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lemonjoonah · 3 years

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The Garden Thief (M)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Word Count: 9.3K Genre: Hybrid AU, romance/drama/comedy, enemies to lovers Warnings: Unprotected sex, oral sex (fem. rec.), they get down and dirty outside but no one else is there to see them, cum play? (just a little), there’s also a bit of mud (sorry, but also not sorry, they’re outside what do you want from me?!?!), referenced hybrid neglect and oppression (hybrids are wrongfully deemed as pets by law and the majority of society).

Summary: Your beloved vegetable patch has once again been victimized by a hungry thief in the night. The prime suspect? Jeon Jungkook, your neighbour's rabbit hybrid. But when you finally confront him, he pleads innocent, and proposes a plan to clear his name.

A/N: I wrote this fic’s premise and opening scene for the ‘A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words Game’ that I played oh so long ago and now I’ve finally finished the tale!

...

“Oh for fuck’s sake, not again!” You swear upon seeing the leafy green remains of several carrots lying in your garden, inches from where they used to be buried. This maddening mystery of the vanishing vegetables has been playing out all summer. You’ve set out deterrents for every possible garden pest, rolling out chicken wire and spraying natural remedies to repel anything from bugs to small rodents. Yet you still wake to find that your garden has been robbed in the night. The only possible suspect you haven’t been able to protect against resides just next door, in fact—

You squint up at the boarded fence, spotting a pair of long dark ears peeking out over the posts. “Jungkook, is that you?”

The ears immediately disappear, ducking down behind the barrier. The sound of his hurried footsteps trailing away are followed only by the slamming of a door.

You rush into and through your own house carrying the wilted carrot greens. Exiting out the front, and over to the house next to yours, where you repeatedly press the bell.

The entry whips open on the fourth ring to reveal Jungkook. His face is flushed, beads of sweat racing down his brow, and a shirt that one would normally use to cover their chest, is instead thrown over his shoulder. “Something wrong neighbour?” He asks with a carrot stick in hand. Bringing it to his mouth, he taunts you with a bite and crooked grin.

“Is-is your caretaker home?” You stutter trying your best to swallow your nerves. Concentrating hard on his face, you plead with your eyes not to wander down. That’s exactly what he wants, a reason to put you off your mission, to make you so flustered that you have to walk away. He’s always trying to use his allure against you, and you hate how often he succeeds doing just that...

“No, he’s at work.”

“When will he be back?”

“Not sure, maybe a week, or two? He’s on a business trip.”

Your gaze falters in it’s determination for a brief second as a drop of sweat descends from his neck to his chest. Holding your breath you watch it’s path, tracing the valleys between his muscles. When Jungkook finally wipes it away your brain catches up and scolds you for your weakness. “And he left you here, alone?” You ask, while trying to recollect your dignity, reminding yourself of how much grief he has put you through.

“Of course.” Jungkook’s smile grows. “I’m not just some common pet. I know how to behave myself.”

The statement makes your brow twitch, enraging you enough to overcome his tactics. “I know you haven’t been here long, but you should know, people typically don’t like it when someone steals from their yard.” You lecture him, waving the carrot tops in front of his face. “So stop treating my garden like your own personal snack bar!”

“Now why would I take from you? I have plenty of food here, even got another delivery this morning.” The hybrid kicks at a box next him filled with a vibrant collection of fresh produce and grains.

“I don’t know why. I just know it was you.”

“Prove it.” He prods, while taking the last bite of the vegetable from his hand.

The loud crunching gnaws on your composure, stripping you of any patience you may have had for the hybrid. “This all started when you moved in, and I’ve ruled everything else out!” You shout, but as good as it might feel to finally vent your anger, you feel as though you’re somehow playing into his hand.

“That doesn’t seem like very good evidence. It’s circumstantial at best. If you want to find out who the real culprit is you should have a stake out.”

“A stake out?”

“Yeah, you know, watch over the garden for the night, catch the criminal in the act. I could even help if you’d like.”

You scoff at the ridiculous notion. “You really think I should invite you over to guard my crops?”

“I do, so I’ll come over tonight? Say around seven?” You open your mouth to object, but the rabbit hybrid jumps from one statement to the next casually inviting himself into your own home. “Perfect. See you then.”

“I didn’t-no wait, that was sar-” The door closes between you before you can finish. Leaving you baffled and alone on the doorstep. You ready to knock but stop just before your knuckles hit the wood. Trying again right now is a lost cause, it’ll just play into his game. So why waste your breath when you know it’ll just end the same way? Tonight then, as he suggested, that’s when you’ll be ready to hit him with some hard evidence that he won’t be able to refute.

Admitting defeat for now, you retreat back to your garden to pick the surviving vegetables and contemplate the encounter. You wish your could have just spoken to Jungkook’s caretaker—fuck what was his name again? You’ve only seen the man a couple times since they took the house, but at least he doesn't give you a nervous knot in your stomach, or leave you confused and speechless like his hybrid does.

It’s been three months since they moved in. You were excited at first, to have new neighbours in your almost vacant cul-de-sac. Buyers don’t seem to be interested in the old houses with large lots in your area. Too much work to maintain, and not enough good job prospects to go around. So when you saw the sold sign go up you were beyond thrilled. Greeting the new residents with a fruit basket and a smile.

The rabbit hybrid you now know as Jungkook appeared rather shy at first, you did your best to welcome him. Always greeting him when he was outside, trying to engage him in small chat, but the first time you caught him during his workout everything changed. Until that point you had not considered him as anything but a prospective friend. You were stunned to see him in such a confident state, throwing around his weights like they were nothing. In that moment, with you too nervous to admit that you found him attractive, you became the anxious and blubbering fool in his presence, and he, unfortunately, took note. The once quiet and cute rabbit, became a flirtatious and bratty bunny.

And since then, whenever you would work in your garden he’d be on the other side of the fence grunting and panting. Staying close to the gap in the divider, a missing panel you had yet to replace. On days like today you would often look up from your radishes and accidentally lock eyes with the hybrid, drenched in sweat and showing off his skills.

Out of respect and self preservation you tried your best to not to pay attention, to keep your nose buried in your garden, but as the weeks went by the vegetables under your care started to disappear. The ample crops you tended to in the evening, lessened by morning, with only the refuse remaining to indicate it’s former presence. You didn’t want to point fingers immediately, but today was the final straw, and tonight no matter how hard he tries to distract you, you will find him guilty.

After harvesting the choice crops for the day and watering the rest. You dust yourself off, settling inside and in front of your computer; opening the visitors page for your place of work, the city's greenhouse conservatory. To help promote the centre in the community the staff all take turns writing articles revolving around their own projects or home gardens, and you’re up next in the rotation. You stare at the blank document for several minutes trying your best to concentrate on the task, but you are unable to think of anything other than the mischievous hybrid next door.

Embracing the topic of your aggravation, you start the post off with a title sure to catch the eye of any reader, ‘Garden Thieves.’

‘We’ve all been there, finding a tomato just about to reach its peak ripeness. We give it another day to grow into perfection, only to find it missing later on. In your absence something else has taken it into its own clutches. I myself have been dealing with a vegetable thief for several weeks, so if you are struggling like I am, here are a few things that might help. ’

You proceed to outline several garden pests uploading photos of their damage, along with quick remedies to deter their presence. Netting to block the sparrows, raised beds and fences to keep out most rodents or mammals, and a caffeine solution to stave off slugs.

‘I hope this may help you all in your efforts to keep your plants safe, but I must add a disclaimer. Unfortunately nothing here is completely foolproof. Even if you do follow all of these steps you still might lose some of your crops to a crafty critter. But I wish you the best of luck on all of your backyard battles. I myself plan to face off with my own long-eared menace tonight.’

You finish your post with a smile. Sending it off to your coworker Namjoon to get his approval before you make it public.

He calls a few minutes later, his laughter carrying through the speaker. “That was easily the best article you’ve written all year. You should definitely post it.”

“Thanks.” You chuckle, hitting the submit button. At the very least feeling a bit relieved to have one less task weighing on your mind. “I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. I take it you’re still having trouble with that hybrid neighbour of yours?”

“Yeah,” you groan. You’ve complained to Namjoon about the issue several times in the past month. It must have been all too easy for him to read between the lines and see what set you off to create this specific entry. “But he refuses to admit it was him. It’s like he’s trying to make me question my skills as a gardener and I hate it! I went over to talk to his caretaker but he’s away on business for a couple weeks.”

“He left him alone for that long? What about food?”

“He’s been getting deliveries. By the looks of it, he has a healthier diet than I do.”

Namjoon pauses on the line giving you only a simple, “Huh...” in a long break.

“What?”

“Well it’s just-” A loud buzzing sound erupts through the phone line cutting off his answer. A noise you know to indicate someone is at the back door. “That’s weird. I didn’t think we were supposed to get anything delivered today. No one else is here.... did you have anything scheduled to come in?”

“No.” You double check the calendar sitting on your desk. “I shouldn’t have anything until next Monday.”

Namjoon puts you on hold while he checks on the reason for the interruption, returning only a minute later. “It’s a delivery all right, but are you sure these aren’t yours? I’m seeing a lot of tropical species on the invoice. Combretum rotundifolium, Heliconia angusta, Myrciaria dubia-”

You mouth a swear as Namjoon carries on with his list. It’s obvious they are indeed the specimens of your expected batch. You're in the process of redesigning one of the tropical habitats. The lead director was adamant that the conservatory host a butterfly exhibition in the next coming year, and in order to support the grandiose endeavour you are required to introduce a vast amount of new flowering species over the next few months. “How many in total?”

“About two dozen. Looking pretty rough from the journey too.”

You’re not surprised by their current state. This summer is already one of the hottest and driest on record, and all the stock you had received this season was excessively wilted and near death because of it. “Do we have any holding houses with humidifiers available?”

“Not at the moment,” There’s a clatter in the background as Namjoon sorts through what must be the slack of clipboards. “But I’ve got the inspection chart here and your last delivery did just finish it’s quarantine. No signs of pests or illness, so they’re clear to plant. That should free up some space for you.”

“That’ll have to do. Thanks for checking.” Standing up from your desk with a sorrowful sigh. You mourn the loss or your afternoon off as you start to dress for a day of hard labour. Throwing on your work-issued overalls over your t-shirt and shorts. Unfortunately you can’t just leave the new stock to sit out under the beating sun. With little humidity outside and no protection they’ll be burnt to a crisp if you delay too long. But the worst part is that your planting staff isn’t scheduled until later in the week, and that volume of work will put you well into the middle of the night before you complete it. “I’ll be in soon to deal with it.”

“That’s a lot of planting to do on your own. I can help if you-”

“I can’t take you away from your trees, isn’t there a bonsai exhibition next week you have to prepare them for?” He’s been agonizing over this showcase for so long you couldn’t possibly inconvenience him now with your own troubles. “It’s fine, really. I’ll call to see if anyone else is willing to come in today.” You hang up letting Namjoon return to his tasks, and work your way down the contacts for the gardening staff as you prepare yourself to leave. Though as expected, all of those who answer have prior commitments and won’t be able to assist.

Grabbing your badge and plans for the updates to the garden you slip back out into the noon-day sun, so strong it’s turned your car into an oven on wheels. You’re just about to pull it into reverse when you spot the blinds shift in your neighbour’s window. Prompting you to recall the plans he had made for tonight.

With all the work you have, it’s doubtful you’ll be back home for seven. You return to Jungkook’s door to give him the news. He has it open before you can even knock, his usual smirk crawling across his face as he greets you.

“About tonight... something has come up at work and I really don’t know how late I’ll be.”

His ears perk up. “You’re going into the conservatory?”

“Yeah,” you respond, somewhat shocked that he remembered where you work. It’s been a couple months since you mentioned it while introducing yourself to him and his caretaker. “An order came in earlier than expected. I’ll likely be planting all day and night.”

“I can help,” he offers, already stepping out to join you, and locking the door behind him.

“You want to help?”

“Of course, isn’t that the neighbourly thing to do?”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t want it or expect it from someone who terrorizes my own garden.”

“Allegedly,” Jungkook corrects. “And wouldn’t you rather have me with you, under your supervision, than here, all alone with only a measly fence between me and your impressive bell pepper harvest?”

“Stay away from my peppers!” You scold, pointing your finger at him. “Even if I wanted to take you, what about your caretaker? Don’t you need his permission to leave and work?”

“He’s never paid attention to my whereabouts before, and it’s not work if you don’t pay me. I’ll just be a volunteer. You have people volunteer all the time right?”

“Yes but-”

“I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

“Alright, fine.” You finally agree though with a heavy dose of reluctance. Namjoon often brings his own hybrid in so it shouldn’t be a problem. “But if I see you nibble on even a single leaf, you’re coming straight back here.”

“Deal.” He rushes past you straight to your passenger seat and buckles himself in. Practically bouncing with excitement beside you as you pull out and head towards the conservatory.

The minutes pass and you try your best to focus on the road but you’ve never been so close to Jungkook in such a small space. And with his built frame taking up most of the car, he’s hard for you to ignore. His ears folded against the roof and his shoulders so wide they brush repeatedly against yours.

“Ever been to the conservatory before?” You ask, trying to divert your mind from the battle which builds inside you. A wavering war between frustration and attraction, with the former trying it’s best to pin down the latter, a move which only arouses the latter more...

“No, I’ve wanted to go ever since you mentioned it but my caretaker hasn’t had the time.”

“Oh.” A sense of pity joins the ranks of your emotions, nudging at you as you pull into the lot. “Sorry, I didn’t-”

“Why are you sorry?” Jungkook asks in a low whisper, snapping back to his flirtatious behaviours. His mouth turns up at the corner as he leans into you, so close that his drooping ears graze the top of your head. “Would you have taken me earlier if I had mentioned it?”

“N-no,” you choke out. Placing your hand on his solid chest, you push him back and away. As tempting as his advance might be to accept, you know his forwardness to be nothing more than an act to make a fool of you. Why else would he try to both seduce you, and steal from right under your nose? “You’re only here today because I am in desperate need of help, and I can’t trust you to be alone.”

...

You lead him through the unoccupied greenhouses. The conservation is closed to the public today (as it is every Monday and Tuesday); which usually allows for some time off, but at least now it’ll give you a chance to work unimpeded by visitors. Your own curated section is located in the most humid of all the houses, set in such a way to mimic the tropical environment you are attempting to represent.

The first stop is the holding house where the carts of new stock wait just outside. Grabbing an empty trolly you enter and start to load up those that are ready to plant. Jungkook following your actions does the same, easily lifting the heavy planters that you yourself struggle with. “Thanks,” you whisper as he relieves you of a particularly burdensome tree. To which he smiles in return.

After making the switch, by placing the recent delivery in the house for it’s quarantine, you lead him to the supply closet. Where you collect a couple shovels, trowels, and two pairs of gloves. As you continue to scan for anything else you might require, Jungkook pops in behind looking at the shelves with a sense of curiosity. He reaches up and over you to a spray bottle labeled ‘slug repellent.’

“We won’t need that, it’s for the outdoor gardens,” You explain. “It’s just a mixture of ca-”

“Caffeine and water?”

You snap your gaze to him. “How do you know that?”

He bites his lip as a snicker starts to escape. “Just a bit of morning reading. I found an interesting article with that particular tidbit. One which also happened to reference the exploits of a long-eared menace.”

“Y-you read the conservatory blog? You read my post? No one reads that, there can’t have been more than ten views!”

“Which is such a shame.” He goads you. “I’ve found your work to be both informative and comical. You really have me rooting for you in your quest to catch your thief.”

You groan in utter fury. “Why must you be so-so-”

“Handsome? Funny? Caring?”

“Antagonizing!”

“Because you seem to take more notice when I am.” Jungkook answers, with a turn of his heel, his tail poking out from under his shirt as he starts to walk away with the cart. “And I like seeing that perplexed look of yours. Your nose is cute when you scrunch it up like that.”

You remain in the shed, your traitorous heart beating erratically over the fact that he called a part of you cute. While your more sensible side grabs your nose and smooths out the wrinkles he referenced.

“Should we get to work?” He calls out after you. “The sooner we finish, the sooner we can go home and expose that bandit of yours.”

You roll your eyes and follow him out, before taking the lead to your tropical glasshouse. The air sticks to your skin the moment you enter. Jungkook lets out a long exhale behind you tugging on the collar of his shirt. “Is it always like this in here?”

“It’s a bit warmer today, but not by much. Are you already regretting your decision to help?” You tease him.

“Nope,” he answers, slinging a shovel over his shoulder. “Show me where to dig, and I’ll get to it.”

Pulling out your plans for the new exhibit arrangement, you select a couple species placing them on the empty plots of garden as directed, careful to allow for future growth. Jungkook follows behind digging out their new homes faster than at least three of your staff members combined.

You stare at him for a second, unable to believe the pace at which he’s going. “Something wrong?” He asks, pausing to lock eyes with you.

“No, I just didn’t think you’d be so quick at digging.”

“I’m part rabbit, what did you expect?” Jungkook boasts with a chuckle and a raised brow. “I share their strengths. Especially when it comes to burrowing and fu-”

His words are cut short when a fresh breeze from the outside washes over the both of you, a sure sign that someone must have entered the greenhouse. Your neighbour goes rigid, his nose lifts into the air and his ears fall back flat against his head. “Jungkook what’s-” Leaping up he closes the gap and grabs you. Tucking you into him with his chin resting on your head, where a warm and earthy scent envelopes you. His breaths are quick and deep, causing his chest to rapidly rise and fall against your back.

Namjoon’s voice calls out to you. “... are you in here?”

“Over here!” You yell out in reply, before turning back to the hybrid who still has you locked in his clutches. “What the hell Jungkook? Let me go! Now’s not the time for your games.” Sure it might feel nice to be wrapped in his arms, to get lost amidst his aroma. At any other time you might even consider taking a moment before chastising his boldness. But here? Now? And with Namjoon coming to greet you? No, this is too much.

You try to push him away like you have before, but this time it’s as if he’s set in stone, and not registering you at all. He focuses only on the direction your coworker's voice hailed from. “That scent, he smells like-”

“There you are.” Namjoon interrupts stepping around a flowering bush and into view, looking surprised by your guest. “Oh, hello there.”

The point of Jungkook's chin rubs against your head as he grips you even tighter. Embarrassed and confused by the hybrids embrace. “Jungkook, this is Namjoon.” You introduce your coworker while delivering an elbow to Jungkook’s gut. He finally snaps out of his trace and lets you go though he continues to hover behind. “He works with the bonsai of the conservatory.”

“You must be the neighbour I’ve heard so much about, it’s nice to finally meet you.” Namjoon extends his hand to the hybrid, but Jungkook ignores the gesture, choosing to glare instead, with his nostrils flared and his ears pinned back.

“Jungkook?” You whisper trying to chase him from his mood.

Namjoon gives him a nervous smile. “You probably smell my hybrid, on me don’t you?”

“A hybrid?” Jungkook confirms, his eyes narrowed at Namjoon.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t intend to scare you. I’m sure the scent of a predator, especially a tiger, is a bit of a shock. He’s harmless, I promise.”

“Is Taehyung here?” You ask, hoping to see his affectionate part-feline companion.

“Nah, he’s with a friend today. I needed to get some work done and he’d be more of a distraction than a help... but it would seem that didn’t stop him from scenting my shirt before I left.” Namjoon explains, and then turns to your neighbour again. “Jungkook would you mind if I borrow her for a second? I need help with one of my tropical species.”

Jungkook gives a solemn nod. For the first time since you’ve known him, he looks frightened, and somewhat hesitant to release you over to your coworker.

Worried by his current disposition, you reassure him with a squeeze on his arm. “Just keep digging where I’ve placed those pots and I’ll be right back.”

Namjoon leads you into the adjacent greenhouse where you can continue to keep watch of Jungkook through the pains of glass. But the instant the doors close between you, Namjoon starts bombarding you with questions. “Why didn’t you tell me? How long has it been going on? ”

You take a step back having been caught off guard. “Tell you what?”

“About you and Jungkook! Is the feuding neighbours just a cover story?” Namjoon’s eyes are wide and hopeful as he carries on, not letting you fit a single word in. “Don’t worry, I won’t inform anyone you're together. I know it’s not easy having a human-hybrid relationship out in the open. But I think you should be careful about going out into public because he’s far too obvious about it.”

“We’re not- we’re not a couple. Why would you think such a thing?”

“Because the way held you, he looked like he was marking you with his own scent. That’s what rabbits do isn’t it? They rub their chins on what they want to claim as their own.”

“They do what?” You ask, stunned by the possibility, before the realism settles back in. It must just be Jungkook’s idea of a joke. “No, that’s not what he’s doing, our connection is nothing remotely like that. Don’t get me wrong he’s very attractive, and he knows it.” You mutter the last part under your breath. “But-”

“But you really are having trouble with him. It's not a cover?”

“You think I would keep something like that from you?” Namjoon over the years has come to be your closest confidant. A good friend and coworker, you would never dream of hiding something like that from him.

“I suppose not.”

“Is that why you brought me back here, to question my relationship status?”

“Not entirely.” Namjoon shakes his head with a small dimpled smile and changes the subject. “I do actually want to get your help with one of my new acquisitions.” He points out an unusual tree on his work bench, much too big for the pot it’s currently situated in. It’s extensive roots spill out over the top and threaten to swallow the pot whole. “A Ficus microcarpa, far from the most sought after species when it comes to reputable bonsai, but I couldn’t pass this one up. It has such good character.”

“What made it grow in such a way?” You examine the plant and it’s container with care, prying between the roots and taking note of cracks starting to form in the terracotta.

“The last owner neglected it for far too long. It sat hidden in the back of a commercial greenhouse, still under the watering and fertilizing system, but since it was confined to such a small space it tried to root it’s way out. If I were to guess, it probably hasn’t seen a new pot for at least five years.”

“It’s a miracle it survived.” You nod impressed by the tree’s determination. “What’s your plan for it?”

“Give it what it wants, let it leach out. I doubt I would be able to pry it out entirely without causing significant damage to the roots that are gripping the sides, so instead I want to put another bellow to catch it and give it the fresh soil and room it needs.” Namjoon lays the tree and pot down on the table, and asks you to hold and support the trunk, while he taps and pokes at the bottom of the vessel with a metal trowel. Enlarging the cracks, but not breaking the pot fully. It’s a tedious process. The small chunks of clay are removed piece by piece, giving him access to see and free some of the tightly bound roots inside.

While your coworker continues his task, your eyes are free to wonder. You check on Jungkook through the glass, as he kneels in front of the garden bed digging even faster than before.

Namjoon appears to notice your distracted state. “How's he doing?”

“Fine I guess.” You whisper. “He’s acting stranger than usual today though. He stole from my garden again. Invited himself over to my house, then here, and you saw what he did back there.”

“Huh...” Namjoon mutters, trailing off the same way he did on the phone.

“What is this ‘huh’ you keep giving me? You know I don’t like games Namjoon. If you have something you want to say, say it.”

“It’s about what you said earlier, how his caretaker leaves for extended periods of time. Usually if an animal is alone for too long they look for ways to stimulate themselves and resort to their natural instincts, scavenging and such. But he’s a hybrid and therefore part human, so if you were isolated and restricted to your house what would you do?”

“Probably look for the closest person I could find. So he’s acting out in my garden and teasing me, because he’s lonely?”

“I think so.” Namjoon responds as he extracts another root, freeing it from its confines.

“But why?” You ask, worried for the answer to come. “Why wouldn’t he just say something?”

“There could be a number of reasons. He might not understand what he’s doing on a conscious level, or he might be afraid to show any sign of weakness to you or anyone else. Jungkook is part prey animal, and humans are all too often predators.”

“If that’s the case...” You curse yourself for not realizing it sooner. The fury you held for him slowly fades away as you replay every encounter in your mind. He was literally jumping at the chance to spend time with you, to help you with your work, and you were to blind to see it. Your anger over your missing vegetables is so trivial in comparison to what he must have been going through. The loneliness he must have felt, and the inability to admit it, you can’t imagine how he suffered through it alone. “What can I do to help him? I have no legal claim to him Namjoon. What can I do within such limitations?”

He looks down at his work in progress. “The way I see it you and he, like this small tree, have three options. You could maintain the status quo, leave him be, but how long will he be able to survive like he is? Creeping over the edge but grasping on to nothingness?”

You shake your head vehemently rejecting the idea while Namjoon continues.

“You could report his caretaker for neglect, breaking the container entirely, but that too could be very damaging to him, tearing him away entirely could put him in a state of shock, and in a home that is no better for him, while the legal battle is decided. Or...” Namjoon grabs another container, slightly wider than the one in which the plant is seated. Filling it with substrate he takes the tree clinging to it’s partial pot and places it on top. Pressing the newly freed roots down into the soil.

“You could support him, give him a better home just outside of his own where he can be himself and access what he needs. I personally think it’s your safest option for now.” Namjoon leads over inspecting the bonsai and lowers his voice to an almost inaudible whisper. “Until the day, when it is possible to fully cast the pot aside.”

You nod, though now left to grapple with what you could possibly have to offer the hybrid. “I’m not sure I would be the best person to care for him.”

“I think Jungkook would disagree. He was already trying to scent you. That to me, implies his desire for something more in the realm of an intimate relationship.” You choke on your breath as Namjoon comes to an additional conclusion. Upon seeing your distress he makes a suggestion. “Of course you could keep it strictly to friendship between the two of you and I’m sure that will improve his situation, but his other needs will need to be met for him to feel completely at home...”

“His other needs? You think he wants to be with me? Intimately?! No! Surely he would have acted differently if that was his intent! He’s done nothing but tease me when he catches me even remotely looking in his direction.”

“So you have been looking at him!” Namjoon taunts you with a massive grin. Apologizing a second later when you proceed to glare at him. “But to answer your question, no, not necessarily. You have to remember most of society deems him a lesser being. He could be feeling a lot of guilt and pressure not to engage with you in that way. Though he might not outright say it, I bet his instincts will continue to shine through. I’ll even prove it to you.” Namjoon takes off a glove and rubs your head. “I bet this rabbit of yours will take less than a minute before he tries to replace the smell of my hand with his own again... trust me.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “I should probably get back to him.” You are just about to step away when your thoughts return to the long neglected plant. “Where do you plan to house that when you’re finished? Ficuses naturally belong in a more tropical location don’t they?”

“They do, especially if I want to give it a better chance. It’s going to need a place far more humid than this space.”

“Was this all your calculated way of guilting me to store it in my greenhouse too?”

“The thought might have crossed my mind.” Namjoon gives you a sly grin. “But my logic is still sound in regards to Jungkook. He needs someone, he needs a better home... and it would seem he’s chosen you.”

...

You wander back to your greenhouse, still full of doubt. Finding Jungkook to have finished most of the required digging.

“Sorry for leaving you.”

“You-you okay?” He asks, upon seeing the dazed look on your face and then scowling in the direction that Namjoon led you.

“Fine, he just needed help with one of his plants. Sorry about earlier, I didn’t think you’d be affected by the scent of his hybrid, Taehyung is rather sweet though, you’d like him.”

“You trust him then?” Jungkook grumbles as he pierces his shovel into the ground. “You trust Namjoon and his hybrid?”

“Of course, why shouldn’t I?”

“Because it wasn’t just a tiger that I smelled. He’s been around a lot of hybrids. Every scent on him told me to run, all of them put there by dangerous predators.”

“Oh,” you shoot back in surprise. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Taehyung is rather popular, he has a lot of friends and Namjoon often caters them at his place. You don’t need to worry, you're safe here.”

“It’s not myself I’m worried about.”

Jungkook inches closer as you crouch to place the plants in the holes he dug. His nose twitches as he takes a deep breath, his eyes watching while you bury the root ball in the warm soil, firmly securing the trunk of the young tree.

While you are leaning down, Jungkook reaches across to the other side of you. Grabbing the trowel to your right despite the fact that the same tool can be found on his left. The bottom of his chin grazes the top of your head and lingers for a spell. Your heart stops in that moment while questioning his motives. Though Namjoon said he’d do just this, you still can’t be entirely sure that it proves him correct; Jungkook might just not have seen the other option available to him, and he’s never bothered about invading your space. This could be nothing, though there’s a small growing part of you that wants it more and more to be something.

“He’s a good guy,” you promise, returning to the conversation so as to not dwell on his actions. “He even suggested that I should bring you along more often, if you’re interested in spending some of your days here.”

“He did?”

You nod. A small white lie, but not entirely incorrect, and if it gets him to accept Namjoon easier you’ll all be better for it. “I wouldn’t expect you to work, but you're more than welcome to just hang around. The staff here could always use some company and I’m sure it would beat staying at home alone all day.”

“I would like that. I would like that a lot, but would you want me to keep you company too?”

“If that’s what you want to do.”

“No, I need to know if that’s what you want.” He looks over to you pinning you down in his line of sight.

“I suppose I would....” You answer and turn your head, unable to bear the nerves that his gaze brings. The both of you fall quiet. Knowing what you know now, being free of your anger for him leaves you vulnerable, open to his persuasion, and now you are no longer certain of how to act. So you start to rely on what has made him comfortable in the past, and interject with a new condition to bring an end to the awkward silence. “As long as you treat this garden better than mine back home.”

Jungkook lets out a long laugh. “I have nothing but the highest respect for your garden.”

...

When planting is finished your clothes are entirely saturated in sweat and your muscles aching from use. It’s hard to believe how much you’ve both done in such a short amount of time. While carting up the supplies, Jungkook’s eyes catch on something behind you. You look around spotting the newly potted bonsai on a back table. Namjoon must have dropped it off while you both were busy.

Looking at it now you can’t help but notice how even the shape of its leaves remind you of the hybrid’s ears, long, pointed, and reaching up to the sky. You consider your friend's words one more time and while Jungkook leans over to inspect the tree. Reaching out to his back, your hand shakes with hesitation before setting down on a spot just below his shoulder. He softens under your touch, a low hum leaving his lips. His attention turns from the plant to you. With your hand still in place, your arm is now wrapped around him, leaving only an inch between the two of you. You stand there fixed and unmoving, but content in the knowledge, that you seem to have left him speechless this time. His eyes darting away from yours, to your lips, your neck, and finally the hand you place upon his chest.

Only to have the moment broken when you can hear and feel the rumble from his stomach. His nervous laugh follows as he reaches up to scratch behind his ear.

“Hungry?”

He nods in response, his eyes wide as he remains unusually silent.

“Come on, I’ll buy you dinner.” You offer as you turn him around to head to the car.

...

You both settle on a take out spot, and return home to wash up and eat.

After finishing your meal and tearing off your overalls, you both settle down on the hammock in your yard. With Jungkook’s legs long enough to touch the ground, he slowly rocks the seat back and forth. He’s been near silent since that close moment together. He’s never had a problem with banter and flirtation, but now you’ve come to notice that any attention which can’t be passed off as a joke causes him to flounder.

Laying back in the hammock, both full and content, your eyes threaten to close after the long day as Jungkook continues to sit beside you. The sound of crickets lulling you to sleep. “Keep an eye out for that thief of mine will you?” You may not like games but if it makes him comfortable, and keeps him talking, you’ll continue to play this ruse with him.

“You trust me to keep watch without your supervision?”

“Are you suggesting I shouldn’t?”

“No, it’s just a lot more credit than you usually give me.”

“I think you’ve earned it.” You whisper as you finally drift off.

It feels like only a few minutes of rest before the sun sets and the air turns cool. Jungkook’s chin comes to rest on the top of your head like it did back in the greenhouse. He shifts his weight, burrowing his arms around and behind to cover you as he takes deep breaths. You lean into him seeking the warmth of his chest. No longer restricted by your childish anger to enjoy his company is a welcome relief, you only wish you could relinquish him of any of his own troubles and doubts. And then, you feel it, a drop of cold rain hitting your neck. The hammock moves again as he adjusts, the back of his fingers running across the damp spot. Another finds your cheek and he wipes that away too, your skin shivering in response.

But when a speck lands your mouth he stops. You wait, a second, then two. Your anticipation grows with face heating up and your chest tightening as you continue to crave his touch. You want him to wipe it away, to touch you, to act on whatever desires he might be keeping. You part your lips with the desperate hope that he will take the hint. Rejoicing when the warm pad of his thumb spreads the drop across the delicate skin.

He comes down on to you, his mouth catching any and all remains of the droplet as he encases your lips. Jungkook places a hand on your neck while the other grabs the ropes of the hammock, his legs straddle your hips. The scattered rain turns to a downpour as he remains fixed to your mouth, even his form isn’t enough to shield you from the current washing down from the sky.

As your hands reach up to his own damp and curling locks entwining your fingers in the strands he moans and nips. But as quickly as it started, so too does it end. When Jungkook snaps up as though jolted from a dream. His ears point back as an apology flows from him. “I-I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Jungkook,” you call out to him but he ignores you as he tries to detangle himself. When one foot hits the ground. You grab his waist and try again. “Jungkook, you don’t have to be sorry.” But instead of stopping he merely pulls you off and along with him, sending you both to the muddy ground, but this time with you on top of him.

“Are you okay?” He asks the loud pouring of the rain forcing him to raise the volume of his voice.

You chuckle at his concern considering he’s the one flat on his back. “I think I should be asking you that question instead.” You pause as he mirrors your grin. “Why did you stop? Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” He looks up at you, his brow furrowing. “You did nothing wrong. It was me. I was the one acting on my instincts. I shouldn’t have done that when I know how much you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you...” You explain, trying your best not to be drowned out by the water cascading down. “The things you did might have annoyed me, but I get it now. I’m just sorry it took me so long to notice.”

“Notice what?”

“How fucked up your situation is. For not realizing how alone you must have been. How caged you must have felt. I’ve been so focused on my own little world that I didn’t realize what was happening or why you were acting the way you were. I like you, a lot, but I was too wrapped up in my frustration to say how I felt...”

“It’s not your fault.”

You shake your head. “I am not innocent in this. I should have been paying more attention.”

“Then pay attention to me now.” He begs with his round eyes shining up at you.

“But in what way? As a neighbour, as a friend, or maybe something more?" Your voice cracks in desperation, trying to find his needs while also hoping they are the same as yours. “Is that why you were always teasing me the way you did? You wanted something more?”

“You really want to know?” Jungkook’s tone is low as it grips on to his every word. “I did it because it was the only thing that could distract me from my incessant need for you. Seeing your reactions and having your attention kept me in check. I’m very different from you and I’m aware it could cause a problem. I wasn’t sure if you could ever fully want me because of that.” He reaches to rub around the base of his ears. “But every day that I looked over I wanted to hold you, to claim you, to take you right here on this very spot. So often I dreamed of jumping the fence and coming for you instead of...”

You smile down at him, noting his near admission. “Instead of?”

“Instead of watching from a distance.” He smirks, catching and narrowly fixing his statement. Pleading guilty only to his longing for you.

“Then do it.” You demand of him.

He groans from his position beneath you. “Don’t tease me like that.”

“I’m not. You weren’t the only one peeking through the fence Jungkook.” Reaching up to your collar you tug off your shirt. He follows your lead with his own to reveal his sculpted chest he’s taunted you with so many times. “I don’t care if we’re different from each other. I don’t care if it causes a problem.” You shift back on his body traveling from your seat near his stomach down to his hips, his clothed dick firm and pressing against you. A moan escapes his lips, confirming that you’ve made your point. “There’s no one else nearby, so if you want me so much that you’re willing to fuck me out here, in the rain and mud-”

His hands come to grip your waist, and in one swift motion, he lifts you off, maneuvering out from underneath, to fall into place behind you. From there he pushes you down to your hands and knees, his body bent over yours. “You have no idea how much I want to.” He whispers with a kiss to your bare shoulder damp from the rain that continues to pour.

He takes off your bra before his face moves down your back, nose trailing against your skin and pausing at your shorts. Unfastening the button he pulls them down, freeing you of your underwear too before they are both cast aside. “I want to smell you, and taste you.” Jungkook takes in a deep breath, wrapping an arm around your legs, and barring your thighs. He buries his face between your legs, his tongue reaching out to deliver a long lick to your folds pausing after every lap.

Your palms dig into the ground, the cool mud coming to the surface to meet them. You buck against his tongue but the forearm holding you remains firm, sending your squirming downward to bury your elbows in the soggy grass too.

Jungkook chuckles as you inadvertently give him a better angle. From behind you can hear the zipper of his own shorts. Rubbing the head of his cock against your damp folds, he covers it with the slick of your slit, and with a long groan he eases it inside. He’s slow at first, letting you savor the girth and warmth of him. So you start to edge back and forward on his cock. Taking the time to enjoy every inch, along with the sounds that leave him. But when he returns to take control, the first thrust is so powerful, his thighs hit your ass with a loud clap, and every jolt of his hips after, drives you further down each time.

A stuttering groan escapes him as he fills you. Thinking he’s finished you lean forwards and until his cock pulls out, but in response he grabs your waist. Turning you over, back to the ground on top of the discarded clothes and facing him.

He lowers himself pressing his chest against yours. His fingers reach to grab your chin and take a kiss. His cock, despite having come only moments before, is hard once more and poised to enter once again.

“How are you-” You manage to squeeze a few words in the gaps between his kisses as he draws breath. “Ready for more-” Another pass of his tongue. “Already?”

“You have my hybrid traits to thank for that.” He moves to nibble on the side of your throat. “I have more to give you, if you want it.”

You nod unable to emit any noise other than a gasp as his mouth finds a sensitive spot on your neck. His dick forges in again, your slick and his cum dripping out of you as he fills you with himself instead.

You’ve avoided touching him with your own hands as they are patched with mud, but as his thrusts grow more powerful than even before, you’re forced to grab on his arms and chest. Leaving behind streaks of dirt which display the path of your grip. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind though, in fact looks rather encouraged by your touch, and the marks you leave him.

“What a dirty woman you are, and getting me all messy too.” He scoffs while admiring your handiwork. “Can I return the favour?”

“Help me come first and you can do whatever the fuck you want.” You gasp on the brink of your climax.

His ears perk up and a grin streaks across his face. “Close are you?” He grabs your calf and wraps your leg around his back, the other follows suit and his hand comes to rest on your lower back pushing you up and into him effectively grinding your mount against him.

You gasp and flinch with the sudden pressure, but he holds you firm as your back arches to meet him.

His hips beat on at a rapid pace, a small whimper escapes him as you reach the peak, tipping you over the edge. The chilling rain can in no way can douse the searing heat that spreads through you. You're still gasping when his jaw clamps down hard, his teeth poised upon your skin. The first pulse of his cock comes inside, but on the second he pulls out to splatter your chest and stomach with the rest. His hand comes to clutch his shaft, spilling more out and on to you with each stroke.

After every remaining drop has been cast on you he smiles, dragging his fingers across the rain drenched mess of mud and cum on your skin. “Never thought I’d ever see you so thoroughly soiled.”

You giggle at his remarks through your deep breaths. “And now that you do, what do you think?”

“I think it suits you, the dirt, the rain, and me...” He lowers himself down onto you, with his head now resting upon your shoulder. “It’s too bad though. Now I just want more, but we’re both far too filthy to carry on like this.”

You turn to whisper at the base of his ear. “Who says we can’t continue in the shower...”

...

You wake early the next morning with the sun spilling into the room, lighting up your bed, and the hybrid sleeping next to you. His ears and nose twitching as he continues to rest. Slipping out from the covers, and into a set of clean gardening clothes, you exit the room with as little sound as possible.

On the tile floor of your hall, muddy footprints trail from your backdoor to your bathroom. A smile pulls at your lips as you recall the events which brought them there. Jungkook had been so excited to keep going he picked you up and rushed you inside.

The feeling from the warm water and hands in contrast to the cool rain was enough to bring back the waves of pleasure. He was so thorough in washing you down, you might have to ask him to join you for another this morning and repay the favour.

Outside in the garden you find all your harvest from the day before present and untouched. You’re pleased by this new development, but it’s not the fact that your crops are intact which makes you happy, it’s the comfort in knowing that Jungkook didn’t feel the need to take them.

A few minutes later the hybrid in question comes up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist pulling with him a blanket he took from the bed to cover the both of you. “Morning.” He mumbles, as his nose finds the crook of your neck where he exhales with a deep and relaxed sigh.

“Morning.” You respond, enjoying the tickle of his breath before you turn around to better see him. “It seems the thief didn’t strike last night. ”

“I guess they found a new garden to plunder and devour?” Jungkook suggests, giving you a sly grin, before he opens his mouth again. It’s easy to see that he’s getting ready to confess, his face shifts to a stern expression as he looks down at the ground, the guilt weighing heavily upon his brow. Placing your index to his lips you stop him. No longer needing to hear those words of admission, you offer a new proposal instead.

“Maybe, but that was just one night. The thief might still come back. So if it’s alright with you I would like you to stay here. Until we can be sure they won’t return.”

Jungkook lets out a satisfied chuckle, pushing aside your finger and pulling you tighter into his warm embrace. “You’re right, I suppose it would be safer if I stayed.” His lips plant a kiss on the top of your head where he then rests his chin. “A temptation as enticing as this, shouldn’t be left alone and unattended.”

...

#jungkook smut #hybrid jungkook #bts hybrid au #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts the garden thief #bts smut #jungkook x reader

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midday0nightmares · 3 years

Photo

27 - pry on the weak (m).

Previous chapter in your arms (m).

m.list.

warnings: this series contains themes of yandere\mafia, blood, violence, mental health, drugs, non-con.

author note: this is pure fiction and it is not intended to romanticize any of the situations mentioned bellow.

The door was shut, it won’t open, it was cemented on every side expat for the small slit under it, you try knocking, shout for someone, anyone, but to no avail.

you try the window, it opens, but the sight is even scarier. The city is quiet, too quiet. No traffic in its usually busy streets, every window in the near buildings were closed, no birds in the sky, not a single sign of life, even the sun seems stuck in its place, time isn’t moving.

Outside the closed door, you can hear muffled sounds, you peak under the door and see the familiar white socks on a pair of feet moving around the room, it’s jaemin. you shout and scream for him, but he doesn’t even flinch, he just keeps going through his day.

You were forgotten, lost forever in his room.

You jolt out of the claustrophobic nightmare, everything around you looks sound and in its right place, including jaemin, who’s sleeping next you, it was a nightmare.. you didn’t think that a nightmare would have the audacity to visit you while you were sleeping in his arms.

You snuggle closer to him, too close, not minding if he wakes up right now, it would be ideal if he can listen to you telling him about the rude nightmare and sho It away..

He buckles under your pleads,

“fine.. you can come too”

The high pitched squeal you let out almost made him change his mind.

You wore a simple, body fitting black dress, a safe choice, you walked to the living room where jaemin was waiting for you, he was wearing a black suit, the black trousers making his long legs look extra inviting.

Jeno whistle from behind you when you spun to show jaemin your outfit, you roll your eyes at his ungentlemanly behavior,

But the way jaemin’s eyes were shinning, and the compliment “you look beautiful” made your heart flutter, but the butterflies were shot dead when jeno’s hand landed on your ass in a sharp slap.

You link arms with jaemin and make the short trip to the door across the hallway to chenle apartment, the door was open, you were welcomed by upbeat classical music, not what you’ve expected.

Inside, the apartment looked like an entire house by itself, it was three times bigger than your apartment, the atmosphere was intimidating, everyone looked expensive and beautiful, there was three type of guests, men, gorgeous women, and you.

Bite sized appetizers and trays of champion were being served along side an open bar at the corner, chandeliers were hanging off the ceiling and the big glass door opens to the terrace.

Your heart sunk and your stomach turned over inside of you. You cling to jaemin’s arm when you spot that face, haechan’s face.he approaches you and they all greeted each other, you keep looking else where, doing your best to ignore him.

“Hey man! Long time no see.. what are you doing here? You know chenle?” Yes good question jaemin, what is he doing here?

“Yeah yeah..” He leans closer and lowers his voice “he’s one of my top clients” he gestures to the tens of girls around.. and it clicks in your head that they were all escorts, brought by haechan, they were his girls. you didn’t even try to hide the look of disgust that was showing on your face.

“Hey handsome” a tall, brunette, doll like girl throws her arms around jeno, “haven’t seen you in a while” she seamlessly pout. He giggles and turns into a harmless puppy in her hands, she must be one of haechan girls too, of course he will pay for company, who would want to spend time with him.

Your attention turns back to the hushed conversation between haechan and jaemin,

“… no, his father is the of a one the leaders of the Chinese communist party, powerful man. and he’s the sole hire of multiple companies” haechan says.

“What is he doing here?” Jaemin asks.

“don’t know.. but based on what I have heard, he’s not staying for long..” haechan cuts himself as soon as he notice your interest in their conversation, “And how have you been doing sweet thing?”

oh the rage that went through you, you wished you could claw his eyes out, your distain is loud on your features. jaemin’s hand reach and hold yours, giving you a gentle squeeze, silently apologizing for breaking his promise of not having to see haechan again.

And of course Hacehan is anything but dumb, he reads your mood and turns back to jaemin “come, I want you to meet someone” .. “haa you never stop working, don’t you?” Jaemin let go of your hand and slips deeper into the crowd, leaving you standing awkwardly next to jeno and his baby.

You stomp with no destination in mind. you look around, amazed by everything, but you feel misplaced, the looks that were thrown your way, you didn’t belong here and everyone knew it, there was an underlining screech the luxuries mood.

You catch the back of jaemin’s head through the crowd, an unsuspected punch of something was delivered to your heart, throwing your mood completely off. he’s with a group of giggly girls, practically drooling over them.

you regret insisting on coming with him.. you should have known, but it’s too late now, you look else where and meet the sister eyes of haechan staring at you. he winks at you, you throw him the dirtiest look you have and move out of his sight line.

You pick a glass of champagne and lean against the wall, tipping the tall glass and drinking it in one go, and another.. starting to feel better. Chenle’s bright hair stands between the crowds, he gracefully moves around greeting everyone, you didn’t notice before but he’s quit charming.. he catches you staring at him and smile at you, rising his glass towards you, you fumble almost dropping your half empty glass.. when you mange to get a grip on yourself and rise your glass he had already return to his conversation.

“Hello, mind if I join you?” The stranger man stands next to you even before you could’ve answered him, “what’s your name?” He looks like he was operating on twice the normal human energy, fidgeting and unable to stay still for more than three seconds, his smile twitches, the look in his eyes is frantic.. his pupils are blown, he’s on something.

He speaks again before you can answer “hi Im yangyang, what’s your name?” why does his friends have wired names?

You watch him like he was a train wreck happing in slow motion, “here try this” he hands you one of the two glass he was holding in his hands, a pink cocktail with raspberry, you smile politely and take the drink, he stares at you with his frozen smile.. but something behind you catches his attention, he kinda looks like a cat, just like that he leaves as fast as he came, he’s kinds cute.

You move to the open terrace for some fresh air, the breeze flowing through your hair, you zone out as you watch the city lights.. a hand graze the small of your back brings you back, you jump in surprise. “sorry didn’t mean to scare you” chenle apologize, placing a tall glass of champion in front of you, his round cheeks flushed, he looks breathtaking in this proximity, or maybe it’s just the alcohol in your system..

“To be honest sera, Im a little offended” he confess, your eyes grow double the size “offended.. why?”,

he gives you sad puppy eyes and looks around “you don’t seems to enjoy my party”..

“oh no, I do. Your house is very beautiful and everything looks amazing” you try to convince him but he’s not buying it, you just give up and sigh, “im just tired” looking down to the busy streets..

He hums “tired or jealous?” Pointing at jeno who was too busy sucking that girl’s face, you roll your eyes and chenle laughs.

“im not” you bring the glass to your lips, drinking more, a pathetic attempt to suppress whatever have been twisting your insides.

Someone calls for him cutting your interaction short, “Alright.. well if you need anything come find me” he says before leaving you. You stay at your spot, distracting yourself with silly thoughts while the party behind you was growing wilder.

Your stomach growls, you feel sick and about to throw up.. heat rising through you, you sweat and feel lightheaded, you must have had too much to drink you are not used to it.

You stumble inside and through the crowded room, looking for the closest bathroom before it’s too late, haechan grabs your arm “sera.. are you ok?” His voice is far away although he’s standing next to you, you yanking your arm out of his hold “don’t touch me..”,

The room starts spinning, you hold the wall for support, after that it all went dark.

When you came back and opened your eyes, you were laid in a bed, the strong cologne filling your noise, upsetting your empty stomach. For a minute you don’t remember where you are or what had happened, the unfamiliar bedroom doesn’t ring any bills, your head is pounding, threatening to explode you move too much, you try to get up but a sharp pain shots through you, your hips feels like they were dislocated, your thighs bruised and had blood on them, your pulled up dress and torn underwear, it all indicates to one thing.

You mange to hold yourself through the initial shock, not breaking down. With a plan to find jaemin you fix your dress to cover your exposed breast, you force yourself up, picking up your discarded heal off of the floor. You limb your way out of the room, the party has quite down, it has turned to something else..

everyone looked like a living zombie, you look for jaemin, you open every door on your way, you open a door to a bedroom, and you see group of men gathered over a passed out girl, watching them felt like an outside body experience, like you were rewatching yourself. They were unfazed by your presences as they continue their assult..

you close the door to the hellish scene, you keep looking for him but he’s nowhere to be found.

You reach the main area, being met by jeno and haechan snorting whit powder of the coffee table, surrounded by loopy girls.. jeno tries to grab you, to pull you down with them but you escape his claw like hand.

You can’t take this anymore, you were starting to crumble. you did’t feel safe anymore. you head to the door and walk out, you seek the comfort of a familiar surroundings, their apartment, a hot shower, clean clothes, your bed.. but you don’t have a key and you don’t know the passcode, you try random combinations but nothing works, the door stays closed, duff to your cries.

You break down, tears streaming your face, you give up on the door and slid to the ground, leaning against the wall you sit alone in the hallway waiting for jaemin’s return.

#nct dream #nct yandere #nct smut #nct mafia #nct imagines #nct reactions #nct scenarios #nct blurbs #nct jeno #nct jaemin #nct angst #nct agnst

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sopxhiea · 4 years

Text

Lush

Alfie Solomons X Reader

Summary: Alfie finds himself in a party thrown in a finishing school that teaches ladies how to be proper in all senses of the world but a rare jewel of a wild young woman catches his eye.

“Sorry, is that supposed to impress me?”

Gold and silk.

It’s on the walls, coated in layers of sparkly paint as light reflects to the silk curtains. It’s on the tables, dozens of champagne bottles resting on top of the finest silk material while the sweet classical music fills the marble walls. The place reeks of the posh and their extravagant perfumes.

Alfie’s forcefully brought to the occasion.

Miriam, the old woman who’s appreciative of Alfie’s donations to the community, had decided that it was time for the man to make more public appearances. She’d forced the grumpy man into the crowd and the fancy outing as a way of branching out to the rest of the community for the Jews.

The night is organised by a bunch of English community elders for the new women’s school opened up right around the corner. It’s easy to recognise their pupils, all of them dressed properly as they greet as many guests as they can. Young ladies are all over the room, their lavish dresses flowing around their legs as they flash their kindest smiles to the people around.

Except you.

Accident, fate or bad luck. It was one of the three that had caused you to end up in the said school. Apparently, you weren’t a proper lady and also happened to lack the ability to act your age, or so you had been told after climbing a tree with your friend to get your hands on the fruit it so graciously had blessed you with.

It didn’t bother you in the slightest but there you were now, standing in a room full of bourgeoisie in a slim dress tailored by one of the maids who worked for the house you stayed in. Unlike all your other classmates, your face is absent of any smiles and the only thing that leaves your lips are snarky remarks.

Annabelle, who also happens to be your etiquette teacher, pinches your arms every now and then to either get you to act properly or to shut you up but it doesn’t work. You know her harsh movements are bound to create bruises on your arms but you don’t care, you hate every moment of the forced event.

You’re the odd one out, naturally.

Although you’re dressed properly with fine jewels and silk gloves, your fake laugh does not fill the air. You’re sulking, almost, as you listen to one of the elderly man talk about his business to your friends and you while you stand around.

The crowd is made up of women with rich men on their arms, just what your uncle wanted you to be when he had put you in the school two months ago. They’re wearing their finest dresses, most of their hairs are kept in a short form as they plaster smiles on their paint covered faces, nails painted with vibrant colours while they laugh at a stupid joke the rich makes.

And there’s him.

He doesn’t stand out per se, just when you manage to observe him for a while. He’s wearing a suit much like everyone else in the room but there’s something rough about him, something rugged as you stare at the broad man. He has an elderly woman on his arm, she’s talking his ear off while his eyes roam around the spacious room.

You don’t look away when his blue orbs meet yours.

He’s watched you all night and although you’d been sulking for most of the time, he still thought that you were the most beautiful woman he’d seen in a long while. He’d seen you make smart remarks towards some of the gentlemen, putting them in their place before you would walk to the bar to get some relief.

But this time, there’s a gentle smile on your lips.

He feels his breath get caught on his throat but he’s quick to recover while your gaze returns to the boring old man in front of you. Your dress is similar to the ones the girls are wearing but it hugs your body a little tighter, a fine pearl necklace graces your neck. Your hair is not short, opposed to most of the women around, but kept in wavy shape as it creates a frame around your soft features.

You seem like the youngest of them all.

But you also happen to be the wildest. In the last two months of you being there, all you’d caused was trouble. You’d not sleep and climb out of windows to disappear for a day or two. Your uncle would bring you back with a frown on his old face but you’d find a way to make trouble and piss the ladies off again. It was the only fun thing to do around the house you were kept in.

“It was very lovely to talk to you about your boring business.” you speak to the elderly man who’d been talking for the past hour with you and your friends, a smile rests on your painted lips. The man frowns at your words and is about to speak up when you wave at him and disappear towards the bar once again.

Alfie watches you as you move.

Your painted lips that had just been faking a smile now greet the transparent material of the crystal that holds the liquor you so badly need. You take a couple sips, a sheepish smirk on your lips as you feel someone approaching you from behind. You can tell who it is, his steps aren’t the most subtle or rhythmic.

Your small figure turns around swiftly turns around to face the pleasant stranger, a contagious smile on your lips as you look at him from head to toe. He sees the glint of wickedness swimming around in your orbs and he’s sure you’re the girl every cockney has been trying to get their hands on.

Alfie’s heard of a young woman who just won’t behave. As far as he’s concerned, most people think she should be married off to some boring bloke but the uncle won’t let them do it and he’s the only family she’s got. He’s heard of the wild dancing, the kind of moves that are nothing but filth and also the countless times of the escapes she’s made.

And there you are, the infamous wild lady, standing right in front of him.

“Hello, Mister.” you say, amused as you giggle at him. He copies your expression, a low smile on his lips while you feel his smell take over you, vanilla and rum.

“’ello to yourself, Miss.” he speaks, accent dripping from each word as you watch him, he’s even more handsome up close.

Your eyes drift along his tall form, he’s still tall even though you have your heels on. Your gaze lingers on his white shirt, it’s not as smooth as it was when he came in, or so you figure. He’s dressed sharp, his facial hair kept in a nice shape as the golden wires glisten underneath the many candles and chandeliers around. You don’t bother and be subtle as your eyes drink him but he’s doing the same to you.

You chuckle lowly as he takes a sip of the drink you’re holding, it’s much too strong but you’re only getting started.

“You, yeah, are makin’ quite the noise today.” he speaks, not a swear word within the sentence since he’s being proper for the occasion.

“As per usual.” you say, a sweet smile on your lips while you lean on the wall and he hovers tall above you, his face inching a little closer each time he speaks. “Interested?” you speak, wanting him to say yes because he seems to be the only one worth spending time with around here.

“I ain’t answering to that, love.” he says, head shaking at his own words and you watch him under the pleasant light as they create shadows around his face, he’s far too good looking for a bloke with his reputation.

Your eyes drop to his hand, decorated with lines and bands of rings and a crown tattoo, the rough skin makes you smile as your soft fingers trace his. His eyes flutter, the slow song filling the night and flowing out of the spacious house you’re both standing in. You blink a few times, seeing the glint of thrill in his eyes as you stare and stare, the night is long.

But your patience is non-existent.

“You’re no fun, Mister.” your words are barely audible as they leave your lips and he knows you’re teasing, his eyes flutter once more as a small whine leaves your lips and it’s all it takes for him to be envisioning your naked frame, although he’s already done it multiple times up until that point.

You try to be sweeter, appeal to his good nature to get what you want. You know that if a lady from the school is to leave today, with a gentlemen on her arm, it is allowed and you see it as your exit ticket to never return to the hell of a place. Your hands trace the head of his cane, feeling the cold material contrast the warmth of his hands. “What shall I call you?” you ask, danger swimming in your orbs.

“Name’s Solomons, luv.” he speaks, knowing that he needs to be proper and that means saving his name for the more intimate part of the conversation but you don’t seem pleased with the consideration from his part.

“No.” you speak, like a whiny girl and he thinks you’re the most charming whiny girl he’s seen but he waits for your painted lips to part and the sound of your sweet voice. “I knew that. Tell me what you like to be called.” you speak, voice smooth as silk as it delivers the words. He wonders what your voice would sound like if his head was between your soft legs.

There’s evident evil in your eyes but he’s drawn to it, like moth to a flame.

You half expect for him to tell you something absurd. This isn’t something you ask other people but in the rare occasion that you play with fire, the answers have been nothing but disappointing. They’d told you to call them baby, husband or sweetheart.

How pathetic, you thought.

“Alfie.” he speaks, voice low as his eyes don’t leave yours. A smile finds your lips and he stops himself from leaning in and kissing them.

“That’s a very good name.” you speak, satisfied for the first time in a while with a man’s answer. They seem too dull to you, most men are shallow and simply daft but this one seems to shine on you.

“Fuckin’ flattering old me.” he speaks, amused as he shakes his head and clicks his tongue. You’re far too young for him but that doesn’t seem to occur to you as you ogle him.

“Old?” you speak into his face, your perfume surrounding him as you play with his crisp shirt. He’s close to kissing you senseless but he figures Miriam wants him to act proper for the event. “I don’t think so.” you speak again, answering your own question and he watches the light flicker on your face.

“What is a pretty little bird like you doin’ in the corner?” he speaks, breath almost fanning your face while you almost lose yourself in the smell of him. He seems promising thus far.

You look up at him with an open mouth, seeing as he’s interested. Your agape mouth turns to a smile soon after, this victim of yours seems like a proper gentlemen. The truth was, you didn’t really belong there from the start, it was your uncle’s masterplan since your deceased parents were far too gone to do anything. You’d be a proper lady and the school would tame you down, get you a goodie two shoes husband and let you be on your best way.

But you weren’t the little gentle kid they were expecting.

Trouble made life worth living, there was no fun in the four walls you slept in most days and occasions like these were your ticket for the exit. You knew you’d have to tell the head of the class that you’re leaving with a gentlemen but that’s the point of the occasion, to make sure the girls get to know the people around and maybe even snag a husband of their own.

“Talking to you.” you speak, eyes looking up at the tall, handsome man as he sizes you up. He’s already made up his mind to donate a good amount of money to your school solely because of you.

“Ya’ know who I am, lass?” he speaks, no swearing induced with his words because he sees just how young you are, even though you look younger than you are.

“You just told me. Mr.Solomons.” you whisper against his face, voice breathy as his eyes threaten to flutter.

But you barely have a clue.

“I, yeah, am a bad fuckin’ man, luv.” he speaks, eyes locked into yours as his face moves. You watch the way his lips shift with each word and a blush rises on your cheeks. You giggle against his face this time, the music in the room constantly changes its melody.

“Sorry, is that supposed to impress me?” your voice is filled with amusement and laughter. It’s not like you’ve asked him to fuck you or take you home, not just yet.

He looks at you with wide eyes, taken aback by the bravery of such a little thing. You don’t have an ounce of fear in your eyes as you smile up at him and he speaks before you can.

“I don’t think, right, you want to be seen with me, luv.” he says, very aware of the fact that half of the room have been watching you and Alfie for the last hour. But you’ve already been seen with him, so you see no sense in what he’s saying.

“Nonsense.” you speak, the reply is almost automatic and you don’t break eye contact.

He chuckles, it’s low and you’re sure it would be impossible to hear if you weren’t standing so close. You hear his deep voice as he shakes his head. “Fuckin’ hell.”

“You’re the only one worth talking to in this goddamn party.” you whisper without realising it. You don’t intend on telling the gentlemen that but the sparks in his eyes when you change your mind.

Fancy events like this did not interest you, you wanted something real. It didn’t excite you that the carpets in the venue were brought from Milan or that the fine silk curtains were hand-made, you wanted things to be real, raw and not pretentious like all the posh souls were making it out to be. Alfie saw that, mostly because he felt the same way.

You wanted to run away from this place, to talk with someone about the possibilities of what the night had in stock for you and walk on the pavement with bare feet and listen to their laugh and ask them what they really thought of the place they were put in.

Alfie saw that in your eyes, you were young after all.

While you fiddled with your freshly painted nails and tried to ignore the obnoxious color the maid had chosen for you, you let him size you up. You were dangerous in the most complex ways but he liked that, he worked inside danger anyway.

“Say, luv..” he spoke, the pet name making your eyes flutter as he looked down at your small form. You didn’t look out of place here in the fancy venue but it was clear to him that you felt that way. “Do ya’ dance?”

Alfie didn’t dance, that was easy to tell and you weren’t a big fan of slow dancing either, too much intimacy was packed up in it for you. “Only If I like the gentlemen who asks me.” you spat out, true and honest as he watched you like a hawk.

But before he could even get to say anything, Miriam appeared out of thin air. She had been watching Alfie for the past hour as he made conversation with the one girl Miriam hoped he’d stay away from. Her eyes were glistening with excitement and anger, all packed up in giant orbs as she stared at you with a smile.

Alfie cleared his throat when he realised the lady had come in and needed to be introduced. Your posture clearly straightened while he started to speak, uninterested but the deed had to be done so she would leave.

“This is Miriam.” Alfie muttered, almost like a little kid who didn’t want to do it but he soon realised you hadn’t told him your name. His eyes met yours as you looked at the lady next to him and she spoke up at last.

“And who is this lovely lady?” Miriam spoke, voice a little deeper than you’d expect but it suited her. You smiles and took her hand, shaking it like how businessman shook each others’ hands and Alfie smiled at your tomboyish attitude.

“Y/N.” you spoke softly, subtly looking at Alfie direction when he muttered your name under his breath. It sounded right.

“Oh! What a lovely name!” she exclaimed, making you giggle at her excitement for such a normal part of the conversation. You nodded at his words and thanked her like you’d been taught to do.

“Thank you. That’s very kind.” you spoke, a fake smile plastered on your lips while Alfie watched you under a heavy stare, you were perfectly conversing with the lady but it was obvious you wanted to be your own self.

“You two have been talking for quite a while. You don’t mind if I steal Mr. Solomons for a while, do you, dear?” she spoke, almost testing you but you had been trained by the best to not show any emotion. You nodded and smiled, realising that you were a little further down from the bar.

“Of course not.” your words were forced but the lady wouldn’t notice. You shot Alfie a charming smile before the lady dragged him to meet a couple new investors for the Jewish community. It wasn’t like they needed them, but Miriam thought that it was only natural for him to meet people who’d do the same thing as he was doing in terms of donations.

------

The venue was now filled with music, the lively kind. All the couples were tired from the endless slow dancing with the music they had put on so you had finessed the perfect plan to seduce the man who handled the live musicians and although all you had given him was a precious smile, he had started playing tunes you could easily dance at your request.

Most of the girls from your class were now on the dance floor, dancing the day away in the most proper way possible with more than two dozen young men around. No matter how big the opportunity was for them, most of them looked stiff as they moved to the music. They didn’t quite know how to move their bodies in a way that would make men their slave yet and seeing as that was what you were currently doing, you grabbed one of the girls and began teaching her slowly.

Alfie had been talking to a businessman who owned a few casinos up town. He was new to the world of being a gangster but the man seemed speakable enough for him to endure a fifteen minute conversation before he heard familiar giggles overlapping with the music that was being played.

And there you were.

You were an expert at getting yourself in trouble as far as Alfie could tell and the way you moved to the music was the sole proof of the fact. Your body moved to the rhythm, the kind of sways coming from your hips that would be enough to have any man floored if only you’d ask. Miriam watched as Alfie gulped at the sight, he was in deep trouble.

But one tug at his sleeve and he was back to normal.

He ignored the smile on your lips as your drunken state moved to the upbeat song, you were a little too fragile for any man around that night. Tonight was supposed to be about everyone getting to go home with a man on their arm, the sole purpose was to find the grown girls someone to tie their knot with so that the school could invite younger ones.

But you were sure you’d be the last to go.

Men liked to look at you, there was the innocence of a doll mixed with the deadly sins inside your small frame and that was enchanting but it wasn’t enough to keep them interested for the rest of their lives. You were stubborn and didn’t behave like a proper lady should, or so that was what you’d heard since you were a small girl.

So you found no point in trying to act like one.

An hour passed in what felt like the blink of an eye and you stumbled on your way to the big sofa in the corner of the room. Some of your classmates were already gone with men in their arms to keep them company through the night and you had a look around to see who you could entice.

And to your surprise, the pleasant stranger was still here.

He had been watching you for the last hour with the old lady in his arm. She usually talked about giving back to the community and Alfie was all for that but there was something that kept pulling him to you. He had watched as you eyed every person in the room until your eyes landed on him, a small smile playing at your lips and he realised you weren’t as drunk as he thought you were.

That wasn’t you being drunk, it was you being nothing but trouble.

“May I?” your voice was soft against the air while you tried to get to the whiskey on the table but Alfie was blocking your access. You had walked graciously towards him before that and he was sure you wanted something.

“No fucking way.” he spoke under his breath and your eyebrows shot up at the words. He was amusing after all.

While he blocked your hands from reaching the whiskey bottle, you shot him an innocent look and he felt as though he was playing with something a little bigger than himself.

“Why?” you asked with a dash of threat lying under. You could make this moment very difficult for him but it went both ways.

“You, yeah, are too fuckin’ young to even be here, luv...” he speaks and you watch the way his eyes drink you up. You’re too young for drinking but now young enough to keep his eyes to himself, apparently. “...let alone be dancin’ the way you were.” he finishes his sentence and your amused chuckle fills his ears. It’s not what he expects to hear.

“Liked something you saw?” you ask, daring as you look into his eyes. He chuckles, he’s clearly taken aback.

He shakes his head instead of answering. Most of the people around are gone with their gentlemen and the party will be over soon, you figure you’ll be going to the cold bed you woke up in. He catches the faint sign of disappointment on your face and he’s smart enough to put two and two together.

But you seem far too dangerous for a man like him, he thinks.

Before he can answer your question, Annabelle comes around with a plastered smile and starts speaking in the tone you hate so much.

“Y/N! The party is over, dear. You best be on your way to your room.” she speaks, sizing Alfie up along the way. You huff and stare at the old lady. You didn’t think the party was a grand idea anyway.

“Alright.” you speak, knowing she won’t like it and Alfie enjoys the way a hint of smile plays on your lips while Annabelle turns furious for a second.

“What have I taught you?” she says, composing herself in front of the guest and Alfie watches the whole thing play out.

“Yes, Miss.” you say with a fake smile but you’re far from done. They both hear the words as you mutter them under your breath. “Your wish is my command.”

Alfie can’t help but laugh.

You know Annabelle won’t let this go but she smiles at the guest as a sign of kindness, something she hasn’t shown you in your time around here. Alfie turns to you to see the horror in your eyes and he can tell it’s because of the old grumpy lady who keeps bugging you.

And he decides to be the gentlemen.

You’re about to say goodnight and go to your room but he speaks up first to Annabelle, you don’t protest when his hand grabs your small one and caresses it while speaking.

“Actually, this one right here, yeah, will accompany me for the rest of the evenin’..” he speaks and catches the way your eyes light up but he’s composed while the old lady looks at you first and then looks at Alfie.

She’s sure it’ll be a disaster.

“Of course.” she says, wanting to get rid of you as fast as she can.

You watch her leave and Alfie’s hand engulfs your small one in the process. With stars in your eyes, you return to the kind gentlemen but he’s fast to speak before you can thank him. “We best be on our way, lass.”

And he leaves with you on his arm, unaware of the things the night has in stock for the both of you.

----

Tagging: @clairecrive @parkbearum @sourirez @vetseras @mollybegger-blog @babylooneytoonz @peakascum

a/n: I know i have been inactive but i have one more week of school before the winter break so i’ll be better, I promise!! and please let me know what you thought or/and if you’d like to be tagged!! <3 Happy december!

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coffeecakefanfics · 3 years

Text

A moments glance | B.B x Fem!Reader

Requests are open!!!!!

Summary: Bucky misses the feeling of human connection, both emotional and physical, so does Y/N. After a particularly brutal mission the two can deny their want any longer

Warnings: Language, angst? SMUT! (probably badly written but oh well) This fic is a lot longer than I wanted but it’s worth it I promise.

Missions are normally pretty easy. Luckily it was the dream team that got stuck on this mission together. Sam, Bucky, and Y/n stood around a base layout, making a plan as to how to get this mission to sail smoothly. It was a simple job, repo a plane that had been stolen and return it to the owners, aka the fucking US Military.

“So Y/n has pilot knowledge so if we can get through the fence and to it she can fly it back here to base, easy,” Sam explained the plan to the soldiers.

“Sam and Bucky will go with me as my second hands and eyes, be my body guards,” Y/n nodded and looked up. “This is an easy job so it shouldn’t take long, maybe a couple hours, but stay on standby in case force is needed,” the woman stood straight and tapped her fingers on the table. The crew split into the groups, taking their places. Sam sat in the drivers seat of the car while Y/n sat in the front and Bucky was stuck in the back.

“We’re here, everyone ready?” Sam asked and threw the car in park.

“Are we ever ready?” Bucky snarked and stepped out. The three were greeted by a fence with barbed wire across the top.

“Can we break it down?” Bucky looked between the two.

“That my dear would be destruction of property, a charge none of us can afford right now,” She huffed and opened the backseat, pulling the floor mat out.

“What the hell are you doing with that?” Sam looked at the girl as if she was crazy.

“Throwing the mat over the wire?” she furrowed her brow and tossed the mat over the fence and scaled it.

“Coming? or am I leaving you two dummies for the birds?” she smirked.

“Ha ha very funny,” Sam snarked back.

“This guy,” she smiled playfully at Bucky, who in return smiled back, a small one, but a smile.

“There she is, look at this beauty,” Y/n motioned to the plane. The three climbed in, starting the engine.

“Bucky once we’re in the air I want you to contact the air force and tell them their plane is on it’s way,” she spoke calmly as she started down the runway. She was setting up controls when Bucky’s voice broke their silence.

“Uh guys? I think we got company,” a black SUV sped down the runway, stopping before two guys stepped out wielding guns.

“Pull up!” Sam yelled the girl.

“I’m trying,” she yelled back, the plane getting closer before finally taking off. The firing followed them up into the air.

“Looks like we’re clear,” Y/n took a breath.

“There’s probably a reason they didn’t want us taking the plane,” Bucky commented.

“If I had to guess, drugs, I mean the air force tests flights so much that nobody bats an eye, especially at fort carson,” the woman nodded. “Sam can you check all of the compartments?” she looked back at him.

“Yeah, of course,” he tipped his head and began opening the compartments lining the walls, bags of cocaine spilled out of an overhead bin.

“Oh shit, that’s thousands of dollars worth of hard drugs right there,” she peered back at the mess.

“yeah no shit, what do we do?”

“Get on the comms and alert them of what’s happening”

“on it”

The blaring sound took over their voices.

“What the hell is going on?” Bucky asked

“We’re losing altitude, buckle in for a crash landing”

“I’m sorry what?!”

“Do it!” she barked “Sam jump and get to the base, let them know what happened, go now!” she was barking orders at them.

“I’ll hurry back” Sam called and jumped, catching wind just in time.

“So what are we just going to die?”

“No, not if I can help it. But we are going to have to drop into the mountains, so hold on to something,” she gave him a sympathetic look. The plane crashed down into the mountain, losing the wings in the process. The two climbed out, seemingly unharmed.

“So what are we just going to sit here and wait?” Bucky looked at the girl.

“I’m afraid so, we can’t risk moving, they won’t find us,” she huffed and slumped against an aspen tree.

“Great,” Bucky huffed and sat across from her, against a fallen pine log. The two sat in silence for a few minutes, the ringing in their ears taking over.

“Have you ever been this far west?” Y/n asked. Bucky peeked up at her. Sighing he tossed a rock to his left.

“No, at least, not that I can recall,” he looked back at the dirt.

“It’s pretty, Pikes peak is worth the view, if you ever get to go,” she cleared her throat, awkwardness settling in.

“You been?”

“Yeah, I uh, I grew up here, in springs, that’s why I knew about the fort carson stuff. They always test fly and they take kids for rides sometimes. also teach kids how to pilot when they reach a certain age,” she trailed off.

“Military brat?”

“Yeah”

“I never knew that,” he looked at her, really looked at her. He noticed how she sat with her knees up, but her shoulders slumped. Her she chewed on the inside of her lip.

“I never really told anyone,” she shrugged,”You know we have worked on the same team for I don’t know how many years and yet I feel like I hardly know you,” she remarked. Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat.

“I don’t really open up to people, it’s not something I do,” it was his turn to chew on his lip.

“I get it, you up walls, try and protect yourself. . .”she trailed off, a soft rustling in the brush caught her attention. She held her finger to her lips and slowly stood, Bucky following her move. The two crouched and ducked behind some bush.

“They couldn’t have gotten far, move,” a mans voice barked. Y/n looked at Bucky with wide eyes. Bucky scanned the are before nodding to a path, they crept their way over, carful not to make too much noise. One they had gotten far enough away they stood straight and starting sprinting.

“The guys that hijacked the plane?” She asked.

“That’s my guess,” he shrugged.

“Bucky I need to stop,” she panted, trying to catch her breath.

“We’re probably far enough away,” he slowed to a stop.

“I’m sorry,” she took a ragged breath

“It’s fine, not all of us are, what do you like to say? built different,” he cracked a smile. Y/n smiled back at him before they broke off into laughter.

“You remembered that dumb saying?”

“I try to remember them all, I’m trying to make my place in this world, and if that means learning the lingo then I guess I have to”

“Must be hard,” she stood next to him, “trying to get used to this”

“you have no ide-” a gunshot and a scream of pain cut him off. His eyes shot in the direction of the shot before landing on the girl, crumpled on the forest floor.

“Shit” he scooped her up and started sprinting west.

“Shit shit shit, hey doll, if you can hear me keep your eyes open you hear,” he peeked down at her. She was clutching her stomach.

“Tell me something, tell me about, tell me about your house of a kid,” he scrambled to find anything to talk about.

“yellow,” she breathed,” it was yellow” He caught sight of a cave and ducked into it.

“keep going”

“It had, two floors and an attic, the uh, the upstairs had a balcony,” she took deep breaths. Bucky pulled out a knife and cut the bottom of his shirt, putting pressure on his wound.

“Bucky?” she looked at him as close as she could

“yeah?”

“What was your favorite part about the forties?”

He laughed. “The stupid dive bars, going dancing,” he thought for a second.

“Were you any good?” Y/n teased.

“Oh please, look at me, I was the best,” he said, jokingly cocky. The silence took over. The only sound was a ragged breath every now and then. Y/n Held her phone up.

“Nothing,” she felt tears well up in her eyes.

“Bucky?” She got his attention.

“yeah Y/n? what’s up?”

“If i’m going to die today, can I at least get to know you before I go?” she asked

“Listen to me, and you listen to me good, you ain’t dying today got it?” he spoke sharply, but with concern laced and weaved in his voice.

“In my jacket is a pack of matched, I saw some twigs and pinecones at the opening of the cave, grab them, make a fire, please, i’m freezing,” she pleaded. Bucky didn’t say anything as he obliged. The small fire illuminated the walls, but was small enough that they wouldn’t be spotted. Bucky sat across from Y/n, he watched as she scanned the walls.

“Mica,” she spoke plainly.

“Yeah, ton of the shit too,” he kind of huffed, looking around.

“They used to make windows out of it, for cars and shit, also dry wall, but most importantly it used for stuff like spark plugs,and electronic components like compasses during world war 2 ” she stated, half heartedly. Bucky looked at the girl shocked.

“Yeah, thats- how’d you know that?”

“Grandpa fought in the war, told me all kinds of stories before he passed, also taught me about minerals and stuff before he passed too, he and dad used to take me camping, they’d teach me how to hunt, farm, fish, find and purify water, which berries and shrooms are good to eat, case I ever got lost,” she laughed and winced at the pain. “I miss them,” she sighed.

“Those are good skills to have,” Bucky smiled at her. He went silent. It had been a few hours, no sign of anyone. He looked at Y/n, she didn’t look great, she was pale, she was growing tired. He didn’t want her to be miserable, or to die not knowing him.

“My name is James Buchanan Barnes, I was born March 10th 1917, I have a younger sister named Rebecca, we called her Becca,” He spoke up. Y/n looked at him with a smile and nodded him on to continue, “I’ve always wanted a cat, and if I could have kids i’d want a daughter, I’d name her Scarlett,” he stammers on. The young woman listens attentively. Her breathing became slower, more strained.

“no no no, don’t fucking die on me,” he jumped over to her, clutching her wound. “Please, I barley know you, I want to know more,” he pleaded. She smiled at him and held her blood soaked hand to his cheek.

“thank you,” she husked before her eyes rolled back.

“No!” he yelled.

“Bucky?!” Sam, it was Sam, and the air force. Bucky was pulled away as they loaded Y/n onto the chopper and raced her back to base. Hot tears slipped down his face as the world seemed to slow down. His connection, the one person he started to open up to was ripped from his arms, just as the walls came tumbling down.

He sat pacing the hospital room, her body laid limp in the bed, unmoving, just as it had for the past two days. The nurses tried to get him to go home, but after the third shift change and his protests to stay after visiting hours they gave up. He stared out the window, looking to the mountains, they were still capped with snow. He remembers her saying she was freezing, he recognizes that feeling now. Cold, unmoving, dead.

“Hey champ,” a hoarse voice spoke in the room. He spun on his heels, Her eyes were opened, still droopy from the pain killer, but opened.

“Thank god you’re okay,” he yanked a chair beside her and clutched her hand.

“I should’ve believed you,” she cracked a smile, Bucky felt his eyes well. Why? He still barely knew her.

“My name is Y/n L/n I was born (your birthday), I have no siblings, I have always wanted a dog and if I had a kid i’d want a little boy named Matthew,” she squeezed his hand slightly.

“Good morning,” another womans voice broke the room with a knock. “I’m your nurse for this morning, my name is Sarah Good, yes like the book the crucible and i’ll take care of you till 7 tonight,” she smiled at the two brightly. “Todays agenda, always will be on the board, we want to get you to be able to be in a sitting position, and we want to start PT, or physicsl therapy if we can, We’re going to try and get you a real lunch today, and if we’re lucky you can get off those iv’s by tomorrow”

The last week was rough, But Bucky sat beside her through it all, they talked about life, about death, the world, every little thing they could think of. When she was released it was Bucky who escorted her back across the country to home. Sam met them at her apartment for diner and a toast to a job not so smooth for the dream team, now stronger that all three had a bond. Sam had left about an hour ago, Bucky insisted on staying to help clean up.

“Bucky, really this is too much to ask, it’s fine,”

“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s the least I can do”

“It’s late, do you want to stay? I mean I can take the couch and you can take my bed it-”

“I’m not taking your bed doll, I’ll take the couch if you really want me to stay but it’s not a problem for me to go home,” he smiled at her and set the last plate in the dish washer.

“I kind of got used to you staying around,” she blushed. “We can watch a movie?” she offered.

“Sounds great”

They weren’t paying attention to the movie, well at least they pretended to, Each watched the other out of the corner of their eyes. It was Y/n who made the first move, leaning her head on his shoulder, Bucky tucked his arm around the woman, inching her closer. She felt her face get hot, she peered up at him to find him looking back, they ripped their eyes apart and both went flush.

“Bucky-

Y/n I-” they spoke at the same time, letting out a laugh.

“Go first,” he insisted.

“No, it’s fine,” she stammered.

“Y/n I- I really like you, I’m glad I let down my walls for you,” he swallowed the lump in his throat. She felt her breath hitch.

“I was going to say the same thing,” she spoke, barely above a whisper. It hadn’t occurred to the couple just how close they were to each other. Y/n felt Bucky’s breath dance across her face.

“Can I. . . can I kiss you?” he breathed out. She sim-ply nodded and met his lips, soft and delicate at first before he set his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her in. Her lips were intoxicating, he could get drunk on her. She let a moan slip as he pulled her into his lap gently. He felt his eyes roll at the sound. She ground into his lap, letting the feeling of his growing bulge tease her. She laced her fingers in his short hair, gently tugging where she could, causing a groan and for him to buck his hip to meet hers. Y/n pulled back panting, trying to catch her breath before moving her lips to meet his neck.

“Y/n doll, I uh- it’s been a while,” he panted and fought the moans that threatened to leave his throat.

“It’s okay, let me take care of you?” she caught his eyes. Her face was pure, innocent, but her words were laced with lust. He nodded and let his hands grip her hips. She tugged his shirt off of his body, decorating his chest with kisses, working and inching her way to his hips. She looked up at him, he was a mess, head laid back, breathing ragged. She carefully undid his pants and slid them down his legs. catching the skin above his hip bones she left a small purple mark on either side, claiming him as hers. He had looked down at her now, catching her eyes. She licked her lips before taking him into her mouth, The moan he let rip from vocal cords was ungodly.

“Fuck, doll I -” he let his eyes meet hers, still laced with innocence, before groaning and throwing his head back. He let his air out in puffs as she worked him over. Her touch was delicate and sweet, he forgot how nice it felt, to be taken care of, to be treated with kindness. She let her fingers slip to cup his balls, gently playing with them as she let her pretty mouth suck his cock. The sight was straight out of a wet dream,

“I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop,” he pleaded, grabbing her hair with his flesh hand, clutching the couch with the metal one. The small breaths he let out only encouraged him further, she picked up her pace, daring him to cum down her throat. A string of fucks and his hips tensing, and slowly relaxing followed soon after. She caught his eyes, swallowing what he gave her and grinning at him.

“Holy-”

“Yeah,” she smiled.

“Let me return the favor baby,” he pulled her back into his lap.

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reade

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lapis-arts · 3 years

Text

The Knife of Amphibia

Chapter 2: Prison Escape

Summary: Months had passed since Anne's arrest. After putting up with mistreatment and retaining her innocence, she finally thinks about breaking out of prison... Little did she know, someone is willing to help her out.

Fandom: Amphibia

Features: Assassin AU, Aged Up Anne and Plantars

Warnings: Violence, blood, interrogation

Word Count: 1,807 Words

Anne woke up in her dingy cell that morning. Her body had ached all over from sleeping in the prison’s horrible conditions for the last few months.

Lady Olivia was nowhere to be found to hear her out, having to replace the king's duty to restore order in the city, lest it burned down completely. She had told General Yunan what happened word for word since day one, but it all fell upon deaf ears. All Yunan wanted was for Anne to confess to the murder and she might get life in prison. She wasn't going to, though. She knew what happened, her story stayed consistent throughout the months, so she stood her ground and retained her innocence.

It had felt like today was the final day of her life as guards came to her cell and dragged her to the torture chambers once more, strapped down into the chair for the torturer to do as Yunan ordered. The tall and hulking toad burned Anne repeatedly with a red-hot iron rod, the human crying out in pain, the general trying once again to force a confession. A few burns later, Yunan finally stepped in.

"Ok, ok, that's enough!" She said, motioning for the torturer to leave them alone. Anne growled as the woman got closer and spat in her direction.

"I already told you everything that happened... Why won't you listen to me!?" She hissed. Yunan just gave her a grin as she walked up to Anne and placed a hand on her chin to make her look up at her. "Oh, you foolish human.. It was part of the plan all along." Yunan said, about to reveal her hand to Anne.

"Wh-what?... What are you talking about?" Anne asked, clearly confused by what Yunan was telling her.

"Andrias was bound to be murdered before you and Marcy arrived earlier than noticed.. You just showed up at the wrong place at the right time. Now, I get to hit three flies with one stone." She chuckled, Anne staring wide eyed at the general in disbelief.

"You're insane..." Anne said, her brows furrowed in anger as she tried to struggle through the straps, the thick leather leaving rope burns on her skin the more she struggled to break free to beat up Yunan senseless.

"It's far too late to put up a fight, Anne. The whole kingdom believes you killed Andrias in cold blood and poor Olivia has no time to listen to your pleas. I'm in charge of your fate now.." Yunan smirked, grabbing the iron rod the torturer left in the burning fire, poking at Anne with it to get an official fake confession for the last time.

"Don't make this harder than it already is.." she threatened, burning Anne every time she refused to agree to the confession, the human stifling her cries of pain the best she could, not giving Yunan the satisfaction of hearing her pains.

After enough torment, Yunan knew the human wasn't going to give in. By that account, refusing to admit to the murder, Yunan had sentenced Anne to death by guillotine.

Anne was to be thrown back in her cell and await execution for the next few days, her body completely sore and covered in fresh and painful burns. She can't take on this abuse anymore. Anne had to get the hell out of there. She was clearly innocent based on the evidence, but a conspiracy damned it all...

Something didn't add up.. Why would Yunan kill off Andrias? Did she have something to do with the plague, or does she just want to rule Amphibia for all the glory and power? No matter what the newt's motives were, Anne needed to get out or her head will be rolling from the chopping block this weekend no matter what. For now, all she wanted to do was rest and slumped into a corner of her cell to sleep the afternoon away.

---

Later that evening, Anne woke up from the sound of a guard rattling the bars of her cell, signifying that it's dinner time already.

"You should eat up, Anne. This meal is from a friend." Is all the guard said, leaving rather quickly. A friend, was it? The human made her way over to the food tray, seeing a bowl of soup as usual, but it was actually warm and fresh this time. As she pulled the bowl away, she noticed a folded piece of paper in tact. She nearly tossed meal aside and quickly opened it, a small key falling out on her lap, yet revealed a handwritten note directed to her, and she couldn't be more relieved to recognize it was Lady Olivia's handwriting in particular.

"Hello Anne. I apologize for my absence, but I know for a fact you are innocent. I've pestered Yunan to extend your trial, but she's too over her head for reasoning and I have no time on my hands to continue doing so. Take this key, escape your cell and take refuge into the sewers."

Anne wasted no time at that point. She looked out the bars of her cell to check for no guards doing rounds, and slipped the key into the cell lock and got out. To her convenience, it seems like the guard who gave her the note left a sword on top of one of their tables, Anne gladly took it and fled the area. The human stuck close to the walls, peeking over the corners to make sure no guards were in sight. In some parts of the prison, Anne had to stick to the pipes and vents near the ceiling to avoid the guards scattered across a room. Never had she been more grateful to endure Marcy's stealth training, as it came quite in handy until she reached the exit point.

Just outside of the entrance gate was the river that surrounded the prison. If she could find a way out, she could easily dive and swim to the sewer entrance on the other side. Unfortunately, in order to do that, she had to get through the guards. Anne evaded the guards doing rounds, sticking to the shadows and hiding behind storage containers. She managed to slip through a broken window the entry office hadn't fixed yet, seeing a newt guard yawning while he was writing something down. Anne couldn't take any chances and neutralized him, putting him in a chokehold until he passed out.

"Sorry.." she muttered under her breath, quickly traversing to the next room, taking down whoever was there. Next to the window was a control panel, a lever off to the side labeled "Gate."

Bingo, her one way ticket out of here.

She quickly pulled the lever and waited for the gate to open, slipping out through the back door. All the guards turned their attention towards the gate, puzzled as to why it was opening. Once the moment was right, Anne sprinted as fast as she could towards the exit, shoving guards aside as they got in her way.

"Sound the alarm!!" A guard yelled, a couple of officers running towards the nearest alarm, hastily ringing the series of bells.

"Shit!" Anne growled as she heard the alarms ring out, pushing herself even faster towards the ledge. Near the edge of barbed wire fence were the watch towers by the lifted bridge, the prison guards hearing the alarms and spotted Anne down below. The guards grabbed their crossbows and shot at her, Anne pulled out her sword in response, slashing a few bolts out of the way, save for one that nicked her right on the shoulder, drawing blood. Anne hissed from the sharp pain, but ignored it once she reached the ledge, and finally jumped off.

She dove down a few yards into the water, quickly swimming away. She made her way to the sewer gates just across, swiftly opening and shutting them close as she entered, finding a loose pipe and shoved the metal in between the handles of the gate, making sure no one would enter for a good moment.

Once the adrenaline rush ended, Anne took off deeper into the sewers and stopped as she was met with a locked gate. She took a step back to rest for a moment, collecting her thoughts before continuing on, processing that she actually broke out of prison.

"Oh my fucking frog.. I actually made it out.." she panted, sliding down the wall onto the floor to take a breather. After regaining herself, Anne turned to the locked gate again, trying to figure out a way around it. Off to the side of the wall, was another handwritten note, seemingly from Olivia again.

"Anne, if you made it, then congratulations! Beyond the sewers should be your exit, and familiar friendly faces should see to you after you leave through the storm drain. Good Luck"

Anne looked up the gate and saw a little crawl space, climbing up and crawled through to get to the other side. She soon heard footsteps and officer commands echo through the sewers, knowing it was the Royal Guard trying to find her. The human stuck towards hiding again, trying to avoid much conflict as she could this time around. Anne even had to endure swimming through the sewer water under bridges just avoid detection, thankfully leaving unscathed.

After exiting the sewers out of a storm drain, Anne finally reached above ground where she saw a familiar looking family wagon, seeing three young looking frogs keeping watch. It wasn't until she saw that unmistakable aviator hat on one of the pink frogs that she realized who it was.

The said frog with the hat turned towards the drain to see the human climbing out of it, his eyes widened in disbelief as he realized who it was and quickly hopped over to her.

"Anne! You're ok!" He said, jumping into Anne's arms and hugged her.

"Sprig! Hey buddy!" She hugged him back, embracing the moment for a bit before she placed him down as the other frogs came to see her. "Hey Polly, hey Ivy. Damn, it's been a long time." Anne said. While the sentiment was nice, they all understood they didn't have time to waste.

"We gotta get you to Wartwood! It wasn't easy for us to get past the barricade." Ivy explained, Polly brushing off the situation. "Oh please! Those guys are nothing. We can take them on if they're trouble." That statement hinting the young frogs certainly weren't going down without a fight.i

After that, the frogs quickly got Anne into the fwagon, making sure there were various hiding placing for Anne just in case someone inspected them. Sprig took the driving seat and grabbed Ol' Bessie's reigns and finally took off to make the journey to Wartwood.

#amphibia #amphibia anne #anne boonchuy #assassin au #amphibia yunan #general yunan #amphibia sprig #sprig plantar #amphibia polly #polly plantar #amphibia ivy #ivy sundew #the frogs are there just towards the end lol

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theawesomeally · 3 years

Text

Before We Met (Preview)

Prologue

In a world inhabited by mythic creatures, love was commonplace several millennia ago, though difficult to master. After his training advances over the decades, his powers became obsolete and were largely discarded.

[The camera zooms in on the city and two blazing specks of light dash all over the place as one shoots lasers at the other. We then see an enemy aircraft flying throughout while it's chasing a young man, who is running from the pursuer. We see full closeups of a guy in his craft and Rocky as he runs. The scene freezes after an explosion with Rocky barely missing it.]

[voice over]

Through the years I have been known by many names. Marshmallow, The Furry Lover, The Daredevil, Frisky Two Times and then The amazing Ryan Reynolds. But to most, I am Rocky, the awesome one!

[Some other women, leaning across the wall, and Rocky getting his shades from his pocket. Put it onto his eyes. While he puts his hoodie onto his shoulders. Rocky was dressed like a gentleman, but he fought with honor or dignity and pulled at the knot into his tie. Females are not meant to grab his attention, and if it does. To be fair, he heard most of what he'd said up to this point. The parts that weren't of his interest, anyway.

Okay, maybe that wasn't much]

His sigh is heavy with exasperation,

"Can you keep your dick in your pants at the gala?"

Grab his phone from his pocket, automatically switching it out of Bluetooth mode, and bring his earphone up to his ear.

I will never forget you, Margarita. [The female stops and cringe after hearing the name. His blue prominent eyes were not well adapted to winking. They were rather of the sort that closes solemnly in slumber with majestic effect.

Rocky pretend to consider as Rocky step out of the car and button his tux jacket. "Hmm."

"Nice wheels, sir," the valet says, unconcerned that he was on the phone. Rocky pull out his wallet and flash a fifty-dollar bill. "Take care of her and this is yours."

"Yes, Mr. Rocky."

"I mean, Rosa. Uh...sorry. I think maybe I should go.???." She wrapped her arms over her chest and shook her head with a smirk curved across her face. Rocky grinned and raised an ironical finger in salute Rocky starts backing away. "You can't get away with it." the security guard muttered, holding out one hand. He was moving very slowly, thinking Rocky was the enemy or something. Blinks at her as a farewell, but glance with a smug as he sees the vampire's ring. Mind was so wrapped up in thought that he didn't notice the familiar vampire standing behind him. A vampire with bad breath psycho. "Hey, come on, dickie! You're trashing public property here!" He is thinking about how he had to sneaked up onto the roof and is currently standing a few feet behind him.

Rocky then gently slides the ring off the vampire's finger using his katana.

Light glinted off a myriad of his Katana and the vampire ring. Spray from the dust to blew up into his face, but sweat more than seawater moistened his palms as he gripped the eagle. His eyes were as blue while the vampires eyes were cold as the stormy weather.

"Hey, it's Gale calling," says Rocky called over his shoulder to one nefarious vampire. "Love the shiny suit. Really brings out the sex trafficker in your eyes." Rocky had commented, half jokingly and straight up confident, how that guy would have been considered handsome - if he ever bothered to smile.

Cut to a shot of a cliff.

A grim expression again carved itself into the soldier's face as he gazed up at the jeering vampires, their bodies smeared with blood, upon the cliff tops. Even the most cowardly of tribes in Gaul would fancy its chances from such advantageous ground, one being was mused. The sound of their jeers was occasionally accompanied by the high pitched swish of an arrow, as the odd archer tried his luck. Invariably the missile would zip harmlessly into the sea, or at best a thud could be heard as it struck as a human shield or the solid surface of the earth.

Cut back to the fighting scene. Rocky is skewering a guy with his swords, and kicks the vampire in the chest, sending him back down and puts his sword away. The guy gasp and starts fighting with Rocky. This continues for awhile until Rocky get's away again. Using two fingers he salute the vampire as a goodbye.

Making a soft chuckle. He flicks the vampire ring up into the air. It comes back down and lands into one of the streets, causing his background to explode. The shards of fire fell in slow motion behind him.

He is consumed in the explosion, as his body can be seen flying off the ground, flipping off the camera as it goes. "Oh, fuck." Rocky mutter under his breath. "Oh, I'm sorry." A small apology leaving his lips with a smirk.

"That will teach you, not to mess with me," A familiar voiced ask, up righting his head as he walk over the circles and appeared in front of him,

(narrator)

So, I know what you're thinking. Why is that incredibly handsome guy being chased by a madman with a huge shiny fangs from the Civil War?

[The scene freezes after an explosion sending Rocky flying off the ground from the ground. After the dust settles, leaving Rocky lying unconscious on the ground.]

This guy's got the right idea. Well, to be honest, it feels like I've been the captain of my whole life. Is this too much? Am I going too fast? It's kind of what I do--You know what? Let's back up.

[We see the whole fight going in reverse as well as frames of future clips for a split second each time, one passes as Rocky mimics a rewind sound effect] Cut to close-up of Rocky gets up to his feet. Cut to him sitting on the side of the gable roof at night. Wondering how long it would be before he saw the city again. He had been born with a wandering heart, and he embraced adventure, unafraid to face the dangers often presented by journeys into unknown places. Leaving civilization behind for the wilds of the frozen north, legs dangling over the side as he listens to his Walkman next to him playing 'Shoop.' Rocky was vaguely singing along, making hand gestures along with the lyrics, but he was focused on his own drawing, while listening to the music and coloring a picture with crayons. We see that the picture he's drawing is him shooting the vampire in the head, he was doing it with some crayons he had with him.

It was fun to see that getting shot in the head, even if it was just a crayon drawing. He'd never soon change it to a reality. And then turned his head and stared directly at the camera, or the person reading, or just whoever balls happened to be paying a lot of attention to him.

Wha- Oh! Oh, hello. I know, right? Who's balls did I have to snap to get my very own story? I can't tell you, but it does rhyme with dick. And let me tell you; he's got a nice pair of fucking underwear, he finished in an Swedish accent.

They'd get that joke, right?

Anyway, I got places to be, a kiss in the ass to fix, and - oh! hot weird vampire to kill.

He watched eagerly as the flashes of light began to appear below him – lots of rippers were a very dramatic little shit, after all – we're panning quickly towards the edge of the roof he was sitting on. Now having an appointment to keep, Rocky was quick to get onto edge of the roof and, in one fluid motion, opens a music playlist called Tunes of Anarchy on his Walkman, and the song "Where Evil Grows" by The Poppy Family stays playing in the background as he jumped off the roof, landing in one of the coolest bar in Mystic Falls. It seemed that they had been drinking peacefully, listening to 'Angel of the Morning,' but when Rocky landed and that's when their peaceful night was over.

They look around for which they finally see as Rocky stands at a wooden doorway wearing a cowboy hat, black sunglasses, and red a white hoodie as he opens a music playlist called Tunes of Anarchy on his Walkman. Opens up and the door swings open and the music resumes with people dancing and lights flashing as he goes inside the bar.

Nothing.

Absolutely positively not a fucking thing.

First one person turned, noticing him. Then more followed, until the whole patron was hushed, waiting. Everyone was watching, the same bewildered look on all of their faces. Eyebrows raised and narrowed eyes, etc. God, for months he'd played this moment over and over inside his mind. It most definitely never turned out like this. Whatever this was.

As he walks up to the bar. The room was narrow and about 90 feet deep. Light did manage to worm its way into the establishment, though. It seeped through the windows scattered along the walls, and through the gaps in the door between its wooden panels. A bar on the left at the front, then some upholstered horseshoe benches, then a cluster of freestanding tables on what, on other nights, might have been a dance floor. Then the stage, with the band on it. The band looked as if it had been put together by accident after a misfiling incident at a talent agency. The bass player was a stout old black guy in a suit with a vest. He was plucking away at an upright bass fiddle. The drummer could have been his uncle. He was a big old guy sprawled comfortably behind a small, simple kit. The singer was also a harmonica player and was older than the bass player and younger than the drummer and bigger than either one.

The guitarist was completely different. He was young and white and small. Maybe 20, maybe 5-foot-6, maybe 130 pounds. He had a fancy blue guitar wired to a crisp new amplifier and together the instrument and the electronics made sharp sounds full of space and echoes. The amp must have been turned up to 11. The sound was incredibly loud. It was as if the air in the room was locked solid. It had no more capacity for volume. But the music was good. The three black guys were old pros, and the white kid knew all the notes, and when and how and in what order to play them. He was wearing a red T-shirt and black pants and white tennis shoes. He had a very serious expression on his face. He looked foreign. Maybe Russian.

I watched them for a minute, and then I looked away. My name is Rocky, and once I was the most wanted man, with heavy emphasis on the past tense. I have been out nearly as long as I was in. But old habits die hard. I had stepped into the bar the same way I always step anywhere, which is carefully. One-thirty in the morning. I had ridden the train to West and walked south on Sixth Avenue and made the left turn on San Francisco bar and checked the sidewalks. I wanted music, but not the kind that drives large numbers of patrons outside to smoke.

His attention was taken away from patrons. It was at that point that he saw the young beautiful woman alone at her table, Her name tag read Katy, and her shirt clung tightly around her chest. Her hands worked quickly and gracefully with the bottles as she poured them another and took the empty's away.

I watched her in the gaudy, reflected light, with the music shrieking and pounding all around me. The two guys watched her. Her bodyguard watched her. She watched the guitarist. He was concentrating hard, key changes and choruses, but from time to time he would lift his head and smile, mostly at the glory of being up on the stage, but twice directly at the girl. The first of those smiles was shy, and the second was a little wider.

What met my eyes was a beautiful girl with golden hair and a bright smile that melted my heart. She was blond and blue-eyed, American woman who have a glow, and a smoothness complexion. She lives in New York, singing, listening to a band, and I was in love with her angelic voice. That was clear. There I was, a guy further back in the room, stood in the room staring at her. I was 6ft tall, wide man with a white hoodie and a black leather jacket under a hoodie. She was part of the reason I was here with her back in a city when we were at the age of 19 or less.

It wasn't the kind of glossy place that had a policy about dating rich girls, either for or against. Some call it a gold digger, and I guessed they had looked at her and her minder and made a snap decision against trouble and in favor of tips.

The part of her gaze that wasn't wary was filled with adoration, and it was all aimed in his direction. She was rich. She was alone at a table near the stage and she had a pile of A.T.M fresh twenties in front of her and she was paying for each new bottle with one of them and she wasn't asking for change.

She was a waitress and I loved her.

The woman stood up. She butted the lip of her table with her thighs and shuffled out from behind it and headed for the counter in back. I got there first. The sound from the band howled through it. The ladies' room was halfway down. The men's room was all the way at the end. Rocky leaned on the wall and scanned the room. As Rocky watched her walk in and squeeze through the crowd and she sat down on the bar stool, 1 feet away from him.

"Hey, Raoul, look what this kid dragged in. Oh, wait! That is the guy!," but they didn't hear. Too much noise. He caught them by the elbows, one in each hand. They spun around, as if ready to fight, but then they stopped. Fortunately for him, the first two who approached her were quick to heed her dismissal. She wasn't there to mingle with huge ass in leather jackets. She was just there to grab a drink and relax and pretty sure she made that pretty clear when she shot the first couple of idiots down.

The third guy, however, wasn't ready to take no for an answer.

"How about you let me buy you a drink, sweetheart?"

Their sex appeal eyes pried upon their eyes from the television screen above the bar and looked at the newcomer. With his hair greased back and one-size-too-big biker jacket on, the guy looked like prime wife-beater material. Perfect. Just what they needed to interrupt his evening.

"Thanks, but I'm good," she said curtly, gesturing to the beer bottle in front of her.

"That's it? You're gonna chug that shitty beer and call it a night? Come on, let me get you a real drink."

She scoffed. "What? Like those idiots you got over there?" she glanced past him at the table where he and a couple of his friends had been sitting.

"It's a warm-up. Trust me, honey, we're just getting started over there. You should join us."

She wanted to roll her eyes. "Like I said, I'm good."

She made the move to turn away and focus her attention back on the football game on the television when the guy grabbed her by the arm.

"What the hell's your problem?" This guy gripped her arm tightly, this guy's face practically scrunched up in a beastly snarl. "I don't like to be ignored, y'know?"

She yanked her arm out of his grip and stood up to face him directly. She knew pretty damn well where the conversation was headed and sure as hell were not about to get in a bar fight with their ass glued to the seat.

Before she could open her mouth, a familiar voice spoke up from behind her.

By hearing it and raising their head to turn to his voice, her smile grew a tad wider, recognizing the voice immediately. They simply looked so annoyed, at least much more than usual. His lips pulled into a tight frown, while their eyes narrowed, eyebrows furrowed, back hunched over slightly if you'd look hard enough. Yep, those guys are just being grumpy as usual, but seemingly much more grumpy, except with their eyes laced with the slightest bit of concern. For herself, most likely.

The said person stopped, and looked over their shoulder to the voice. She put on a mellow look close to her usual one. Confrontation- unnecessary confrontation- was not exactly his thing. He tended to avoid fights like these. He could hold his ground better than most, but he preferred to keep out of the brawls and spats that others got involved in.

A voice caught his ear, she sounded like she needed help, despite the overconfident tone the stranger used. "Look, I don't wanna interrupt, but is this guy bothering you?" he looks up at her and says greeted casually, as casual as someone could be hanging for dear life. She looked up at me, startled that he was there. "I'm sorry. Did I scare you up?" he softly asked, when she turned to get a good look at the stranger in his handsome voice. She wasn't expecting the sight she was met with. A pair of piercing blue eyes smiled over her, puffing out her cheeks childishly when she looked at him. After she looked to her right to find Rocky taking his place beside her. Her pinkish lips turned up in a small smile as she ducked her head briefly with a laugh before tucking her hair behind her ear, "No, you did not," she said. He couldn't keep the amusement out of his voice. She turned her head to look at him, catching his gaze with her own. He gave a small smile, stroking her hair softly with his index. "So, What exactly are you doing here?" she said softly, trying to maintain an even tone of voice.

"Oh you know, I was just passing through the neighborhood when I thought I caught a whiff of filthy human garbage coming from this place," he said,

"And sure enough here I am."

Desire pools dark and deadly in his groin. Gaze up at her, releasing her lip. Katy flush a deep crimson in her cheeks, and he runs his index finger down her cheek before handing her the headphones. "I'd like to kiss you, too, but you won't let me down, are you?." Rocky asked her. Besides, he's pulled the straps so tight he can barely move.

Amused smile on his lips, he's wearing his enigmatic half smile. He glances down at her, light blue-gray eyes alive, he glances up when she looks at his way and their eyes lock. And in that brief moment, she was paralyzed, staring at the impossibly handsome man who gazes at her with some unfathomable emotion. His gaze hot, burning into her, as they lost for a moment staring at each other.

It's there in the air between them, that electricity. It's palpable. He can almost taste it, pulsing between them, drawing them together.

"Oh my," she gasps as she basks briefly in the intensity of this visceral, primal attraction. The two men stood back, saying nothing, but looking at him with hard eyes.

Katy had, somehow, stammered out some sort of reply that must have made her look insane. Coby, hearing her, had come over to check on her and had ended up having her go make Rocky's a drink while they chatted. Ever since that first meeting, though, Katy had completely fallen for Rocky. There was something about his smile, or maybe it was his eyes? Whatever it was, it made Katy's entire body feel light as a feather.

To be continued....

2 notes · View notes

lenawin4 · 4 years

Text

an offer you can’t refuse

HOW WE DOIN ELLICK FANS?

I had this fic in my drafts halfway done, but after I watched that promo, I finished it in like, two hours. hope y’all enjoy. (also, may or may not contribute to the wave of 18x05/18x06 speculation fics. EXCITED)

summary:

��It’ll be fun,” Nick said on Day Four, then looked at them incredulously. “What? You’ve never taken down the mafia before?” ft. the whole gang, some blink-and-you’ll-miss-it mentions of Tiva, and prank wars.

Or: Nick’s jealous, Ellie’s clueless, and the team dismantles a crime family.

rating: gen, k+

length: 3.4k

genres: fluff, minor angst, romance

read on ffn | ao3

So Ellie’s in her corner of the bullpen, and Nick can’t stop looking at her. That’s how it all starts.

She’s wearing one of her cashmere sweaters, and they’ve been working this case for so long that her outfit is three days old. The bags under her eyes can’t be hidden by makeup and the curls in her hair have started to flatten. She has that crease in between her eyebrows that warns him not to bother her with a stupid joke, but that’s never stopped him before.

Ellie’s phone rings, so he freezes in the middle of sauntering over to her, halfway through the bullpen. It’s magic: her eyes widen slightly; the crease disappears; a slow smile spreads, then a grin.

The corners of his mouth start to slip upward, but he fights it down because McGee is at his desk. He’s talking to the local PDs, spelling out one of the long Italian names they’re trying to pin on something, and Tim is eyeing him like a hawk.

“Mark?” Ellie shouts into the phone.

Who?

“Gimme a sec,” Ellie points to her phone and mouths, I have to take this, sorry, and Nick is left gaping at the back of her head as she runs to the break room.

That happens on Day Six. A recap:

Dead sailor in a drive-by shooting in Bethesda. Grab your gear.

There was cocaine underneath the bed and piles of cash in the closet in the sailor’s apartment.

McGee traced a bank account in the Caymans to a Joey DiGiorno, as in, It’s-not-delivery-it’s-DiGiorno’s.

“Do you think he has a cousin named Domino’s?” Ellie asked; and —

For the fifth time this month, Nick realizes that he’s in love with Ellie Bishop.

Joey does not have a cousin, but he does have a criminal record and an uncle who happens to be the DC/Virginia/Maryland leader of the DiGiorno Family.

“Wow, two states and the capital city,” said McGee. “Impressive.”

On top of Nick’s To Do List - Get Gibbs everything on this guy: records, cars, girlfriends, other nieces and nephews, etc., etc.

“It’ll be fun,” Nick said on Day Four, then looked at them incredulously. “What? You've never taken down the mafia before?”

McGee follows the money to a nightclub in DC (“Do they serve pizza?”; “Nick, please.”), but there’s no way to know when or how the drugs are smuggled into the building, which can only mean one thing: stakeout time.

Stakeouts are the worst. Stakeouts mean unlimited time in a confined place with nothing better to do, the uncomfortable silence of Nick and his thoughts and the little place in his head that teeters between sixteen different names and a glass jar of lake water that hides on the shelf of his apartment.

Right now, a stakeout is the best thing that could ever happen to him.

So, Mark. He can’t exactly Boyle his way into this, not after Bishop nearly chewed his head off because he cancelled her date.

It’s not helping that Bishop keeps smiling at her phone every two hours, and semi-aggressively types out a text in all caps and extra exclamation marks. (He watches the way her fingers move. He knows those are exclamation marks. Like, at least ten of them.)

“Didn’t know dates liked it when you yelled at them all the time.”

“What?” Ellie says, not looking up from her phone.

He puts his feet up on the desk a little too harshly. Ellie wrinkles her nose.

“What could possibly be more important than this very, very interesting stakeout right now? Don’t you see there’s a hooker in front of the club and it’s barely noon? We should report it to Gibbs.”

There’s that sarcastic laugh that’s reserved for him, a quip about not being able to afford her, then back to the invisible Mark he’s heard nothing about.

To: ninja lady, 11:59

hey on a stakeout w El. what should i do

To: big wuss, 12:05

prank war. worked for us.

To: ninja lady, 12:06

i’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not

He tells her he’s buying fast food and chips a few blocks away. He asks the cashier for an extra paper bag and places a spring-loaded glitter bomb from the Dollar Tree at the bottom.

To: ninja lady, 14:05

success

To: big wuss, 14:07

ha! watch your six. revenge is tasty, no?

To: ninja lady, 14:09

i think you mean vengeance is sweet, but check with your husband

Nick returns from a bathroom break and peers left and right. Nothing in the room has changed: Ellie is still finishing the bag of fries. Her head is turned towards the window, and she’s glancing at her phone every few seconds. Maybe that’s an exaggeration, but he sort of doesn’t care. His chair hasn’t moved from the computer desk, and there are no booby traps outside the bathroom door or in the hallway.

Okay. The coast is clear.

“Hey, maybe you should check your face one more time, I think you still have glitter — ”

Splat.

His chair explodes in a tidal wave of green and red paint, splattering all over his jeans — gross, it feels so cold — and his leather jacket.

When he looks up, Ellie’s beaming at him from behind her phone, fry stuck in her mouth like a cigarette, green paint smeared across her cheek like evidence. Mercilessly, she sends the video to McGee, Kasie, and Tony.

To: big wuss, 17:25

I’m disappointed.

To: ninja lady, 17:29

yeah, yeah, laugh all you want

this sucks

To: big wuss, 17:30

Not just the stakeout, I presume?

To: ninja lady, 17:32

who the hell is Mark

she keeps texting him

it’s distracting me

To: ninja lady, 17:35

you know, from work

To: big wuss, 17:40

Oh, Nicholas.

(Across the Atlantic, in a small apartment in Paris, a married couple compares recent messages.

Ziva clicks her tongue. “I think he might be a bigger wuss than you, Tony.”

“I had better pranks than this guy, okay, at least give me that.”)

There’s a crowd of seamen lounging around the club. Their voices send pinpricks into his brain, and he can smell the alcohol from the second floor of this building. The bouts of laughter and shouts are interrupted by crunching. Next to him, the foul smell of artificial cheese surrounds Eleanor Bishop. Her fingers are coated with orange dust. Her eyes are laser-focused on the group of men, arms around each other, starting to sing the first bars of “Piano Man”. She licks her lips, and a bit of orange dust is left over at the edge of her mouth. She brings her fingers to her lips to lick them clean.

Nick’s mouth is suddenly dry.

Okay, okay, he needs to focus. Focus. It’ll be easy.

When he finally turns away, the hooker is grabbing one of the men by his tie, who tries to pull away. He rolls his eyes, but before Nick can say, “Playing hard to get, are we?”, the sailor is handing her a thick wad of cash. It’s exchanged for something thickly wrapped in saran plastic wrap, and he jolts out of his seat.

“It was the hooker!”

Nick did not know running that quickly in high heels was possible.

Ellie’s phone dings three times past his limit on the way to the interrogation room. The sound grates against his ears and his eyes can’t roll further up his socket. She doesn’t even notice.

They’re behind the glass, waiting for McGee to question her, when Gibbs walks in. He takes one look at the green paint on Ellie’s cheek and sees the same paint on Nick’s jeans.

Before Ellie can try to explain, Nick announces, “Gibbs, I told Ellie to call you about the hooker hours ago and she didn’t listen to me!”

“That is not true!”

“Yes, it is!”

“Wait, so we’re just going to give up?” Ellie’s hair is still slightly frazzled from tackling the suspect down, strands loose on her forehead and around her ears. She ran up and down four flights of stairs to catch her, but they’ve been given an order to push the case to another day with another lead. “What about Sugar Honey?”

“We can’t catch anyone higher up the food chain if she doesn’t consent to wearing a wire.”

“So sneak one on her!” The Director raises his eyebrows.

“Bishop.” She snaps around, eagerly awaiting Gibbs’s cowboy orders. “Go home. Get some sleep.”

“What? I can’t believe you’re actually agreeing with this.”

“Ellie,” Nick says, coming to her supposed rescue. There’s a flicker of hope in her eyes, and he hesitates to kill it. But he has to. He stands up, and immediately yelps and whines. Guiltily, he savors the look of concern she gives him. “Actually, could you drive me home? I think I twisted my ankle when we were chasing down Sugar Honey.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Ellie pouts. It maybe makes his stomach flutter, which is stupid, because Nick doesn’t feel things like that.

“You know me. Stoic face and all. I could get stabbed and none of you would know.”

“You know, that’s not a good thing.” She grabs his car keys from his jacket and puts his arm around her shoulders.

Bishop throws a stern look to the Director and Gibbs. Their bosses look half-confused, half-amused; Nick avoids Gibbs’s knowing look. “Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She walks him to his car. He feels warm and lonely all at once, because her phone rings two more times.

Nick plops down on the passenger seat, and Ellie wrenches the car into ignition, and says with no small amount of strife, “I know you’re lying and I’m either taking you to your apartment or back to the club. Your choice.”

Um. “Hey, let’s not do anything dangerously impulsive here.”

“Me? Impulsive? What about you?”

“What? When have I ever done anything dangerous or impulsive?”

“You stole a truck and totaled it when you were chasing down a suspect last month. Gibbs was already waiting on another block to cut him off.”

“Well, at least I didn’t get hurt.”

“You had a concussion and I had to wake you up every hour that night.”

They’re already out of the Navy Yard, almost ten over the speed limit, and going in the opposite direction of his apartment.

“Okay, I’m sorry I lied about my ankle. But Bishop.” He’s not sure how to say it, so what leaves his mouth is a sound of frustration. “You can’t dismantle the mafia with just this one case. These things take time. One Sugar Honey confession was the best we could do today. And that’s okay. But we’ll catch another one tomorrow, or maybe next week, and the week after that.”

The car slows down; Ellie’s pout becomes more pronounced. The sudden U-turn makes him clutch at the dashboard and pray for his life.

“Fine,” Ellie says. “But — ”

“Tomorrow, I will help you possibly arrest a drug dealer, that will lead us to the drug supplier, that will lead us to the boss.”

She nods, hands tightly holding the steering wheel. There’s glitter in her hair and streaks of paint on her jeans. They’ve barely slept in the past two days, driving each other insane.

“I can take the couch for a few hours and then we’ll be on our way. We both need to rest.”

Ellie doesn’t reply.

“If you don’t crash at my place, I’ll call Gibbs and tell him you’re going back to the club.”

Ellie protests for the rest of the car ride, but Nick doesn’t budge an inch.

The stakeout resumes peacefully. Gibbs and Vance were right: the dealers are spooked and no deals occur for the next week.

Bishop doesn’t spend every single moment on her phone, so at least there’s that. He can’t deny the twinge of longing every time he sees her eyes brighten at the sound of another text.

Still, even that is nothing compared to the ache he feels when she yawns and rubs her eyes. It’s the type of case that makes her want to prove herself, to risk everything to accomplish her ambitions, to run after something without a thought of the consequences. He knows the feeling. He has that feeling every time a kid is involved.

So he triples the bags of junk food on the floor of the moldy apartment. He lets her rest a little more when it’s his watch. She curls up in the blanket she stole from his apartment and sighs in her sleep.

They’re both exhausted, so their prank war grinds to a halt. Nick’s exasperated, and he doesn’t reply to any of Ziva’s requests for updates. Ellie’s smile is something admirably distracting and infuriating, especially when it’s not directed to him.

Here’s the thing, though: Nick can’t imagine when Ellie had time to go on a date with a Mark that he’s never met or heard of in the past few weeks. Before Operation Take DiGiorno’s to Prison, they had back-to-back murders that took a total of two weeks out of their lives. Before those, Nick went to pilates with her for three consecutive weekends. So whoever this Mark is, might be special to her. Someone she wants to keep to herself. Someone she wants to talk to all day, someone she wants to smile and laugh with, someone she wants to be with. It’s that simple.

It’s just not Nick.

The seaman in Interrogation still isn’t talking, but at least there’s something in the cocaine.

“Local PD’s been digging up everything they can about the drug ring for months, and this little sample here matches their signature packaging and purity. But I’m telling you, whoever hired their chemists needs to do a better job, cause this stuff ain’t pure at all.”

“Can we connect it to Joey or the uncle?”

“I’m so glad you asked. We, in fact, do have a way to arrest them, thanks to Kasie — ”

“Don’t talk about yourself in the third person.”

“Okay, someone’s grumpy! DiGiorno’s olive oil company bought bulk chemicals, which are being delivered to this address. We’ve got dimethyl sulfoxide, tetrahydrofuran — ”

“English, Kasie.”

“Coke. They’re making coke. Trust me, those materials are not extra virgin.”

He grunts out a thanks and swirls around, ready to leave.

“Woooaaahhh there, son.” Kasie holds her hands out in front of her to tame him. “What’s going on with you, Nicholas?”

“What? Nothing!”

“Okay. Then I guess it has nothing to do with you and your feelings.”

“What? Nothing’s up with Bishop and me!”

“I didn’t say anything about Bishop.”

“Okay,” Nick chuckles, searching for an exit route that may or may not involve rolling past Kasie in a very ninja-like manner before booking it out of the building. “You said something, I said something, now we’re both confused, and I gotta go now, bye!”

McGee’s hawk eyes peer at him when Bishop retreats to the break room again. It makes Nick squirm in his seat and try to pry his gaze away from her empty desk.

“Is something going on between you and Bishop?”

“Uh, no, why, did she say something?” He crosses his arms to quell the sound of his heart.

McGee scoffs. “I mean. You guys have barely talked since you came back from the stakeout.”

“Well. I don’t need to talk to her. All the time.”

“But you do.”

Nick makes a face. Bishop strolls back into the bullpen, carefree and light, and he shuts his mouth.

“What do we got?” Gibbs says, and McGee has no choice but to brush this under the rug.

It’s Day Ten, more accurately Night Ten, and they’re sitting in the car, driving to the warehouse where they’ll arrest Joey and his uncle. She’s wearing a vest and he has the urge to clean his gun before a shootout. But they’ll be fine.

He glances at her tied-up hair and the clench of her jaw. His hands tighten on the steering wheel, because he wants to hold her face in his hands and tangle his fingers in her hair. He wants to tell her something he can barely admit to himself.

She says nothing. The phone doesn’t ring. He keeps driving.

He forgets she has a vest on. He forgets everything, really, when he sees Ellie go down in the middle of the raid, and Joey starts running away. Gibbs yells at him to call an ambulance before he and McGee chase after the idiot who shot his partner.

Nick scrambles to her side, vision blurring, and he has more trouble breathing than she does when he reaches her. “Bishop, El, you’re gonna be okay, alright?”

Ellie groans as he slices her vest open. The bullet clatters off the Kevlar.

“Nick,” Ellie’s saying. “Nick, I’m fine.” His hands hover, barely brushing over her arms, neck, head — I have to check for concussion — and it does nothing to reassure him, until her hands fold into his. “Nick.”

She looks at him, mouth parted, cheeks flushed. Her ribs are probably bruised, if not broken. Her hands are the only source of stability; every other part of him is shaking.

“You’re alright.”

Ellie breathes out a heavy sigh; it shakes like his legs quiver, and he has to kneel next to her. “I’m alright.”

Along with the DEA, they confiscate every last bit of cocaine from the warehouse, effectively crippling the crime family’s major source of money. Joey rats on every aspect of his uncle’s business for a shorter sentence. As the EMTs are wrapping her ribs up, Nick holds his hand up for Ellie to slap and says, “We took DiGiorno’s to prison!”

He offers her his arm and a ride home. She graciously accepts, and the smile is his, again, for now.

But he can’t not say anything now. She almost — she almost. There’s nothing else to say about that.

So Nick says, “So, you’re going home to Mark today? You got a hot date?”

He’ll get over that lump in his throat, that spike in his pulse eventually. She’s alive, and he’ll be fine.

He doesn’t expect her to start laughing, only to be interrupted by a wince and a tender hand on her left side. “Nick, who do you think Mark is?”

“Uh.” There’s a dark hole of miscalculation, the feeling of falling down the cliff of Being Wrong. “Your hot new date you kept texting over the past, like, five days?”

Nick rolls his eyes. “Stop laughing, you’ll make your ribs worse.”

“It’s — ” Ellie takes a deep breath and pulls out her phone. She scrolls, and Nick’s about to say something about not wanting to read her love letters to Mark when:

Auntie Ellie, thanks for my birthday gifts! I miss you so much.

The voice can’t be older than five, with a light stammer and a lisp. Nick takes his eyes off the road to gape at a boy with two missing front teeth, and his heart both soars and sinks. Someone honks behind them, and he steps on the gas pedal, startled that he’s stopped at a green light.

“Well.”

“He turned four last week, and my brother’s been letting him call or text me videos every day. They’re stuck in Oklahoma and they miss me.” He can hear her shrug, the fabric of her jacket rustling against the car’s leather seat, but he keeps his eyes on the road. “I haven’t been home in almost two years.”

“I’m sorry.” It punctuates the silence that follows, leaving them both speechless, wondering, wishing.

“Were you jealous?” Ellie whispers.

“Yes.” He can’t stop himself. Not anymore. Nick floors the brake and looks at his passenger’s seat, red light shining on her, everything else dark and unimaginably lonely. “Yes.”

Ellie nods, then smiles. “Okay.”

They arrive the next morning together. McGee smirks at his phone. Kasie’s eyes switch between them, back and forth, before she raises an eyebrow and glares at Nick, threatening and protective. Gibbs says nothing. Nick smiles the whole morning, because he still tastes her lipstick on his teeth and feels her hair in his fingers.

To: big wuss, 10:20

Congratulations. You aren’t a bigger wuss than Tony.

To: ninja lady, 10:25

ha. thanks

for everything, i mean, i guess.

To: big wuss, 10:26

You’re very welcome, Nicholas.

fin.

#ellick #ellick fanfiction #ncis #ncis fanfiction #a very small bit of tiva #just enough to satisfy my own needs

14 notes · View notes

certifiedskywalker · 5 years

Text

Your Rage - Din Djarin ( The Mandalorian)

Anonymous said:

I have a request!! If you don’t want to write this one, I totally get it! Sooo... I was wondering if you could write a blind!femreader who’s been travelling with Mando for sometime now and have already established a strong bond with one another. Let’s say one day blind!reader gets captured by a group of bounties that want to bait Mando and he obviously finds them. They fight, he kills all of them and he saves blind!reader and they go back to the crest and they get all soft and sweet! Thank you!

Since knowing Din Djarin, your life had become more dangerous than it had ever been before. Yet, you wouldn’t trade anything for the galaxy of possibility partnering up with Din has given you. Enough time had passed for you to grow fond of Din but not enough for you to know his anger, how strongly it burns when those he loves are in danger.

You couldn’t see your captors but you could smell them. One carried with him the odor of rotted meat and vinegar. The other reeked of predominantly stale spice smoke. Although, there were times when noxious hints of hyperfuel had you gasping for breath. Despite their shared stench, nothing was quite as vile as what you heard them say.

“Look at ‘er, can’t do nothing. Why’d the Mando take a likin’ to ‘er? Ugly thing, that one.”

“Worth more credits than you can even imagine though, Nuruka. Once we get the Mandalorian in our grasp. Riches will be ours.”

You had to bite your tongue to keep from snapping at them. Din would never slip into a trap so plainly set. Yet, you didn’t breathe a word. Silence became your strongest ally, even when the half-rate bounty hunters kicked at your cage. They were trying to draw out a reaction for you, get you to crack yourself open for them to pick at like scavenger birds.

“C’mon, ya piece a bantha foddah,” growled the one named Nuruka, “tell me all about ya lil’ Mando, yeah? You seen ‘im without dat helmet of his? Just as nasty as ya!”

You pressed your lip into a thin lip to keep from speaking.

“Elis, its’ not talkin’ one bit! We break it?”

The sound of clicking footsteps echoed in the air around you. “Leave her be. The scanners picked up an incoming ship.”

“The Mando?” Your heart began to race at the thought of Din coming to your rescue. At first, you were relieved. He had found you, he was coming for you. The thought of seeing him again, touching him again, it brought a smile to your face.

“Who else could it be, laserbrain! Are the traps set?”

“Heh, yeah, every bomb we got.” Dread filled your stomach at the bounty hunters’ words. You didn’t have to see Nuruka to know he was grinning. You imagined he smiled like he smelled, all rancid and slimy. “He don’t stand a chance, Elis.”

The two of them shared a deep chuckle that reminded you of the holomovies you would listen to as a child. People actually laughed like that? All on its own, the sound filled you with anger. They were so confident that Din would waltz right into their grasp.

You knew Din and you knew that he thought things through. He would know it was a trap and you were the set bait. Din would go about your capture as he did with all thing: he would be careful. He often warned you to do the same but the fire in your heart knew no bounds.

“He would never trip up,” you snapped suddenly, unable to hold your tongue. Elis and Nuruka’s laughter died at the sound of your voice. You heard a suddenly rustling and the screech of metal as one of them yanked your cage, pulling it up to jostle you.

“What ya say? You speak, eh, you lil’ rat! Why don’t ya start screamin’!”

Before you could speak up again, Nuruka started to shake your cage. You could feel the anger radiating in all its’ heat from his body. From that alone you knew that whoever and whatever Nuruka was he was massive. It took all you had to keep yourself from being thrown about your cage as the bounty hunter tossed it around.

“Stop! Put her down!” Elis’ screech broke through and suddenly, Nuruka set you and your cage down. Silence fell over the three of you. You listened, let the wild beat of your heart steady so you could focus. All you heard was the shifting of the ship in space.

“What is it E-”

“Shut it!” Elis hissed cruelly.

“Hey! Don’t-”

An explosive, a wall-shaking blast, roared up from whatever ship the bounty hunters were holding you on. You could feel the heat of the blast from under the floor which told you that the ship had to be, at least, a Class B freighter with two levels; and that Din had arrived.

“He’s here,” Elis snapped, “get your blaster!”

You could hear their panicked footsteps as they scrambled to find their weapons.

After the blast, the air around you seemed to hum. Jitters, pre-battle shakes, began to take hold of you and you attempted to stand in your cage. So cramped it was that, when you tried to straighten your posture, your head knocked against the ceiling. The cage was for small livestock and the bounty hunters that thrown you inside like yesterday’s trash. From inside, you would be no help to Din in the firefight to come.

“Scanners can’t pick ‘im up!” Nuruka shouted, nervousness lacing his voice.

“What?!”

A grin crept along your features as Nuruka and Elis shouted back and forth. Even if Din had set off the bombs by accident, the explosion was enough to loosen the wiring of the life-signature scanners. Essentially, Din was invisible. With the element of surprise with him, your partner stood a far greater chance.

Contented with that fact, you sat back in your cage with your arms crossed over your chest. You felt so light it was almost as if you were meditating. In knowing Din, you also knew that he would not leave you behind. So, you relaxed for the first time since your capture.

“Why does it look like that, Elis? Why is ‘er face all peaceful and such?”

“Focus Nuruka!”

“Don’t yell at me! I jus’ askin’ ya a-”

Before the brute could finish, a loud, startling metal ‘clang’ sounded in the room. A rush of air that smelled of smoke and chemicals hit your face, making you cringe. You heard Nuruka give a belly-full war cry before the blaster fire began. With a gasp, you pressed yourself to the cold floor of the metal cage. Smoke filled your lungs and you began to cough as the bounty hunters shot at each other.

With all the noise, it felt as if your ears were being assaulted; punched over and over again until all your heard was ringing. You squeezed your unseeing eyes shut and tried to focus on the sound of your heartbeat. When you couldn’t hear that, you thought of Din. You thought of his touch, the most recent time you felt his fingers dance along your neck and trailing love along your skin. You could not let that be the last time.

There was a sharp cry that broke through the ringing in your ears. A moment later, the blaster fire stopped. The air in your lung was still thick with plasma discharge and the ringing faded into silence. Suddenly, the sound of your heart filled your ears. Who won?

You stayed still as possible. Holding your breath, you played dead. You tried to, at least, until the steady sound of your heartbeat melted into another noise. Footsteps, almost as steady as your heart, echoed in your eardrums.

“Y/N.”

You sat up immediately, your fingers wrapping around the bars of the cage. “Din!”

“Hold on, I’ll get you out of here.”

“Din, did you-”

“They’re gone.” At his cold tone, you swallowed hard. “I had to, Y/N,” Din continued as you heard him fiddling with the door to your cage. “They would have…”

He trailed off and you didn’t ask him to finish. You knew well what his words implied. If he hadn’t come Nuruka and Elis would have lost their patience. They would have killed you or, possibly worse, sold you to the Hutts; any crimelord or smuggler for that matter.

So, you stayed quiet as Din released you from your confines. There was a rattling screech as Din opened the door. You felt his hands, strong and gloved, wrap around your wrist as he guided you out. You could also feel his rage, white-hot and still burning.

“Watch your head,” he said softly, “Y/N, are you hurt?”

And there is was, that softness you had always known from Din. You stepped out of the cage and stretched, Din’s hand still on your arm. “No, just...just tired. I want to go home.”

The hand Din still had on your forearm tightened at your words. It was a little touch, reminding you that, even though you couldn’t see him, he was always there; for you, specifically. You let him guide you out of the bounty hunter’s ship, letting Din’s hot anger cool with the movement. Whether it was adrenaline or fear, without it, Din was tired.

As you walked, you could feel Din beginning to grow heavy. To got to the point where you lifted your arm from his grip and wrapped your fingers around his bicep. When he leaned into you, you gave his arm a squeeze. You had never felt an anger like Din’s before, not one so strong that it left someone drained.

As you opened your mouth to ask him about it, you felt Din pull you to the side and heard a sliding door hiss open. “There’s a step, here.”

Din led you inside and you were hit with the familiar scents of the Razor Crest. The ship, the Razor Crest, and Din were the closest thing to home that you had ever encountered. It felt good to be back despite the worry that was eating away at you.

When you and Din were safely inside the Razor Crest, you squeezed his arm once more. “Din, wait, please.”

“What? Are you hurt?” You could feel his warmth as he stood before you. With gentle hands, you reached up and cupped his helmet.

“Please.” He knew your one-word plea and your felt his hands on your wrists. With a tenderness he reserved only for you, he placed your hands on his shoulders. You heard the hiss of his helmet as he lifted it off his head. There was a ‘clunk’ on the ground beside you and the slipping of fabric against rough palms.

Finally, Din’s hands, now bare, found your wrists again. You bit back the smile that threatened to spill over on your lips. Worry still clung to you even as you now clung to Din.

“May I?”

“Of course,” his raw voice, unhindered by his helmet, sent chills down your spine. With exploring hands, you traced your finger tips along his face. Jaw first, your trailed the pads of your fingers through his scruff. The coarse hair tickled your skin until you moved to his eyebrows. You mapped out his face with your hands, the curve of his lips, the slope of his nose; every last detail was yours to know and no one else's.

His cheeks were warm to the touch from where his anger had scorched his flesh.

“I could feel your rage,” you murmured. “I’ve never felt it so strongly before. You knew I would be safe.” Din opened his mouth, you could feel his jaw tense then relax as he spoke.

“You have too much faith in me.” He said it in a whisper, so softly that you couldn’t help but smile. “They set traps.”

“Poor traps,” you replied, “they talked about them. They rigged explosives in their own ship.” Din smiled, you could feel the dimple form in his cheek.

“So you had faith that they were inexperienced.”

“It sounded better when you said I had faith in you,” you fired back. A few seconds of quiet passed but it was enough time for worry to take a hold on you again. “Were you scared?”

“About the traps?”

“No,” you sighed, letting your hands fall to his neck. “I know you weren’t scared about the traps. You know what I mean.” Din’s hands found your waist, pulled your body flush to his.

“Terrified.” You let your thumbs rest on his cheeks and rub the skin to soothe him. “I’ve only...I don’t feel like that often. I…”

“It’s okay, Din,” you whispered. “I’m here. I won’t leave you again.” You could feel Din smile again but it was half-hearted; a bitter smile.

“That’s a promise neither of us can keep.” You nodded and traced your thumbs along his cheeks once more. He wasn’t wrong. This life, this home, you and Din shared was wild. You were just freed from a cage that rival bounty hunters had thrown you into.

“Okay then,” you leaned towards him, enticingly close. “We do know that we’ll always find each other. We’ll always find the other.”

“Always,” Din replied smoothly. Worry melted away as Din’s voice sounded light for the first time in ages. You leaned in, pressed your forehead to his asking silent permission. He didn’t answer, he didn’t have to. Instead, he kissed you with all the softness he could.

There were no enduring flames of angry. It was only you and Din in that moment. You would always find each other in the end. Always.

350 notes · View notes

neocity-sarai · 4 years

Text

Simulations [PART 1]

❃ pairing: reader x mark lee (divergent! au)

❃ alerts: making out, suggestive content, language, violence/ injuries, blood, angst

❃ song rec: find you by zedd ft matthew koma

You remember it all. You remember the morning of your choosing ceremony, the way your parents and brother smiled at you when your crimson blood fizzled into the bowl of burnt coal.

Dauntless. You were born and raised in Dauntless, the faction of the brave- the faction of teetering between life and death. You were sure of yourself, you would climb the ranks like rungs of a ladder. And that- you did. You trained as an initiate soldier under the leaders until you rose to the top of your class. When it was time, the faction held a ceremony for inducting you into their ranks- you were one of Dauntless’s fearless leaders now. You’d walk among your mentors as equals instead of their student. Looking back on how you were as an initiate, you were scrawny. You didn’t have much muscle on you, you had no idea how to shoot or how to engage in combat. The amount of times you cried out of frustration, staying up late in the training ring just to improve. Luckily, you had Mark. Mark was the same age as you when you were initiates, his frame only a little bigger than yours. His family lived in the same sector as you. He was always sweet. The familiarity of his doe eyes and carved cheekbones, the way that his bangs flopped flat a little over his eyes. When your instructor assigned you both as combat partners, Mark held your waist firm as he helped you strike the punching bag in front of you.

You remembered the way his warm breath fanned on your neck and how your skin felt aflame to his touch. Many nights, you spent sparing with each other and downing energy drinks until the break of dawn. You felt yourself trusting Mark more than you had expected yourself to, his giggly outbursts made you smile and it felt like you weren’t alone. You endured every struggle together. Even when the other girls picked on you for being weaker or for latching on to Mark, he always defended you no matter what. After a couple years, you realized you watched Mark mature into the man he is today. His build is packed with toned muscle, and his hair curls over his forehead artistically- his hands covered in scars and old bruises. His face has gotten sharper too, his jaw tenses when he’s concentrated on something and his eyes glint with obsidian fire during training. Mark knows when the stand firm, rather than being an innocent, laughing mess- his demeanor morphs into something more powerful. It is no surprise that you two had surged to the top, being chosen as Dauntless’s’ next leadership. Though, Mark still treated you like a longtime friend of his, his cheeks still redden when your brush hands.

[4:00 PM]

Before you could become fully deemed as leaders, you both had to undergo one last test. You and Mark would have to do a partner simulation, a board derived from all the other factions watching you both with hawk eyes. You were lead into a blank room, the walls empty of any words or any decor as you were motioned to sit in a chair next to Mark. The Erudite woman who had pale skin and ocean eyes glared at you before attaching neuro-nodes to your temples- the wires connecting over to Mark. With no emotion, her voice cold, “Lean back.”

You look at Mark beside you, “Are you ready for this?”

He answers you in a soft tone, “If you are.”

Nodding, the woman jabs a syringe of violet liquid into the juncture of your neck, a wave of vertigo taking over your brain. You can’t feel your fingers and your eyelids feel heavy, all you can hear is Mark’s groan in the room.

When you open your eyes, you find yourself in a room of mirrors. The ground feels cold underneath your back- Mark isn’t beside you either.

“Mark? Where are you?”

Looking around, you only see reflections of yourself- multiple views making you dizzy. For a few moments, you hear Mark’s stern voice, “Y/n? Hello?”

“Mark I’m over here!”

“Hello?? Y/n?”

Mark can’t hear you. He can’t even see you. You rise from the ground, your knees shaking as you continue to call for Mark. Your heart sinks when you start to hear a low gear-grinding sound, the mirror walls are starting to enclose in you. That’s right, you were afraid of tight spaces. You heave in and out of your chest in order to try to calm yourself, your legs shaking uncontrollably. The walls are closing incredibly fast. You run across the floor, mirrors chasing you and glaring at you wherever you ran. You scream for Mark.

“Where are you?! Mark?! Help me!!”

Finally, you catch a glimpse of Mark in a corner mirror yet his actual body is nowhere to be seen. You scream for him to not move. All he can do is yell out your name, his brows furrowed with anguish. In a quickened speed, the mirrors start to buckle down towards you- noises screeching into your eardrums. You have to do something. When you turn around, three items lay on three pedestals: a baseball bat, a nail and hammer, and a lighter. Without hesitation, you’re immediately drawn to the baseball bat. Tossing it in your hand, you swing it into the mirror in front of you as hard as you can. The impact makes an ear-deafening sound, the mirror shatters into a thousand shards- some of them flying to nick your face. Through the mirror, Mark stands with a shocked look on his face, “Y/n?”

You practically trip through the mirror, you feel yourself falling before you can even reach out for Mark.

“Y/n! Wait!”

You’re falling- your eyes opening slightly to the ceiling of the white room that you’re sitting in before shutting your eyes again. This time, you’re standing in a field of buckwheat by the faction border, the gate that surrounds the entirety of the city grounds. You feel Mark’s frame bump against your back as he jolts from the contact.

“Y/n- oh god, you scared me.”

You throw your arms around him in response, his words coming out in a flurry of stutters, “That was close, wasn’t it?”

You nuzzle into the crook of his shoulder, “I thought I couldn’t find you and the walls were closing in and I had no-.”

Before he can pull you tighter against his chest, you hear a low grumble come from behind you. In an instant, you detach from Mark, turning to face a bloodthirsty carnivore a few feet away. You’re back to back again, one wolf threatening to leap at you in a few seconds, one other wolf in front of Mark as well. Mark tries coaxing the wolf, saliva dripping from the edges of it’s gleaming teeth. When you look beside you, there’s two pedestals to your right and two pedestals next to Mark as well. Your eyes glaze over the pound of steak that sits on the surface yet you grab the small handgun instead. You assume Mark does the same because you hear him click the safety off.

Your breath turns shaky, your heart is beating out of your chest. You’ve learned to shoot but you’ve never shot an animal before. Mark turns his head to the side to talk to you, “On three okay? I’m right here, don’t be afraid.”

You suck in air into the chamber of your lungs, cocking your gun before the growling wolf, it’s eyes like shiny, yellow orbs.

Like a slow, painful countdown, Mark begins, “1...2...3.”

You shoot together, bullets ringing in the air as you feel the blow all the way down to your bones. It knocks you off your feet in time for Mark to steady you with his arms.

“It’s over now. It’s over.” he says. Mark was tough but he never wanted to kill.

You squeeze your eyes shut, not wanting to see the carcasses of the two wolves- the smell of blood wafting below your nostrils. You feel sick. When you don’t open your eyes, you feel warmth disappear from your body as you hear Mark calling your name. Suddenly, you feel yourself becoming submerged in icy water, your lungs screaming for air. Opening your eyes, all you see is the murk of the water, you don’t feel Mark next to you. Swimming to the surface, the weight of your water-logged clothes feels as heavy as gold bars. Coughing, you swivel around for any sign of Mark. You’re in the middle of the ocean, the sky is a stormy sage color as ash gray clouds swirl into a cyclone. It reminds you of the story your mother told you as a child: a pirate who was lost at sea, trying to navigate the high waters in search of treasure.

You scream Mark’s name as loud as you can, struggling to stay afloat. There’s no answer. You decide to dive back into the depths of the ocean, swimming downwards to get a better view. When you catch a shadow sinking to the bottom, you immediately recognize Mark’s body. You waste no time to heave him closer to you, kicking your legs until you reach the surface. Holding Mark’s body is difficult, his eyes are peacefully closed as his hair lays soggy against his forehead. You rub your thumb against Mark’s cheek, “Mark? Wake up! Mark?”

He doesn’t answer you, his head falls limp in your touch. Why wasn’t he conscious? What should you do? You look around, your body freezing from the icy temperature when you don’t see any nearby land. Your limbs go numb. Despite the freezing pain, you grip onto Mark’s jacket, both of your bodies slowly losing traction. You’re both sinking. When you’re down under, you feel your breath hitch. Is this the end? Will the simulation fry your brain? Will you drown and lose everything? Mark’s always had the fear of drowning. He’s mentioned that ever since he had an incident of falling into the river.

Finally, you feel the ocean fall away. Your hair and your clothes are still wet yet you feel yourself sitting on a windy terrace. You’re high up on a skyscraper, the cold wind blowing at your face and it makes you shiver. You feel Mark rest his head on your chest, you’re still cradling him. Sweeping wet hair out of his eyes, you swipe your thumb on his cheek, “Mark? Are you awake?”

He flutters his lashes a bit, his eyes opening to adjust to his surroundings.

“Y/n? Where are we? What happened?”

You turn to look behind you, the terrace dropping down into the city grounds. You were sure you were at least on the 50th story of a tower. You feel petralized in fear, you never liked heights either. This was the simulation test- the test of fears and what you would do to overcome them. Or in a corrected term, manipulate them.

“Hey, look at me.”

You snap up to face Mark, his endearing eyes boring into yours, “We’re in this together. Just like always.”

Nodding at him, you whisper, “Right. Together.”

The tight beam that extends from the terrace you both sat on to the platform by the next building over does not go unnoticed by you. You feel like you want to throw up, “They don’t expect us to cross do they?”

Mark huffs as he runs a hand through his jet-black hair, “I think that’s why they put us right in front of it.”

Mark stands up first, placing his foot onto the concrete beam to check its sturdiness. It doesn’t seem to move. You see Mark turn back to you, the wind rustling his hair and his jacket, “I’ll be with you the whole way. Don’t look down and keep your eyes on me.”

In that moment, you questioned if you ever fit into dauntless. I mean, you had to if you got this far. You always admire Mark for his strength and his bravery, could you be like him? Mark goes first, one foot in front of the other as he attempts to shuffle along the concrete beam. He fastens the balls of his feet to the ground in hopes the gusts won’t send him falling to his death. Your heart pings, a tear threatening to slip out of your eyes. You place one foot onto the beam, your other foot still on the terrace. Mark calls out for you, “Slow and steady. Take your time.”

You feel your knees wobble like jello, you’re afraid that they’ll give out any minute. Placing your hand on your chest, you bite the drawstring of your jacket in order to calm yourself. The drop below you looks extremely menacing, you can even see all the roads that line the ground under you. Immediately, you feel the beam shake from the movement of the wind against it. You try to hold your ground, steadying your feet on the thin beam. You miscalculated. You miss-stepped. You don’t even register when blood-curdling cries escape from your throat as you lose your footing and tumble off the beam. Mark’s figure screaming for you grows smaller and smaller as you fall away. You shut your eyes, is this it? The wind surges through every layer of fabric that covers you, hair whipping against your face painfully.

That’s when you feel a body hug you, arms wrapping around your frame. Mark screams, his chin resting on your shoulder. He says, “I’m not letting you go!”

That’s the tightest you ever have held Mark. You take in his scent, his locks brushing against your eyes- the feeling of his arms encasing your body. You give him a comforting squeeze, “You should’ve gone on without me.”

When you’re sure that you’re about to collide with the ground, you hear an applause. You hear an audience clapping for you and Mark after you gasp up from the chair you sat in, you claw for air. Mark does the same, his chest heaving violently as sweat trails down his face. The erudite woman strips off your neuronodes, clicking her tongue at the both of you.

“Did we fail?” You hear Mark ask her.

With the same emotionless voice, she says, “That you’ll have to find out.”

The woman leads you both to an open auditorium, numerous stands of screens reside in the center of the room. On the jumbotron, it reads: “Congratulations. Welcome to Dauntless Leadership.”

You feel Mark grab your hand out of shock, “We passed?”

The first person to approach you is Taeyong, one of the mentors who oversaw you and Mark during training. A wide smile extends from one ear to the other as he motions you both into his arms, “Congrats you two. You’re officially dauntless leaders now.”

You eye Mark with surprise, your jaw open, “But we didn’t make it across. I fell?”

“That might be true but Dauntless is about courageous sacrifice. It’s about loyalty.” You snap up your eyes to a woman, one taller than Taeyong. Judging by her silver uniform, her tattooed head, and her gorgeous green eyes, she must be one of the higher ups. She shakes your hand first, “You two make a good team, sacrificing life in order to follow your principles for the other person. We need kids like you.”

Mark exhales, “No way.”

Taeyong pulls you both into a group hug, “We’re gonna be celebrating tonight!”

When Taeyong lets go, Mark swings you in his embrace, “We did it!”

You smile at him, “You saved me Mark.”

Mark grins until his cheeks rise, “No, I just did what I needed to in the moment.”

“But you could have crossed without me!”

Shaking his head, Mark stiffens, “Didn’t I say earlier? I wasn’t going to let you go.”

[8:00 PM]

That night, the party went on for hours. The Dauntless Pit is what they called it- the deep cavern where all the excitement happened. Tables were filled with feats of roasted chicken and mashed potatoes, leaders and initiates filling their plates with the morsels. Once you claimed your portion of food, you sat next to Mark towards the end of one table. He grinned at you, sipping his metal cup of orange juice. Taeyong made a cheers to the both of you, the dauntless leaders banging their cups to the table like a mantra- a sign of respect and honor. Some of the younger kids you supervised training for congratulated you too, you remember how the girls made puppy eyes at Mark. Of course, he was oblivious to it. Laughing, you feel a hand on your shoulder. You are met with a view of Lucas, one of your other comrades, “Y/n! Mark! I was just looking for you! What do you say to a good ol’ game of capture the flag?”

You raise your eyebrows at Lucas, “I’m fine with it if Mark’s okay with it.”

Mark nods, setting his cup down, “Let’s do it. We can go right now.”

Like that, everything felt like it was falling into place. You adjusted the strap of your dart gun that was slung around your shoulder, advising your team of a plan. Naturally, you were the team captain for one group and Mark the other. You saw him a formidable opponent as he knew your most used attacks and you knew his. Lucas laughed beside you, his gummy smile widening, “Mark’s gonna lose tonight!”

You nod, “Let’s beat him first. We can’t get too ahead ourselves.”

When it was time to go, you and Lucas led your team of initiates to the metal train. One by one, you ran with the train cars as they shook on their wheels that screeched against the tracks. You hoisted yourself into the door with ease, something you had trouble with when you first became an initiate. By the time your team made it on, Mark and his group had already packed themselves into the train. Mark gives you a smirk, “Just because we’re friends, it doesn’t mean I’ll go easy on you.”

You cackle, socking a punch into his clothed shoulder, “Don’t get too cocky Lee.”

Turning away, you see Lucas and Selene, one of your friends as well. Lucas whispers into her ear, “Are you sure they’re not dating yet?”

Selene giggles, a blush climbing up her cheeks. You make sure to shoot ice daggers from your eyes to Lucas and Serene while you mutter at them.

“Quit it.”

You pray Mark doesn’t hear their teasing. After years of training together and advancing together, you always denied your crush on Mark. You kept trying to find excuses as to why you shouldn’t like the innocent dork turned dauntless leader. You fail at that. It’s impossible when Mark talks to you as if he likes you back or the way he’d help you learn new skills with an endearing look in his eyes. You’d rather not ruin the friendship you have, especially now that you both had a faction to lead.

“That’s our cue y/n.”

Mark pinches you slightly before flying to jump off the moving train. His group of initiates follow him with ease, many of the tumbling out in waves. You think to yourself, you can appreciate the way Mark looks. The way his figure is tight-fitted with black vests, black shirts, and black combat boots, the way his hair curls on his forehead. Why is that you admire Mark in times of urgency? Lucas snaps you out of your thoughts before following him to make your exit- you all leap off the train and onto the gravel. Following suit, you and Mark lead your teams to an abandoned part of the city. As always, buildings tower into the starry night sky, blocks and cones marking safe zones. Piles of rubble provide shelter during the game. You and Mark stop ahead of the group, turning around to face them.

You say, “Rules are easy, the goal is to obtain the other team's flags. Just don’t get shot.”

Mark holds up his gun, “Right, as y/n said, these babies are loaded with dauntless stun darts. You’ll feel stinging pain for about 10 seconds but it won’t kill you. Best of luck to everyone.”

Both of your teams part, your jade green flag in your hands. Mark holds a bright yellow one in his.

Lucas snickers, “So, what’s the plan?”

You advise your team, “We should hide the flag somewhere that’s out of sight. Knowing Mark, he’ll climb to a vantage point that’s high off ground. We should hide ours low to the ground, set up a trap.”

And that’s what you do. You find one of the abandoned buildings that’s on the far side of the area, planting your flag in the center of the circular platform.

“Alright everyone, half of you form a circle around the flag. Make sure you keep formation, Mark’s team will try to break you up. Other half is with me.”

Lucas stays behind to bolster the strength of the guarding ring, the rest of the initiates circling around the flag. Gripping your dart gun tighter, you and Selene lead you team back outside the building as you debrief them of what you predict Mark might do. You instruct them to lay lower to the ground, blending with the shadows of the debris that conceal certain areas.

“The important part is the element of surprise. Mark likes order and having the upper-hand. We have to divide and conquer.”

When you make it to the middle area, you and Selene crouch behind a pile of concrete rubble as you motion your team to follow suit behind you. One of the girls on your team points at the tower that’s in view, the neon yellow flag sitting at the top. Just as you expected, Mark hid it on a high place which meant that only a couple initiates had room to guard it.

Selene whispers at the team, “Most likely, Mark and his team are prowling towards the base of the tower. Everyone should scatter and blend in. Y/n and I will take on Mark and the guards up top.”

Like that, all of you skip across the ground- aiming your scopes to the distance in front of you. In an instant, stun darts fly in storms, causing whines to reach your ears. Some of your initiates get caught in the line of fire, falling as they cradle their legs and arms. You have to keep pushing on. You and Selene make it to a pile of debris that’s closer to the bottom of the tower. Selene puts her blonde hair into a ponytail before nodding at you, “I think Mark’s guarding on top. I’ll cover for you on the staircase.”

You nod back at her, patting his shoulder with your gloved hand, “Let’s go.”

Shooting the guards at the entrance door, you swing it open with ease. Selene takes down the guard who’s on the first platform of the staircase. He yelps in pain, glaring at Selene as she daintily smiles down at him, “Oops, sorry about that!”

Selene follows behind while you take down some more initiates one by one, their pained grunts the only noise in the vicinity. Finally when you reach the top of the staircase, you hear more initiates yelling from where you first entered. Selene grins, “I’ll cover for you! Go take down your boyfriend!”

Before you can scold her for her words, she takes off down the staircase again- firing more shots when she runs. Inhaling, you kick down the door- shooting the first boy that you see in sight. He drops his gun, clutching his knee in pain as he attempts to scoot to the corner of the tower. Then, you’re met with Mark who stands right in your way of the flag. Defensively, you aim your dart gun at him, “I don’t hurt you but you’ll have to move aside.”

He quirks his eyebrows up at you, a smirk gracing his pink lips, “Why haven’t you shot me yet then?”

To his dismay, you shoot him square in the foot as he clatters to the ground with a pained grunt. His gun makes a sound when it crashes to the ground, scattering towards the other boy that lays helpless in his position. Just before you can wrap your fingers around the flag’s stem, you feel Mark wrap his arms around your torso, pulling you down. A shout escapes from your throat when you both go down together, your body on top of Mark. You try to struggle out of his grasp, wiggling as much as you can.

“Give up y/n, I got you now!”

Mark’s face contorts with pain when you use your elbow to jab him in the rib, his grip not relenting even a little.

“This is so unfair! You’re way heavier than me!”

Mark laughs at you, “This is all part of the game, I’m not letting you win.”

That’s when you remember your own words. The element of surprise. You have to catch Mark off guard. With a surge of confidence, you turn your head to face him as his dark eyes are riddled with confusion. He has no idea. You shift forward, kissing a peck to the hollow of his neck. Just like you expect, he releases his grip before scrambling to sit up- his face is utterly flabbergasted. He turns red, the sight of him being so embarrassed makes you burst into laughter, he doesn’t look so tough anymore. Though, you don’t waste time. You advance towards the flag, waving it around in Mark’s shocked face. Even the boy who sits in the corner stares at you wide-eyed.

You jump and down in joy, “We won!!!”

You waste no time to blaze it through the tower window, the small figures of your teammates hooting and cheering on the ground. You hear Mark stutter, “H-hey! That’s not fair! You-”

Turning around, you press a finger on the ball of Mark’s button nose, “Gotcha!”

Mark and his teammate sulk behind you when you walk down the stairs in victory. Selene and Lucas so high that you feel like you can get sucked into the dark sky, silver stars swirling above you. The taste of winning sure is sweet.

[10:30 PM]

“How’s it feel to eat dirt Lee?”

He laughs at you on the way back to the Dauntless base, he leans against the wall of the train, “Whatever- you backed me into a corner.”

“And fair and square!”

Mark rolls his eyes, laughing, “I’ve won other times- this is nothing y/n.”

Lucas chimes in, “Mark’s just butt-hurt we won.”

Mark yells back, “Am not!”’

“Are too!”

You raise your voice, “Alright boys, that’s enough.”

All the three of you erupt into a fit of laughter, pushing each other as the initiates stare at you with bewilderment.

“Do you want to hang out for a bit more? I’m not tired?”

You raise your eyebrows at Mark, “After that? You’re not tired? Not tired from your beating?”

Mark shakes from laughter, “Don’t do that! Agh, you know what you’re doing.”

You let Mark lead you to his suite anyway. In Dauntless, most of the rooms looked like jail cells. They had grey concrete walls, beds that were as hard as nails, and only shared bathrooms. You recall the memories of when you and Mark had to sleep among dozens of initiates, the toilets didn’t even have separators. It felt like torture. When you moved up the ranks, Taeyong placed you in the leader suites- two large studios for each of you. Upon entering Mark’s room, it almost feels homey. The walls are still a drab grey yet there are black panels that line the area above Mark’s headboard, his bed made neatly. Mark goes to open the sliding door by his closet, the door opening up to his balcony. Mark chuckles, “Isn’t this better than the old dauntless rooms?”

Playfully rolling your eyes at him, you reply, “Of course it is. Anything is better than the gross bathrooms.”

He walks over to you, “Do you want anything to drink?”

“No thanks, I think I’m good.”

For a few minutes, Mark perks up, bouncing with a pep in his step, “Do you mind if I change real fast? I feel sweaty.”

You nod, “I won’t be going anywhere.”

Sitting on Mark’s bed, you wait for him to come out of the bathroom. Everything in his room is orderly, from his clothes and his desk, everything's in it’s place. The room feels like Mark. When he comes out, you giggle at his clumsiness as you imagine Mark hastily fumbling with the buttons on his pajama shirt.

“You silly, the buttons aren’t right.”

You don't realize what you’re doing until you slowly unbutton each button on Mark’s black shirt, a red blush creeping over his face. He flicks his eyes to you, biting on his lower lip before looking down at your fingers. You try to ignore the erratic beating in your heart, the heat that travels up your back.

“There, all finished-”

When you look back up, you realize that Mark is only a few centimeters away. You memorize every knick in his skin and every eyelash that lines his eyes. Even in the poor lighting of his room, Mark still shines in front of you. The golden glow travels along Mark’s hair and onto the fabric of his shirt. You feel your breath hitch in your throat, “You’re so close.” That’s all you manage to say.

Mark whispers, “Can I kiss you?”

He searches your eyes for some kind of refusal. When he doesn’t find any, he crashes his lips into yours, his bottom lip folding over your own. You move your hand to Mark’s neck, tugging back on the hairs on his nape. He kisses you even more passionately, embers sparking up in your stomach. It’s no lie you’ve dreamed of kissing Mark for a long time. Mark rests his calloused, scarred hands on your waist as he pulls you into him, your noses bumping together. You feel Mark’s tongue push against your own, you had no idea Mark could kiss anyone like that. Pulling back, you stare at him, ‘You know- I just wanted to say that I’ve always admired you. Not for your looks but about your ability to help others and your selflessness, how brave you are and-”

Mark shuts you up with another heated kiss, pulling you down into his bed. He rests his forehead on yours as he holds your hand in his lap, “There’s something I need to say y/n.”

You listen to him, not wanting to miss a word, “What is it Mark?”

“Y/n, I like you.”

You pause before smiling to yourself, “Are you sure you want me? I’m kind of-”

“You. That’s all, no one else.”

You nod, pulling yourself into Mark’s lap, “Very well then Lee.”

You continue to massage his neck, sipping on his lips while you do so. You detach from him, nimbly undoing the buttons of his shirt. When he shrugs the garment off, you take note of the large dauntless flame tattoo on his chest, running your fingers over it. He stares up at you, placing his hand over yours when you glance down his toned body, his stomach packed with muscle. Mark proceeds to kiss up your neck, a moan eliciting from your throat. After taking off your long-sleeved sweater, you let Mark bloom purple marks on your skin. You hear him kiss against your collar bone, “It feels like I’m dreaming right now.”

You can’t help but laugh, “You’re not dreaming.”

Mark helps you undo your bra, your chest flushed against his. When you flip your hair out of your face, Mark’s eyes are filled with awe, “How are you so beautiful?”

You rest your chin on his shoulder, “I should be asking you that question.”

After revealing yourself to Mark, you have no regrets. He’s seen every part of you, marking you his territory when he kisses down your neck and your chest as you’ve called him yours. The balcony door is still open, a light breeze floating through Mark’s room. Resting your head on his chest, you hear him exhale into the pillows. He still wraps a strong arm around your figure, making sure you’re secured against him. You tap on Mark’s chest, “Are you awake?”

“Yes.”

“What are you thinking about?”

You don’t expect Mark to ask you such a question. He sighs, “Y/n, do you want to run away together?”

You sit up, resting your head on your propped up elbow, “Mark, what do you mean?”

He turns on his side to face you, his cheek sunken into his pillow, “I heard in a meeting that Erudite plans to take over Dauntless. I’ve always thought about it: why be one thing? why be sorted into categories when we can just be people?”

Reaching a hand over, you play with his hair, “Wow, you must’ve thought about this huh? But where would we go?”

Mark’s eyes show a glimmer of determination, a fierceness that you’ve never seen in anyone else, “I hear there’s people outside the wall. Like a resistance. If we join them, couldn’t we be free?”

“Maybe. Who knows. We don’t know what’s out there. Isn’t that story a legend?”

Mark shakes his head, his eyes scanning your features, “No. I heard some Dauntless guards talking about people outside the wall by the border. They’re out there.”

Finally, you resort to laying on your back, sleep threatening to pull you under. You answer, “Mark, it would be so dangerous. What if the resistance doesn’t take us in? At least here, we have protection.”

Mark’s voice turns cold, “But not for long.”

You’re not sure what to say next. Instead, you feel Mark turn away from you as he shuts his eyes. Leaning forward, you press a kiss to his bare shoulder, “I’m sorry. I just- my family’s here and the initiates, I’m scared to leave them behind.”

Mark doesn’t move, his eyes are still screwed shut.

“I know. It’s wrong of me to expect you to drop everything and go. I don’t know myself.”

“Hey, look at me.”

Mark turns to look at you, his face illuminated by the soft glow of the moon that shines through his window. You press a kiss to his cheek, your lips lingering there, “I’m with you. No matter what happens. Even if it means we have to leave, I’m willing.”

Mark slowly blinks, his lashes accenting his eyes. He leans up to kiss you once more, his thumb tracing the edge of your chin, “I’ll protect you. I love you y/n.”

You freeze from the sudden ease in Mark’s tone. You’re still sure of it. You press a kiss to the corner of his lip, “I love you too.”

[9:00 AM]

When morning comes, you jolt up from the nightmare that causes your body to shake with anxiety. You gasp, sitting up in Mark’s bed. What’s worse is that you don’t find him next to you. Throwing off the covers, you check the bathroom and the balcony. Mark isn’t here. You start to panic, you pray that Mark had woken up early to get breakfast or for some Dauntless meeting. After slipping on your shoes and putting on your clothes, you exit out of the Dauntless Leadership wing and head towards the pit. You feel a ball drop in your stomach when you see hundreds of initiates swarming the pit like a hive, all of them single file in the cavern. Some of the other dauntless leaders are corralling them like cattle. What’s even weirder is that the initiates don’t seem normal.

You spot Lucas and Selene by the corner of the room, their eyes laced with some kind of magnetic trance. Everyone seems to be walking in a robotic manner like something’s controlling them from within. Why weren’t you controlled? That’s when you remembered Mark’s words. Erudite planned to overthrow Dauntless and the other factions. You step back into the shadows, quietly scanning the room for Mark. It’s impossible to see with so many people in one area. Before you can slink away, you feel a hand cover your mouth the instant you try to scream- you fall your eyes close from the loss of consciousness.

When you awake, your vision is blurry and it’s difficult to hear anything. You see blobs of blue moving to talk to a white-haired woman dressed in navy, their lips saying, “Is she divergent?”

“I’m not certain, testing isn’t complete yet.”

You try to shake yourself awake, your limbs are tightly locked into the chair that someone has put you in.

“Ah- she’s awake.”

You blink twice, your eyes still adjusting to your environment. The white-haired woman looks down at you, her features as hard as ice, “Well hello y/n.”

“Who are you?”

“My name’s Jeanine. I lead Erudite. It seems as though our crafted simulation doesn’t work on you.”

Lifting your head, you stare around her. People dressed in blue coats pump syringes into tubes as they tap on glowing screens as well. Jeanine laughs, “I’m here to ask you a few things y/n. What did you get on your aptitude test?”

“Dauntless.”

Jeanine creases her eyebrows, inching closer to you, “I don’t think you’re telling me the truth.”

“What do you want me to say? I’m dauntless born.”

Jeanine lets out a cynical laugh before smoothing down her bobbed hair, “Get rid of her. We’ll find the rest on our own.”

You start to yell at Jeanine, “You won’t get away with this! I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

That’s when you can’t say a word. From behind Jeanine, Mark enters your view. His eyes are emotionless, the soft glow that once sparked up in his irises is now absent. He’s still wearing his black uniform from the night before, a pistol gripped in his hand. You hear an erudite employee ask, “Shouldn’t we do it outside?”

Jeanine shakes her head in refusal, her wicked smile curling on her lips. You scream Mark’s name, “Mark! hey! It’s me!”

He shows no sign of recognition. Like a mechanized soldier, he grips the back of your neck. Your hairs feel like they’re being tugged on too hard, the cold barrel of his gun pointed at your temple. Tears break like a dam as they flow down your cheeks, whimpering at Mark doesn’t do anything, “Mark..please… it’s me!”

Mark only grips your neck harder. His jaw tightens at the sight of you, his fingers on the trigger. If you weren’t restrained, you’d lean over to touch Mark’s face. You’d try to remind him of who you were and what you shared- how you told him you loved him for the first time last night. But you can’t. You just sob, “Mark..please..”

In a second, you hear a pin drop ring in your ears. Mark swivels away from you as hard as he can, firing the gun straight at Jeanine. Jeanine drops to the ground, blood spilling from the back of her thigh as she screams out in pain. It’s so fast that you have trouble registering what’s going on until Mark yanks off the belts that fasten your hands to the armrests of the chair before screaming at you, “Y/n! Get out of here now!”

“I’m not leaving you!”

You spot Jeanine pressing her hand to her spewing wound, the other erudite members worriedly clamoring over her.

Mark looks angry, his expression looks like he’s fighting some unknown force within him. You shake your head, “Let’s just run now! Just like you said!”

Mark grits his teeth in pain, his hands tightening into fists as if he’s resisting the urge to lunge at you again, “You have to leave now! Go where I told you! Follow the tracks!”

As much as you want to drag Mark with you, you know there’s no time. Instead, you close the distance in between you before kissing a messy kiss to his lips as you place your hand on the back of his neck. For a few seconds, you feel him kiss you back, his eyes are screwed painfully shut. Forcefully, Mark pushes you away from him- launching you towards the exit.

Jeanine yells, “Get him under control!”

You realize that you have to leave Mark behind. You grab one of the handguns that sits one of the racks before dashing out the double doors. Tears are streaming down your face, hot and painfully slow. Your legs hurt from the pain of running, you have to keep running. You have to get out of here- all of Dauntless is under simulation. They’re being played like puppets on a string, all for Erudite’s divine control. Remembering Mark’s words, you run as fast as you can. Your chest heaves with a lack of oxygen, you fly along the tracks of the train by the center of the city. Luckily when you hoist yourself into one of the train cars, you don’t see anyone else.

You ride the train as it speeds towards the border wall that encloses the city. Leaning on the train wall, you sob into your knees, remembering Mark’s smile when he had first helped you onto the train car when you were initiates. You miss him. You miss his breathy laugh, the scent of mint and pine needles, the way he would play with your hair to make you grin. You miss your combat partner and you miss your friends: Lucas, Serene, and the others. You begin to realize that you had left your family behind too as you imagine their cowering figures in some hiding spot behind the Dauntless complex. Or maybe, they were put in a simulation too- walking around like mindless zombies as Dauntless soldiers order them around, gun barrels pressed to their backs. You can’t stop the tears that burn your skin, your fingers yanking at the fabric sweater that suffocates you.

When the train stops, you raise your gun at any potential attackers as you carefully tread towards the wall’s entrance. For one last time, you stand in the grassy field. You take note of how there’s no clouds in the sky and the way the sun beats down on your face- the city reaching up to the heavens. When you look back at the city in the distance, all you can see is what you’ve lost. What you’re leaving behind. Still, there’s a small glimmer in your chest when you think of what lies on the other side of this wall. All the potential possibilities that could help you get your family back- Mark back. There’s no definite answer, whether there is a resistance force or nothing but a deserted wasteland. You’re about to find out yourself.

@czennienet @neowritingsnet @nct-writers

[PART 2: Borderlands] [PART 3: Redemption]

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miraculous-rewrite · 4 years

Text

Miraculous Rewrite- Hero Heart (a Puppeteer 2 Overhaul)

I think we deserve a little break from last episode, huh?

We open in a small elementary school. A harried looking kindergarten teacher is darting across the little playground in the back, shouting for this or that child to not sit on top of the monkey bars, or not to eat the paste.

The havoc reigns for a time, as a bunch of 4-5 year olds are being their ornery selves. But we shift focus to one of those ‘jungle gym in the shape of a castle’ like structures. And who do we see at the top of the tower but our favorite little hellion, Manon. Manon is toting a ruler like a sword and we can see a little paper mache ring around her finger. She’s aiming her “sword” at one kid on the ground who’s got a beanie on in his best attempt to look “dangerous,” and she slides down the attached slide shouting ‘In the name of Paris!’ and Noel charges forward with a ruler of his own, an orange necklace around his neck made of beads and wires to look like a fox tail. He goes down the slide (and does NOT go “wheeee”), before sticking the landing to attack the “akuma,” and three more kids charge from out behind trees and a bench.

The twins Ella and Etta come from behind trees, Ella with a yellow hair clip with hand-painted and sloppy black stripes and a macaroni necklace that serves as her “trompo,” and Etta has red stickers on her earlobes, jumping into the air in an effort to tackle the “akuma.” And who should pop out from behind the bench but Xuan (because Kim’s brothers still exist), wielding a trash can lid he picked up out of nowhere to use as his turtle shield.

“I see you six at the jungle gym! No Playing Heroes! Not after what happened to Rodney!” Manon whines at the Kindergarten teacher’s harsh tone, but does lower her ruler, and the others follow suit, all equally bummed.

“But it wasn’t OUR fault Rodney fell from the-!”

“But he was playing the game, it’s too violent for schoolyard play.” the teacher insists and Manon pouts, sitting down on the ground. “Come now, you all had games BEFORE you started playing heroes, you can play those games.”

The “akuma” yanks the beanie off his head, revealing himself to be Vihn, and he quickly tosses the beanie at his brother, who makes an affronted noise before wrastling off to the side.

Ella, Etta and Noel, meanwhile, appear to seem as put out as Manon, but Noel brightens up after a moment and tugs Manon’s sleeve. “Wanna play Akumas?”

Manon brightens up, and darts to her feet “Puppeteer will return tonight and she’ll be the coolest Akuma ever!”

“Not if the Sapotis have anything to say about it!” Ella and Etta chime in.

“Oh just you wait until Chrismaster has his fun!” Noel agrees.

Cue intro

We switch back to the Lycee now, In the middle of a lesson, an unnamed history teacher droning on and on about the June Rebellion of 1832, When one cuts to the classroom one can see this teacher is about as captivating as the ghost teacher from harry Potter, everyone looks ready to fall asleep, even the otherwise more studious kids like Ali, Max, and Adrien.

Just as the teacher turns to the blackboard one can see a few people slipping each other notes, Sabrina and Lila share a joke before Lila slips it to Ali so the three of them chuckle lightly together. Marinette shares a doodle with Alya whom suppressed a laugh. Adrien gets Chloe's attention and shoots her three weird faces in a row before she finally breaks and has to turn away, else laugh and break the silence. There are a few more of these, Kim is doing that whole ‘I’m not touching you’ thing with Max, his finger exactly an inch away from Max’s cheek. Nathaniel is happily doodling, forgetting the world.

The teacher turns back to the class and all of them immediately look like they’ve been taking avid notes.

It’s highschool what did you expect?

Sure enough though the class ends, much to everyone’s relief, and coming up next is lunch. The normal cliques all gather back together and for a moment we actually follow Lila and Sabrina, the two of them debating a pair of nearby Cafes to eat at. Just as Sabrina is explaining the absolutely HEAVENLY Paninis this one place by the park has her gaze flickers to the side and she notices Chloe over at Team Miraculous’ table. The two make eye contact, before Sabrina’s face hardens and she grabs Lila’s arm pointedly, loudly stating that Lila can pick today.

Chloe’s expression hardens as well and she turns back to her own group, loudly stating that Father is trying out some new menu items in the hotel restaurant if they wanted to taste test.

The group of Team Miraculous are behind the Lila and Sabrina Duo, and if Lila got jolted a little by Amber’s shoulder as they passed the two by, well, she doesn’t have any proof does she? But just as they’re beginning to head out Marinette’s phone chimes. She checks it and humms. “Hey guys, Nadja just said she’s gotta work through this story over lunch and she needs someone to pick up Manon, you mind grabbing me something to go?”

“Why would she be texting a Lycee student to use up her lunch hour instead of a proper nanny?” Alya huffs. “If my parents have an issue with Ella and Etta they usually send Nora, since she works nights. Schedules matter!”

“Calm down Alya, Nadja’s got a demanding schedule, it’s hardly like She’s asking me to take Manon to class with me.”

“Do you want any of the new menu or should I just grab you that pasta dish you always order?” Chloe’s already on her phone, likely making a note.

“The pasta dish.” Marinette parts from the group to head off, but to her Surprise Nino splits off with her.

“Eh, might as well say hi to Noel, right? ‘Sides Adrien knows what I like.”

Adrien grins. “Yeah, I’ll get you the vegan special.”

“DUDE!”

Marinette chuckles as the two of them turn the corner and head for the Kindergarten.

Speaking of the Kindergarten though we cut back there. And sure enough the children’s games weren’t appreciated by the teacher, Manon, Ella, Etta, and Noel are all in time out at different corners of the room. Xuan and Vihn are in the middle of a stern talking to about fighting in school, though the boys insist that it wasn’t FIGHTING it was WRASTLING. Their big brother made sure they always knew the difference.

The teacher experiences a brief “war flashback” to the days of Kim in kindergarten. Kim (as seen by a red baseball shirt) with an equally rowdy Marinette in a headlock, Nino and Alix at either of his sides pulling at his arms to no avail.

“They wouldn’ta been wrastlin if we were playin heroes!” Manon breaks the cardinal rule of Time out, and speaks up, borderline shouting to be heard from halfway across the room.

“That’s another 5 minutes young lady!”

Manon sticks her tongue out.

“Try me again and I’m telling your Mother!”

Manon jolts to her feet, apparently more in reflex than anything and shouts “But that’s not fair!”

“Yes it is! We have rules and you broke them! Now sit back down, your Mother will know about this when she comes to pick you up.”

Marinette and Nino arrive at this “perfect” moment, Marinette knocking on the doorframe to the classroom. “Uhh, I’m here to pick up Manon for Nadja? I’m her babysitter.”

All at once, chaos reigns supreme as all the kids cry out “Marinette!” and tackle her. The suffering of knowing every single troublemaker in this classroom. Nino does however catch Noel before he can join the child pile that’s formed, holding his shoulders and kneeling onto the ground.

“Hey hey, little man, why’re you all in time out?”

Noel seems reluctant, puffing out his cheeks and twapping his legs lightly, avoiding eye contact. Before he finally looks down and grumbles “We were playing heroes.”

“You were playing… heroes?” At Nino’s question Xuan and Vihn speak up from their place in the Marinette Pile.

“One person’s the akuma and the rest are the heroes and we fight the bad guy!”

“It’s really fun because if you’re Chat Noir or Rena Rogue you can swordfight!”

“It’s a fun game and people don’t get hurt unless they’re being stupid about it!” Manon yells again, this time defiantly.

“Manon Chamack, you should know better!” The teacher gasps. “You know we don’t say words like that here, And in front of Marinette, too?”

Marinette blushes, looking off to the side in embarrassment.

“Well since Ms. Chamack isn’t going to be here TO pick up Manon, it seems as though I’m going to have to call her later, Heroes isn’t allowed anymore after one of our kids got injured falling from the jungle gym, and The lot of them SHOULD have known better.” She shoots Manon in particular a strict look. Manon’s face turns bright red and she stiffly walks over to hug Marinette’s leg. “I’m sorry if this was all a bit much for you Marinette.”

“It… It’s fine.” Marinette answers uncertainly before picking up Manon and hiking her onto her hip. “We’ll just be on our way.”

“Don’t get into any more timeouts lil’ Man.” Nino offers a fist bump to Noel, whom happily returns it. “Ma won’t be too happy to come pick you up and see you’ve got a timeshare in the corner now.” Noel giggles and promises Nino that he won’t. It’s very wholesome.

Juxtaposed against Manon clinging stubbornly to Marinette’s shoulders and sniffling into her shirt. “It’s just a game! I just wanna play pretend!”

“It’ll be okay Manon, you guys can play heroes when you’re not in school.” Marinette tries to reason but now the teacher is shooting her a look too.

“No one’s saying you can’t play pretend Manon, but it’s dangerous to play at being heroes where you can get other people hurt.” The teacher states instead.

“But that’s boring! I played pretend as an Akuma before! N’ so did Noel! N’ So did Ella and Etta! I wanna be a hero now! I never get to be a hero! I’m always a monster and I wanna play the hero now!”

Marinette tries to calm Manon with a hug, but she’s an angry lil bean and struggles out of Marinette's grip until she’s put down and runs to her cubby. She pulls out her little backpack and from the little backpack pulls out the paper mache ring she was playing as Chat Noir with. She slides it back on her finger and marches back over to Marinette, her gaze determinedly on the floor.

She walks in front now, marching ahead of a still rather shocked Marinette and marches through the door.

“I’ll uh.. I’ll try to calm her down.” Marinette whispers. “Maybe we can get an apology out of her before the day’s up.”

“She’ll probably come into school with one tomorrow after her mother finds out.” The teacher says exhausted. “That’s how it was with your lot. That’s how it’ll be when she’s old enough to babysi-!” She’s cut off with the door blasting off its hinges.

Sure enough standing in the doorframe is a lil black suited Manon, in Chat Noir’s old outfit no less. Scrunchies with little bells holding her pigtails back.

“Who wants to play heroes?” She chirps “Hero Heart wants to be Kitty Noir, but I need a Ladybug!”

Marinette and Nino share a look, and Nino taps out a quick message on his phone (held behind his back) with one hand, his other hand still on Noel’s shoulder trying to hold him in place and keep him away from Hero Heart.

Marinette, meanwhile, has her hands on Xuan and Vihn, whispering to each of them before Vihn darts forward, ducking under Hero Heart’s hand and out into the hallway, clearly being sent to alert the other teachers and then to go and hide, as the faster of the twins.

This does, however, mean that Ella and Etta were NOT held by anyone, and for all that they SHOULD know better, they are just as much of gremlins and hellions as Manon can be, and they are also angry at their teacher, so they run up amidst the outcry of “No!” from the teens and teacher alike, and Hero Heart grins, tapping one of Etta’s sticker earrings and Ella’s hair clip.

“Two for one special!”

Ella and Etta both fall over, as though instantly knocked out. The teacher as well as Marinette and Nino are at this point trying to corral all the rest of the panicking children outside, Nino’s got a vice grip on Noel, and Manon’s excited gaze turns to him.

“We need our fox! Ladybird! Buzzy Bee! Go get our Foxtrot!”

“Noel… please tell me you’re not…”

“... I am.”

Ella and Etta’s tiny voices pipe up ‘Transform me!’ each and Ladybird and Buzzy Bee stand, one in Classic Ladybug outfit, the other in the gone but not forgotten classic Queen Bee look.

Nino pivots on his heel, trying to get Noel out of there faster, but two wires, one from a yoyo the other from a trompo wrap around his ankles and send him to the ground. Nino is able to twist as he falls as to not crush Noel, but that does leave Noel open for Hero Heart to run over and lift his macaroni pendant in her hand and give it a playful smooch.

Noel flops over onto Nino just as Nino is able to get his legs free.

“Hey Xuan, were you playing their game, too?” Marinette questions, and the little boy nods, leaving her to sigh in resignation. “Turtle?” Another nod.

“What about Vihn?”

“He was the Akuma.”

“Squirtle! Your turn! Where’d you put your bracelet?”

Xuan places a hand over his wrist, ducking behind Marinette.

Hero Heart pouts and prods Noel again. “Come on Foxtrot, don’t be a lazybones!” Noel groans but dutifully mutters ‘transform me’

“Okay guys! We gotta get Squirtle back before we can play Heroes!” Hero Heart chirps, and the kids all gather up to huddle together, by now the classroom has been mostly emptied except for Nino, Marinette, the teacher, and Xuan.

Marinette turns Xuan to the teacher and tells him to run away, they can’t play the game without him.

Unfortunately these kids know how Ladybug plays the game, so just as Xuan leaves from behind Marinette to run to the teacher Ladybird darts out with her Yoyo and grapples him, the same grapple move Ladybug does.

“Yay! Good job Ladybird!” Hero Heart bounces up and down. Marinette and the teacher both try to undo the wire, and Nino tries to intercept Hero Heart, but little Foxtrot gets in the way, and Nino’s sure as hell not gonna hit his baby brother, so he gets distracted by lifting the struggling child and Hero Heart is able to grab Xuan’s wrist. Just as he falls limp Hero Heart wakes him up. Ladybird lets him go just as he turns into Squirtle.

“Okiedoke! Time to play heroes now!” Hero Heart cries out happily. “But… Hm… Something’s missing…” Hero Heart mutters, tapping her chin. “What is it…?”

“We need a villain to fight!” Buzzy Bee answers “Heroes can’t be heroes without villains!”

“Oh yeah! Vihn didn’t wanna play with us, so who should be the villain?”

“.... Oh, Missus Auclair….” the five children chime at once “You didn’t want us to play, But now you’re gonna HAVE to.”

Marinette is able to seize an opportunity and scoops Manon into her arms. “Manon, I know you want to play but this isn’t gonna be any fun! Believe me being a hero isn’t fun it’s super scary!”

“Y-Yeah! What Marinette said! It’s all running around and fighting monsters and there’s no way it’s actually FUN!” Nino chimes in, still holding a struggling Foxtrot. “I mean, we wouldn’t know, but there’s enough grimdark comics out there to prove this stuff must be super scary!”

“But heroes always win the fight, and we wanna be heroes!” Hero Heart shouts. “And we can’t be heroes without a villain!

“Ms. Auclair you might want to leave before they make you play along.” Nino glances at the teacher, whom hesitates for a moment before nodding and making a break for it.

“SOMEONE STOP HER!” Hero Heart cries out, and Squirtle jumps into action, throwing his shield in a very Nino-esque way before it swipes Ms. Auclair’s feet out from under her.

But just as the other children approach to try and bring their teacher to Hero Heart, a trompo swings out like a makeshift yoyo around the teacher’s waist, pulling her out of the classroom and to the arms of Bellflower.

“Hi!” Bellflower chirps “Playtime get a little out of control?” The teacher sighs as Bell places her down, turning her in the direction of the higher grades classrooms. “Not to worry we’ll have everyone back before naptime!”

“Thank you.” Ms. Auclair huffs, but before she can actually get away another trompo wire zips out, right between bellflower and Ms. Auclair, wrapping around the doorhandle across the hall.

“Nu-uh! You can’t take our Bad guy!” Buzzy Bee chides, grappling her trompo and rocking forward, grabbing Ms. Auclair by the back of her shirt as she passes them by. “Hero Heart ya gotta get free!”

“I’m working on it!” Hero Heart calls back, she’s just barely able to keep her squirmy Miraculous hand out of Marinette’s grasping hold. Then she finally holds her hand out “Catacly-!”

“Cataclysm!” Chat Noir’s voice cuts through her own, Chat darting into the scene and sliding his hand against the floor, the bedrock cracking beneath their feet and beginning to crumble.

This of course throws Marinette off a bit, and while it does stop Hero Heart from Cataclysm’ing a human person it also shakes her loose from Marinette’s grip. A similar problem happens with Foxtrot and Nino. The kids get their bearings quicker and follow Buzzy Bee out the front door with their villain.

“Chat Noir!” Marinette sighs “I should be angry but thanks for not letting me be the first to see what would happen if someone got cataclysmed”

“Come on Purrrincess, I’ve got Rena and Chess outside for when the Bellflower wannabe makes her way out there. But you two should probably change into something a bit more… comfortable.”

Marinette can’t help a moment of playful eye-rolling at the nickname, but nods in affirmation, turning to look over to Nino and getting a nod from him back.

“Transform Me!”

We cut to the outside now, Rena sitting on the rooftop and Cheshire standing on the ledge. Chess has her tonfa screen activated and seems to be looking over the messages, somewhat uncomfortably.

“You okay Chess?”

“Uhm… yeah, Do you think they’ll be able to simulate our actual powers or just-” her tonfa pings with a new message. “Hm…”

“What?”

“It’s… it’s Chat, get ready they’re coming our way.”

Rena stands and the two of them fall into defensive patterns. Sure enough there’s the shriek of an adult and a happy cheer of a child as Buzzy Bee darts out of the school, she’s got the teacher by the back of her shirt, but seems to have no issue with the weight balance.

“Great, had to be Ella.”

“I can do this if you wanna sit out Alya. I’m not afraid of hurting a child.”

“You’re so lucky there’s no way to win this that WON’T result in my sisters crying or I'd have to kill you for that.”

“Noted.” Cheshire drops in, Tonfa spinning until they slam into the ground, the stone breaks a bit at her landing and she throws one of them at Buzzy Bee, not to actually do damage, but it does hit her in the wrist and with a sharp ‘Ow!’ the little girl drops Ms. Auclair.

“Rena!”

“I’ve got you Ma’am!” Rena swoops down to scoop up the teacher, but before she can do so a flute flies through the air and smacks her across the head. Of course throwing Rena off balance.

“Foxtrot!” Buzzy Bee exclaims excitedly. “Hurry! Hurry! We need Hero Heart!”

“Right here!” Hero Heart runs in on all fours, and before Rena or Chess can do anything she pounces and tackles the teacher. Little hands scrambling for something, before she finds the scrunchy her teachers hair has been kept in.

Ms. Auclair falls limp.

“Yay! We’ve got our bad guy!” Hero Heart chirps. “Thanks for making it fun!” She smiles up at Cheshire and Rena Rouge. “You guys can go now we wanna play!”

Chess and Rena share a look. “Hawkmoth is… letting you guys just play?”

“Miss Monarcha is!”

“...Monarcha… just let you guys… not go after Miraculous and just play?”

“Well we can play ‘steal the Miraculous’ if we wanna. If we get bored later. But she said she wanted to ‘shake things up keep ya on your toes’ I dunno what that means though.” Hero Heart pats her teachers face. “Missus No Fun Allowed Time to wake up! You gotta pretend to steal our Miraculouses!”

“Just pretend though!” Buzzy Bee chimes in “Miss Monarcha would be upset if you came over with OUR Miraculouses instead of the real ones.”

It’s about now that the rest of team Miraculous has made the scene. Just as Ms. Auclair turns into her pretend Akuma self.

“No fun allowed! Not a single person can have fun again!” she bellows dramatically.

“We gotta retreat! Plan our moves!” Hero Heart cries out, and the children run off into the streets, Missus No Fun Allowed stands up, brushes off her jacket and waits at the edge of the yard for a few moments before cackling dramatically and running after the kids.

“It’s nice that she gave them a headstart.” Chat responds.

Ladybug paces back and forth, eyes darting off down the street where the Miraculous Tots ran off in, then back to the team. This happens a couple times before she stops, crossing her arms in thought. “They’ve been able to watch us on TV or in person so many times, and the Butterfly’s magic is helping them to replicate what they’ve seen.”

Rena nods. “Which means they’re the perfect pint-sized match for each of us.”

“And some of them are younger siblings for us, not that Monarcha would know that, but they all have connections to us.” Carapace adds.

“Which puts us all in a very tough situation.” Ladybug affirms. “We need the element of surprise, but after last time, I don’t want to call in the Zodiacs, they deserve a break after that chaos. I do, however, have an idea, if everyone’s on board for it.”

“What’cha got, LB?” Chat asks, walking up and leaning his elbow on her shoulder.

In return, she smiles. “Carapace, I’ll trade you the Turtle for the Fox.”

Everyone blinks. Ladybug just continues to smile.

Before we see the results of this we cut back to the Playing pretend heroes, Missus No Fun Allowed is causing harmless havoc, mischief like stealing peoples left shoes, messing with speed limit signs to be far slower than before, and letting all dogs free from their leashes. People don’t seem to be anything more than inconvenienced, until someone swears when she removes their phone battery and she places him in enforced time out, sitting and facing a tree, unable to move until time out is up.

“Stop right there villain!” Hero Heart yells “The park is for everyone to have fun! How dare you meddle with people's good time for your monstrous ways! I’m Kitty Noir!”

“And I’m Ladybird!”

“Buzzy Bee!”

“Foxtrot!”

“And Squirtle too!”

Manon, in possibly the cutest Sailor Moon Homage of them all, does the ‘Oshiokyou’ gesture “And in the name of Paris! We’re gonna kick your butt!”

“Oh ho ho! Such puny heroes think they can stop the likes of ME?” Missus No Fun jeers, “Well you’ll see what NO Fun really means!”

The fight is silly and childish, as expected, the kids aren’t quite able to use Miraculous powers, the butterfly isn’t that strong after all, and just make ‘kids gloves’ version of the powers, far weaker and smaller in scale. But they eventually ‘defeat’ Missus No Fun Allowed, all wrapped up in Ladybird’s yoyo and they all begin to cheer and give high fives.

“We won! We won! Heroes DO always win!” Hero Heart cheered

“....now what do we do?” Squirtle wonders aloud.

They all pause for a moment and think about it.

“Ah! Missus Monarcha said we can go try and get the Real Miraculouses if we get bored! You wanna try?” Hero Heart chirps.

“Sounds like fun!” Foxtrot agrees.

But just as they’re about to make their own plans Missus No Fun stands up and shakes herself loose from the yoyo wire. “Alright children, game’s over, if you all fight real heroes you could get hurt.”

Hero Heart huffs and stomps her foot. “But Missus No Fun! We can do everything they can! We know how they fight! We wanna play!” Hero Heart marches up and puts her hand in Missus No Fun’s hand. “Come on! You can come too if you wanna!”

“Hm.. no thank you.” Misus No fun spins her wrist to grab Hero Heart by her wrist, and with puff of smoke the illusion fades, Missus no fun is still tied up on the ground, but the person holding Hero Heart’s hand is Another fox user, Nino.

“What?! No fair!”

Nino spins the flute once before pulling it against Hero Heart and forcing her into a restraining bear hug. “Come on Manon, playtime’s over.”

“Stooooppp!!! I’m not Manon right now I’m Kitty Noir!” she kicks her legs and reaches out to the others “Heeelllpppp”

But just as she cries out other mixed up heroes make the scene, Bee!Adrien calling out ‘Swarm’ and ensnaring Squirtle, taking his shield from him in the cloud of bees. As Buzzy Bee is about to throw out her own weaker ‘swarm,’ she gets put into Shelter Time out via Turtle!Marinette.

Ladybird and Foxtrot go back to back now, and Ladybird releases Missus No Fun to help them, but before the grownup can intercede who else does this herald but the return of Calamity. Calamity darts through the air and pins the fake akuma down.

“Foxy you gotta Mirage!”

“M-Mira- mirage?” a weak mirage splits the two of them into a bunch of different Ladybirds and Foxtrots, but these illusions are far less stable than a classic Mirage, and a pair of yoyo wires swipe out and decimate them.

Chloe and Amber seem to have split the Ladybug between them, Amber’s wearing the Miss Scarlet uniform we saw back in Startrain, and Chloe of course is in a Ladybug look of her own, but the two of them have one earring each and their Yoyo’s are clearly one yoyo split in half.

“Is it me or are normal akumas getting easier?” Chloe asks aloud as she approaches the two kids, hefting Foxtrot up by the scruff of his neck.

“Well they did say Monarcha wasn’t overly taking this seriously.” Amber responds, lifting Ladybird over her shoulder like a sack of flour. “Especially after what’s been going on recently.”

Amber spins her yoyo quickly with a small ‘Lucky Charm’ it takes about twice as much time as a normal lucky charm to spawn and a vinyl record falls into her hand. “Huh.”

“Maybe they need a break too?” Adrien suggests, leaning against the Shelter hamster ball, before accidentally nudging it into acting and it rolls away, taking little Buzzy Bee with it. Marinette shoots him a look before stopping the ball. “....Sorry Buga-turt.”

“You’re getting all jokey jokes again and i don’t know if that’s a coping mechanism or not.” Marinette answers with a flat look.

“Guys can we wrap this up?” Nino asks, “I think she’s about to start biting.”

“Yeah can’t say i’m fond of sitting on top of a grown woman.” Calamity adds on. “It’s weird.”

“I got it, I got it.” Chloe huffs and approaches Hero Heart, she hisses at Chloe, whom hisses back before easily sliding the paper mache ring from her finger. “Miraculous-...wait I’m not Ladybug, I don’t have a name as a Ladybug would that mean I’d have to make one up for it-?”

“Well it's the Ladybug Miraculous so probably not” Marinette answers.

“Oh, okay, Miraculous Ladybug!” Only the subtlest of shades here at Miraculous Rewrite.

The kids all slowly detransform as the ladybug swarms overwhelm each of them, and are gathered into a group with their teacher by Marinette. Manon has squinted eyes as she looks at the turtle hero, demanding to know who she is and what happened to Ladybug.

“Well Manon, you’re looking at Ladybug. You all were too impressive at matching us, so we had to shake things up to win.” She explains, a smile on her face. “Very impressive, I must say.”

You can practically see the stars in Manon’s eyes, even the resulting scolding from her teacher about how rules are meant to be in place so this sort of thing DOESN’T happen can dampen her mood.

“Do we still have time before class starts up?”

Adrien opens up the trompo for the time “.....yeah no, we’re late.”

“Crap.”

#Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous rewrite #Rewrite #Mod vega #Mod Aimee #Puppeteer 2 rewrite

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iomhair · 4 years

Text

A Matter of Survival

Jacob wakes up, staring at the ceiling of a train compartment, watching the rare lights casting off eerie shadows. They creep off the ceiling, sliding over the walls, dissolving into the soothing sound of the moving train. Jacob closes his eyes and stretches the hand to the table by the sofa – he should have left a bottle of ale there.

Jacob is not superstitious, never has been. Chasing stories, fairy tales, ancient relics, ghosts even – that was always Evie’s prerogative. He tried to stay away from it, always seeking for a rational explanation of whatever seemed to be out of the ordinary. They lived in a time of another miracle, which could hardly even be called one – future. Inventions and progress. It was the time to leave all the old stories right where they belonged: back in Crawley, hidden under his old bed, lurking in the empty streets, collecting dust on the endless shelves of the assassin’s libraries. This was definitely under Jacob’s control. The past was the past, he left Crawley some time ago and never even regretted of this decision.

However, annoyingly enough, dreams stayed out of his control and Jacob was not sure how to deal with them.

Jacob sighs, pulling out the wooden cork and finishing the cheap ale in a matter of seconds. He gives alcohol a couple of minutes to work and if he is lucky enough, the cheap swill might even make him dizzy again. It does not, and Jacob gets up, slowly walking to the bar compartment to get some more.

Jacob grabs the bottle of some Irish whiskey, making a quick sip. He now stares at the window, seeing familiar houses, recognizing the area from afar. Southwark. That’s gonna be his stop for tonight.

* * *

Jacob still sees the remnants of his dream, when quickly making his way to the bank of Thames and climbing to the roof of the empty house. He can almost feel the gauntlet slipping off his hand, negating his hit in that dream. He can see the bullet piercing the body of the innocent. He can feel the promise of a terror running through his veins when his knife is missing the initial target, instead bringing death to some random stranger. Many little moments that are weaved into one big shroud. Many small sacrifices that are covered by a vision of a big picture. Many insignificant lies that are turned into the big justification.

Jacob shivers and makes a sip, wrinkling of the sharp whisky smell.

Familiar shadows from his dream are now filling the cold fog of London night, they walk its streets, they all face Jacob now, still staying away, not daring to break the thin veil between madness and sanity.

Not yet, boy.

The sounds of waves, the commotion of busy docks, the cries of seagulls and the ring of bells from across the river bring Jacob to reality.

- Can’t get me here. Those are the rules.

But aren’t rules meant to be broken?..

Jacob almost growls, making a sip after sip. Deprived of possible elegance and a mandatory addition to his usual night out with the Rooks, the alcohol serves its primary purpose and Jacob realizes that the voices in his head are getting quitter. The viscous embrace of the dream is weakened and Jacob slips away from its cold grasp once again. Alive. Unscathed. Defeated.

* * *

Jacob comes back to the train only by night. They made a stop somewhere by the posh district of London, he can see it by the amount of light that illuminates the streets, revealing almost every dark corner. Jacob gets on the roof of their train, watching the crowds of fancily dressed people walking under the bridge. He stares at the distance and he can almost, almost see the columns of Alhambra. The realization that something is constant in this ever-changing new world around him is quite comforting.

Jacob smiles, imagining Roth walking over the stage, talking, smiling, doing anything, really - it never mattered since for some reason Jacob could barely take his eyes off the man. Roth was... captivating.

The train starts moving, leaving the temporary respite. Jacob falls back, watching the night sky, barely seeing the stars. Aren’t they used to be brighter in Crawley?..

- Ah, screw it.

Jacob gets up and throwing the bottle away, quickly readying the gauntlet and hearing the sound of wire, jumping off the train into the welcoming embrace of the night.

It was that simple, really: every time he had business with Roth, every time he left Alhambra, every time he noticed the sharp gaze of green eyes, the shadows seemed to step away and the nightmares seemed to leave him be. At least for a night or two.

Jacob quickly jumps over the roofs, feeling his heart beating faster when he sees the bright lights of Alhambra theatre ahead of him.

It’s just a simple matter of survival, nothing more.

* * *

This day was different.

Everything was wrong and Jacob was too late to fix it, he already knows it.

He knows it when he runs between cheap Whitechapel houses. He knows it when he smells the smoke in the air. He knows it when he runs through the terrified crowd, pushing people aside.

- Move! Move away!

Screams are filling the air and Jacob barely has time to jump away, when the roaring flames are breaking the window of the nearest house, almost catching up with him. Jacob keeps running, trying to reload a gun and to concentrate on the screams the same time. He coughs, covering the face with the palm, getting away from the smoke and finally hearing the voices getting closer.

Hold on, hold on, I am almost there… I got you.

Jacob runs like he never runs before. He has dropped two bullets, but what does it matter if he is an excellent shot, perhaps one of the best in…

- Please! I have a son!

…London.

Flames are rising behind the crowd of templars and a pile of lifeless bodies, fire is glowing in the deadly reflections of daggers, blazes are getting more prominent. Jacob sees the woman on her knees and notices the templars blade right by her throat.

- Sir… Please, I beg of you, do something!

Their eyes meet for a split second and Jacob does not even have time to say anything before his finger slips over the trigger, pulling it immediately.

The body of a woman falls on the cobblestone and her blood is dripping from the templar’s blade.

- You missed, boy.

The templar smirks and whistles, stepping over the lifeless body, before Jacob rushes in to wipe that smirk off his face. He now exists on the pure instincts, fighting fearlessly, adding more wrath and havoc to the roaring fire around them.

One dead, two dead, three dead. Others disappeared in the smokes.

Three lives, only three lives claimed by Jacob for many more that were taken today. Only three fucking lives and many more shadows, chasing him while he sleeps. Not even close to being fair.

Jacob coughs and runs to the body of the woman, already knowing that it is too late.

- Shit.

He touches her face, closing the wide opened eyes, shivering of the visible expression of fear and surprise.

- I am sorry.

The building behind him starts to crumble, spreading the flames all around and Jacob runs away, desperately searching for the clean path, stumbling upon rubble and getting lost in the smokes. The sound of a missing shot still haunts him and Jacob shivers in the anticipation of another sleepless night. He barely sees anything around him, does not notice the clear path, but he knows that he has to make it out. He’ll think of everything that happened later, but now he just has to make one more step and make it out alive.

Not today... Not today.

* * *

Every time Jacob tries to close his eyes this night, he sees the gaze of that woman in the burning Whitechapel. Flames are consuming everything around them, the street is filling in with shadows, they are getting more visible, they materialize out of dust and smoke, they now have faces of those who Jacob could not save.

Everyone who he has killed.

Jacob shudders, digging the fingers in the pillow. He wants to scream, but this hideout has never offered any privacy and Jacob does not like the idea of waking up his sister. He breathes in, standing up and coming to the window, watching the bright moonlight spreading over London.

There is only place left where he can go tonight. Where he wants to be tonight. Just a simple matter of survival, isn’t it?..

* * *

By the time Jacob makes it to Alhambra, his body is so tensed, that he can feel every single stumble and every single jump with his every muscle. The pall of rage is making Jacob faster at the cost of his strength, but it barely matteres now.

Jacob has never used a window to come in here, even though he noticed that since some time Roth was keeping a certain window in Alhambra opened. It seemed way too private despite the fact that Jacob barely accepted anyone else’s boundaries, always trying to establish them on his own terms. Locks meant to be broken. Doors meant to be opened.

Jacob comes in through the opened window unannounced, seeing Roth sitting in the bright red chair with the book. The fear and the desperation that was haunting Jacob all the way here are scattering away, giving way to something different. But it’s impossible to get rid of them completely, and it shows. He watches as Roth puts the book away, walking to the table and pouring some whiskey into the glasses, giving one to Jacob almost immediately.

- Forgive me being so blatant, but it looks like you need one.

Roth does not ask questions and Jacob appreciates that, he always does. But tonight is different.

- When was the last time you slept, Jacob?

Jacob does not answer. He makes two big sips, finishing the glass at once and pouring more in the complete silence.

- You did not answer.

- Does it matter?

- Well... Darling, you look like you are about to collapse right on my carpet and before we do something about that, I would be thrilled to know if it’s because of the lack of sleep, a deadly wound that I have not noticed yet, or perhaps something else that is worth sharing in the middle of the night. So what would it be?

Roth’s voice is hoarse, soothing, calm. It fills Jacob with some kind of excitement, but his rage and frustration are still seeking for an exit, and he screams, throwing the empty glass into the wall.

- She TRUSTED me!

Jacob yells again and smashes the empty bottle against the floor, shattering it to many pieces. Even now the sounds seems to be not enough at the slightest, so he screams even louder, kicking the table and flipping it over.

- She looked me in the eyes, she saw me, she fucking SAW me! She KNEW I will protect her! That… that glimpse of hope, that fucking sparkle in their eyes before they die, you know it too, don’t you?! That… that moment between life and death, that moment of bloody realization that this is over!

Jacob roars, kicking the fallen table once again, walking over the pieces of broken glass, making them crumble under his boot. Tears that he was holding all day are finally streaming over his face, falling off the burning cheeks, but he does not even notice it, stepping closer to Maxwell.

- She saw me… Do you understand it?! She. Saw. Me. Just like this. I gave her hope and then I fucking failed her!

Jacob looks at his shaking hands as if he could still see someone else’s blood over his palms. He still stares at them when he feels Roth moving closer and a second later he realizes that the man’s fingers are now stroking his open palms. Jacob breathes in, touching Roth’s hands and letting their fingers intervene without even having second thoughts.

- Look at me. Look at me, Jacob.

The familiar voice brings him back to reality. He should not be so scared, he should not even be worried. Roth will not judge him, Roth will not be repelled by the heavy stench of death, Roth will not look at him as if he is the monster. And most importantly, he will not take pity. After all, they are so much alike… Aren’t they?..

Jacob finally lifts his head up only to see the understanding stare of the piercing green eyes.

- You don’t need pity from me, do you? Some sort of… redemption, perhaps?

- For God’s sake, no.

- Good. Because I am not going to offer it.

And then Jacob feels the world around his stops as Maxwell pulls him closer and embraces him, holding him so close, that Jacob is barely able to breath, barely able to think of what was happening. It seemed so incredibly natural to lean into Roth’s body, that for a second Jacob gets scared. But the fear is quickly replaced by the sensation of an assurance, security even. Jacob feels his lips partying, not even trying to suppress the loud cry, grabbing onto Roth’s jacket and pulling him even closer, as if trying to wrap himself into the warmth and scent of another human who was right by his side, sharing this moment with him. Someone, who understood who they were. Someone, who knew what they sacrificed along the way. Someone, who knew that there are hundreds more of sacrifices to come.

Jacob is almost falling, but Roth’s hands are holding him tight and when Jacob falls on his knees, he can feel the other man still being close and not letting him go.

Please don’t leave. Don’t ever fucking leave.

- I know… I know, Jacob. I really do. I wish I could ease your burden, my dear. Take it upon myself. Does not make a difference when you have thousand more to carry. One more, one less, what does it matter. You see, the truth is... soon you will forget their faces. I promise you will.

Jacob can hear Maxwell’s quick and calming whispers, he can feel gentle hand running through his hair, and oh how incredibly soothing it is. This is not about the caress or pity, but more of an… acceptance. Silent promise. Jacob is quiet now, still grabbing onto Roth’s shirt, breathing slower. He looks around, staring into the dark corners and watching the shadows fading away in the darkness, leaving just the two of them in the middle of the room.

- Thank you…

Jacob whispers barely audible, now looking back at Roth, being as close to the man as he never was before. As if in some kind of trance, he suddenly leans forward, letting his lips slide over Roth’s cheek, touching his scar.

There. Now you’ve shared something with me as well.

Jacob can feel Roth getting tensed for a split second before turning the head just so slightly, matching the touch of his, Jacob’s, lips, allowing this to happen. Jacob could feel his hands sliding over his back, nails digging into the scarred flesh - not so gentle reminder that both of them are still alive, both of them are still here and both of them are ready to accept what they are in this very moment. Jacob feels that his cheeks are still wet, but Roth removes the tears with the gentle swipe of his hand.

- All lives end. All hearts are broken. Caring is not an advantage.

The quite whisper burns Jacob’s neck and he swallows the silent tears, slowly relaxing in the other man’s embrace. He knows that at some point one of them has to break the touch, has to make this step towards the past where nothing has happened between them and perhaps never remember this night again. But Jacob does not want to forget.

He gets up, looking around at the damage he has done.

- You were right. I have not slept in a while.

- I figured as much.

Jacob remembers all the days that he spent in Roth’s company. They are flashing in his memory like a kaleidoscope of some sort, the pieces are always changing, always brining some new emotions, always making his heart beat faster, always leaving him craving for more.

- May I stay here tonight?

These words slip off Jacob’s lips before he can stop himself. He turns and his heart skips a beat when he sees Roth smile and nod.

- Yes. Yes, of course. Can’t let you out without a proper rest. I’d be a terrible host. And I don’t like to be a terrible host.

And just like that Jacob notices the familiar shadows that were creeping in the corners dissolve into darkness. He smiles when taking off his coat, already knowing that tonight he will sleep without any nightmares.

OST: Death May Die

OST: Fables

#rothfrye #maxwell roth #jacob frye #assassins creed syndicate #all lives end all hearts broken #yes that's the reference #this is soppy and pathetic so I am sorry #my stash of whiskey is almost over #those two still break my heart #unsent letters #yes I watched too much of Peaky Blinders

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sxypigeon · 4 years

Text

Chapter 20 - Bolin tries to write a screen play and everyone has a bad day

Book 5 Absolution (a mostly canon korrasami story)

Things in the refugee camps have gone downhill, Korra checks on Kuvira, and Asami tries not to murder Varrik.

Chapters 1, 19

---

The scene: A dusty Earth Kingdom village on the edge of the Si Wong Desert - a sleepy tourist town in its off season at dusk.

Enter: Ting-Ting in disguise wearing sandbender wraps and clothes, looking for his informant. He walks down a side street and into the shadiest tavern, through the torn sheet acting as a door. The interior is crowded and smokey, just the way Ting-Ting likes it. He approaches the bar and says to the bartender -

“Bolin!”

Said earth bender turned from the window of the airship he’d been vacantly staring out of to his brother. “What, I’m here - yes! . . . Um, could you repeat that in case I missed everything you just said?”

Mako sighed and rolled his eyes from his seat opposite him, next to Jeong. “I asked you if you enjoyed your time with Opal, but judging by the look you just had, I guess I don’t need an answer.”

Bolin frowned at the pair of them as they shared a smug smile. “Of course I did, but that wasn’t what I was thinking about. I have this idea for a mover I’m working on-”

“Still?” Mako asks in surprise.

“Well, yeah. What with working on uniting the Earth Kingdom and then saving Republic City, I haven’t had a whole lot of time to work on it.”

“What’s it about?” Jeong asked with interest.

“Oh, here we go,” Mako muttered with a small exasperated grin.

A huge grin lit up Bolin’s face. “It’s about an ex-United Forces operative named Ting-Ting who’s on the trail of his kidnapped love Ivy. His arch-nemesis Dr. Razor took her as revenge for Ting-Ting’s last mission with the United Forces to shut down his illegal laboratory where he forced spirits and thugs to merge and become his minions. Ting-Ting’s research leads him to the edge of the Si Wong Desert where his former partner, Lee, is undercover trying to bust a smuggling ring among the sandbenders. All clues point to Dr. Razor using the lost city of Sobata in the middle of the desert as his base and the center of the sandbender’s smuggling operation.”

“Wow, that’s a lot of information. Do you think people will be able to follow along with the plot?”

“Sure, I mean, maybe there’ll have to be a voiceover explaining some of the finer details, but I think-”

“We’re here,” Mako interrupted.

Jeong smiled and shrugged, “Next time.”

“Yeah,” Bolin muttered, “maybe by then I’ll have a bit more of the plot worked out and not just the backstory.”

---

“What do you mean you took over an Earth Empire reeducation camp? Where are you?!”

Kuvira sighed tiredly and rubbed her eyes. The avatar, as usual, had chosen an inopportune time to appear. “Reeducation Camp 11, just east of the mountains and Fort Senlin.” She paused to yawn. “I helped the prisoners overthrow their guards and we currently control the camp and it seems like the Empire forces are unaware. Was that all - can I go back to sleep? It’s been a long two days.”

The spectral form of the avatar glared at her for a moment before worry won out over anger. “What’s your plan for the camp? Are you going to keep control of it or shut it down? I don’t think the prisoners will want to stay long if they have the option of leaving.”

She is the wettest blanket. No appreciation for taking over a camp singlehandedly, I see. “We’re working on a way to send some of the prisoners by boat to Republic City, others want to stay in the area and fight the Empire locally and reunite with their families,” Kuvira muttered through a yawn. “Seriously, I’ve had maybe three hours of sleep in the last two days. Let’s hurry this up.”

“Do you need back up or me to help in any way?”

“Other than going away and letting me sleep?” Kuvira ignored another glare. “Send a ship to meet the boat in three days.”

“What about the guards?”

“What about them?”

“Are they dead or your prisoners? Do they need to be moved?”

“No one has died per your orders,” she sighed. “I was going to destroy all of the camp except the cells and leave a few days of food. Someone will investigate if radio-silence goes more than forty-eight hours.”

“Okay, what’s after this?”

I’m working on that, but your pestering isn’t helping. Kuvira was quickly losing what little patience she had left. “If all of this works? Who knows, maybe I’ll open a tea shop in the middle ring of Ba Sing Se and retire.”

Korra looked ready to explode. “I’m trying to help you! We both want the same thing! I can’t do anything for you if you don’t let me in on what you’re thinking.”

“And I’m telling you, right now, what I’m thinking about is sleep. Now kindly disappear since that seems to be something you’re good at.”

---

This was a mistake. Why did I ever agree to this? This was one of the most important buildings in Asami’s entire company . . . and she was letting a known swindler and thief in through the front door.

“You know, I came up with something like this in a dream eighteen months ago,” Varrik said thoughtfully while passing an airplane large enough to hold two dozen people.

There is no plausible way this will end any way, but in disaster. “As a reminder, Varrik, everything in this building and in or around the surrounding complex is off limits to you and Zhu Li. These are trade secr-”

“Yeah, yeah. Zhu Li, did you remember to pack the pumice scrub? You know how bad my calluses get.”

Asami gritted her teeth, but maintained a smile for her employee leading the tour. He will steal at least one of my R&D designs. He’ll steal it, copyright it, and then counter sue me when I try to take him to court over it.

Varrik wildly flung his arm in the direction of his wife’s head and pointed, “Hey, is that the break room? Does it have a full kitchen? Top quality genius requires expertly prepared, well-balanced meals.

He’s going to drive me insane and I’m going to kill him . . . then I’ll go to prison and never see Korra again . . . or I could go on the run and maybe Korra could come with me . . . as long as I don’t have to live in the sewers again.

The group came to a stop just inside the break room while Varrik tested the water pressure and temperature coming out of the taps in the kitchenette. The tour guide, the head of the research building, approached her with a calm smile born from years of dealing with eccentric researchers. “Will there be anything else, Miss Sato?”

“No, thank you, Mr. Taka. That will be all,” she replied. She waited for him to leave before waving her guests over and addressing them. “I cannot emphasize this enough: everything you see here falls under the heading Trade Secret and cannot be copied or reproduced in any form-”

Varrik rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm around Asami’s shoulders. “What are you, a broken record?. I remember the forms your lawyer made us sign. She read them all out loud - it nearly put me to sleep.”

“You can never be too careful,” Asami said with a forced smile. Remember to breathe. Maiming him won’t make this easier . . . or will it? “Would you like some time to settle in or-”

“Heck no! Let’s get straight to business!” He stepped away, with a hand behind his back and a hand in the air, counting off what he needed on his fingers. We’re going to need three heavy-duty electro-magnets, five industrial spools of thirty gauge copper wire, multiple sheets of pure platinum ranging from 0.25mm thickness to 5mm, and a pot of black tea every fifty-two minutes.”

Asami attempted to unclench her jaw before answering. “Zhu Li warned - informed me of what we’d need. It’s all set up in the lab.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?! Zhu Li, do the thing!”

Asami watched the newlyweds practically run toward the ballistic R&D laboratory hopelessly. Maybe everything will go fine . . . and maybe the Earth Empire will spontaneously surrender and give up their super weapons . . . and just maybe I’ll come out of this with my sanity intact.

---

“Is it just me or do these people not seem happy to see us?” Bolin asked

Mako kept his head on a swivel. Everyone on their path hurried away as they approached. “They do not.”

“I don’t like this,” Jeong whispered. “Something must have happened while we were away.” She led the group down the dirt path between the rows of tents at a brisk pace. “Dad! What’s going on? What-”

Jeong was stopped in front of her family's tent when the boys caught up to her. The stricken look on the man’s face told them nearly all of the story.

Mako stepped beside the silent young woman and addressed her father gently, “What happened, sir?”

He breathed deeply and squared his shoulder, trying to hold his emotions in check. “My son . . . and at least two other members of the neighborhood watch have been abducted.”

“No,” Bolin muttered hopelessly behind Mako.

“Did someone see any of this take place? Are you sure they’re being held against their will?” Mako asked as he took out his notepad.

“Letters were sent to the families . . . delivered by young orphans we’ve seen with Triple Threat members.”

“This is my fault,” Jeong muttered in shock to herself. “I stole that weapon. I set up the watch. I tried to drive the Triple Threats out of the area-”

“No! You helped your neighbors!” Bolin insisted. “Everything you did was to make everyone safer. We’re going to get everyone back and bring the Triple Threats to justice!”

“Assigning blame isn’t going to help the situation,” Mako cut in, mostly to prevent Bolin from making more promises he wasn’t sure they could keep. “May I see the letter you received? Jeong, I need you to stay with your family while Bolin and I look into this.”

Perhaps as a sign of how distraught she was, Jeong simply nodded and headed into the tent. Her father sighed sadly once she was inside. “She’s tried so hard to help. Here, find the bastards and bring my son home . . . please.”

Mako met his eyes and nodded as he took the letter. “We’ll do everything in our power, sir. I’ll let you know when I’ve learned anything.” He grabbed Bolin by the arm and marched them back toward the airship they arrived on.

“Wait, aren’t we going to collect evidence and question the neighbors or stake out a . . .a tent or something?” Bolin asked.

Mako kept his face neutral. “The two of us can’t take on an entire gang by ourselves. We’re going to need back up. There’s a radio in the airship.”

“Oh, right. We can call for backup?”

“I hope so,” Mako muttered to himself. If there is any . . .

---

Thanks for reading!

#korrasami #legend of korra #mako #bolin #Asami Sato #kuvira

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omegatheunknown · 4 years

Text

AEW Revolution 2021

Super fun night at Daily's Place, all told, but if all you're going to remember about a big card is how it ended, well...

-Production continues to be a bit of an issue. AEW PPVs tend to be closer to ROH than to WWE, which I imagine is largely preferable to the core audience, minus the hiccups that include continued ill-timed (but not gratuitous) camera cuts, sound mixing absolutely drowning theme music and uh, evidently the crucial pyro, whether they're going to spin it on Dynamite or not. - I haven't done a full-sized review for a long while. I sorta dipped a few months into the crowd-less/small, masked-crowd era out of watching Dynamite and NXT regularly. Though I did watch the Royal Rumble. For some reason. Anyway I miss hot crowds, I miss surprise pops. - I would like a straight answer out of anyone 'disappointed' by Christian. Who were you holding out for that wouldn't be a disappointment? Punk? On what planet was that actually happening? At least it wasn't Angle, or Foley, or someone unable to actually go. Christian's got gas in the tank, and let's not pretend he isn't one of the best to ever do it, in terms of his actual wrestling.

*Pre-Card Britt Baker & Maki Itoh v Riho & Thunder Rosa (*) - Star largely awarded for Maki Itoh's stateside AEW debut and implied continued presence, which is undoubtedly cool and good. Outsized personalities are something the women's division can definitely work with, even if this was not much of anything, as random pre-show tag matches go.

*Main Card The Young Bucks (C) v Chris Jericho & MJF for the AEW World Tag Team Title (***) - Wasn't going to be the usual high-octane Bucks tag match against this pair, though MJF's grappling is perfectly suited to what he's doing and Jericho, despite his abject (and okay, supposedly irrelevant, but man is hard to enjoy him on screen these days...) clownery on social media, remains perfectly willing to lionsault and work real snug. - Don't know what would've put this one over the top, a hot crowd? Outcome wasn't super in doubt for me? Casino Tag Team Royale Match (***) - I'm not a big fan of matches with more than three teams, or more than six competitors, or... I mean these are always slogs and if you're going to derive any satisfaction it's going to be from surprise eliminations or unlikely teams showing up or who ultimately wins. - In which case, two out of three ain't bad. QT Marshall's renaissance continues, the depth of the division is entirely out of hand (Bear Country? Good! Varsity Blonds? Good! The Pretty Picture? Also good! Sons of a Gunn? Probably good eventually!) and of course, fucking Death Triangle is absolutely who you want winning. Hikaru Shida (C) v Ryo Mizunami for the AEW Women's World Title (***1/2) - Shida is locked in. Early days in AEW she didn't look much more talented than any random STARDOM mid-carder, but she's found her comfort zone as a character for an anglo audience, and she's kicking ass in the ring. - Mizunami obviously knows Okada's tailor, entrance robe-wise, and a little touch like that imparts so much gravitas to a performer you don't necessarily know the most about, outside of her tournament run. - This was a very good match but the finish lacked for oomph. Post-match angle was... clumsy. Silly? Good on Rosa for chasing a crowd out of the ring singlehandedly I suppose. Kip Sabian & Miro v Chuck Taylor & Orange Cassidy (*1/2) - Literally all I wanted here was for Miro to unleash the beast and we started in that direction and I was pretty hype, 'Charles' got taken to the woodshed and OC could barely crawl to the ramp. - 8 minutes with back and forth seems a little unnecessary, though Orange has beaten Jericho among others. Still, he could've been a non-factor and Miro could've sent Chuckie T into the shadow realm. Hangman Adam Page v Matt Hardy (**1/2) - Well this was going one way. Always have to remember that Matt has walked that way pretty much his whole career and is still quite capable in the ring, some really nice counter sequences ending with reliably crisp twist(s) of fate. - Should probably bump this up a whole star if not two for the triumphant finish. I mean... that's awesome. The Dark Order are a wholesome face cult that's there for *you*, Adam.

Ladder Match for the 'Face of the Revolution'/TNT Title Contendership/A literal giant brass ring (**1/2) - AEW's set the bar for ladder matches a little higher than the likes of Cody and Lance Archer could possibly reach, no slight on them but this is not their wheelhouse. Caster's in a weird place, push wise... some 'fire' bars, though. - Lance could've won though. Or Penta. Though, Scorp deserves title shots, overdue for some gold, I can't even think of the most significant singles belt he's held... AWS? RevPro? - Ethan Page is a kickass get, though unavoidably I think about the possibility of getting Jordynne Grace (among others in Impact's women's division) onto the program. - Weird highlight of the match just seeing Jake getting attended to on the bottom corner of the ring for a couple minutes. How much has Jake the Snake done to establish the credibility and value of Lance Archer? So. So much. Sting & Darby Allin v Brian Cage & Ricky Starks in a Street Fight (****) - Sting, in 2021, having the match of the night. 61 years young. Well. He had some explosive looking stinger splashes, and looked pretty game for most of it. - Darby, as is tradition, was thrown at or through or threw himself at or through most of the big spots, and that's worth the price of admission for this whole cinematic digression. Plus, Sting. - Commentary should've... stopped? Taken a different tone? I'd like to see future Sting cinematic matches go further into the Lucha Underground aesthetic. Kenny Omega (C) v Jon Moxley in an Exploding Barbed Wire Death Match for the AEW World Title (***1/2) - It's a shame. We watched Onita v Funk before the PPV and this was obviously light years better in every single way, there was actual wrestling, Kenny did a springboard maneuver in an exploding death match, everything looked pretty vicious, the pace was solid, even the Good Brothers stealing Kenny's valour by helping him was totally fine because they were all leaving Mox to get written off for the foreseeable future. - But uh. - Where's the kaboom? There was supposed to be an earth-shattering kaboom! - You cannot tell us that the ring is going to explode and then the ring does not explode. You cannot ask poor Eddie Kingston to sell like death for some sparklers. You cannot end your show with a wet fart. Air out of the room like the end of... well, any WWE PPV.

#aew #aew revolution #kenny omega #jon moxley #sting #darby allin #brian cage #ricky starks #hangman page #matt hardy #wrestling reviews

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dingletragedy · 5 years

Note

Could you write us a lil something of Ben saying I love you to Callum as the big gesture next week?

“Alright?” Ben asks as he cautiously after making his way over the other side of the pub, where Callum has been nursing a pint for the last hour.

(Or so he discovered during the earful he received from Mick.)

“Fine,” Callum answers. Cold. Short. Ben can hardly blame him, really. “You?”

Ben ignores the question, this isn’t about him. “I’ve been looking for you all day. Where you been?” He asks instead, something of a concerned tone masking his usual teasing.

“Around,” Callum says indecisively. “Been busy, sorry.”

“No, listen, I’m the one who’s sorry,” Ben says. What for, Callum challenges with his eyes.

“Why?” He pushes eventually. His words sound tired and small and it breaks Ben’s fucking heart.

“For making you feel like you’re anything less than this really special person.”

“It’s okay,” Callum says with a half-smile, a touch too sad to believe. “I’m not though, am I?”

“What?” Ben questions.

Oh no one special, just a mate. Those words have been ringing around Ben’s brain on a loop, static and terrifyingly loud. He's so angry with himself, all the sudden, and he wants to hide, drown himself in alcohol until the days all blur into one. Until he can go back and introduce Callum to Pam as exactly what he is. Not just a mate.

“Special. Important to you,” he says eventually. “I ain’t important to you like you are to me.”

“No, Cal-” Ben attempts, something of a desperate plea, but it seems Callum doesn’t want to hear it.

“Don’t matter.”

“Look, that wasn’t-”

“What you meant?” Callum finishes. He doesn’t want it to bother him as much as it does, but he thought they were making something, were becoming something. “Guess we just got our wires crossed. Again.”

“I’m sorry,” Ben whispers again. “I’m so sorry I made you feel that way. But it ain’t true Cal. You know that.”

There’s a second of silence, a moment that Callum would normally fill with words and it only unnerves Ben further.

“I realised something, a while ago,” Ben says next, staring down at his hands. His voice breaks again and he hates it, hates how weak he sounds. But Callum’s taught him it’s alright to show your vulnerability sometimes. Callum’s taught him a lot, actually. About kindness, about life, about love.

There’s a beat, Ben scratching at his jaw, letting out a soft, apprehensive breath. “I’ve been too afraid to say it, to think it even. Holding back for one reason or another, and I’ve been so stupid, scared, but I ain’t afraid no more.”

And yeah, the small talk definitely would have been easier than this. Than bearing his heart in front of the whole damn pub. Infinitely easier.

“Ben,” Callum says, warning.

“No, just listen to me,” Ben interrupts, tense as they finally lock eyes. “I love you,” he says, without hesitation. “I love you, Callum. I've loved you this whole time.”

The quiet that follows is heavy, weighing on Ben, trapping him. But then the smallest hint of a smile sparks across Callum’s face and Ben feels something else, something new, entirely.

Hope, like a flower after rain, opens and blooms and takes root in Ben's chest.

“What - I mean, really? Are you sure?” Callum asks, and it’s all Ben can do to take Callum's hand. Their fingers slot together firm and familiar.

“You’re such an idiot,” Ben laughs, but his voice breaks in the middle. He’d probably cry if he weren’t all out of tears; as it is, he wants to climb up on the roof and shout until every last person in the world has heard just how much he loves Callum Highway. “I love you so much,” he says, just to Callum. He’s the only one that matters anyway.

Callum leans forward then, careful, slow, still silent, until their foreheads are touching. And it's into the bubble of air between them that Ben breathes, with the smallest hope in his heart and a whole new universe on his tongue; it's into the crackling electricity that's ever-present between their bodies that he hears it: “I love you too.”

Ben barely has time to process it before Callum’s kissing him hard, still smiling as he does so. They can barely press their mouths together because of their teeth, giggling as Mick cheers them from the bar, and Pam coo’s from the sidelines. Ben can feel his heart soaring, can feel everything that’s ever dragged him down trailing behind them in a flurry of dust.

His breath breaks against Callum’s cheek, warm and damp and intimate, somehow. His eyes are shiny from this up close, catching the light like you wouldn’t believe.

“I’m so sorry,” Ben whispers as he tucks himself into Callum’s neck. His throat is tight. “About yesterday, all of it.”

“Don’t,” Callum says, and the sharpness to his voice sounds odd coming from his bright, smiley mouth. Then, he relaxes a bit more, and the next words that tumble out are soft. “Please, stop saying sorry. I get it. I do.”

“Alright, alright,” Ben breathes, his eyes wet. He leans in again, presses his lips to Callum’s with a gentleness once hidden under layers of pain and fear. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes you do,” Callum says, strong and unyielding. “I deserve you and you deserve me.”

And just like that, like the natural flow and ebb of a wave, building up, curling into itself, breaking on the shore and fizzling away, every of Ben’s worries, fears, disappear into the stretch of Callum’s smile.

The smile doesn’t stay forever, though, and another look passes Callum’s face. Not one of hurt, there’s not a hint of pain there, just - just shock, the soft kind that tells Ben he’s just come to some sort of realisation. “Does this mean you’re my, like - my - y’know?”

“No Callum, I don’t know?”

In the three seconds it takes Ben to catch on to his train of thought, Callum’s got that look on his face again, like his certainty has dissolved into dust, like he’s not sure if he’s crossed some sort of boundary. “Boyfriend?” He questions after a few moments.

There’s something about hearing him say it, something that makes Ben shiver with how pleased he is, a horde of butterflies coming alive in his stomach. He can’t believe he doubted this for one second. “Suppose so,” he replies eventually, fighting a smile.

“Ain’t ever had a boyfriend before.”

“Well, make this your first and your last, yeah?”

And finally, blessedly, the last of Callum’s confusion and doubt falls away, ebbing with Ben’s until they’re all smiles.

“Idiot. Good job I love you innit?” Callum says, like it’s easy.

“I love you too,” Ben replies, because it is.

And yeah, Ben doesn’t think anything could ever overshadow the look Callum gives him then, doesn’t think he’ll ever forget this moment, the way Callum’s looking at him, like he wants him, like he loves him.

#sorry this took a while anon #and sorry it’s bloody shit #i hate it!!!!! give me five mins before i delete it #but this really is the best i could do today #thanks for the prompt anyway!!!#ben x callum #ballum #eastenders #fic #mywords

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2dsheep · 4 years

Text

Happier

Part 1 of 2

Erwin doesn’t know why he's dragged himself to this broom cupboard of a bookstore. How many half-finished books does he have at home lining his shelves? For as many of those as he has, he has double that which have never been opened. He runs his fingers along the spines, glancing for a name he might recognise, perhaps a title too intriguing to ignore, but the letters may as well be scribbles for how his eyes just glide across them.

A hint of daylight catches falls upon him as he steps into the next aisle, penetrating the one dingy window at the front of the store. He thinks there might be another one at the back, but when he pokes his head around the shelf he sees that it’s been barricaded with books, allowing barely a hair-width’s stream of light to tickle the room. Though there isn’t much of it, the soft light skimming along the floor and playing with the dust has Erwin feeling uneasy. He can’t remember the last time he left work so early, but must have been far too long as the few long hours of sunlight left waiting to see the day out hang over him like a weight on a fraying rope, and that can’t be a normal reaction. Perhaps he should do this more often. It was probably something he’d have to get used to before feeling the relief one would expect when getting the whole evening to themselves. Not that he knows when he’ll have the chance to do this again. There’s already lingering guilt that he’s not using his home study to put in the extra hours that were robbed from him due to necessary maintenance work in his office. He’d planned on doing just that, but he remembered a coworker’s suggestion of this place as he was leaving the office. Erwin can’t even remember telling her that he was keen on books, or used to be at least, and office small talk isn’t something he usually engages in. She was right though. It is a charming store, but his heart isn’t in it today. There are better things to be spending his time on.

Offering a small nod and an even smaller smile to the owner, hidden behind his wispy white hair and wire-framed glasses, Erwin pushes the door open and steps back onto the street, the bell ringing sharp behind him.

He’s never been to this part of the city. It isn’t really his scene, to call it something. He feels like a fish out of water and sure looks like it too, donning a suit that could pay a month’s rent in the city while surrounded by people who look like they got dressed in the dark. And yet, when he looks around he feels poor, as if he is the one that is missing something vital. There is a vibrancy in this area that he can’t quite grasp. Life seems to breathe out of the buildings, and the colours seem to pop out, exuding an energy he hasn’t felt in years. The people aren’t that much younger, if he can trust his estimations, but there’s youth in them that he doesn’t think he ever had, a freedom in the way they move and talk that eludes him.

Erwin looks back at the store and catches his reflection in the front window. For his surprise, one would think that he hasn’t looked in a mirror in well over a decade. Does he always frown like that? He looks tired, even more so than he feels in this moment, and his face has earned yet even more lines and shadow this year. It’s unfortunate but not a priority by any means. There will be time in the future to deal with this if it ever affects his work performance.

The sun is warm against his skin but he doesn’t have much desire to soak in it. He should go home after all. It’ll only take him thirty minutes to get back, leaving him enough time to push out a few more reports before the morning. He might have to skip dinner to make up for this wasted detour, but that’s what coffee was for.

Fastening his suit jacket, Erwin makes to head back to where he parked his car, when something, someone, catches his eye, and he feels his breath turn into lead. The world around him blurs, and all he can focus on is a man across the street. His back is to Erwin, but he knows it’s him without a doubt; his hair is dark, alluringly so, and he still sports the same hairstyle, shaved short while long on top. The clothes he wears aren’t much different from his preferred style from a few years ago either, donning his trademark boots which make him perhaps an inch taller than he really is. He stops outside a bar, turning every so slightly, just enough that Erwin can see his face, eyes dark against his pale skin, features as sharp as he remembers.

Levi.

How long has it been now? It must have been three years since he watched him walk out of their apartment, without a single word from either of them. Erwin just watched, making no fight to keep him. And life lost all its spark.

Erwin would almost say that Levi hadn’t changed at all in the last few years were it not for the smile he wears, dimpling his cheeks. Had Levi ever smiled like that with him? He can’t remember. All he remembers are looks of anger, disappointment, a touch of sadness here and there that pang away at Erwin’s chest now in a way they hadn’t ever done before.

Someone brushes past him to get into the book store and the street snaps back into focus, the hustle and bustle rushing back into his ears, a lingering scent of coffee dancing about the air. It’s only then he realises he’s been staring. But he doesn’t stop. He can’t take his eyes off Levi until his attention is ripped away by another person leaning down to plant a kiss on Levi’s cheek, and Erwin’s lungs fail him.

It’s only a second or two, however, before Erwin is watching Levi once more, just in time to catch him shake his head, no doubt rolling his eyes as well. It was such a familiar gesture but then Levi grins, and though Erwin can’t hear it from here he can almost feel the laugh that erupts from him as the man whispers something in his ear.

Why hadn’t Erwin been able to make Levi laugh like that?

Erwin doesn’t think he’s ever seen Levi in such a carefree manner. No, he’s sure of it. But he doesn’t want it to be true and he thinks back to the very beginning, their eyes meeting across a bar. A slight pull on the lips. He focuses, chases that smile. A chuckle that barely escapes the throat they share heated words. The image transforms and Levi’s biting his lips, a pitiful attempt to hold in a moan as Erwin pushes into him. Before he can even start to appreciate the image, never mind scold himself for letting his thoughts wander there, Levi’s mouth turns into a snarl, the look itself more devastating than the words to follow. Erwin doesn’t remember what he said back, or perhaps he won’t allow them to resurface.

The longer he observes, watching Levi give away smiles like he has too many to keep to himself, Erwin can only recall all the times he had instead stolen them from Levi. Cancelled reservations. Forgotten birthdays. An uncountable number of conversations cut off for a things he considered more important.

Erwin doesn’t take his eyes off Levi, watching until the very last moment when he walks into the bar, the door falling shut behind him. The streets wilts, sound and colour draining to something Erwin would have considered more palatable to his tastes, but it just feels dull, lifeless. He shouldn’t have come here, but his legs have him stuck in place as his mind tries to chase a million thoughts while working at a crawl. He realises that he can’t put a face to the man Levi was with. The only thing he can recall is that his hair auburn. Or was it red? Did he have hair at all? In his mind he tries to recreate the man’s image, as if it will help him understand this all better, as if it would be the key to what went wrong, but all he can see is Levi, picturing him so clearly it’s as if he has a photograph in his hand to remind himself of each of Levi’s features.

These last few years, Erwin hasn’t thought of Levi much. He hasn’t needed to, hasn’t let himself need to. There wasn’t time to be thinking about the past. But for the entire ride home, there’s nothing else on Erwin’s mind, Levi’s smile having burned its image like a scar across all this thoughts. He probably shouldn’t have driven, barely remembering how he got home when he pushes open his front door. Did he remember to lock the car? It should be fine.

His apartment is quiet, feeling more so than usual. He throws his keys onto the hallway cabinet, their clanking along the wood far too loud, and it has him stop. How many times had Levi asked him to hang them up? That’s what the hooks were there for, he’d always claim with a click of his tongue as he hung them himself. The keys feel heavy when Erwin picks them back up. He suspends them from their hook for perhaps the first time since moving in, and they give a sharp jangle that cuts through the air before the silence settles once more like a thick layer of dust.

Erwin kicks off his shoes and rushes towards his study, chucking his suit jacket onto his desk before he rifles through his drawers, pushing aside papers and files. There had to be something. Anything. Just one small reminder of Levi. He throws open his filing cabinet and flicks through all the papers though he’s confident enough in his organising skills that there really can’t be anything in there. Maybe he can find a photo somewhere. Did they take any together? They must have, surely. As he continues to search, he becomes willing to settle for a receipt at a restaurant for a meal they shared together. Otherwise, what did their time together amount to?

He strides to his storage closet and pulls out the one box he has of things yet to sort, items spared from disposal owing to work keeping him busy for some time now. There are some gifts he’s never had any intention of using, some warranty receipts he intends to throw out as soon as they become useless. Half way through and there’s nothing. He can’t have thrown all of the photos away. Would he have done that? On that thought he stops elbow deep, forgotten and meaningless objects on the floor around him. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d thrown away something with sentimental value. He and Levi always had different attitudes towards that sort of thing, with Erwin eager to get rid of anything no longer practical and Levi clinging on to them for a million reasons that Erwin could never understand. He threw away something of Levi’s once and hadn’t recognised his devastation at the time, even when Levi’d assigned words to it, something so rare in itself that Erwin should have paid more attention. He searches his memories and remembers it was a box of ticket stubs. A collection of trash, Erwin thought at the time. It has taken him this long, taken his own desperate search for a reminder of the past to realise what it had meant to Levi.

They never should have been together. For years Erwin held onto him, keeping him caged. He’s spent all of these years not knowing how bright Levi could shine. The real Levi, the man he’s supposed to be, he’d seen for the first time today. What more should he have known about the man?

With little faith he continues to empty the box slowly, his enthusiasm abandoning him with each object he withdraws. When did he lose his sentimentality? He remembers as a child gathering seashells with his parents on holiday, and keeping them for years, with no intent on doing anything at all productive or creative. Briefly he wonders what happened to his seashells, but it’s hardly important now. The box lays empty, and Erwin is struck by some strange desire to crawl into it and seal it shut, perhaps to hide away from the bitter memories that surface in his mind, flickering in and out like an old film reel. But one by one, the flashes of anger, the suffocating silences, empty liquor bottles, all lose themselves to a warm light.

He recalls Levi’s bedhead in the morning, truly a sight to behold. There was something charming in how he never cared to fix it unless he was leaving the house. Erwin would joke he could tell that day’s luck depending which way it was pointing, and Levi would call him an idiot in return, but not without a small display of amusement.

Levi’s hands. They were so strong, their power almost terrifying considering their size, but Erwin had never known a touch so gentle. However, at times he’d also experience the necessary brutality they could perform when receiving one of Levi’s massages after spending far too many hours in his office chair.

Years must have passed since he’s thought about any of this, and he almost smiles at the memory, the Levi he remembers who was so fierce in his passions but in a way that didn’t consume him. The giddy feeling in his chest retreats as quickly as it came, giving way to shame as hot as coal. He’s sure that he didn’t give thought to this the last few months of their relationship either, perhaps even longer spent without any consideration for all the things he loved about Levi.

Erwin laughs. His chest feels hollow. He pinches the bridge of his nose, laughs again louder, and his head starts to clear. Levi is happy now. He’s found something Erwin hadn’t been able to give him, wasn’t willing to.

The silence in the apartment they once shared grates on him. Unease sinks into his bones. There are so many could-have-beens and what-ifs hanging about the air Erwin barely wants to breathe, and crawling into bed to sleep manages to make itself an inviting activity for the first time in who knows how long.

#i wasnt gonna make a tumblr post like this #but it felt odd not to?#ive been posting my fics to tumbkr for like four years now?#eruri #erwin smith #levi Ackerman #fanfic #I still can't let go of these dorks

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