, “Or that light that Jongin had before…” You tried to squeeze your eyes to get a grasp of what it was, but you were too tired to focus on what was up ahead.

You knew it was a risk to get curious, but you couldn’t help it, your throbbing legs taking steps towards the light to see what it was – if you needed you were covered by the trees, and if it called for it, you were armed. Nevertheless, you limped towards the beacon, the fate yellow of its hue turning into reds and greens as you broke through the thickest part of the trees – crouching you furrowed your brows slightly.

“This is the rest stop they were on about huh…” You muttered to yourself. It was a pretty rundown place, looking less like a gas station and more like a bar/diner – it had that off the highway theme that the bar you worked in carried, except it was 10x shittier looking and filled with old cars and trucks, “It doesn’t look like much.” It wasn’t much.

Lee’s had the exact look of an old rundown rest stop you’d see in the middle of nowhere, it perfectly fit into the fact that it seemed to be on an off-road out of the city, the giant 24-hour sign that sat under the name was the only indication that it was open at this time of morning. You were carefully looking at the building while concealed by the bushes. If the Jongin and his friend from before knew about this place, there was a chance they’d already scoped it out, or where at least very close. For the first time tonight, you didn’t want to go in just in case that was what would happen, but you were exhausted; dehydrated, hungry and everything else you could be, you had to go in.

With numb legs you stumbled out of the bushes and onto the tarmac, looking like a zombie approaching from the woods you squinted and grunted at the bright neon light that shone out onto the relevantly filled parking lot, it was busy for 6 am, the sky lightening slightly at the sun making its way into the sky. Baekhyun’s gun was peeking out the pocket of your apron and with a sigh you tucked it under your shirt and into your skirt, if you were going into a busy place you weren’t about to scare anyone into thinking you would rob the place, you’re already experienced that once tonight.

“Fuck,” You mumbled slightly, pulling a twig that was stuck in your hair out; you knew you looked disgusting at the moment, your hands still very much covered in blood and glass. Rolling your shoulder back with a sickening crack you walked across the parking lot that was filled with a lot of older looking vehicles and towards the door of the establishment, fixing yourself as you went. “Here we go…”

The door of the place had some glass on it so you could see inside, and it was exactly like you expected; dusty, old, filled with older men watching tv and drinking well before the law permits, you suppose Oasis would have looked like this if you opened 24 hours too but you still shuddered slightly. A young distressed woman walking into a bar of men? This would be fun.

Huffing a big breath of air as you pushed the door open, a couple of the patrons looking towards the door as you walked in, glaring slightly at you disrupting whatever they were going, you felt like you were under some microscope as you looked around; it was quiet – the tv in the corner playing the 6 am news. Walking to the bar you glanced at the bartender, nodding at him as you approached and sat down.

“Water, please.” You said casting your eyes down at the old bar before glancing at the bartender. He was an older guy – probably about his early 30s, very bored looking and ready to leave.

“Just water?” He cocked a brow, you knew no one here just ordered water, but you nodded at him, taking one of Baekhyun’s bills out your pocket to pay, he merely just raised a hand, “Free, you look like shit anyway.” You wanted to roll your eyes, but he was right.

“Tough night,” You sigh leaning your arms on the bar, keeping your hands tucked away from prying eyes, “Very tough night.”

“Looks it,” He didn’t miss a beat, sliding the water to you with a watching eye, he knew you didn’t just stumble on here on accident, “Enjoy.” He monitored you as he walked away to serve a gentleman that raised his hand a few seats down from you.

If you could make love to a glass of water, you were sure you would as you gulped the cold liquid down your burning throat; it felt like it was soothing a fire as you tried your hardest not to moan out at how good it was – the bartender was looking at you as you slammed the glass down on the counter with a pant. You collected yourself slightly as you looked at him.

“Where’s the restroom?” You asked with a slight smile, trying to seem like you didn’t just practically tank a glass of water in a few seconds, “Please.” He looked sceptical of even telling you were that was but pointed to a small alcove around the corner and down a small hallway from the physical bar, it was out of sight; but you had to go through the people to get to it, the light barely reaching it.

Your legs were still tingling from all the running but you tried to seem normal as you walked to the restroom through the tables of people, their eyes were on you like they were hunting you, you knew you couldn’t trust a single man in here. The female bathroom seemed like a haven as you pushed the old door open, the dim light fitting with the fact the place was a shithole.

“They must not see women often,” You pursed your lips as you walked to the sink, preparing for what you were about to see, “Or at all…” You looked in disgust at the floors.

You couldn’t have prepared for what the mirror would show you, your eyes widening at the sight of yourself, you were a mess. If the bride of Frankenstein didn’t get married and kidnapped by a bunch of gang members, you imagined that’s what you could compare yourself too – you were beyond ashen pale, your skin looking like you’d been dead for a couple of hours, the heavy bags setting under your eyes like you wanted them there, the worst of all was the cuts that littered your face and arms, you looked abused by nature.

“Jesus…” You touched your face, wincing slightly as you prodded one cut on your cheek, your hands looked disgusting as you felt too, “I got to clean up before they call the police on me”

In hindsight them calling the police was exactly what you wanted, but you had a weird feeling that would only tip Sehun and his men off, they seemed like powerful people – powerful people have eyes everywhere, hence why you needed to get out of here quickly. You made quick work using cold water to get the blood off your hands, watching the sink turn a sickening red with the sins of the last couple hours – the temperature shot needles into your cuts but you gritted your teeth and bared it as you tried to pull some pieces of glass out, it was messy and disgusting and you knew that you needed proper medical care soon but this would have to do. You tried to wash your face while you were at it, slapping your cheeks to try to get some colour back to face, you looked dead and you needed to get out of here very much alive, even if you were cleaning yourself up in a disgusting bathroom. Taking a step back you checked your clothes, opting to shimmy off your tights while you were at it, they were beyond saving.

Taking more care, you cleaned your knees as best as you could, most of the glass was lodged in your skin or had been pushed out miles into the woods, you were looking more decent but still not great. As you fixed your shirt your hands touched the gun you had tucked away, pulling it out you looked at the large weapon.

“How do I even check how many bullets are in this thing?” You thought to yourself as your fingers grazed the side of it, the weird symbol on the gun was still a mystery to you, “You think watching enough cop shows would tell you how to do this” The whole gun was a mystery to you, you barely knew how to shoot it let alone take care of it, “Let’s just hope I don’t have to use it” You tucked the thing away again.

You didn’t know how long you were in the bathroom, but you guessed it was long enough, stuffing your old tights into the bin by the door you opened the old thing listening out to the people that were out there. There was a light chatter of the people as you pushed your body out the door, much like you did at the house – quietly. They had turned the news up and the people were listening intently to it as you peeked around the other wall to the main section of the bar, you only caught the end of a sentence by it had your eyes widening.

“-Woman missing in a bar shoot out that left 13 dead,” The presenter said with a grim voice, and while you couldn’t see the screen you begged they weren’t showing your picture, “Police are hunting for a young woman by the name of (y/n), aged 22, who was a worker at the bar the night of the incident” He sounded passive. But there were grumbles in the bar at him, “No details confirmed as of yet, but police have linked it to a string of gang associated crimes that have sprung up in the city. If anyone has information, Police have urged that you contact the number at the bottom of the scree-“ You stopped listening at that point.

Screwing your face up you thumped your head off the wall slightly, no one had got a good look at you yet and after cleaning yourself up, you guessed that if you walked out there they’d click instantly that you were the missing woman – the news probably showed a photo of you, they always do for missing cases.

“I need to get the fuck out of here,” You peaked around again, noticing some patrons were looking towards the bathroom, “And quick.” The hallway had to go somewhere.

Scuttling quickly, you ran the opposite direction to a series of backrooms. You blindly opened the first door you saw – being met with a dinky looking office. You breathed a sigh of relief as you locked the door behind you, leaning against it. This was the first you wanted to be locked in. You had set to work quickly if you wanted to get out, there was a small window you could probably crawl out of to get to the parking lot but how you would get out of there was what you were looking for. Going towards the desk you practically ripped every draw open to find anything to help you till you were met with a locked door. Having enough of everything tonight you didn’t hesitate to grab a pair of scissors and jam them in the small opening, using all the strength you had left in you to force the drawer open, the old wood splitting as it bursts open.

“Jackpot,” You sang slightly as you smiled at the drawer, locked inside was a pair of car keys and a small wad of cash, picking up the keys you twirled them around your fingers with a small rattle, you left the man you were about to rob his cash at least as you gripped them in your hands, “We’ve got to blast.” You spoke to no one in particular.

Glancing around the office one last time you grabbed the jacket that was lying on the chair, the rough and heavy denim probably not ideal for your wounds, but you grabbed it anyway – going towards the window with a big breath. It wasn’t locked, much to your joy but the sound of footsteps coming towards the office practically hauled your ass out of the thing quickly, depositing you onto the hard ground below with a groan of pain. Rebounding quickly, you shuffled the jacket on and dashed out into the parking lot, grabbing the keys wildly to press the unlock.

The door handle was wiggling as you left. It was a tense few seconds as you stood in the large lot pressing the keys to see which car you were about to steal, listening closely you heard the sound of unlocked and a slight beep to your left. Feeling like you were in a heist game you tossed yourself towards the car that clicked, ignoring the fact it was an old beat-up four-door for a second – you imagined if you had the strength the doors with be off the hinges with the rate you threw the thing open, your body bouncing slightly as you threw yourself in. You’d never started a car so fast in your life, the old thing spluttering to life as you hastily reversed it out its space – trying not to hit any cars as you went.

“Oh, fuck!” You shouted as the door to the rest stop burst open, the bartender for before furiously running out, the tires were screeching as you sped through the lot, driving past the owner who wrathfully smacked his hand at the car that jetted past him.

Tokyo Drift had nothing on you as you screeched out the rest stop parking lot, the owner of the car running behind you for a few seconds as you sped up the road and away from the rest stop. Your heart was buzzing in your chest as you gripped the wheel so tight your knuckled turned a different shade.

“I’ll add him to the list of people that want me dead,” You muttered.

As soon as you were out of the vicinity of the rest stop you tried to slow the car down to a normal pace, you were without your licence or any form of id on you, and with the police looking for you, you couldn’t risk getting pulled over – the car you had hijacked stank of old cigarettes and cheap cologne, the faded leather interior looked like it was a few seconds away from giving up, but it was full of gas and It was currently the only getaway vehicle you had. The thought of where to go jumped around your head as you eventually after about 20 minutes of driving you turned into a section of the city you recognised, the sun starting to peek out of the clouds in the distance.

“I can’t go to the bar,” You gripped the wheel, talking to yourself, the radio was on but it was very low, “The police have probably taken my things by now,” You didn’t exactly know if you were a wanted criminal yet seeing as you were the only one missing from the bar shoot out but you had a guess that the police probably had you as the main suspect, “I could try to go back to my apartment, they might not have touched that yet…” It was an inherently stupid idea, but it was something. You had hoped that maybe Sehun’s men wouldn’t think you’d be stupid enough to go back to your place, hoping they thought you’d run to the police or something.

The highway you were on was about 40 minutes away from your apartment on the other side of the city, and the thought of going to a friend’s place crossed your mind for a second, but for right now you needed a change of clothes and shoes fast – no stores would be open yet and because your face was plastered on the news, you couldn’t risk going into a shop anyway, you’d have to ditch the car soon, the bartender had probably called you in already with his stolen vehicle. It was a very messy situation, driving a stolen car through a busy city in daylight, but you would have to step on it to get back to your place and out before anyone got wind of you, the last nearly 12 hours had been an experience and you knew that it would not be over just yet

As soon as Chanyeol and Junmyeon had returned to the compound with the girls things they dashed straight back to their bosses office, glancing at each other with a nod that said “keep this short and sweet”, they had heard their boss was to put it lightly looking fragile at the moment, a bottle of empty booze sitting outside his office door. It was a tense few seconds of looking at each other before Chanyeol eventually raised his hand to knock on the old mahogany door.

There was a beat of silence before they heard him, “Come in,” Sehun grumbled out.

Opening the door, they were met with the same sight they’d left with, Sehun sitting ideally at his desk with a passive expression – only this time he was minus his jacket and tie, an illusion of docile at the situation. The two walked further in to see a very rough-looking Baekhyun laying on the couch of Sehun’s office, his face bruised and stitched up but still breathing.

“Anything?” Sehun asked with little to no emotion in his voice. Junmyeon knew instantly that he was doubting himself again, so he looked at Chanyeol before he spoke.

“We got her things.” Jun said lightly, nodding at Chanyeol to place them on his desk, the girl’s bag and jacket making a small clunk on Sehun’s pristine desk, “Also got word from Jongin and Minseok.”

“Saying?” Sehun was keeping it short, “Found her yet?”

“Well no,” Junmyeon started, “They found bloody pieces of glass in the forest near the house, they think she…” He was promptly cut off.

“If you say to me, they have an idea of where she might be, save it.” Sehun grumbled out, spinning on his chair to face them, his face tense, “I don’t want ideas,” He continued, “I want her found, and quickly.” Junmyeon could feel his eye twitching.

“I’m aware, Sehun, but it’s better than nothing.” Junmyeon tried to reason with the tense boss while Chanyeol kept quiet, “We’ll find her.”

“You better.” Sehun spoke tensely, “He’s already on thin ice” He nodded at Baekhyun who was out like a light.

“We brought you here things,” Chanyeol cut in, looking at Jun before speaking again, “We thought Soo could run her phone for anyone she might go to, I know he’s working on her address and her face is all over the news.” That wasn’t exactly the right thing to say.

“And so are we,” Sehun spoke, looking him dead in the eye, “Gang affiliated crimes seems to be the phrase of the day.” He shut his eyes for a second before continuing, “We’re getting sloppy, as soon as the girls found, call a meeting.”

“Yes sir,” Chanyeol said uncharacteristically, he could read it was a very tense situation that was about to boil over, “I’m about to head back out once Soo gives me the address.” Junmyeon was looking at the two of them with a look in his eyes.

“Good,” Sehun turned his back to them again, opting to look out the window, he merely waved his hand at them, “Take Baekhyun with you, he caused this mess, he should be out there like the rest of you. I’ve seen the man fight with a bullet wound; he’ll be fine.” He stated before anyone could question him.

Chanyeol merely nodded before going over to his usual partner in crime, waking the sleeping rock up with a hard shove, placing his finger over his lips to be quiet as he hauled him out the room – Junmyeon was about to follow them till Sehun spoke up again.

“Jun,” He muttered, “You stay, we need to chat.”

Morning traffic hit just as you were speeding your way to your apartment, your chest rumbling with an annoyed growl – you weren’t used to driving in the city, opting to commute everywhere but you were reminded of how precious your time was as the masses of people started to flood the roads to get to wherever they were going. Cause of this it took twice as long to get to your apartment, daylight very much settling in the sky as you eventually parked the car behind your shitty apartment building – it was a generic apartment building, with every floor being exposed to the outside with balconies that ran along exterior, the lights of every home that was away showing clear as day. Stepping out of the car you looked at the building, thanking the lord you lived at the back in the first place, you could see your front door on the 5th floor. You sprinted to the side entrance and punched your code in, listening to beep of it open before you as you pushed the heavy thing. Normally you’d take the lift since it was 5 floors, but you were buzzing with too much anxiety to think about staying in a confined space for too long that you practically booked it up the stairs in record time.

Facing the open balcony that led to your apartment you tried to stay as quiet as possible as not to alert your neighbours. If they watched the news, they knew it was you the police was looking for, and you couldn’t risk tipping them off that you were home. It was a jittery walk to your apartment door, but it was worth as, as soon as you were met with the old peeling painted door, you instantly crouched down to lift the loose slab of concrete under the door, your spare key looking dull as ever crushed under its weight. Checking both sides of you before you opened the door, you wanted to cry as it opened, the sight of normality filling your vision. It was exactly how you left it last night, they’d hadn’t been to visit you yet, the dull white ways and the personal touches you placed everywhere unmarred by anyone touching it, you quietly shut the door as you entered.

It was a straight B-Line for your bedroom as you tossed the jacket you’d stole onto the couch; you needed your own clothes. Tossing your apron on the bed and your disgusting clothes on the floor, you didn’t hesitate to dress in something that was very low key and neutral – the skirt and heels being replaced with comfortable pants and boots that didn’t carry a 4-inch heel, you also tossed off your sweaty shirt and you physically cringed at the feel of touching.

“I am disgusting,” You spoke to yourself quietly, pulling a tank top and sweatshirt over your head, wincing slightly at the pain in your body, “Absolutely disgusting, god, I wish I had time to shower.” You had to cut your time in the apartment to as little as possible. Tugging a brush through your hair, you pulled a backpack out from under your bed – it was your old university backpack, but it would do while you figured out where you would go, you didn’t even have time to check over your wounds or patch them up.

Everything that was in the apron, aside from the gun, got shoved into the backpack quickly along with a few other things; more cash, some personal hygiene items, a few belongings, the clothes you had taken off, and some food was all stuffed into your bag.

“Can’t have the police knowing I was here,” You thought to yourself stuffing the clothes in, you tried to leave the thing as untouched as possible, making little to no noise in your creaky kitchen as you shoved small snacks into your bag. You can’t say it thrilled you to toss the heavy denim jacket on again, but it was warm, and it meant not leaving any evidence that you’d been here by taking something else.

Baekhyun’s gun was stuffed into the back of your pants, the cold metal still sending a shiver up your spine – but was an uncomfortable feeling having it there but not as uncomfortable as walking back to your front door, now that was bittersweet, not knowing the next time you’d get to come back here. Praying to anyone that would listen to you, you hoped it would be soon that you got to see this place again, but you tried to bare it as best as you could as you said a small goodbye – opening the front door to let the light in.

“Time to go.” You muttered softly stepping back out. You were taking the spare key with you this time, on the off chance you had to return. Closing the door was saddening as it felt a bit too metaphorical for your liking, but it had to be done – you had to be gone and soon. You had taken initiative to take two pain meds while you were in the house, to keep your body going for along as possible, the next part of your plan getting a motel on the edge of the city till you could safely go to the police. It was a long shot to get to the other side of the city you were on, but you would chance it, you just had to dump the stolen car and find something to tide you over.

Rushing down the stairs again you had noted that it had gotten a lot lighter than it was when you had first entered the building, the soft blue skies clear as they had been for a while- the cold air nipping at your nose. What you didn’t expect to note was what happened as soon as you got up to the car to unlock it.

“I wouldn’t do that if I was you, sweetheart,” A calm but sharp voice spoke. You almost dropped the keys in fright as you froze, looking over your shoulder slightly, “Have a fun little adventure?” It was Baekhyun.

“Y-You’re awake…” You stuttered, barely struck for words and not turning fully around to face him, your free hand was itching to go towards your back where you were keeping his gun.

“You’ve put us through a tough couple of hours, sweetheart,” He cooed to you, it was as taunting as any other time you’d heard him speak, “I mean, you’re a real chancer I’ll give you that, making us chase you through the city,” He chuckled softly, “Sehun is just thrilled with you.” Your blood ran cold at his name. You were still facing the car, but you could see someone else approaching you.

“Have your fun later, Baekhyun.” The body came close to you, Chanyeol.

He was so much taller than you were, taller than Baekhyun or even Sehun, dressed in all black but with the same flaming red hair you’d seen earlier – he didn’t seem as setting on strangling you where you stood as Baekhyun did, in fact, he was pretty passive to the situation as you looked up at him, his eyes weren’t hard, just tired.

“I’m going to give you two options,” He spoke directly to you, looking down into your eyes, “You either come with us peacefully and save us a lot more bother,” He began, raising an eyebrow, “Or we force you into the car and haul you back kicking and screaming if we have to, your choice.” He was firmer than Baekhyun.

Looking at him, you probably should have picked the first option. His physique said he could crush you like a grape, but as you’d stated many times before – you had come this far.

“Option three.” You said to him, his tough exterior melting quickly as confusion took over his face.

“Wait what?” He asked, brows furrowed.

Again, you don’t know what came over you but as quickly as he questioned it, you found the strength to lift you aching leg and quickly kick him right where his crown jewels were – watching his eyes bulge out and his large body kilo over would have been comedic if you didn’t instantly dash away, jumping past his grabbing hand. Baekhyun yelled behind you and instantly footsteps were heard, you weren’t the quickest runner in the world and he had long legs so you did want you had too, reaching into your pants you quickly flicked the safety off the gun and fired backwards blindly – Baekhyun yelp of fright ringing out the apartment complex. You had dashed into the alleyway that was close the apartment, planning to run onto the street and lose them in the crowd, the end was nearly insight for you – that was until you felt a hand grasp onto your backpack, ripping it off you, and sending your whole body to get flung backwards.

There was an audible wheeze and footsteps in the alley, as your back and head collided very hard with the concrete – a burning pain shooting up your spine, and the sound of steps rushing in. Baekhyun’s gun was still very much grasp in your hand but as the white dots cleared from your vision, you felt a boot being placed onto your neck – not enough to choke you, but enough to keep you down, your blurred vision filled with a man you’d never seen before, his cropped but still decently long dark hair and passive face looking down on you, his gun clocked and pointed directly at you.

“Stay down.” His voice was extremely bored but still tense as he spoke down to you.

It only a took a mere few seconds before you were grabbed and hauled up by a smirking Baekhyun, his bruised face looking like the Cheshire cat as he roughly grabbed your arms and forced you up – your back and head severely protested, the burning and the throbbing making it hard to stand, something only one man noticed, Chanyeol who had stumbled into the alley a little after Baekhyun – his eyes narrowing on your slumped figure. A warm sensation was tricking down the back of your head, and if your hands weren’t restrained you guessed your fingers would come back bloody upon touch, but Baekhyun had you in a very firm hold as he practically tossed you to their car. It was all blacked out, and expensive-looking, much like the one you’d shot out earlier.

“Hands out,” The man that stood on your neck said to you, very bored, “Quickly,” Baekhyun was thorough as he lifted your arms, the feeling of something being strapped to your wrists and tightened made you wince; you were being zip-tied.

“Just in case you get any ideas,” Baekhyun narrowed his eyes at you, you could hear someone going through your things at the same time; the zip of the bag loud in your ringing ears. Baekhyun also made quick work of stealing his watch back from your wrist, clasped onto his own very swiftly, “And I’ll be taking back my things too, brat.”

Watching with glazed eyes, you looked at the things that had been stolen over the last couple hours being handed back to their owner; gun, keys, his cash, his watch, random bits of paper, everything. It was bittersweet, even more so as you watched your backpack get tossed into the back of the car.

“You’re really dumb, you’re aware of that right?” Baekhyun shoved your head under the roof of the car to force you into the vehicle, you winced as he dug his fingers into the sore spot on your head, your body had gone through it, you turned your head to glare back at him, talking for the first time.

“I knocked you out, didn’t I?” You smirked at him spitefully, your teeth on show.

The rage was bubbling up in him as he resorted to just throwing you in the car, your body landing on the leather seats in a pile, you cried out softly as you landed awkwardly – body burning in pain. Flicking your head up you watched as Baekhyun and the man you didn’t know the name of got into the front of the car, your head flicking again as the door next to you opened – Chanyeol reaching in, and much softer than Baekhyun, sitting you up right before sitting on the seat next to you, making sure you were buckling in. He had a passive look in his eyes to the situation, but you respected that he at least put your seat belt on for you.

“Drive, Kyungsoo.” Baekhyun slumped in the passenger seat holding his nose in stress tired from the last few hours, “Before I decide to avenge the fact the stray shot at me with my gun.”

“Kyungsoo,” You thought to yourself, “That’s another name down.”

You gulped down all the saliva in your mouth to try to soothe your dry throat; it was out of fear mostly; you knew they were taking you somewhere – and you guessed it was back to Sehun. Chanyeol kept glancing at you, you could see from the corner of your eye, whether it was to monitor you, you didn’t know but what you knew was that the silence in the car was deafening.

“It was going to be a very long ride.”

Pissing yourself or maybe tossing yourself out the car door on the highway were all very real thoughts you had on the drive back to what you recognised, after about 30 minutes, was the house you had escaped from before, the scenery there actually looking somewhat nice in the daytime, but you weren’t here to appreciate the views, you guessed you were driving back to your death. The car was silent with Kyungsoo drive, Baekhyun looking like he was trying to get some shut eyes while the peace lasted, and Chanyeol messing around on his phone – it was pathetic that they knew that you weren’t that much of a threat that they couldn’t even spare any brain cells to pay attention to you.

The first half of the trip comprised of Baekhyun glaring at you through the rear-view mirror, nothing you didn’t expect to be honest, but it was setting you more on edge than you already were, looking at the scenery you knew you’d be at the house soon.

How soon however wasn’t something that you were expecting, it felt like time was going with your heartbeat as within a few minutes of entering the green lands you’d run through hours before; you were pulling up to the same you’d also booked it out of.

There was more security than necessary, to be honest, a couple of men you didn’t recognise standing around the steps to the house; with Jongin, standing by the door. You felt like you were a security threat as they ripped the door open next to you, a man that you’d never seen more peeked in; he looked gentle, but you knew that was just probably an act.

“Our guest has returned safely I see,” He smiled slightly, but there wasn’t much conviction to it, Chanyeol had left the car and was now standing next to him, “Chanyeol, take her inside,” Chanyeol muttered something to him before he approached you.

Chanyeol took your arm in his grasp, much gentler than you were expecting, and gave you a look before he lifted you out of the car and onto your feet; the world spun for a second and you would have stumbled if you never had his hold on you.

“Great, add a concussion to the list of things wrong today,” You thought bitterly to yourself.

The courtyard of the grand house was filled with various people, but not the man of the hour, and they all looked at you annoyed – there was some light talking but you didn’t pay too much attention to it, as much as you wanted to bolt again, getting shot before that could happen wasn’t the most appealing thing. The man who peeked into the car was now leading you and Chanyeol into the house, Jongin staring at you as you passed him by the door. It was a beautiful foyer, light coloured with two grand staircases that met in the middle of a large first floor, not what you expected.

“Take her up to the boss's office,” The man leading you said, walking ahead, “I’ll be up in a few.”

Chanyeol had said little, merely humming in agreement as he tugged you towards the stairs – your heart was racing now. If you had to pick a guess, the double doors at the top of the stairs were the office you were being led to and that meant only one thing.

“Sehun.” You thought to yourself.

There wasn’t any time wasted tugging you up them, the sound of footsteps echoing against the hardwood floors and the sound of you being followed up the stairs, it was dramatic really but you couldn’t think much of it, hell you couldn’t think much of anything right now. It confirmed previous thoughts as soon enough you stopped at the double doors, Chanyeol’s hand reaching out to knock on the wood, there was no time squandered between the knocked and the door opening.

Before you knew it you were being met with an elegant office; full of dark wood, clean, and huge windows you wanted to stare at the beauty of the place but you felt your blood run cold at the sight of the man sitting facing the door. His office chair was a huge dark red antique piece that made him look threatening, or more threatening than he was – in front of him was a single chair, you guess that was for you.

“Sit.” He gestured to the chair, cutting your thoughts off. There was a tense tone to his voice, he wasn’t happy. Chanyeol looked at you slightly before following his bosses’ orders; practically carrying you to the unpleasing chair and forcing you down onto it with a hand on your shoulder.

Sehun was still dark-haired beauty you’d seen before, still clothed in an expensive suit, and looking very dangerous. There was a beat of silence between the two of you as you both stared each other down, his dark irises boring into you with intent and yours very much losing the nonverbal battle – you supposed that if this wasn’t the situation you were in, you’d find this whole thing either very amusing or very hot, but that wasn’t the situation you were in. His eyes were practically trying to kill you.

“You know,” He began, putting his hands together in the illusion of thought, but you knew he didn’t have to think about what he had to say to you, “You’re a lot more trouble than what you’re worth.” He looked at you with a raised brow.

“So much so, that I’m considering not even letting you explain to me what you were thinking, because honestly?” He continued, leaning forward, “I don’t give a single shit.”

Pursing your lips, you tried to keep eye contact with him, but your resolve melted very quickly as your eyes cast down to your hands – more fascinated with the fact that they needed some serious medical attention. The wheels of his chair creaked against the hardwood floor as he stood up from it, a slight click filling the room from his dress shoes as he rounded the desk. You squeezed your eyes as he neared closer, the pure aura radiating from him as you felt him too close for comfort. It ripped a small gasp out your throat, the feeling of fingers clamping down on your chin, your head being flicked up, much to your necks dismay.

“Pay attention to someone,” He hissed out while leaning closer, your chin in his grasp, “When they’re talking to you, stray.” His voice dropped into a whisper. Looking up at him, you noted the bags around his eyes; his skin was free of blemishes, the slight scar the only thing marring his face.

“You’ve caused quite a stir in the house this morning,” He hummed, not going to let you speak at all, “You’ve injured and robbed one of my men, shot the window out of my car, had us running over the city and woods trying to find you” He listed off, your chin still in his hand, “So tell me, why should I bother keeping you alive?”

Your lips parted as if you would say something, but the prospect of death honestly hit you like a ton of bricks, and what would once be a retort, turned into nothing more than a gentle puff of air from your lips. Your eyes burning slightly with tears.

“Cat got your tongue?” He taunted you, “I suppose your actions do speak louder than words.” You gritted your teeth watching as he reached into his suit jacket with his spare hand, “Remember this?” He merely smirked softly as he questioned you, a shiny pistol withdrew from his pocket and into his hand; it was the one you tried to shoot him with last night.

Your body was trembling now as he let go of your chin, his hand touching the pistol with a look on his face. You would be shot with the same thing you’d tried to shoot him with. This was truly bittersweet. He smiled at you, a haunting smiling that you assumed many people had seen, as he flicked the safety off.

“Now, we’ve seen you’ve got yourself acquainted with one of these,” He waved it at you, his thumb clocking it as he did so, “Let’s see if I remember how to use one.” The bastard knew exactly what he was doing.

You don’t think you’d ever be able to describe the feeling of the barrel of a gun being placed to your head, the cold metal practically sizzling with the heat of your flushed face – but what you could describe, it was the feeling of sheer dread settling into your bones, your body numbing with its fate. You didn’t pray; you didn’t wish it was all a dream, you merely looked up at the man who had your fate in his hands – eyes bloodshot and wet. Sehun had no remorse for you, his face dancing with mirth you’d only seen in films – he wasn’t psycho, no, that wasn’t the look he gave off, this was his job.

The feeling of him pressing the barrel harder to your forehead had you gritting your teeth so hard you thought you’d cracked a tooth, your eyes staying open. You weren’t sure what you expected next; you didn’t know what being shot in the head felt like, but you were sure that cardiac arrest would kill you if he didn’t. His finger toyed with the trigger, tapping on it lightly, the metal clinking softly – he smiled one last time at you. The breath you took felt like your lungs would burst, a sharp gasp shaking our trembling body, the tears were trailing down your face now; you expected pain and white light.

Thud. Nothing came. It wasn’t loaded.

Your body practically slumped into a heap as nothing came, a sob passing by your lips as your forehead pressed further into the barrel – you were an emotional mess, but it was only made worse by the feeling of lips by your ear. Sehun’s voice sounded smooth in your ears as he kept the gun pressed to your head, his lips faintly brushing the shell of it as he spoke.

“Next time you want to pull something like that I’ll make sure it’s a real bullet between your eyes.”

#sehun fanfic #sehun imagine #sehun scenario #sehun smut #exo imagines #sehun au #oh sehun #sehun x reader #exo scenarios #exo fanfic #sehun mafia au #exo fic #exo au #kpop fanfiction #sehun angst #exo mafia au

393 notes · View notes