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zh-lele · 2 years

Text

We ridin' (currently under editing)

This is the sound you hear when you ride with your enemies

▪︎Summary: Two young people fall in love despite the rivalry of their racing teams. The smallest mistakes you make will leave the biggest regrets.

▪︎Pairing: Lee Haechan x female reader

▪︎Genres: Street racing au, romance, angst

▪︎Word count: 11.2k

▪︎Warnings: minor character death and mentions of death, profanity, substance consumption (alcohol and drugs), toxic relationships, suggestive scenes/implied sex, graphic descriptions of a car accident, blood, guns, violence.

Listen to the playlist here. | Haechan's moodboard. | Johnny's moodboard.

A/N: Hey everyone :) I said it'll be out before August 15 and it's here :) I hope you all enjoy it. It's not proofread, though, so apologies for any mistakes. Also I hope you remember this is fiction and I do not romanticize or condone any of the characters' behaviors or ways of being in a relationship. Please read warnings before proceeding. If you enjoy the fic, don't be scared to leave some feedback! It's highly appreciated 💙

0. Subtle mistakes felt like life or death

Unlike every other Sunday morning, the Suhs' garage is closed. Traces of last night's big storm are reflected on the wet pavement and the drops still falling from the trees, hitting the sidewalk. Inside the house, at the back of the garage, everything is dark and messy; the small boxes of chinese take out from last night, now cold, remain untouched on the small table in the living room. The sound of the last drops of rain and the voice of the reporter coming out of the old television cut the air, disturbing the silence between so much implicit chaos.

'And now getting straight to the breaking news, a well-known young man from the illegal street racing community, dead in a car crash that took place last night at 127 Road.'

"Haechan, stop."

"Babe, I'm fucking tired. I gotta show them who they're messing with. Gotta make them respect me!"

"No one wants to mess with you, for fuck's sake. Not right now. It's dangerous!"

'How many more lives should have to be taken for these kids to finally stop their dangerous activities? They're a menace not only to themselves, but to other innocent civilians as well. It's truly heartbreaking.'

"Haechan, slow the fuck down!"

1. Candy paint with windows all black

It was your birthday the night you met Haechan. Ever since you were little, you have been interested in your older brother Johnny's work. But since the street racing scene has always been a bit dangerous, he promised that he would protect you until you came of age, not letting you attend any of the nightly events to which your brother dedicates his life. That came much faster than you expected, however, and that same night you found yourself attending your first competition ever. While you weren't planning on racing a car, the idea was to support one of Johnny's best friends and the team's number one racer, Taeyong, who would be driving to win a car—the winner of the race would take the loser's.

Haechan lost a car that night, that ended up parked in your brother's garage. However, he won your attention and admiration with a few words and an irresistible image in just a couple minutes. Although he was shocked to find out your last name and to see that you chatted with him with such interest and innocence, it didn't take long for his expression of astonishment to change into a flirty, cynical smile. You wouldn't understand such behavior until later, when you talked to your brother once the event ended and after driving Haechan's car—now your brother's team's car—to your new home. You were finally moving in with them too.

"I saw you talking to Haechan earlier", Johnny pointed out.

"Oh, yeah. Did you know he's an engineer? He knows a lot, and he's really funny, too! I think you would like him. He even invited me to next Friday's race and told me I can go with him–

"I don't really want you around him," your brother interrupted you.

"Johnny, I'm an adult now. You literally accepted me here because you said I'm old enough."

"Yeah but like, I didn't take you there to fall for Haechan. He's bad news."

"You don't even know him."

"I do, and I know all his mates," he said, getting out of the car at the same time Taeyong was arriving with his own vehicle—the winner of that night. "They're trouble," Johnny continued. "He's gonna sweet-talk you into doing things you've never done before."

You scoffed, not believing Johnny still wanted to control you even after he himself introduced you to his world, knowing its risks, but more importantly knowing you were doing it to escape from the controlling and toxic environment of your parent's house, the same one he had been lucky enough to get out of years before you. That you were also an adult capable of making your own decisions and facing their consequences was an understatement. "He's not gonna sweet-talk me into anything. I know very well what I want."

He let out an exasperated sigh before talking again. "Arrested twice by the police for drunk driving. Once caught selling drugs. A car accident with his ex-girlfriend a few months ago. And the Lees' garage is just a big mafia in disguise. Weapons and all, my sister," Johnny concluded after entering your house.

"As if you guys don't do all of that shit too," you answered with your head down and a pout on your lips. "I know some things, you know."

"Just promise me you won't fall for him," he asked with a much less demanding tone and a tired expression on his face.

You shook your head no and that was enough for Johnny, who came over to hug you and kiss your head goodnight before heading off to his room.

"He's just worried about you," you heard Taeyong's voice coming from the kitchen where he munched some cereal soaked in milk from a Bob SquarePants bowl.

"I know," you sighed while sitting on the island across from him. With slumped shoulders and undisguised disappointment, you decided to accompany Taeyong and drown your sorrow a little in cereal.

"But that doesn't mean you can't have fun. You just don't have to fall for him."

And Haechan wasn't intimidated by anything or anyone. Growing up watching his family race cars and do dirty business, the boy would get in and out of trouble like he had a master's degree. After seeing you for the first time, he started going to your brother's shop every day, with the excuse that he desperately needed some parts for his latest design, since his personal supplier wasn't doing his job and the Suhs' garage was "the only one with the pieces in the whole city".

However, Haechan wasn't stupid. The boy knew that your brother and especially his Japanese friend did not like him at all, so he avoided visiting the store when they were there. But when your best friend Mark or Taeyong were around, Haechan knew he had a free pass. The fact that the latter two were desperate to sell parts and get as much money as possible to be able to upgrade Taeyong's car helped him perfectly in his plan of seeing you every day he could.

The young boy was really charming. He not only had the good looks but, as your brother had warned you, he also had the smooth talk. It was hard to ignore him and even more so when he was flirting and making you laugh all the time. After a week of hearing the same phrase 'I forgot to buy something yesterday', Mark and Taeyong started ignoring him every time he walked into the store, directly leaving it up to you. They knew he was only there for you, anyway.

"But if he bothers you guys so much, I don't get why you still let him come around and buy things from here?" As soon as Haechan leaves, you ask your friend Mark, who's sitting at the computer behind the shop's counter.

"But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven."

You patiently wait for Mark to finish reciting the words you too have memorized, after hearing him say them enough times since you two met years ago when he visited Johnny at your house.

"Matthew 5:44," he concludes, turning on his chair and looking at you through his glasses.

"You are such a loser, I can't believe I still consider you my friend," you sigh in response.

"Listen," he started, "I respect Johnny big time, but we really need the money."

You observe Mark's eyes get wider and wider as he opens up to you in a whisper, scared your brother could come back in any second.

"I love Johnny hyung," is all Taeyong adds, sitting at the other end of the counter, without taking his eyes off his Switch. Brief, but honest words.

"And how is this guy Haechan not broke yet?" You ask while checking some duplicates of the tickets that record all the purchases he has made in the week. More than thousands of dollars in just a few days sounding a little suspicious.

"Haechan's rich–"

"He sells drugs–"

Both of them are quick to answer. But either their telepathic abilities to agree have been wearing thin, or Taeyong is too focused on his game to notice that Mark has been trying to avoid the Haechan-talk for a good few minutes already. Mark's heavy sigh and Taeyong's shocked eyes, realizing he screwed up talking too much, are all the information you needed to find out what the truth is behind Haechan having so much money.

"I've always loved you for your honesty, Taeyong," you smile at him and tell him not to worry about it, but he still sends a pouty 'sorry' to your younger friend before getting back into his game. "Johnny actually told me about it, but I didn't believe it was that big of a deal?"

"Yeah, they've been selling for years now."

Mark now lets go an exasperated sigh, clearly annoyed at the subject of talk, but that doesn't stop you from taking advantage of Taeyong's moment of vulnerability. His little virtual animal farm, more important than anything else going on around him. "What do they sell?"

"Whatever shit you need."

Mark is already gone to the back the moment Taeyong answers, and you realize the latter truly has no idea of his annoyance at the moment he starts humming the theme song of Animal Crossing.

"We really are dumb, huh."

Taeyong looks up and waits for you to continue talking while his game loads.

"If we are so desperate for money, why don't we sell too?" You ask, and Taeyong's face lights up at the proposal, his eyes widening and his mouth dropping open in amazement like the thought would've never crossed his mind if it wasn't for you.

From the back of the store, however, you hear Mark's scream calling your name. "Don't put any stupid ideas into Taeyong's head!"

—

Outside the night smells like a mixture of burning tires, weed and car perfume. Friday nights are known to be reserved for making quick money, and weeks of hard work boil down to just a couple of minutes of adrenaline rush. Tonight, Taeyong will be racing Johnny's blue BMW 340 against a 2018 Audi s6. The Audi is a heavy car, so Taeyong could take that lead to win tonight if it wasn't for Johnny's car having a turbine failing. In any case, he will be subjecting it to all possible pressure so as not to lose power. Hopefully, your team's star racer will make it to the finish line without damaging the car even more.

Taeyong is one of the nicest people you've ever met. But to others, there isn't an in-between–people either love him, or don't like him at all. You guess it's because he portrays a serious image and almost doesn't smile in public. Yet, when you really know him, you find out he's a softie.

"I love you, Taeyong," you tell him as he squeezes you in his arms, and he moves out to hug the rest of the members before getting into the car.

Simply because anything could happen at any time, you swore you'd never want to regret not telling your friends how much you love them before any of them got in a car. That's how close you got to be over the years, and how much you mean to each other.

"If I die tonight you take my Switch!" Taeyong closes the door after pointing in your direction and you smile in response.

He revs the engine causing a strange blue fire to come out of the exhaust pipe; probably another change Yuta has been working on to impress the girls out there, and to impress Johnny. Beside him, a pink car envelops the crowd in a cloud of thick, suffocating smoke, from which a boy with honey-colored skin emerges. Something about 'stop burning my tires' can be heard through all the noise from the crowd. Him and the boy in the cotton candy car exchange a quick handshake and, as soon as the flagger gives the signal, both cars take off in pursuit of the night's grand cash prize, and the renown and recognition on the streets that comes with the victory.

There's your team and the Lee's racing against each other yet another week. And there's Haechan across the street, with a cigarette between his lips checking you up and down, while you pretend to ignore him, trying to focus on the trajectory of your friend driving the blue car. When your brother's too distracted talking to your friends, though, you take your own time to set your eyes on Haechan and dig into his appearance.

High waisted white jeans matched with a graphic t-shirt of the same color and a thick leather jacket hug his figure. His clavicles are shown very slightly, and his neck is adorned with some metallic chains and pearls, making his smooth skin under the moonlight look more inviting than usual. He's got his hair disheveled and darker than normal. You decide that it's when Haechan has long hair that you find him the most attractive. And you do your best not to stare, but he makes the task too difficult—especially when he deeply looks at you and smiles like he's trying to get you hypnotized.

It was too easy for Haechan to have you eating out of the palm of his hand. Him, a face too angelic to be, supposedly, such a dangerous person. Bad at being bad. You, on the other hand, a soul too pure to fool around with a demon like him. Too good at being good. That contradiction, however, is what must make it so appealing to you.

You blink one time and he's all you see shining under the moonlight. He finishes his cigarette and throws it to the ground, stepping with the toes of his leather boots to turn it off. You close and open your eyes once more, look up searching for his face, but he's already gone at the same time the pink car comes back and stops right in front of you, letting out the high-pitched screech of the brakes. That's when you realize the scene had turned quiet as your gaze met Haechan, then violent when you lost him.

Taeyong makes its comeback two seconds after, which makes your team lose about a thousand and five hundred dollars tonight. That's not the biggest loss, however, since you often win more from the side bets on the cars than from the actual races. From the winner's car comes out a tall, pink-haired boy whose name they shout celebrating–Lee Jeno. Victory doughnuts and music blasting from all the speakers follow right after the end of the race, but none of your friends is in the mood to join the celebration tonight and the usual after hang out. They're quick to get into their respective cars and turn them on, ready to leave. Johnny's pulling on your arm motioning you to go, before you tell him you will be joining him in a second.

Where did Haechan go? You know he doesn't go to your brother's garage on the weekend because he's the one opening it early in the morning, so you need to see him one last time before Monday arrives—but you won't know, anyway, if he's gonna be back until you actually see him cross the shop's doors next week. The bass is heavy against your ears, disorienting your senses a little. The dim street lights fade as you walk away from the crowd but, still, he finds you. His hands surprise you landing for the first time on your waist, trying to stabilize you after colliding with his figure. He's even more stunning up close, shining even where the street lights have completely faded out. It feels like time has stopped, lost in his brown eyes, and you're struggling not to give up right there in his arms. Just a small smile from his lips brings you back to the street, to hear the horns and the heavy bass and to feel the chill of the nocturnal wind on your skin. But how does he do that to you?

In some substances such as iron, cobalt, and nickel, most of the electrons spin in the same direction. This makes the atoms in these substances strongly magnetic. You learned these three types of metal in particular are around the Lee's garage very often through the long talks you have shared in the mornings. Even more in Haechan's hands, as he is one of the car designers and is always experimenting to take their motors to the next level. Nonetheless, that doesn't explain the reason why you have to become so magnetized by Lee Haechan everytime he is around. Maybe it's because the opposing forces of the universe attract. Or maybe, because there is something sacred in loving the enemy and a sinful satisfaction in trying the forbidden, coexisting at the same time.

"I wanted to talk to you," your voice comes out in a whisper, the air finding it hard to come out from your lungs.

"Yeah?" He asks, pressing his forehead to yours, eyes shamelessly lingering on your lips making your knees weaken.

You can only nod so far as his hands start barely caressing your sides, more gentle than the summer breeze. "Need to do some business with you."

Your hands travel from his arms to his neck, feeling the skin, and there you squeeze until you entangle your fingers in his long dark hair. A gasp comes out of him when you subtly pull, followed by a chuckle and a shrug until he finds his voice, "Sounds good to me."

Your eyes move rapidly across his face as if you were sleeping and it was a dream, trying to imprint his features perfectly in your memory before you wake up. And your lips are millimeters apart from each other, but you don't kiss since you know you won't be able to stop once he starts, and the both of you need to be back before someone comes and finds you like this. A delicate goodbye kiss on the back of your hand is all you get before Haechan disappears again, leaving you gasping for breath and with butterflies in your stomach.

The car ride back home with your brother is quiet. You try to think it's because he is upset they lost the race, and not because maybe he saw you acting too close with the enemy. Your mind wanders to those eyes pulling you like magnets and you still feel his touch on your skin; too hypersensitive, like he had put some type of drug in your system. All the members go to sleep as soon as they step into the house, and you only hear Johnny speak when he's greeting you goodnight.

But the night still feels too young, and you are far from ready to fall asleep. It doesn't take long after you get into bed, however, until a message from an account you don't follow shows up in your notification bar. It's hard to decipher who this is about at first, the username not helping the case, yet you don't hesitate to reply once you realize.

haechanahceah: hey, r we ridin???

haechanahceah: want me to pick u up?

you: yeah

you: i'll wait for u outside

—

The morning sun is big coming up from behind the horizon, and warming your skin with its intensity at six in the morning.

'All he's gonna do is gas you.'

The night was spent in between car slides, laughs, mundane talks and soft kisses pressed up against the finest leather seats. How did you end up in the backseat? All business talk was long forgotten as soon as you got to taste Haechan's sweet lips for the first time.

"My brother would kill us if he found us like this."

You feel his chest vibrate with his laugh against the side of your head, and his voice reaches your ears as if he's speaking right from his heart.

"That would be such a romantic story. It's like we are the modern Romeo and Juliette."

"Are you like this with every girl? You gonna scare them off." You joke, moving your head to make eye contact with him. A smile takes over your face when you notice he was already looking at you with the same loving eyes.

'He's crazy, my sister. He's like obsessed with danger.'

"I'm a die hard, too passionate." He acknowledges as you lay bare on his chest, his arms keeping you secured as if you could get to dissipate at any point. "I don't scare you, though."

And even after all the warnings from Johnny and disapproving looks from Mark, Haechan is right. He doesn't scare you. On the contrary, every minute you spend with him only makes you wish that you could have the rest of your days together. Maybe watch him wake up to the sun rays peeking from your bedroom window hitting his soft skin, and watch him fall asleep with his head on your lap and your fingers through his hair while trying to finish a rom-com in the living room. To have the sun all to yourself all the time.

His tired eyes still shine like stars even though it's already morning, and he still keeps some of your red lipstick on his lips. A sad cello plays through the stereo of his yellow car. Soon the clock will be hitting seven and you must have returned to the store to avoid suspicions. Still, you allow yourself to close your eyes and fall into him, to bask in his warm presence for a few more seconds before descending back into the real world. For one last moment, it will be just his soft breaths, that sad cello, a growing, forbidden love.

And a whisper in your ear:

"Fucking love you."

2. Bad luck to talk on these rides

The wind caresses Haechan's hair in slow motion while the sky is painted purple and reflected in a gray, neutralizing the yellow color of his car. The road remains empty and quiet and his right hand, when not on the gear stick, has already made its home on your leg since many dates ago. It's strange to think that one day you could get used to the familiarity and domesticity of his presence. To think, for example, that you would no longer have to secretly see each other all the time, or that you could drive around town with the windows rolled down. Perhaps, have dinner together in the living room of your house. However, having to forget about his caresses, his fingers intertwined with yours, his sun-colored eyes, sounds even stranger. At this moment, driving carelessly down to town, it feels like there isn't really a different future in your plans; living a normal young life with Haechan isn't an option, but letting go of each other isn't either.

When he drops you off blocks away from your house, you don't really need to say it. It's implicit everywhere. In the looks, in the smiles, in the ways he takes care of you, in the gentle touch of your fingertips on his skin before you untangle your hands and he lets go of you—momentarily, as he promises he would always come back to you.

You both know you do. And it's hard to forget when the sweet taste of him is still lingering on your lips. A smile plastered on your face like a silly teenager in love.

It's late into the night by the time you make it home and find Johnny in the living room, sitting in the dark all alone, with nothing but the TV lights shining on his face. Behind his back, the table holds the remains of dinner, a bunch of empty beer cans and the end of a couple of joints. In front of him, a VHS tape is being displayed.

Mark is the one recording—you could recognize it by his voice, even when it still was way more high pitched than now. A smile comes across your face as soon as you see Taeyong's round cheeks appearing on screen, and how he tries to hide his drunken state when Mark starts with his interrogation. 'This? This is just some apple juice.' 'That's beer, Taeyong.' Another boy comes into the screen. One you don't know, but Taeyong seems to do, as you can watch how quickly he gets lost in his features, with a lazy smile adorning him. And the other boy, with pretty cat eyes and a snub nose, can only radiate adoration while his eyes are on Taeyong.

You don't know him, but you know that look all too well. Enamored eyes. The same eyes with which you look at the boy from the other side of town, the one with the yellow car that steals your hours of sleep and your heart everyday.

The laughter coming from the young boys echoes in the room. You hear your brother laugh too, but he's not the same as the one sitting in front of the TV right now. He's lost, immersed in the memories while nostalgia floods the whole place.

You watch how your brother is about to jump off the pier when a boy runs up beside him and tries to push him away. They struggle playfully, and the little boy's laughter is so powerful that he stops that violent flood for a moment. The air in the room no longer feels so heavy as his laugh echoes off the walls. Mark turns the camera to the boy's face and you see that bright and characteristic slightly-sided, heart shaped smile. The nostalgia has dissipated for a second.

'Haechan, fuck off.'

'But hyung, you threw me before!'

Then realization hits, feeling as if the water reaches the ceiling of the room, and the pressure is impossible to withstand.

"You were all friends before?"

Johnny snaps his head back to you when he hears your voice and quickly pauses the video, yet he remains quiet, busying himself at a too obvious attempt of avoiding the subject while cleaning the table.

"How come I never knew of them before?" You insist.

"By the time you moved here, we weren't friends anymore. It's been years now since that." His answer is short and reflects a strange tiredness, the kind that bothers you right in the middle of your chest, that stirs up buried feelings and puts you in a bad mood.

But you also need to know.

"What happened to you?"

"They started to handle shit the wrong way."

"That explains nothing."

At that moment Johnny abruptly drops everything he was gathering, looking you in the eye for the first time since you arrived. You know better than to push your brother when he's moody and stoned, but you can't deny that it makes you feel sick on your stomach to know that they've been trying so hard to separate you from a person with whom, apparently, at some point they were close. Good friends, actually. In your head, it doesn't make sense, and it's just another selfish and overprotective act of your brother.

"And you don't care. I know you're seeing him anyway," his tone is too cold in contrast with the summer heat coming from outside, and the old fan does nothing to ease the added heavy atmosphere that has been created in the room. "Why does this matter to you?"

You're stuck in your place, fists clenched and mouth dry. There's an expression of disgust on his face while he looks at you, despite the lack of emotions of the words coming out of him.

"You don't care if I don't like them or if I want to protect you," he continues. "You're running after Haechan, sneaking out at night and coming late smelling like alcohol and cigarettes, acting like I'm too stupid to notice. I'm afraid soon he will be putting you in real danger."

"He wouldn't do that to me," you deny with your head, eyes filled with angry tears reflecting a very upset Johnny in front of you.

He only lets out a scoff before grabbing the last of a joint and putting it between his lips to light it up. The fact that he's doing this right in front of you while talking like that about Haechan just makes you angrier.

"You're so fucking silly," and maybe at this point, Johnny is as angry as you are that he doesn't think if he's being brutally honest or mean.

"I just–" you try taking the words out before the tears start to fall. "I wanted to make money for Taeyong. He told me Haechan is part of a good business–"

"Oh my God," he interrupts you, his tone drenched in disgust, "stop talking, you're just making it worse."

But the tears already started falling. "You don't even care about what I feel?"

Johnny exhales the smoke from his lungs and grabs the remote to turn off the television, leaving you in the dark with the intention of ending the argument for once.

"You know what," he stands at his room's door frame, door handle in hand ready to leave the room, "I'm sorry, I'm just worried about you. You wanna keep fucking around with him, then do. There really isn't much I can do."

The last sentence almost reaches your ears. The silence of the room suddenly interrupted by an overwhelming buzzing and the sound of your sobs. A door opens next to the one your brother just locked himself in. A slim, sleepy figure stands there, but with his arms extended your way and his shoulder ready for you to cry on for the rest of the night until you fall asleep. You know Taeyong is true to your brother and their friendship, yet tonight you are the most grateful to him for being the only one helping you overcome your sorrows.

3. This is the sound you hear when you ride with your enemies

Haechan's closed garage does its best to cancel out any sounds other than his kisses. His heart-shaped lips leave soft traces of affection on your cheeks and your jaw, caressing your neck before planting them again against yours. You know his friends are waiting for him outside, they wouldn't start the main event without him. You also know that, somewhere across the street, your brother is waiting for you too, but instead of asking where you've disappeared to for another night he could be connecting the dots by now. And there is also one last and most important thing you know, and that is that you shouldn't be here, sitting on the hood of your forced-to-be rival's car, with the same one standing between your legs and stealing the air out of your lungs. Still, you've been ignoring for three months now the fact that you shouldn't be seeing Haechan, and it feels too late to go back.

"Like you," he whispers to you, barely getting away from your lips. "Like you so much."

His hands are gently caressing your thighs. Yours keep tracing the soft skin of his face, his nape, until your fingers tangle through his hair and you pull him away. His smile is bright and warm as the sun. His eyes resemble nothing but pure adoration; if yours shine, it's only because the moon reflects the sunlight. He has become a source of thrill and love in your life. The nickname suits him too well.

You can't fall for Haechan. Your brother's words back in the days resonates in your head, arousing an uncomfortable feeling in your stomach. I know he will try to get to us through you. Don't fall for any of the shit he could say.

"Why do you do this, though?" You ask the boy in front of you, while fixing his disheveled hair before he will have to go out.

He stares at you with a frown, the tilting of his head to the side indicating he didn't understand the question.

"Racing, I mean. Like, you don't need the money or the fame or anything that comes with this, you know."

Maybe, if Haechan didn't race anymore, there would be no such stupid rivalry between your family and Haechan and his team. Maybe that way you could be together publicly; you wouldn't have to wait for days and days to see him and, when you finally get the chance, always be at risk of being caught by your brother or his friends.

"'Cuz it's in my blood, baby," he answers with a subtle smirk. "Racing is what I am, this is what I'm supposed to do."

His tight grip on both your hands and his deep loving eyes staring into yours, you think are supposed to give you comfort. Yet, unfortunately, they're far from that.

"Hey," he's whispering against your lips once again. When he presses his forehead on yours and closes his eyes, you rush to protect his face in your hands and try to memorize each of the beauty marks that adorn it. "I know what you're thinking about. Don't look so sad."

The volume of his words is almost inaudible; the multiple voices and the music playing outside the garage suddenly disturbing your senses a little too much, and reminding you that you are not as alone as it feels like.

"I care for you. You know that I'd die for you."

"That's a little too much, don't you think?" You laugh it off this time. You know now how Haechan can get a little too passionate.

"No, I mean it. Like, if Johnny crossed that door right now, found me here wrapped in your arms and decided to beat the shit out of me, I'd still die as a happy man, you know, 'cause I got to be with you."

The mention of your brother only draws a resigned sigh from you, and Haechan stops supplying kisses to your cheeks as quickly as he notices your change in mood. "What's wrong?"

When you see him like this, with his rosy lips plumped by all the kissing, the disheveled hair and wearing his heart on his sleeve being so real with you, you try to think of a single thing why you should just listen to your brother and walk out that door, leaving Haechan behind. But you really can't find any. His eyes are heavily charged with worry before you as his hands move to cup your cheeks, leaving loving touches on your skin and giving you the time to talk.

"It's just that I fought with Johnny. I would actually like it to be the other way around," you look into his lovely eyes and can't help but slightly smile. "You beating the shit out of him for once."

Haechan laughs, rapidly agreeing to your idea and letting you know 'he will take care of it.' A roll of your eyes and a quick peck is all he gets, before you are shoving him from you at the sound of his name being called from outside. The backdoor of the Lee's garage is quickly opened to let enter the boy with the baby pink hair. His eyes are wide and quick traveling from your figure on the hood of Haechan's yellow car, to his hands now back on your legs, to the unbothered expression of the honeyed-skin boy still in front of you. The boy at the door is the first to break the silence.

"Donghyuck, the race is about to start. Come out."

"Will be out in a minute, Jeno."

"They've been waiting for you for a while now–"

Haechan barely acknowledges his words when he's already asking you if you want to ride with him tonight. "It's gonna put you in a good mood again. You're gonna love it, trust me." And there's no escape from his pleading, because Jeno is already gone and Haechan only repeats please, please, please, between kisses on your lips.

"Fine."

He smiles satisfied at your response and disconnects your lips to let you get off the hood. His hand gently grips your hip before motioning you to climb into the passenger seat. "That's my girl."

Once you're in the street, you can finally assign faces to all the loud voices you heard from inside the Lees' garage. There are too many people gathered this Saturday night, even though it's a fun-only race that you know no one is winning anything from. You can't see into the other cars because of their tinted windows, but the bright green paint of the Chevrolet lined up to your right tells you that Haechan will be racing your team tonight. It's a surprise, though, since you thought they wouldn't be risking their pride after last time's defeat of Taeyong. Yuta walks over to the green car to talk to the driver and the window rolls down revealing Mark behind the wheel, which only makes you more nervous. It's one thing to watch them run and quite another to literally run against them, something you've never done before. Not even Johnny has accelerated enough to exceed the speed limits when he's with you. Beyond Mark is a purple car that you don't recognize, but it lines up ready to race too.

On your left, Haechan awaits for the pretty girl with the flag to take position. His hands grip the steering wheel firmly and securely unlike yours, from which you must dry the cold sweat of your nerves on your jeans. His eyes seem lost on the horizon, but you know they are expecting the signal to start the race. Your eyes travel uneasily through his body to his tense jaw, finally setting on his lips. A smile adorns them the moment the girl raises her arms–it's about to start–. But you can't focus on Haechan anymore when your body's inertia pulls you back at the sudden change in speed. Haechan hits the gas quickly, taking the lead down a narrow one-lane street, but Mark is hot on his heels. As soon as the road opens up again, the green Chevrolet passes Haechan's car with its nose and you start to hear him whining and cursing.

Haechan liked control. He made sure to always know his surroundings, where he was racing and against who; to be aware of the potential, the abilities and the weaknesses of the competitor–that was his first rule. His second rule was looking at every single mirror at least every four to five seconds. He said you have to be able to visualize the whole world through your mirrors, and know what's happening behind you to understand what's gonna happen in front of you. He didn't like losing and he truly hated not being the number one. So when the purple car passes him and he tells you that it's fine, that it's just Yangyang's car–one of his mates–, but he still punches the steering wheel with anger, you are pretty sure it's not fine at all.

"I can still win this," you hear him talk to himself. The speedometer continues to increase after passing 100 kilometers per hour. 110, 120, 130... Haechan passes both cars and you swallow the lump in your throat trying to calm your nerves. He approaches the closed turn they'll all have to take to get back to the starting point, and you notice that he's not going to slow down in the slightest. Still, you can't afford to close your eyes and run away from the moment. You can't afford to be afraid of Haechan either. Even when everything seems to be going wrong, he has things under control and he would never put you at risk, would he?

"The problem about Haechan is that he thinks he's smarter than everyone else. So, like, I'm riding with him."

The image of Mark being lazy in your bed this morning comes to your mind. With a smoke between his lips is how you finally found out more about their old, ended friendship. "I'm on the passenger seat, man's driving, car's full of bitches and the car in front of us is like, clearly slowing down."

He stopped for a moment to let out a cloud of smoke from his lungs, trying to cope with the frustration those memories still caused him. "He won't even flinch," Mark told you, eyes widening and wearing a pout on his lips like every time he's at the verge, fighting with his thoughts, struggling to process emotions.

"The girls are screaming at him. I am telling him to slow the fuck down 'cause we're gonna crash! And I know he has it under control, we still got a couple meters to make it and he's gonna wait 'til the last second to press the break. But can't he fucking answer me?! It's like he ignores that he has other people in the car, you know what I'm saying?" He finished pretty much out of breath, the frustration making him collect a bunch of tears in his eyes, but he didn't let them fall.

"It was always like that with him. It makes me fucking mad how he's an asshole, yet he never really fucks up enough to like, settle down. Man's just out there being a body. That's all. Doesn't care about shit."

Haechan's right hand lifts the parking brake while his left hand turns and holds the steering wheel firmly to take the corner. The sound of the tires skidding across the pavement mixing with the beats coming out of the car's speakers deafens your ears, and you're sure it'll be hard for the other two drivers to get out of the corner clean after all the smoke Haechan has put up with his little show. The maneuver lasts a couple of seconds that feel eternal. When he releases the parking brake and manages to stabilize his yellow car by taking the lead, a smile returns to take over his face.

He gets first place despite having started the race poorly. There is no shortage of shouts and cheers for him when he gets out of the car. Mark's car is the second to arrive and, after a few seconds, arrives the purple car from which a smiling Yangyang gets out and hugs Haechan. After that, everything happens rather quickly. The boy you've been sneaking out with suddenly opens your door and tugs from your arm to get you out. Cheers get replaced with surprised gasps and smiles with gape mouths. And everybody's looking at you, but no one's doing it the way Johnny and Haechan are doing it. While one look is filled with strong indifference that hurts your chest, the other is soft and loving so you seek refuge in it. By the time you're done making out with Haechan in front of everyone and the screams have calmed down, your brother is nowhere to be seen; just a few of his friends remain on the streets with Mark.

Haechan wears a satisfied smirk looking at you before he gets closer to say only for your ears: "We gotta celebrate properly."

One last kiss on your cheek and he distances himself enough to shout, but with his grip still firm on your waist.

"After party is at ours!"

—

"Have you ever smoked before?"

You shake your head no in response.

"Alright, you better do it for the first time with someone you trust," Haechan continues without looking in your eyes, too focused on his hands almost done rolling the joint. "You trust me, right?"

You did not imagine that this would be how you appeared publicly for the first time at the Lee house. It had always been secretly, getting in late into the night when his friends weren't around, and leaving too early in the morning to not get caught. So as soon as you arrived and Haechan dragged you to the door at the end of the hall to get you both locked inside, it felt off. This was the moment you've been waiting for a while now: finally being able to be with the guy you like without having to hide. However, when you finally make it public, the first thing Haechan does is hide you.

His train of thought is hard to follow, even more to understand his actions most of the time.

He looks different tonight. While there is nothing wrong with his looks and his handsome features get accentuated in the yellow bathroom light, there is something odd about his mood. He looks agitated; he talks a lot and doesn't wait for anyone's answers. You might be worried if it wasn't for the fact that when he finishes wetting the silk paper with his tongue and sticking it down, securing the joint, he gives you one of those smiles you love. No teeth showing, only his lips pressed together in a line, slightly curved upwards at the corners, his cute dimples on display and his eyes transforming into two adorable half moons. You want to see adoration behind that smile, you want to see sincerity. You want him to tell you that everything is fine, and that you should just throw the intrusive thoughts out the window.

You just wanted a normal party night feeling like teenagers in love, only to end up locked in the bathroom with him and a bunch of drugs in his hands instead of your heart.

Yet you still like him too much to say no to him.

"Yeah," you find your voice after a moment. "I trust you, Haechan."

That only makes his little smile grow bigger, and he lights the joint.

Things get funnier. The lights get more annoying but you pay no mind to it. Alcohol tastes better than other times you've drank, so you keep drinking. And when you are with Haechan's friends the filled cups just keep going around the circle and you drink a little bit more. You believe you even see Taeyong at the party, pressed up against a corner talking too closely to the guy who Haechan presented to you as Ten—the same one you saw with Taeyong in Johnny's video—, one of the older guys of their group.

The music gets easier to dance to. Haechan's body has hardly been this close to you before in a place that's not his room or the backseat of his car. You don't even remember when you lit up the second joint, only realizing about it once you're exhaling the smoke into the air. When the living room filled with people gets too hot for Haechan to stand it, he leads you to the bathroom again.

"How would you react," he starts after locking the door, "if you saw me snorting something up my nose?"

The question leaves you speechless. Of course the idea is not pleasant. It's no fun not being in the same state as him, you already know that from other times he has come to get you super high after hanging out with friends. It's no fun being afraid that something bad might happen to the person you care about because you let them. It's no fun that you can't understand why Haechan seems to enjoy it so much. And it's no fun that you fear he might just take advantage of his influence over you—which you recognize he can have sometimes, but you don't get to decide yet if it's a good one, or a more on the bad side one.

His eyes sparkle with excitement asking you. He licks his lips over and over again waiting for your response, until his gaze drops to your lips to steal a long kiss from you.

"So? What you say?" He asks out of breath.

Your head feels dizzy when the oxygen reaches your blood once again, and you have quite a hard time focusing on his words after the kiss, his touch and his eyes always too distracting.

"It's fine. I'm just worried something might happen to you–"

"But it won't," Haechan is quick to interrupt you. "It won't, it won't. Not when I'm with you."

He pecks your lips yet another time but you decide to deepen it, pulling on his hair to bring him closer to you. It's heated and you hope it will make him forget about this other matter you don't get to like. You truly believe it has worked when you feel him struggling with his pants' front pocket, so you back off to see him smirking at you, wallet in hand and too excited for his next move.

Haechan opens his wallet and takes out a small bag with cocaine in it. He dumps some on the surface around the sink and next to where you're sitting, and brings his head closer; you only hear the sound of the thing going up his nose, his hair blocking your view. A few seconds go by while you just watch after Haechan straightens up his back and tries to fight his state, keeping his balance by holding on to the sink until his knuckles turn white. Then, he suddenly seems to recover and is once again smiling and leaving kisses on your mouth at a pace you find hard to follow. He gathers the leftover powder he couldn't inhale onto his index finger and points in your direction, offering it to you. When you shake your head no, motionless with your back to the mirror, he then brings his finger to his mouth to put the leftovers between the lips and the teeth.

"I'll wait for you in the room," Haechan whispers before gathering his things and heading off of the bathroom, leaving you alone.

You think that what just happened shouldn't have affected you so much. Shouldn't have made you worry about your safety. Shouldn't have made you question the kind of people you've been hanging with. It shouldn't have made you think of a hundred different scenarios where Haechan, you, or both come to a bad end, yet it did. But most importantly, you know you shouldn't focus on that right now that you've smoked, or you'll end up tripping in the wrong direction when, in fact, you only came here to have a good time with Haechan.

You get off the sink and out the bathroom after a while of thinking alone. Outside, the party is still going off strong. The night seems young even though you're sure more than a couple of hours have passed, and in another couple the sun will be coming out again.

"Yo," Mark enters your vision as soon as you start to head to the room where Haechan said he would be waiting for you. Your friend is locking your way and he's got this weird look; his eyes glassy and red, and you can't tell right now if it's because he's been drinking or he's been crying. "How are you? Where you going?"

"Uhhh… Haechan's room."

"I think… you gotta stop seeing Haechan."

You frown upon hearing his statement. "Give me one good reason to stop seeing him and I'll consider it. I'm serious."

"I– I'm–" Mark starts to stutter. "We're just worried about you, dude, that's it."

Deciding you won't waste any more energy on the matter after hearing that same speech over and over again, you opt to just walk past him and to Haechan's room. It's harder than you imagined, though, to dodge Mark and all the people around him to get to the door. The space seems to have been distorted a bit; the distances are longer and the amount of time that has passed between leaving the bathroom and trying to get to the bedroom is questionable. You hope Haechan doesn't think you don't want to be with him anymore.

You are about to turn the doorknob when a hand you know very well positions itself on top of yours to stop you.

"Are you two like, dating?"

"No," you tell the truth. "It's nothing serious," and that's a lie.

"So you don't love him or anything like that," Mark states.

You take his hand off yours and turn the doorknob, ready to enter the room and leave Mark behind.

"No. No, I don't."

—

The music fills your ears as you hear different people talking behind the door, in the hallway. It's hard trying to understand what they're saying, but you hear them loud and clear. Your brother Johnny asks for you and you hear Mark tell him you're not around. "That's Jeno's room, dude. Why would she be there?"

Yet you are, and Mark knows it's not Jeno's room but Haechan's, but for some reason he's decided to cover you tonight.

Time passes. You feel Haechan's touch on you, the contact leaving your skin ignited, and you're sure his fingertips could get printed on your waist. When his lips are on you, you only realize how warm he really is, burning hot making you want to rip all of your clothes off. Time stops when he's not kissing you anymore, so you have to check that all that happened just a moment ago wasn't a dream. But it's easier to get lost in his shiny, red eyes as you look for an implied answer, something that could indicate what is happening is real. A different song starts playing the moment he reconnects your lips for another kiss. Time is ticking once again and it's only him, him and him.

Why does it feel so unreal everytime you are connected? What is it about the universe that doesn't want you close together?

Haechan says he doesn't mind waiting for weeks, not if he's seeing you at the end of it. He doesn't mind the backseat of his car instead the comfort of a house, the remote locations, the late-night, last-minute calls that make him drop all his plans, not if he's getting to be with you for at least a couple hours. You still know both of you would want it to be different, a little bit easier.

When you finally connect like polar opposites, when you get together, skin to skin, there's no magnetic field more powerful than the one created by the two of you. Haechan's presence becomes massive like a black hole; it engulfs you. Time stops, you disintegrate in his arms, and you can't understand what kind of laws rule there no matter how hard you try. There is passion, and there is obsession. Donghyuck feels you deep, too deep—in his heart and in every trace of his skin you reach.

"You look for my madness, you have me crazy, baby."

You believe it's the euphoria and the pleasure that make him whisper these kinds of confessions in your ear.

And you're reaching a peak, a kind of high where you block out every noise except the ones produced by Haechan's movements and his incessant praise. His strength disarms and reassembles you over and over again. His passion is so powerful it makes it hard to breathe.

"If one day I die, you will be the one to bury me. You're too much for me."

Suddenly everything is quiet. He's still breathing heavily over you, but he doesn't move anymore. Time, however, is running again, and you make one last effort trying to convince yourself that the warmth blooming in your chest is proof that everything that took place just now, was actually real.

"I love you," you are the one to whisper in his ear this time, tightening your grip afraid you might fall apart if you let go of him. "I'll always love you."

4. Is it wickedness? Is it weakness? You decide

The windshield wipers move from left to right tirelessly to get rid of the raindrops that hit the car without stopping. Outside it's so rainy that Haechan's favorite floral shirt got all soaked up against his skin, just by moving from his front door to the inside of his car parked on the street a couple meters away from his house. Lightning pierce the air and hits your ears like bullets. You don't recap in which moment of the night it started raining. The only thing you know it's that the situation makes you pretty scared; it's dangerous to drive at night under such conditions, but it's even more dangerous to race on a rainy night. The storm and the countless drops of water, however, hadn't been enough to scare Haechan or wash the euphoria that gets over him every time he comes across an empty road and a contender.

'I don't even like driving anymore if I'm not racing' is what he said and worried you a while ago.

"What does he want?" Haechan asks in a low voice when he notices a car lining up to his right at high speed.

It takes you a moment to process the situation, still coming down from your high, yet you recognize your friend's green Chevrolet that Haechan was racing against earlier that night and your stomach hurts.

The night did not exactly end on good terms. After a while locked up in Haechan's room without hearing Mark or your brother's voices near it, you decided it was the right time to get out and re-join the party.

A fight between a pretty much drunk Taeyong and another guy they called Doyoung–that you learned was Haechan's older friend–was the last thing you wanted to presence. When things got pretty heated up, Mark only grabbed Taeyong and took him outside while the other struggled under the speech of 'I wasn't gonna punch him! I swear!' But Mark was, in reality, as drunk as Taeyong to barely handle the situation.

Tired of them behaving like silly kids who can't solve their problems and be in the same room without wanting to hit each other, you told Haechan to take you home. It was just convenient since Jeno and her girlfriend also wanted to leave and head to her house, but neither of them were in conditions to drive. Haechan was the designated driver for the night, but because he would never let anyone else drive his car.

"That's Mark's car," you speak. "They just probably heading home."

"I think he wants to race."

You can see Haechan speeding up and Mark also doing it to keep up. That reaction throws you off a little bit, since you know that even if your friend is drunk, he's the most prudent person behind the wheel. You know very well that Mark would never agree to a race on a wet road and with alcohol in his system.

"No, I know Mark, he doesn't want to race."

"I know Mark too, you know?" Haechan is quick to respond. "You know we used to be best friends–"

"Yes, I know. But we don't wanna race right now–"

"But this bitch's speedin' up!"

And he's indeed speeding up, what looks like he's trying to surpass Haechan's yellow car. So you unbuckle your seatbelt and roll down the passenger window to stick your head out, knowing you wouldn't be seen through the tinted windows. You yell, shake your hands no, scream there's no chance you'll both race right now but Mark seems to ignore you. The raindrops roll down your face, get into your eyes and mix with the falling tears of fear and desperation.

"Haechan, stop," you demand once you get your head back inside the car.

"Babe," he sighs without looking at you, eyes heavy on the road. "I'm fucking tired. I gotta show them who they're messing with. Gotta make them respect me!"

"No one wants to mess with you, for fuck's sake. Not right now. It's dangerous!"

The sound of lightning striking just a few meters in front of the car mixes with a startled scream from Jeno's girlfriend in the back. Everything turns chaotic real quick.

"Haechan, slow the fuck down!"

But what was probably the dumbest decision of the night hadn't happened until this very moment. Haechan slows down abruptly, but the car's tires don't offer enough friction for the wet road to keep him in his lane.

One meter slip to the right and you're colliding with Mark's car. Haechan keeps his foot on the brake and the car continues to skid to a stop a distance later.

The radio and the raindrops do a mediocre job of setting the scene to music. To your left, Haechan rests his head on the seat's headrest; a cut on his eyebrow that bleeds all the way to his cheek. Nobody makes a sound, but he's the first to break the ice with a laugh that sounds maniac in your ears.

All you can do is scream at him.

"What the fuck were you thinking?!"

The car ends up stopped in the middle of two lanes near the end of route 127. You were really so close to getting to your house, and this is when you remember about your friends in the other car.

Just a couple of yards behind, Mark's car is smashed against the Jersey barriers dividing the road. The green paint on the front has completely chipped and the impact has left it completely dented, shattered it to pieces. You struggle opening your door with shaky hands and a startled breath and you get out of your seat; heartbeat resonating in your ears and making your head dizzy.

Mark comes out of the passenger door running to you, but you can't hear what he's saying. He tries stopping you, yet you shove him off to walk straight to the driver's side and open the door.

There are five stages a person goes through in grief. Denial is the first one.

"Why isn't he coming out?"

You fight Mark who is still trying to get you away from the wrecked car.

"Why isn't he coming out?!"

Taeyong remains motionless, with his head painfully attached to the steering wheel, and his arms fall lifelessly to his sides. The rain coming through the open door drains all the red and drives it down the road.

"I– I called Johnny– an ambulance is coming."

Anger.

"You let him drive," you push Mark slapping his shoulders, suddenly taking your anger out on him. "Why did you let him?!" You scream at him but he doesn't defend himself or try to stop you, immersed in a state of shock without being able to take his eyes off the figure of your dead friend.

A cry of anguish escapes your chest as you stare back at the wrecked car. You clench your fists and pull your hair trying to fight all the rage that accumulates in your body, but the pain is too much to bear. It only makes it worse feeling like you're the only one in the scene who actually cares about your friend when Mark won't drop a single tear and the others won't even get out of Haechan's car.

A couple minutes feel like forever in the rain when you are waiting, until you can make out the colored lights and sirens in the distance. At the same time and on the other side of the road, Johnny gets out of his car and quickly jumps over the concrete fence to join the scene.

Negotiation.

"Get out of the fucking car." Johnny opens Haechan's door and violently takes him out until he's lying on the ground. Your brother's left hand grips the collar of his shirt tightly and his right fist makes contact with his jaw. From the sound of the hit, you're sure one of them has broken a bone.

"Johnny, stop."

Your brother reaches behind his back and holds out a gun to Haechan's head, who remains struggling from the beat up with his back against the wet pavement. Fear runs down your spine and suddenly you're too aware of the coldness the storm has brought tonight, leaving goosebumps all over your skin and making your body shake.

"You wanted a real reason for me to hate him?" He asks looking at you in the eye, still pointing at Haechan. "You fucking got it."

That only makes you cry even more.

"Leave before I end you," Johnny warns the younger boy. "I don't want to see you ever again."

Haechan stands up ready to get back in his car, but doesn't until he meets your gaze. Something in his eyes tells you he's still waiting for you to get back in the passenger seat and leave with him. He forever will be difficult to understand.

Sadness.

"Why did you do this?" You ask with a broken voice.

"I'm sorry, baby," Haechan says as your soaked up figure reflects in his eyes that fill with tears. But his lips form a thin line slightly raised at both ends–a wicked smile–. In your head, it doesn't make sense. "This is what I am."

5. 'Til it's time we die

You had read many years ago that on cloudy days one should be able to see their soul. Like the ghosts that keep you up at night and the song lyrics that remind you of all your mistakes, filling you with regret.

Acceptance is the fifth stage one must go through when dealing with grief. Even months after losing Taeyong, after dividing his dreams between you and your friends so you could continue living them for him, you still find it hard to accept that he is no longer with you. They said he was part of all of you now, so you longed to see him like your shadow when the Sun is out.

"Is that his t-shirt?"

You nod and turn to rest your eyes on the naked boy on the bed. The little light of the sunset that sneaks through the clouds enters through the motel window and illuminates his tanned skin making you want to stay there forever, tangled between his arms, his legs and the white sheets.

"It still smells like him."

"Do you really forgive me?" Haechan asks in a whisper and relaxes when he sees you nod 'yes' once more. "And when will you forgive yourself?"

Your brother still blames it all on Haechan. You were mad at Mark for a while for letting Taeyong drive that night, and then you recognized all of you were wrong for getting on the road when none were in the right condition. Mark, anyway, you believe is having the worst time dealing with it because he decided to leave the house shortly after the accident happened, so he's all alone for all you know.

You finish dressing up before getting to Haechan and planting a last kiss on his lips, ready to leave. Taeyong had a forbidden love too. You only found out about it talking to Haechan about him and Ten weeks after he was gone.

"You know I love you, right?"

You smile after hearing him and get up from the creaky bed. Whether it was about wickedness or weakness, it didn't matter anymore. You liked to believe you were living up to Taeyong's dream.

"I'll always love you."

Taglist: @tyongf-sunflower99 @rrnhyuck @sundamariis

#haechan fanfic #haechan #nct haechan #haechan x reader #haechan oneshot #nct fanfic #lee donghyuck x reader #nct-writers #ficscafe #neoturtles #k-radio!#zh-lele

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4dtk · 3 years

Note

hi!!! are you taking smut requests? ignore this if you dont but if you are, can i request morning sex with mark?

nectar (mark)

warnings/tags: irl porn at the end for visualisation, blowjob, cum swallowing, riding, unprotected sex, pwp, brief face-sitting

word count: 1.9k

a/n: sure anon <3, this is for fem!reader btw. link at the end contains irl porn pleaaase don't click unless you're comfortable!

NSFW UNDER THE CUT, MINORS DNI!

“oh man… he’s knocked out cold,” you mumble, squinting at the bright light seeping in through the windows. it baths the room in warmth perfectly, providing that gentle caress of apollo in the messy room that you could half call your home at this point. like the complicated wires of his recording software bundled up at the corner, you were entangled tightly with mark’s complicated life as an idol, having had met the man at a concert where the group’s lightstick hit you in the face, hard.

it had become a running joke ever since you’ve been coming over to the dorms more and more, even getting you a celebratory cake that said please don’t injure her again when mark had finally confessed after months of pestering from the members. johnny had whispered to you that maybe you could finally get your revenge by slamming mark’s face into the cake.

giggling quietly at the memory from two years ago, you’re finally met with mark’s peaceful face, deep in slumber. the sun hardly touches him, blocked by your body as you propped your upper body up with an elbow. he looks so beautiful, so so divine that you can’t help but trail a hand over his covered body, blanket up to his neck since he gets cold easily.

“mmhm…” he mumbles, albeit still unconscious with the slightest knit of his eyebrows. you’re on high alert with that expression, observing him for a few seconds more if he really did happen to have a bad dream. his breaths seem to be laboured, irregular and needy that you catch on without fail. while you readjust yourself under the covers, your knee brushes against his centre to test the waters while your eyes drink in the furrowing of his eyebrows and shaky breathless whimpers he lets out.

“oh. so it’s that kind of dream,” a smirk is plastered on your face, frequenting the contact of your knee against his crotch as you rub him through the fabric. mark thrashes in the sheets below you, obvious that your movements are only fuelling the nasty, dirty fantasy he’s having in his sleep. with a hand, it slips inside his shorts to squeeze the bulge, adding and removing pressure that mark straight up ruts into your hand.

“a..ahn… (y/n)…” he mumbles out, digging his face deeper into the pillow with a tense to his muscles, on edge like intense dance practices and when mark’s just striving to make you cum behind closed doors. right now, you smile to yourself with the tables turned, speeding up your hand. the covers are thrown off of you and you take the chance to see how much he’s making a mess through the underwear, hips shimmying out of the loose sweatpants to chase the tempting touch of your skin on his dick.

you’re so zoned in on the sight that you don’t realise mark’s already awoken, the scrunch on his face displaying the mix of immense pleasure and the annoying headache he’s feeling due to a hangover. like a vice, your hand tightens around his hardening cock that it draws a long moan out of him and you have to bite your lip from concealing your own. the other fists the bedsheets, finger tapping against the cotton; a habit you noticed he does when he's close.

"ack!" you exclaim when mark takes over, meeting his familiar dick as he fishes it out of his underwear, now fully rock hard with beads of pre-cum leaking from its tip. the idol wastes no time in forcing your mouth on him, smiling when it's thrusted so deep that it touches the back of your throat; you gag uncomfortably but recover rather quickly, humming around his length. the warmness of your mouth mimics your pussy so good, and mark can't help but continue the bucking of his hips.

it reminds mark of the countless many sessions he's had with you, hot and heavy in the recording studio as you fucked ruthlessly in the soundproof toilet. shivering and toe-curling on the vibrating washing machine, stimulating your clit while mark hit it from the back. maybe mark's checking off all the boxes, because the way your eyes look up at him at half-mast, desire swirling in your eyes, sinks him into a trance. the gentle whisper of sun rays paint your body like a renaissance painting, splayed over his legs and the remainder of the duvet covers. maybe this is the check box that marks the time where he lazily fucks into you as you struggle to hold in your moans, voice raspy from the morning.

likewise, the thought of mark's cock in you makes you shift uncomfortably, the wet patch on your underwear undeniably growing by the minute with your core pulsating and throbbing. his hands hold your head in place, fingers carding through your locks laced with possibly last night's drunken sweat. they pull back your hair, creating a small ponytail while you tease the tip with your tongue and lick a stripe up his shaft. the sounds you make with your mouth could rival the ones you're making with your fingers on your core, moaning the slurping up his pre-cum that has his length twitching.

"y-yes... oh fuuuck, (y/n)..." his head is thrown back as your bob your head, trailing your hands over his torso where you can feel the contraction and expansion of his ribs. it doesn't take long for mark to cum, hips halting its movements for a second to pump your mouth full of his seed. a smile breaks through when you cringe at the taste, but he's sure you don't mind it since you've done it many times before. "c'mere, angel."

the name makes you grin, getting off the comfort of his thighs to let him taste himself, indulging in a short kiss before mark takes the chance to tug at your shorts. he thumbs it down without effort, coming right off your bottom half as you manoeuvre from knee to knee to let the man take it off.

mark whistles lowly at how soaked you are, a lazy, boyish grin taking over his features as his fingers slip between your folds. they shamelessly leak more juices when mark's digits make contact with your clit, already clenching over cock that you haven't even received. slowly, they trickle down the expanse of his hand and your thighs, a lone string of arousal connecting from your cunt to the tip of his finger.

"so wet, so early in the morning," mark giggles, mirroring your earlier action as he prods at your mouth with those fingers. you taste yourself on him, suckling and licking around them like you just did to his length. "i'll fit right in, won't i?"

you make a noise of approval before grabbing his dick, inching it into you gently and gradually. mark bottoms out and you mewl, shivering at how deep he's in you without any effort before grinding down on him. the little tufts of hair on his skin brush against your sensitive spots near your folds that make the pleasure all the better, and you have to brace yourself with both hands on his chest.

"feel good, honey?" mark's found clarity in his voice now, voice dripping exactly like the pet name while you continued to get used to the seemingly growing erection in you. with eyes closed from both the pleasure and the increasing brightness of a new day, your hips move on their own accord, moving up and down his dick at a slow pace.

"'s good, mark," you babble, instantly speeding up your ministrations. his cock splits you open so good even if you aren't going at your usual pace, choking out mixes of moans and whimpers along with the sounds of your ass descending on his dick.

"you're so d-deep, mark! ooh, hhnn..." your arms are ready to give out, opting instead to lay on his chest with a small pound me leaving your lips. your arms go around him to clutch at the headboard, the sudden snap of mark's hips elicits a dramatic gasp from you. he's filling you up to the brim, and the groan in your ear shows the similar feeling that mark's experiencing.

mark takes your order to heart, the force of his hips continuing their assault on your poor, poor pussy so early in the morning. "babe, you're so- fucking- t-tight, holy shit!" a breathless laugh, a hand to your ass, butterfly kisses along your collarbone, everything else is forgotten except for those few things that dance around in your mind.

"faster, deeper, please...!"

his chuckle is interrupted by a groan, "i'm at my fastest, baby. i did go all out for our last concert yesterday."

the squelching sounds coming from between your legs make you cry out, drool dripping down the sides at your mouth as mark takes up more of your mind. mark, mark, mark falls from your lips repeatedly as he rocks in and out,

"you-" a soft, delirious giggle escapes you at mark's reference to the concert yesterday.

"no words, huh? maybe i should fuck you till you're babbling nonsense," the lack of response makes mark smile against your skin, mouth latching onto your neck.

with the little tap of his finger against your ass and the falter of his thrusts, you know he's close to reaching his peak. his sloppy movements still bring out the worst in you, either way, moans increasing tenfold as his cock continues to impale you. you hold onto his bicep for life, body rocking deliciously against his.

you're so warm, both inside and out, forehead already producing beads of sweat as your hot cavern clenches around his shaft repeatedly. mark pounds into your pussy relentlessly, brushing up against that spot that makes your body convulse before you're gushing and cumming around him, juices leaking non-stop onto the sheets while the knot continues to be undone.

"ahnn- mark! maaark..." the drawl of his name makes the other's eyes roll back in pleasure, not giving you the chance to recover as he pulls his cock out of you. there's an endless trail of profanities leaving his mouth while he pumps out the last bit of restraint out of him, finally letting go on his stomach when he looks at your spasming body, pussy dripping with both your juices.

his cock spurts out hot, white cum, staining his stomach before he lets out a satisfying whine and other breathless words that you can't catch on to. you swipe up his seed with your finger, dipping it into your mouth like dessert that you hum around it.

"i guess i won't need breakfast for a while," you joke, clenching your thighs together to prevent the further dirtying of your sheets. you did change it a week ago...

"ah. no no, don't close 'em," mark beckons you closer with his finger, "i won't need breakfast, either."

you know what's in store for you when the other licks his lips, a sick grin appearing on his face. and when you finally take your rightful place on his face, you find that you'll never get tired of mark's tongue laid flat against your soaking cunt, lapping all that you can offer that mark describes tastes like honey, like nectar. you tell him he's lying, but who are you to judge the words of someone who eats you out so good?

one day, you'll be convinced, but for now, you're fine with accepting the embarrassing compliments from mark, since he's the only one that makes your pussy flutter like a little slut.

(it's irl porn, please please don't click unless you're comfortable) how i imagine mark would fuck you <3

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bubbleteaimagines · 3 years

Text

You Can Rest Now

Levi Ackerman Oneshot

Summary: People often wonder why Levi’s so cold. For a man that’s lost everything, it’s not so hard to see

Pairings: Levi Ackerman x Reader

Warnings: Ansgt, gore, death

Authors Note: I got this idea suddenly and decided to break my heart

there was speculation. there was always speculation, but none more about levi ackerman.

the short man had a notorious reputation. he was cruel, nonchalant and just generally didn’t seem to care.

he was different. cold. so cold in fact, that death didn’t even seem to faze him. he could watch someone die and be fine the next minute.

but was he? it seemed so.

all the recruits admired his bravery and strength, but they feared his attitude.

what had made him so cold, exactly? so...closed up? who or what had turned his heart into stone, causing him to shut out the world around him so easily?

how did he do it?

why did he do it?

what had caused him to snap?

it was simple, really. levi had made a mistake. long ago, when he was foolish enough to still believe in love and happiness in this retched world. long ago before he realized that love made you weak, he make the mistake of loving someone in this cruel, cruel, world.

flashback —

“shit! y/n, they’re gaining on us!”

after three years in the survey corps, you could safely say that those words were anything but a good sign. scratch that, those words were the worst thing to hear out in the field. an omen of death, if you will, but you tried not to think about that as you furrowed your eyebrows and gripped your horse’s reigns tightly.

“how close?” you made the mistake of asking your comrade. a lump grew in your throat as you guys trekked across empty land. no trees, no buildings, absolutely nowhere to even think about using your 3dmg gear.

“i...,” he was at a loss of words. neither of you dared to look back, so he had to go off of the thumping footsteps that were getting closer and closer. “i reckon in the next minute or so they’ll be...”

“got it,” you pursed your lips together, not wanting him to finish that sentence. you knew what was coming. you both did. the very ground beneath you shook due to the titan’s footsteps. the monsters that you had been battling your whole damn life. “you ready to kick some ass, then?”

“always.” his voice was weak, his hands trembling as he reached for his swords. but his spirit had not yet been broken. neither had yours.

the footsteps were getting closer.

“i say we stay in rank but finish this thing off. then we’ll speed up and catch the others in case some more come,” you told him

anxiety pooled in your stomach as you thought about the rest of the soldiers. wrong place, wrong time, you knew that. but you couldn’t help it — your mind flashed images of him and you couldn’t help but feel scared for him, wondering if he had made it back to the wall safe or if he was still stuck on the ground, like you.

levi was a much better fighter than you. he was fast, efficient, and a valuable fighter. humanity needed him, and he had to be kept safe to fight another day.

that was the only reason you guys had been split up. he was on the special forces team, you weren’t. a damn good soldier you were but you were needed on the outer side of the formation, you were needed to protect levi.

after two years, he still hated the idea of you risking your life to protect him. he had fought tooth and nail with you and just about everybody else to keep you safe, to keep you next to him at all times. but commander erwin wouldn’t allow it. he couldn’t, levi was needed to save humanity. you weren’t.

you guys had had this argument time and time again. and time after time, you had reassured him that you would make it back. that he would always find your tired but yet still smiling face waiting for him on top of the walls.

why should this time be any different?

“let’s move!”

before you could even think, you had a ten meter titan lunging at you causing you to yelp and yank your horse out of the way. the beast whined in terror, it’s fear possibly rivaling your own. unfortunately though, that didn’t cause it to go any faster. you were gonna be forced to take it down yourself — you wouldn’t be able to outrun it all the way back to the wall.

“y/n!” your comrade yelled as you were swiped at again. this time though, you stood up on your horse and launched yourself at the titan, your gear lodging itself in it’s shoulders.

“keep moving! i’ll take care of this!” you yelled out to him.

letting out an angry cry, you whipped around the creature at astonishing speeds and aimed straight at the back of it’s neck.

a routine kill, that’s all this was.

fire danced behind your eyes while the creature moaned and swatted it’s hands at you. 36, that was your number of solo kills. and soon, it was 37.

“take that you fat bastard,” you yelled and sliced it right in the weak spot, never missing a beat as you carved up the flesh. blood splattered everywhere from the fatal wound and steamed as it got on your face and clothes. the titan went limp, and soon you propelled yourself back to the ground and back on your horse.

“well, looks like petra and me are tied. can’t wait to tell her,” you grinned as you carried on riding, your partner sighing in relief.

“you really are one of the best, you know that? you totally just saved our asses,” he grinned back at you.

“yeah, and you’d do well not to forget it,” you chuckled. “next time there’s cake, i want-”

“Y/N LOOK OUT!”

there was a scream, and then there was a sudden pressure as an abnormal came leaping out of nowhere and hit you dead on.

you didn’t have time to react. you barely even had time to scream before everything went to shit, your horse flying away from you and you — oh god. your comrade screamed as you flew through the air, and appeared again only as you were clutched in the titan’s mouth.

“w-what?” you couldn’t move. your vision was blurry from the hit but what you could feel was it’s breath. blindingly hot, and rancid. you had a first row seat as you hung from the monster’s jaws, everything from your waist and below clutched tightly in it’s teeth.

“y/n, no!” the strangled cry of your fellow comrade was all too familiar. it was a helpless cry, one you had heard many times from many different people. it was a cry of death, a cry of sorrow if you will. it was the type of sound people made when they were face to face with death.

“son of bitch,” you moaned as you lifted your head up, your (e/c) eyes meeting the bright blue ones of the titan. “you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

of all the ways to die, of all the times and situations, this just had to be it. with your luck, you were gonna be split in half by the ugliest goddamn titan you had ever seen.

“fuck me.”

dread pooled in your stomach.

as you stared down your killer, as you stared down death itself, only one thought crossed your mind.

“c-comrade,” you glared as the titan opened it’s mouth to devour you. “g-get out of here! you don’t need to see this!”

“y/n no! i’m coming!” he desperately clung to his gear, standing on his horse and preparing to take down the monster that was gonna kill his teammate. he couldn’t let that happen. he wouldn’t.

but you weren’t gonna let him die either. not whilst you were still alive.

“comrade! i said go! i’m the leader of this team so that’s an order!” you screamed at the solider causing him to freeze in place.

“no,” he whispered, watching as the monster’s jaws came down.

it was as if it were in slow motion. the universe dragging it out just so he could witness every detail. the moment you screamed profanities at the titan, promising that you’d see it in hell one day. the moment you ripped off your cape, letting one last piece of you remain on this earth. the moment you screamed for levi, yelling one last time how much you loved him.

the moment the titan’s jaws finally came down, cutting you in half.

everything stood still after that. time stopped completely, and your comrade couldn’t even scream, couldn’t even cry out for you as your eyes finally fluttered closed and your body went limp.

you were gone.

levi paced anxiously as he stood on top of wall maria. he had his hands behind his back, but his eyes were on full alert, searching the terrain in front of him for any signs of life.

for any signs of you.

levi didn’t understand. it had been well past an hour, and everyone had made it back except for your squad.

it wasn’t even a squad, really. just two people — so how could two people possibly be taking this long?

“captain, you should calm down. i’m sure y/n is gonna be fine,” petra placed a gentle hand on his shoulder but it did nothing to sooth levi.

“if they were fine they’d be back by now,” he snapped, his eyes darkening.

he didn’t want to admit it but levi was starting to lose hope. being gone for this long usually only meant one thing — but he refused to think about that. he refused to even let the thought cross his mind, shoving it so far back it was practically non existent. levi couldn’t think like that. he wouldn’t.

because it was no question whether you were okay or not. you had to be, there were no other options. no other scenarios other than you coming back alive and safe.

“captain—”

“silence!”

levi strained his ears as he heard hooves in the distance. he perked up.

it was the sound of a horse, most definitely. in fact, it was the sound of two horses, and in the distance he could see them galloping towards the wall, a titan right behind them and the lone rider.

levi’s heart swelled with hope.

“y/n!”

he was breathless as he ran towards the edge of the wall, igorning his fellow soldiers protests. extracting his swords, he quickly cascaded down the wall towards the person, hoping beyond hope that it was you.

commander erwin held out a hand to stop anyone from following him.

“don’t,” he warned, seeing how levi’s squad was gearing up. “this one’s for him.”

levi had never felt more eager in his life to escape into titan territory. quickly, he flew towards the rider and practically tackled them as he reached them.

“y/n, you—”

levi stopped dead in his tracks. confused, he tilted his head as he saw the grief-stricken face of your partner, but not you. in fact, you were nowhere in sight as the titan’s footsteps got louder.

“soldier, you had someone with you, yes? where is y/n?” levi demanded, completely ignoring the haunted and agonized expression of the solider.

“c-captain...i...,” how did he get the words out? how did your comrade look his captain in the eyes and tell him that you were gone — lost to the titan on a simple mission.

“well? we don’t have all pissant. spit it out,” levi snapped, becoming irritated at the lack of response.

where were you? if you hadn’t come back with your partner, then where the hell where you?

the soilder’s mouth moved but levi barely heard anything he said.

perhaps it was because he wasn’t standing close enough. or perhaps the titan’s thunderous footsteps drowned it out. or perhaps...it was because levi heard something he didn’t want to hear.

“dead?” levi tilted his head as if it were a foreign word. as if he had never heard the word before, when in reality it was probably the most used word in his vocabulary. “what do you mean y/n is...dead?”

the pieces didn’t fit. the word ‘dead’ and ‘you’ were apart of two completely different puzzles; they didn’t fit together. it was too wrong, too confusing for levi’s brain to pick up.

“t-they’re gone, sir,” the solider spit out painfully, letting out a wail. “w-we were on flat ground...the titan came out of nowhere...the abnormal...”

“shut up,” levi held his hand up as the pieces began to mold themselves. slowly, they transformed to fit each other.

“i-i’m sorry sir,” the soldier stammered, “t-they’re gone. they left this behind...but their body—”

“I SAID SHUT UP!” levi growled as anger began to flow through him, his fists twitching. the solider flinched back as levi’s death glare settled on him, burning holes through his skull.

“where do you get off on this? HUH?” levi yelled as he grabbed the man roughly, yanking him off of is horse. the beast whined in fear as the titan approached, but levi ignored it. instead, he focused on the red spots in his vision, pushing away the pain. pushing away the imagery that followed the solider’s words. all that was left of you was a cape...

“i’ll have you executed for this you bastard! you lying piece of shit—”

“CAPTAIN LEVI!” levi’s attention was diverted as commander erwin yelled out his name. briefly, he turned his attention to the wall where his fellow comrades and commander stood, horrified, “YOU HAVE A SITUATION!”

levi tore his gaze away from erwin and glanced over his shoulder. fast approaching was the titan that had followed the solider to the wall. an abnormal by the looks of it, with blood splattered all over it’s mouth.

levi felt his heart stop.

in the moment, it suddenly became real. he glanced at the solider’s terrified face, the cape in his arms that had your initials printed on it, and then back at the titan.

everything hit him at once.

and levi snapped.

“YOU BASTARD!”

he retracted his blades, squared his shoulders, and then zoomed off to battle the titan that that had murdered you. the love of his life.

levi saw red as an animalistic scream left him, his entire vision clouded with crimson as he made his target and slashed. levi slashed until there was nothing more to slash, the titan long dead and already dissolving by the time he was done.

“YOU ASSHOLE! YOU TOOK THEM! YOU FUCKING BASTARD!”

“CAPTAIN! soldier, you need to restrain him and get back over the wall, NOW!” commander erwin shouted.

more titan’s were approaching. too many people were standing by the walls. too much prey.

but levi didn’t care. he was angry, hurt, and beyond the levels of revenge. his blades were stained with the blood of your murderer. he wouldn’t be able to rest if he didn’t end them all, right then and there.

“CAPTAIN LEVI! WE NEED TO GO!”

levi ignored the solider’s plea and stood his ground, hatred burning behind his eyes. he’d kill them, he’d kill every last one of them for what they did to you. his life be damned.

in that moment, it didn’t matter that humanity needed him.

he needed to avenge you.

“FALL BACK! DO NOT ENGAGE! I REPEAT, DO NOT ENGAGE! EVERYBODY STAND BACK!”

levi braced himself for the attack. he was running on pure hatred now.

he was dangerous when he was calm. but he was unstoppable when he was deadset on getting revenge for the one person he had left to care about.

“holy shit—”

“no way—”

“did he just?—”

all around levi was blood. crimson red soaked him to the bone, pouring over every inch of his body. it rained on him, like a sadistic waterfall carved out by levi’s sword.

but it wasn’t his.

none of it, not a single drop of the blood was his.

levi sheathed his now broken swords and leaned down to retrieve the only thing not soaked with titan blood. the only thing that wasn’t stained or reminded him of their treacherous, godforsaken existence.

“i did it,” he whispered, clutching your cape tightly. he held the fabric in his trembling hands, holding it over his heart as a way to hold you close— one last time.

“i killed that thing. you can rest now.”

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman oneshot #levi ackerman angst #attack on titan imagine #attack on titan #aot imagines #aot #attack on titan x reader

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recentlydeadsys · 3 years

Text

Okay so hear me out on this one.

DSMP Merlin AU

-In which Tommy accidentally discovers he has Magic one day and sets himself on fire.

-He always had a certain kind of luck in life, trees falling on bullies, Tubbos bee farm being remarkably untouched after a harsh winter or time inexpcibly slowing down when he's running away from robbing the poor baker of their pies (hey, it was just sitting on the window sill, he'll tell Tubbo, ripe for the taking!)

-He grows up in a small town just outside Camelots borders, and while magic isn't exactly banned per-say it's certainly not welcomed by the locals.

-Tubbo is really the only kid in town who seems to put up and join in with Tommy's antics, he was there when Tommy really discovered for the first time he could do magic without any spells.

-Tubbo thinks that's impossible but what does he know about magic, Tommy thinks. Everyone can do this, they're just pussies and don't try hard enough.

-Tommy is wrong.

-It all really comes to a head when he's around 15, he's just messing with the crops near his house, trying to get them to grow faster (his poor pet cow has to eat something!) and a random farmer walks on by. Now, usually this isn't a big issue, the townsfolks here are used to strange things happening around Tommy, only some suspect magic but most chalk it up to Tommy being Tommy.

-This farmer, however, is from out of town, or rather, he's from the town over, just passing through the land on his way to Camelot to sell at the local market. He watches the boy for a bit, who is still oblvious to the farmer and sees the crops on the ground grow 10 times the rate the usually do.

-He freaks out, calling the boy a sorcerer and grabbing him out of the fields to drag him into the towns square.

-Tommy kicks and screams the whole way, causing quite a few people to gather around to see what the commotion is about.

-The farmer pulls a knife from his pocket and holds it up to Tommys neck

-He proclaims to the townsfolk that he caught this young man doing magic on the crops

"Surely he's enchanted them! Poisoned them to kill you!" He yells to the crowd

-Murmurs start up amongst them, surely not Tommy, he's a troublemaker, yeah, but he wouldn't do anything to harm them right? Well. Except for that one time the pigs got loose and trampled the nearby crops. Or when the fishing nets set along the river mysteriously disappeared and showed up outside Tommy's house at night. Or when that pet cow of his bite his neighbor and faint snickering could be heard from the trees.

-At this point Tubbo had made his way through the crowd. He had been sick with a nasty cold, some crack doctor had told him he wouldn't live another winter but Tommy thought that was bullshit, he spent one evening with the boy and he was already getting better!

-"What the hell is going on?" Tubbo asks as Tommy continues to shout profanities at anyone who would listen, turning towards Tubbo as much as he can without impaling himself on the knife.

-"Tubbo! Thank god you're here! This lunatic grabbed me all rough like and dragged me away from my poor Henry. He's all alone in the fields Tubbo! What if something horrid happened to him and I wasn't there to help!" Tommy shouts, montioning wildly towards the direction he was dragged from.

-The farmer tightens his grasp on the boy "Shut up! Your act is up Sorceror! Reverse the spell you put on the crops or so help me..." The knife he's holding digs closer into his skin, but not quite cutting it yet.

-Tommg finally stop flailing but frowns deeply "I didn't put any enchantment on my crops! I feed those to Henry! What do you take me for? A cow murderer? How dare you assume that of me you prick!" And Tommy kicks the man in the shin, releasing his grasp on his neck and glaring him down, gold circles his irses.

-The Crowd gasps and takes a step back, Tubbo steps forward to stand beside Tommy "Hey man we just want to live in peace" he tries "can't you just leave us alone?"

-"SORCERY!" The man yells, ignoring Tubbo pointing his knife towards Tommy "LOOK AT HIS EYES! HE HAS DECIVED YOU ALL! THAT IS THE MARK OF A WITCH!" And with that he charges full force towards Tommy, knife held in hand, ready to strike.

-Tommy tries to dodge the man, but he's caught by his neckerchief and he panics, magic instinctively flailing out to get this crazed man off of him.

-The town watches on in equal parts fascination and horror as the farmer goes sailing through the air, landing hard against a tree.

-Theres a loud crack that accompanies his landing and the crowd goes silent.

-Tommy lands hard on the ground a few steps beside Tubbo, his head throbbing from the impact, his side hurts a little.

-He opens his eyes only to immediately shut them, a fresh wave of pain washes over him and he gasps, hands crawling to his stomach. The man got him.

-And he knows he has to leave, even if he's injured, he has to go somewhere else far away. The town just witnessed him injure a man, he threw a man into a tree! He's done for sure. And Tubbo. God. His bees are gonna miss him when he's inevitably thrown into the same pyre as Tommy. Those poor bees. Tubbo has to live, he thinks, for sake of all bee kind.

-Tears track down his face and the world burns brightly, he feels like he's flying for a moment, levitating in the air, free as a bird to go wherever he pleases, free to get away from this town and the pyre he figures they're building for him as soon as he wakes.

-His thoughts are (quite rudely) interrupted by some kind of loud scream but it's annoying and high pitched, he tells the voice to shut up.

-He lands on his back again, except here the floor is hard and stoney. He groans and rolls over. It's too bright and noisy. He resolves to keep his eyes shut after hesitantly opening one and having the sun glare straight at him.

-Time passes a bit more quickly after that, colours outside his eyelids pass by and there are multiple voices overlapping one another, hands roam over him, lifting him up and dragging him somewhere else.

-It gets quieter eventually and his world decends back into darkness, he thinks he's inside now.

-The room he's brought into smells like herbs and spices, a cloth is placed over his head and some kind of horrible liquid is shoved down his throat. He weakly curses at the person who gave him that drink. Really, he's already having a horrid time, couldn't you make it taste sweeter? Like maybe some honey from Tubbos bees. He always liked that honey, he should tell Tubbo that before hes burned to death.

-Someone distantly laughs but it sounds wet and gross, like they've been sobbing for hours.

-Everything seems slower now, and he's suddenly extremely exhausted. Maybe he'll take a quick nap. Tubbo wouldn't begrudge him that would he? After all he's pretty sure he's just been stabbed or something.

-A hand settles on his arm, it's comforting and he thinks, yeah, I'll take a quick nap.

-Before he nods off he hears footsteps draw near and the owner speaks quietly above the crackle of a fireplace he hadn't noticed was there.

"Well you boys have certainly gotten yourselves into a mess haven't you mate?"

-Thats an understatement, he thinks, and then promptly passes out.

#dsmp #tommyinnit #tubbo #dream smp #mcyt #merlin #dsmp au #tommyinnit has magic #tommy and tubbo #benchtrio #if people like it ill write more i have lots of ideas #ogohoghehehe i wonder who arthur is in this au #yeah realistically tommy should be arthur and tubbo or ranboo should be merlin but i wanted tommy to have magic

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iwantitiwriteit · 4 years

Text

Love Lockdown - Part 5

Back to December - Part 1

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Summary: In the December prior to the pandemic, you spend Christmas with Chris in Boston, a first time meeting between you and his extended family. You struggle with implications of seriousness this milestone has on your relationship with Chris.

Warnings: Angst, Pandemic backdrop, Profanity, healthy dose of Fluff, sprinkle of Sexual suggestiveness

Notes: So much was really working against me getting this up for y’all lol, but nothing worth having comes easy, right? Anyways, tried some new stuff I learned in some articles I read, more showing, less telling. Allusions and metaphors. We’ll see how it comes across. Christmas in October anyone? Read the previous part here!

The ding DONG of the doorbell echoes so exaggeratedly, it had to have been your imagination. No, I’m really here now. With your blood pumping loudly in your ears, you stare straight ahead at the barrier to entry, and seemingly to your happy future.

A Christmas-covered front door shouldn’t cause you this much stress, but here you were, feeling mocked by smiling snowmen and delicate, origami snowflakes.

You try to focus instead on one of the many thoughts flurrying your mind.

What if they hate me? Valid question, but sooo not the vibe right now. You go for another.

What if I hate THEM? Nice. None of these thoughts are stilling your rapidly beating heart.

“Ow! Loosen up the vice grip, will ya?”

“Oh,” you look down at where yours and Chris’ glove-clad hands are joined, releasing them almost instantly. “I’m sor—“

“It’s alright, babe,” Chris chuckles. As if you could muster a strength close enough to hurt this man. He’s sure not to let your hand get too far, taking it back into his and bringing it up to his rosy lips for a chaste kiss.

You wish you could feel it, the warmth of his lips on your knuckles, but that would mean braving the Boston blitz without a piece of your knit armour. You’re not sure you’re ready for that. You’re also not sure how he does it. He’s wearing significantly less layers than you, yet he’s perfectly content as if it’s a Summer’s day, while you are, quite literally, quaking in your boots.

He notices your shivering shoulders, knows it’s not just the cold getting to you. With his right hand in your left, and his left hand wrapped around a gift, he nudges you with his words.

“Hey,” he starts, but sees the opulent wreath on the door still has your attention. “Hey you,” he tries again. You finally look up at him. You lock your widened eyes with his ocean calm ones as he scans your face. Your brows could almost touch with how deeply furrowed you have them and your lips are fixed in a tight line.

“Typically it takes a lot to get my girl all nervous and whatnot,” he states, but you knew it was more of a question of what's up with you.

“Yeah, well… I’m not nervous, Chris.”

“Really? Cos the bruise on my hand would say otherwise,” he jokes.

You roll your eyes at him trying not to laugh. “Even if I was nervous, which I’m not, could you blame me? This is a lot. This is big. This... This is your family.” Your features soften and voice drops in volume. “I don’t wanna fuck it up.”

“Impossible.”

“You sure? Think I already did by taking this long,” you mumbled. You look away, unable to hold Chris' intense gaze anymore. Being in front of his childhood home, for the first time since you’ve started dating over 2 years ago, you can’t help but feel… guilty.

No use in taking the conversation there at this moment. Especially knowing that lately it led to some sort of shouting match. The ‘I can’t’s’ and ‘next time’s’ didn’t suffice anymore.

Chris only responds with a sigh as he rings the doorbell for the second time. He looks back over to you, a snowflake floating then landing on your lash. You’re unaware of how whimsical you look to him. How well you’re going to fit in with his family and friends.

He takes his thumb to brush the snowflake off and cup your cheek. Watching as you swallow thickly, Chris moves his thumb to your throat to massage away the lump you try to move on your own. You relax into his touch, and he flicks his eyes down to your gently smiling lips then back up to your eyes. You know what he’s silently asking. Placing your hand on his wrist was your silent answer. He leans in slowly, and you wish you could stay like this, just for a little while longer. But all good things...

“Uncle Chris!” a youthful voice exclaims as the door swings open. Chris swiftly removes his suggestive hand from your neck and himself from your personal space. He prays there’s some mistletoe hanging inside.

“Hey Kiddo!” Chris huffs out as he picks the child up, replacing her spot on the floor with the present in his hand. She goes to wrap her small arms around his neck as he asks her, “Did you grow since just last night?”

“No!” She giggles as he pinches her cheeks. “I missed you Uncle Chris! You weren’t here when we woke up,” his niece pouts. You look at Chris to see him with matching puppy dog eyes and poked out lip.

“Oh, Kiddo, I’m sorry. I--”

“It’s ok,” she cut him off, causing you to chuckle at her brashness, “I saved the gift from you and your special friend to open last!”

“Well, speaking of...” Chris pulls you in closer to him by your hand, “This is her! I went to get her from the airport,” he beams down at you. The little cutie in Chris’ arm has turned more shy when speaking to you as you exchange names and a quaint handshake.

In a not-so-quiet whisper, she tells Chris, “She’s really pretty. Good job,” with an added thumbs-up and shoulder pat. You can’t fight your giggle and the heat that rises to your face, and Chris can’t fight the laughter that erupts from himself.

Chris is joined in a chorus of laughter, the foyer now filled with Evans’ of all ages, tickled by one of their youngest and no doubt happy that Chris is home… and brought company. This is it… you think.

It’d been a long while since you’d ‘met the family’, having not made it that far with the relationships leading up to this one with Chris. You wonder if it’s like riding a bike, or if you should’ve read an article on how to during your last minute flight.

In the crowd of smiling Evans’, you spot Chris’ mom and brother. You’ve met them on numerous occasions, all in L.A., and know them pretty well. However, everyone else you knew from a picture, a story or would be meeting for the first time this afternoon. There was going to be a lot of meeting, greeting, questioning, explaining…

You steel yourself for the day ahead. Chris looks at you and gives you a reassuring smile and squeeze on your hand. You reciprocate, tension releasing only the slightest as you look at his sunny face, your reminder of why this must go well.

——————————————————————————

The first couple hours you were sure would be the hardest. It was a time of first impressions, and you only get one of those. Tasked with making the rounds to about 30 or so aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, nephews, in-laws, childhood this and that, Chris wanted to make sure you met every. Single. Body. And as soon possible.

“That way, we get you comfortable faster!” He rejoiced. Chris’ excitement was always infectious so you try to let wash over and enthuse you.

You lost count of how many times you fake laughed at ‘Chris has finally brought you home! We were starting to think you weren’t real!’. But with Chris by your side, the worn out joke was just bearable. He found new ways to respond each time, no doubt to at least keep you entertained. ‘Who do you owe money, then?’ or ‘When you find a treasure, you try to keep it to yourself as long as possible *wink*’ or ‘She’s not even here… she’s a hallucination’ never failed to make you laugh or make your cheeks burn.

It’s actually really endearing to know that there was some anticipation for your arrival. Unbeknownst to you, Chris had been hyping you up to his family. Telling them your accomplishments and aspirations in your writing career, which apparently impressed them. He told them your hobbies and other passions that sparked conversations about their own, and prompted advice on your life trajectory.

All in all, breaking the ice was more delightful than you thought it would be, and hoped that by sticking by Chris’ side the rest of the day would go in that way. But the universe had other plans.

At one point, you get whisked away to the kitchen by Chris’ mom, Lisa, under the guise of needing help with some dishes for dinner. You quickly realize that it's a set-up of sorts, with most of the women of the Evans family gathered around the island putting finishing touches on their dishes and slyly sipping spiked eggnog. These are the people who you feel you have to impress.

Their chatter and laughter came to a halt as they eyed you cautiously crossing the kitchen to the spot Lisa designated you. It was only a matter of time before the interrogation began.

“So… we’ll cut straight to the chase: why is it we’re just now meeting you? You’ve been with our Chris how long now?”

“Vicky!” Lisa smacks her arm warningly. “Have you no filter? You’ll scare the poor girl off before dinner!”

Chris has told you about his infamous Aunt Vicky. “A true cream puff; soft and sweet… once you get past the tough outside,” you remember him telling you.

“It’s fine,” you start, not willing to cower from the inquiry, “Chris and I have been together 2-½ years— 3 in June. And we’ve been happily taking things slow.”

“Good on you for taking things slow. Most women would— and do— jump at the chance to lock down our Chris. But not you, you’re a woman with her own sense of self. We like that,” you’re affirmed with a wink.

Whew.

“You are as pretty as our kid spy said; thought she was exaggerating.”

“Um thank you…?”

“She’s pretty, but can she cook?”

“Carole!” Lisa warns another woman and apologizes to you with her eyes. Chris also told you about his aunt Carole, Vicky’s ‘side kick’. The two of them made for a dubious duo.

“Yeah, what’s Chris’ favorite dish of yours?” Aunt Vicky prodded.

“I can cook, but not that often for Chris,” you respond, to which you’re met with crickets and cock-headed looks. You add, “He’s out of town a lot, and when he is in town, he’s the one doing the showing and proving of why I should stay with him,” you joke (kind of), and to your relief, they find it funny.

“Oooo I like her!” Vicky and Carole say in unison, causing the kitchen of women to laugh. You really did try to keep your expectations low for this visit, not necessarily wanting to seek Chris’ extended family’s acceptance, but you can’t help the relief you feel in this moment.

The next couple hours pass of helping out with dinner dishes and dessert, giggling over glasses of cocktails and family stories. You’d narrowly avoided questions about marriage and babies, but that’s to be expected. For the first time today, you’re able to forget your worries and your boyfriend and actually enjoy yourself. Speaking of...

“Hey you,” Chris is waiting by your seat that’s next to his which he pulls out for you when you arrive at it. An early Christmas dinner is about to be served, and you and Chris are reunited at the table for the first time in hours. “Missed you,” he says with a kiss on your temple. “Can’t wait to hear about your day,” he adds. But there wasn’t much talking between you two throughout the meal, though.

No, the Evans’ family theatrics don’t allow for it. All of them talk with complete genuineness, laugh with their entire beings, opine with their whole chests, and you see where Chris gets it from. Turning to your boyfriend, you find him smiling and laughing along with the rest of the table, looking full of warmth and love. Completed by his family. Your heart gets a little heavier thinking about how he doesn’t have these moments as often as he’d like. In part by his job, yes, but a small part of you feels like you may also have something to do with that. A thought that pains you to wade in too long.

After dinner you try to help with the dishes, packing away leftovers and to-go plates. You don’t get too far, instead get shooed out of the kitchen by the elders, being told to ‘spend the rest of the evening with your man’. You oblige, realizing you barely talked to each other since earlier in the day. In your quick scan of the house, you couldn’t find him, so you shoot him a text.

Some of the kids and teenagers were gathered around some games in the den. Their antics and wittiness remind you of your nieces. They happily let you join in, and at one point, you acquired a little one on your lap as your game partner. The two of you bond over beating her cousins in these games as you school them in a few rounds of Uno, Connect Four, and Jenga.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you smile as you check it.

“Oooooo is it from Uncle Chris?” she cheekily asks as you get up, setting her on your spot on the floor.

“They’re probably gonna go make out under the mistletoe,” one of the older kids teased. The room of adolescents erupt into a fit of giggles and chorus of ‘ews’

“Are you two gonna get married?” the little cutie randomly asks you. “I heard my Grandma and Aunts talking about it!”

“Oh, wow, um… I gotta, I’ll see you all later.” With that you dash out of the room, as symphony ‘K-I-S-S-I-N-G…’ fading behind you.

——————————————————————————

The sky was shades of baby blues, pinks, purples and oranges. It’s a beautiful backdrop to the snow and ice kissed tree branches and lawns. The road had been freshly salted and freed of winter obstacles making it easier to stroll along as you and Chris often did after a meal.

It’s even more beautiful than he said, you think to yourself. For a second you wonder why you were ever hesitant to come here. There was no real reason, yet you used a million excuses. But this time around, you finally ran out.

Not that you weren’t tired of your fear. That was it. The real reason… was fear.

You look down at your boots, the ones you dust off just one week a year now. Striding beside them are a larger, more expensive pair; they too only see the snow on rare occasions. Your eyes follow up the long legs they belong to, taking in the nice slacks and chunky cable knit sweater under a heavy, well-made piece of outerwear. Your eyes finally land on the face of the man in the fine threads.

Looking at Chris right now, you’ve never seen him fit in so perfectly somewhere. But why wouldn’t he on the roads he cut his teeth on. He could make you forget every fear and every doubt you’ve ever had. Hell, he could make you forget your name on a good day. And on those days, you didn’t know what to do with all of that, what to make of it. But it’s the most wonderful time of the year, so

“Come here,” you say just above a whisper, tugging on Chris’ hand causing him to turn to you. You bring your hands to his broad shoulders, smoothing out the invisible wrinkles there. You languidly drag your right hand over to his chest as you notice a red stain on the light colored knit. “My love…” you humoredly drag out as you tap on the food stain.

“I know, I know. My mother already beat you to the scolding,” he chuckles.

“You’d think by this age you’d have learned to be more careful.”

“Hmm, now what fun would that be…” his sultry tone didn’t go unnoticed by you. Your eyes on his tailored, dinner party clothes, hoping to find a relief for your emotions somewhere between the stitches. You never know where to begin with your feelings. Surely it would be to start with the easy stuff, but it all seems hard.

You rub your hands on his chest, not quite meeting his eyes. “What’s up? Whatcha thinking about?” Chris asks with a lopsided grin, resting his hands on either side of your waist. You smile at him nervously. Before you could say anything, there’s a gust of sharp, cold wind. You clutch on to Chris’ sweater, burying your face in his chest seeking refuge and warmth.

“M’thinking about how you got me out in this damn cold! You know my southern bones can’t take it,” your whines muffled by his sweater. He chuckles at your antics.

Chris slowly drags his large palms up from your waist, and this just ensures that there are goosebumps on your skin under your layers if the wind hasn't done so already. He rests one hand on your shoulder pulling you apart just enough for you to look into his hazy blue eyes. His other hand continues it’s trek until it’s rested on the side of your neck, his thumb stroking your jaw. “I know of a way to get you warm…”

“Was this part of your plan?”

“Mmmm… maybe…” Chris leans in close, surely to kiss you, but you have other plans.

“How’s it feel to be back home?” you inquired with faux aloofness, slipping out of his hold and continuing your walk towards his mother’s home.

Chris hesitates for a second, wondering if you really just swerved a kiss from him. He clears his throat, “Uh… yeah it’s great! There’s nothing like family, I know you can agree to that. Even if they are loud… and crazy,” to which you both chuckle. “So…” he starts as he wraps his arms around your middle causing you both to waddle up the front lawn. “How do you feel? Not so bad, was it?”

“No! Far from it! I really, really love your family Chris,” you say as you crane your neck to look at him briefly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Although, I strongly disagree with some of their choices in best music of all time, but I’ll learn to get over that. I got over it with you,”

Chris spins you around in his arms, hands firmly on your waist. “I don’t care what you say; Joel is the best music Billy of ALL TIME!”

“Yeah, ok.” you retort with an eye roll to his amusement.

“I’m glad you had a good time babe. They’ve been hounding me to meet you for a while now. I’m happy we made it happen.”

The words are right there on your lips. I’m sorry it took so long. I’m sorry I acted silly. I’m sorry I was scared to take the next step. But what if I’m not ready? What if we get it wrong? Your throat is dry, as it often is when it’s time to bare a little of your soul. At least Chris always has something to say.

“I can’t wait for you to see me this nervous when I meet your family…” You don’t know if that makes you feel better or worse. Chris looks into your eyes expectantly, lovingly. His features are soft and tender, and you think it’s the most beautiful sight on a man, on this man. Your man.

Chris looks at your lips then at your eyes. There goes that silent question again. You’ve never been one to give Chris what he wants when he wants it. He’ll never admit, but it’s one of the things he loves most about you. So, in true you-fashion, you make a run for it.

He’s baffled, but doesn’t waste much time in playing into your little game. You’re laughing hysterically as you look over your shoulder to see him bounding after you on the front lawn. You high tail it around the side of his childhood home, kind of hoping he catches you. Not even you, as stubborn as you are, would want to be running forever.

Chris walks into the backyard cautiously, but not cautiously enough as he’s met with a snowball in the temple. And your maniacal laughter.

“Oh, you’re in for it now!” Chris sneers as he scoops up the most perfectly compacted snowball.

“Oh shit!” You slowly make for the backdoor, walking up the deck stairs backwards, hands up in surrender “C’mon babe, you don’t have to do this,” you plead.

“Yes. Yes, I do. Cos all I wanted was an innocent, sweet kiss.”

“I’ll give you a kiss! Just put the snowball down.”

“It’s too late, sweetheart.” The look in his eyes is sending butterflies straight to your heat. As much as you wouldn’t mind ‘losing’ this game, there’s too much at stake.

“Think of my hair!” You whine to appeal to his better nature. That gave Chris pause, but only for a moment.

“It’s in braids; you’ll be ok.” When Chris takes a step towards you, you take a step back, but instead of eating snow as you anticipate, you slip on a patch of ice and fall flat on your ass.

Chris is quick to race over to your side. “Babe! Are you ok?” he’s slightly panicked as he lifts your torso in his arms, checking your eyes for consciousness.

“Got the wind knocked out of me, but I’m fine, yeah,” you say through a dry laugh.

“Oh, thank god.” He says with a sigh of relief and a wide smile. You smile back at him as he strokes your cheek and says, “Now I won’t feel bad about this.”

“Wha—“ You see white as your face freezes over. Chris is dying of laughter as you sputter the snowball out of your mouth.

“Ha ha ha. Keep laughing... you won’t get that kiss you’re wanting so bad.” He immediately stops laughing, deflates, and pouts, causing you to giggle. “Oh my goodness! Is it that serious?” you teased him a little further. Chris was done playing, though. He stood up and folded his thick arms over his chest to show you he was serious.

You stood up too, and began to tap and poke at his shoulders, chest and stomach. Chris wouldn’t look at you, trying his best to stand firm and not smile. “Look up, dummy!” you say eventually. He acts as if he’s doing you a favor, but can’t hide his giddiness at the sight on the ceiling.

A leafy green plant, with a cluster of red inedible berries, secured with a red ribbon.

You take his face into your hands, lightly grazing your fingers over Chris’ full, trimmed beard. The world is out of focus as you and Chris are now eye to eye. Neither of you can hide your eagerness. You rub your thumb over his plump bottom lip and wonder why you would ever deny yourself this man.

Pulling him into you, the gap is closed between your mouths. The kiss is gentle, shy even, after first. It dawns on you that you’d only shared a quick peck at the airport, and before then, had gone a couple weeks missing each other’s touch.

The neediness and desire within you is heightened at the thought. You wrap your arms around his neck pulling him closer. You start to get lost in him, in his warm taste and touch. You feel the yearning in Chris too. He wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you tightly to himself. His hands start to travel to places you desperately want them to be, but he catches himself, remembering where you are.

“Let’s go say our goodbyes,” he says through an out-of-breath smirk. You bite your bottom lip and reply with a quick nod of your head.

The pair of you head inside to make your last rounds for the evening. Chris keeps it pretty brief with everyone, the both of you promising to see them again sometime soon in the new year. Early Spring seems to work for most everyone; the kids will be on spring break, Chris will be home before jetting off for a press tour, and you’ll have settled in to your new writing job, that isn’t exactly your dream gig, but a step in… a direction.

As you got into Chris’ car to head for his Boston home, waving to his family as you backed out the driveway, none of you could predict or prepare yourselves for the very different, sordid world that waits in the months ahead. How drastically it would change on grand and small scales.

You look adoringly at Chris from your spot in the passenger seat, unaware the beginning of your relationship’s treacherous slope was just a few days away. Had you known, you wouldn’t have left that kiss so soon, would’ve cherished his heated embrace a little more later tonight.

But it’s already been written.

——————————————————————————

What’d you think?

#chris evans fanfiction #chris evans imagine #chris evans one shot #chris evans x reader #Chris Evans series #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x woc #chris evans x poc!reader #chris evans fan fiction #love lockdown series

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naturalselection262 · 3 years

Text

The next right thing [Levi X grieving reader]

Word count: 2016

warning: sad, angst, fluff

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

I've seen dark before, but not like this

This is cold, this is empty, this is numb

We made our way towards the walls on horseback, an eerie silence fell over us all, the sky was clouded a deep depressing gray with rain pouring down heavily. Another failed mission. all those deaths, for what? my entire squad had been whipped out, one of them being my best friend.

If I had just been a little faster I could have saved them. Why me? why did I get to live? It should have been me. things will never be the same again, I hate this

The life I knew is over, the lights are out

Hello, darkness, I'm ready to succumb

I would never see her smile again, hear her laugh, she had been my best friend for as long as I can remember, she was the strong one, she always defended me and what did she get in return? I let her die.

how would I look the parents of my dead squad mates in the eye and tell them their child died because of me? I can't. I don't have it in me

This guilt was tearing my very being apart. I joined the scouts with so much hope and courage, only to get slapped in the face with the harsh reality of it, this is a place where all hope went to die. this was like signing your own death contract.

I follow you around, I always have

But you've gone to a place I cannot find

I looked at all the faces around me, they wore the exact same expression as me, even the more experienced scouts. I noticed captain Levi not to far on my right, he wore his signature stoic look across his features.

I wonder how he held it together so well, somewhere deep down he had to be hurting, after all, he was only human but even after losing his two best friends and his entire squad he still stood strong.

This grief has a gravity, it pulls me down

he must have noticed my staring as he turned, looking straight into my eyes, I made no move to look away, his eyes held so much pain, I could tell, he looked defeated, you both looked at each other with a mutual understanding, silently acknowledging each others pain.

you had only spoken a handful of words to the man but you had tremendous respect for him. you admired him deeply. he was the first to break eye contact as he focused his attention up front. we had now reached the gates.

My gut wrenched in fear, I felt sick to my stomach. we were scoffed at and belittled. If only they knew what it was like. I kept my head down eyes looking forward, blocking out everything around me, everything sounded distant, barley able to make out any words.

But a tiny voice whispers in my mind

You are lost, hope is gone

It didn't last long as my horse came to a halt, a person stood in front "you're Malcom's friend right? (y/n), do you know where he is?" I gave her a blank stare, my throat felt like sandpaper, unable to utter a word.

She furrowed her brows "where is he" she said in a more serious tone. I opened my mouth but no sound came out. images of my squad mates mangled bodies flashed trough my mind again, I couldn't formulate a response as shame and guilt tormented my heart.

by this point she was becoming hysterical "where is he?! weren't you supposed to protect him?!" she cried. I had nothing but his cloak, I handed her it with a heavy heart, unable to look her in the eye

she began yelling profanities at me as I continued on my way. Levi still rode beside me, he had stopped as well and watching the whole scene that had just unfolded. there wasn't anything that could be said to make the situation better but in his mind she didn't have to grieve alone.

he had been watching for a while but he never made a move to talk to her. she wasn't like most people, she usually kept to her self, always around some other girl, like they were attached by the hip, they were polar opposites, this made her more interesting,

it was like she hid in her shadow, no one seemed to notice, but he did.

But you must go on

And do the next right thing

We continued to walk in silence for a few moments until I just couldn't hold it in anymore. "I'm such a coward" I said, barley above a whisper. tears brimming my eyes "I feel so sad it hurts" I whimpered

Levi watched her with deep sorrow, he understood her pain, he also understood that there was nothing he could do to take the pain away. "I know, but you're only human, not a coward" he paused giving her a more steady look "it wasn't your fault" he said softly.

your eyes widened slightly, tears now steaming down your blood stained cheeks. "I could have saved them" she said. "you tried, their deaths weren't on you but you can give them meaning, their memories lay within you, carry the torch"

I was speechless, his words really stuck with my heart, I gave him a grim nod. riding in silence again for the rest of the journey.

Can there be a day beyond this night?

I don't know anymore what is true

I dismounted my horse wincing slightly as my joints ached. I trudged towards the stables, petting my horses main softly, removing the saddle from her back. I left her some food and water before making my exit

I didn't get far as I bumped into toned chest, almost knocking me off my feet. I looked up to see the corporal looking down at me, I gave him a tired salute, all my energy drained from my body "sorry sir"

he waved me off. "just call me Levi" it brought the smallest hint of a smile to my face. "just call me (y/n) then, not cadet" he gave a soft smile in return. he turned on his heel as I followed not far behind

I can't find my direction, I'm all alone

The only star that guided me was you

"do you mind if I stay with you for a while? I just don't want to be alone right now" I don't know what came over me, I was never one to be so straight forward, we hardly spoke but I felt safe around him "I could help you with paper work, or clean, I just don't want to think about things right now" I sighed, looking down at my boots.

"of course" he said as we continued to walk. "and you don't have to do any chores, we've done enough today" he continued still walking

my mind wandered back towards my best friend, the last words she ever said were 'help me' I felt another pang of pain in my chest, my bottom lip trembling. this isn't how it was supposed to be.

How to rise from the floor?

But it's not you I'm rising for

Levi held the door open for you, upon entering you were impressed with how clean and tidy it was, you heard the door click behind you, Levi disappeared into his bedroom, giving you some time to wander around.

His desk was well organized, papers and pencils aliened perfectly, you couldn't fight the urge to turn them squint, smirking as you did so.

"fix that"

you shrieked, turning round to punch the corporal right in the chest out of reflex. he stood there unfazed. you paled "o-oh I'm sorry sir I didn-" he cut me off "Levi" he corrected "right, yeah.. Levi" you blushed ever so slightly. you noticed he'd changed out of his straps and blood stained clothes.

he looked good, better than that. you didn't let your mind linger for long as he passed you some folded up clothes "go get changed into them, once you've fixed my pens" he said in his usual monotone voice.

you scoffed, giving him a defiant look, leaving the pens a mess, you swiftly shut the door behind you. he stood there looking at the closed door for a moment with amusement in his eyes.

Just do the next right thing

Take a step, step again

It is all that I can to do

His room was absolutely spotless and I mean spotless, his bed sheets didn't have a single crease. his room smelled like mint and tea, it was relaxing. you unfolded the clothes he had given you in your hands, a t-shirt and sweat pants, not bad.

I removed my straps then my bloody ragged clothes, relieve washing over me as I headed into his bathroom to take a shower. washing away todays trauma

But break it down to this next breath, this next step

This next choice is one that I can make

you stepped out into his office with your hair damp and disheveled. he looked up at you from his desk chair and had to do a double take. his clothes hugged your figure perfectly.

you walked over and sat in the chair across from his desk. why was he doing this? why was he being so kind? I didn't deserve this. I should at least try comfort him as well

"are you okay? .. after everything today?" I asked softly, playing with the hem of his shirt. "no, we all lost someone dear to us, and I know you have today as well, I'm sorry" he said his voiced laced with sadness.

I looked down into my lap, tears brimming my eyes yet again. "how am I supposed to carry on without her? she's all I had" you whimpered, attempting to wipe the tears away from your eyes. Levi was by your side in an instant, he extended his hand out to yours which you accepted. standing up to face him.

you were the only person in the survey core whom was shorter than the captain. you gazed up into his eyes as he heled your small trembling hands in his.

So I'll walk through this night

Stumbling blindly toward the light

"You're not alone. you'll always have someone" he mumbled into your hair, pulling you close to his chest. "who?" you asked in a shaky voice, clutching his shirt.

he pulled away placing his pointer finger under your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes.

"me"

And do the next right thing

And, with it done, what comes then?

you felt your heart swell with a new found hippieness. your eyes darted from his lips then back to his eyes. he smirked, wrapping his arms around your waist, he crashed his lips onto yours, you melted into it instantly, wrapping your arms around his neck

you both battled for dominance but you eventually gave in, letting him win, he pushed his hand up the back of your shirt, softly scratching his nails across your back, earning a shiver and a soft gasp of surprise.

you broke apart as he wore a smug smile while you blushed profusely. he kissed you one more time on the forehead as he turned around, your hand still in his, he led you both into his bed.

When it's clear that everything will never be the same again

Then I'll make the choice to hear that voice

You laid with your back pressed comfortably against his chest. his hand laced with yours. "Levi, don't leave me" I whispered. "I'm not going anywhere.. promise you'll never leave me" he said, his voice low as he buried his face into your soft hair.

"I wont" you smiled, bringing his hand up to kiss it reassuringly. he pulled you closer into his chest, "I'll make sure you don't" he mumbled into your hair. you smiled once again. feeling nothing but love and safety, it wasn't long before you drifted off into a soft slumber in the warmth of Levi's embrace.

maybe you could be each others salvation. he would protect you no matter what. is this what love feels like?"

And do the next right thing.

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

this is a song from frozen 2 but it just hits different when you're high, oops, hahaha. anyway, i hope you enjoyed!

#levi akerman #attack on titan #levi #aot x reader #levi aot #captain levi #aot #levi fanfiction

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justimagineitblog · 4 years

Text

“I Can’t Lose You” Tyler Rake Fan Fiction - Chapter 2

A/N: Alright so here is chapter two everyone! Lot’s of tension and bickering and banter in this one - but also some pretty raw and tender moments towards the end as Tyler and Kate start to realise their feelingsssssss.... i hope you enjoy! :)))))))))))

I stop in my tracks immediately, the sharp pain jolting all through my rib cage like being stabbed over and over again with every step that I take. I curl over at the waist, my hands clutching at my side as if that’s going to do anything at all.

We’ve been jogging through a heavily wooded forest area, where I’ve been desperately trying to keep up with him. But he is a giant man, and as I watch him running I realise he has to be over 6ft, at least. Whatever his height is, all I know is that one of his strides equals about 3 of mine. It also really doesn’t help that each time my feet hit the ground, a sharp pain shoots up through my ribs.

I hear foot steps coming back my way, followed by Tyler’s irritated voice.

“You need to keep up”

“I would if you didn’t break one of my goddamn ribs”

“I didn’t break your ribs, trust me. But I can if you wan’t, then at least you’ll actually have something to complain about”

I glare up at him through the disheveled hair that has fallen in my face. I don’t even bother fighting back, as that would take energy I really do not have right now. The pain is clouding my wits, I can barely think.

Maybe it was the fact that I didn’t have anything to say back, or the fact that I cannot stand up straight without gasping in pain, but something alerts him that maybe I’m not over exaggerating about this. Because suddenly he’s kneeling down in front of me, telling me he needs to take a look.

“Let me have a look then” he nods, his face bored as though he’s just trying to get this over and done with to appease me. His hand reaches for my torso but I swat him away immediately.

“Don’t touch it” I hiss

He sighs “Look we need to hurry, just sit down so I can check it”

I reach out for the tree trunk beside me, grimacing as I lower myself to the floor in defeat.

“I’m just gonna look okay, I’m not gonna touch it” he reassures me as slowly takes the hem of my shirt in his hands and glides it upwards.

I watch his face change as my torso becomes exposed, his eyes falling over my ribs. He looks slightly taken aback at the sight, hanging his head.

“Ah fuck” he breathes, and I begin to panic.

“Is it broken or not?” I demand.

“No,” he shakes his head as he takes one last look at my ribs before carefully pulling down my top “But it’s starting to bruise… bad”

I watch his face closely. His once underwhelmed expression is now riddled with concern and guilt. On top of that, he looks angry, but not with me this time. No. this time he looks angry with himself. The air feels heavy around us now, and I feel like I’m looking at a whole different person. For the past hour that I’ve known this man he has been nothing but unforgivingly brutal. He has had no time for sympathy, and the only look I’ve seen on his face majority of the time is rage. My brain ticks at one hundred miles an hour as I try to comprehend how the man who killed a room full of people is now kneeling in front of me so sheepish and small.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise how hard I-“ he begins to apologise, his voice and face coated and dripping with shame. I almost can’t believe that the word sorry is coming out of his mouth. But suddenly a voice from his ear piece cuts in.

“Tyler somethings wrong, hold your position”

His eyes dart back to mine nervously.

“There’s someone else in those woods. About 100 meters out. They’re closing in on your position”

I can physically see Tyler’s stomach drop as the reality of the words set in. He immediately springs into action, holding out his hands to try help me up of the ground. As I stand up, the pain tears down my side. The only thing stopping me from crying out in pain is the fear of whoever is closing in on us. I might be in severe pain, pain that I don’t think I’ve ever felt before, but I’m not stupid. If we stay here now, we will die. Tyler will die. I don’t know this man. But I am not costing him his life. I can’t.

“Can you walk-“

“I’m fine” I lie, through clenched teeth. He hesitates, knowing that I’m blatantly lying as he stares down at me.

“Tyler, run” I growl. Taking my hand in his, we both take of in a sprint, back tracking the way we came in. We’re going back to the car. Abandoning all efforts to stay quiet, we crash through the bushes and leaves. This isn’t about stealth, this is about survival. The threat of someone who wants us dead biting at our heels, I have no choice but to keep up with him or we both die. I momentarily forget about the pain in my side that I’m sure is only being made worse by the countless tree branches that I’m crashing into as we run. But Tyler is the one taking the brunt of the tree branches and leaves that whip at us as he leads ahead, clearing the way. But everything almost seems to move out of his way as the brute strength and force of his body demolishes any obstacles in our path.

All noise seems to have droned out as my only focus is running with everything I have in me. That is, until the sound of a sharp, whizzing bullet flies directly above us. It misses us, but lodges directly into a the tree trunk that is only a couple of centimetres above our heads.

A heavy weight pulls me down to the ground, and I realise Tyler has dragged me down behind a large boulder for coverage. Both of us pant heavily, trying to retrieve what little breath we can. I stay crouched down behind the rock as Tyler fires a few rounds in the direction of our pursuer faster than the blink of an eye. Then, he turns back to me, desperately fumbling with his vest until he pulls of a grenades.

“When I throw this, run” he tells me firmly, as he rips the pin from the bomb. It feels like slow motion as his long arms peg the detonating bomb over the boulder and away from us.

I can barely hear him screaming at me to run as the sound of the explosive fills the air around us. We both scramble, fighting to get up of the ground and hit the ground running in an immediate sprint.

I’m not even sure if I’m running in the right direction, all I know is that I’m moving with every last fibre of my being. I keep my head low, my arms raise overhead in some kind of bid to protect myself from the bullets that are speeding through the air past us. My only indication to whether Tyler is still even with me is the sound of his crashing foot steps as he runs behind me. Suddenly there is a break in the wooded area we’ve been charging through, and we enter the clearing where the car is sitting.

“GO, GO! GET IN THE CAR” Tyler’s voice booms from behind me as I speed towards the passengers side. As I rip the door open and thrust myself into the car, I look back to see Tyler guarding me. Once I’m in he fires a few final bullets and suddenly he’s bursting into the drivers side.

Before I can even gather myself, Tyler’s foot hits the acceleration and the car lurches forward so ferociously it almost leaps of the ground. The back end of the car drifts, swerving left and right as the wheels spin out beneath it, before it suddenly kicks into gear and we take of flying straight ahead.

Without warning, we burst into streets that are filled and bustling with civilians. I can hear their screams they all fly out of our way. People are everywhere, and I can hear Tyler shouting for the countless people on motorbikes to move as we narrowly miss every single one of them. Boxes of fruits and products fall victim to us on our path of destruction as the car ploughs straight through them.

I’m so busy desperately trying not to smack my head on the roof of the car it swerves and bounces that I have no time to prepare myself when Tyler suddenly begins shouting countless profanities. I look up ahead to see the end of the road being blocked of by three police vehicles. Tyler slams on the breaks, the car halting so abruptly that only a miracle that my hands on the dashboard stop me from flying through the front windscreen. Without even a second of hesitation, Tyler shoves the gear stick into reverse with such haste that I half expect it to rip clean off.

“They’re police!” I exclaim as we speed backwards, away from them “Tyler stop they’re police!”

“No they’re not” he shouts over the now wailing sirens of the police vehicles that are surging after us. I furrow my brows at him as he spins the car around until we’re out of reverse, before taking off again.

I turn in my seat, looking back at the police in panic. I thought I could trust Tyler. Why the hell is he driving us away from them. I narrow my eyes, and suddenly see that those men aren’t officers at all. They’re dressed in black clothing; and it doesn’t take me long to realise that they’re have hijacked those police cars.

Chaos ensues as two of the cars spin out of control, colliding with food stalls and innocent by standers. The same voice from before bursts over Tyler’s radio speaker. The woman’s voice shouts directions to Tyler, telling him to turn right at the bridge. When I turn back in my seat, I’m met with a giant metal gate that we are only getting closer and closer to. With no sign of Tyler slowing down, I brace myself for impact, unable to stop myself from letting out a scream as we smash through it. I stare ahead in shock, mouth wide open as I realise we just smashed right through those metal gates, and are still alive. I look over at Tyler in shock to see that he looks completely unbothered by the fact that we could have just died. This guy is a goddamn maniac.

Suddenly one of the hijacked police vehicles rams straight into the back of our car, sending both Tyler and I lurching forward. We both look back in panic over our shoulders to see the man who was pursuing is in the woods, is now manically driving behind the wheel of that car.

“FUCK!” Tyler shouts, making a sharp turn to try and throw him off, but it doesn’t work. This only helps him gain in on us, as he begins to creep up towards the passenger side.

The sound of smashing glass bursts into the air and I look over to see that Tyler’s window has been shot and broken. Shards of glass cover us both, as the man fires of a few more rounds in our direction.

I see Tyler desperately fumble for the gun on his vest, but the second he takes his hands of the wheel we almost spin out. This man is going to fucking kill us if we don’t do something.

“Give me your gun” I feel myself shout suddenly, as I reach for his vest.

He shoves my hand away, before turning the car down into another street.

“I SAID GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING GUN” Using all my might I reach over and snatch the pistol from his belt. All in one movement I turn in my seat and angle myself out of the window slightly.

“GET BACK IN THE FUCKING CAR!” I hear Tyler scream at me, but I’m not listening. My eyes are locked on the driver behind us. The second he see’s me, he aims his gun at me, but I beat him to it.

Squeezing the pistol, I send a bullet flying straight for his head. As it smashes through the front wind screen it narrowly misses him, but the shock still distracts him and his wheels screech as he loses control of the car. This gives us a small advantage and a small window of time to get away from him. I feel a hand on my vest as Tyler tugs me, yanking me back into the car. He speeds up, putting his foot to the floor. I watch as the man behind us struggles to regain control of his car, fighting with the steering wheel until it finally spins out and he collides with the side of a building.

Tyler suddenly makes a sharp right turn, pulling us into a virtually empty back street.

“Out!” he shouts as we both scramble with great urgency and anxiety. He grabs my arm and we take off running up the stairs of the apartment buildings next to us. We rush up the stairs in leaps and bounds, constantly checking over our shoulders but there is no sign of anyone following us.

Just when I begin letting the smallest inch of my guard down, and attempt to catch my breath, it is quickly whisked away again by Tyler shoving me up against the wall.

“What the fuck do you think you were doing back there huh?” He growls in my face, pinning my shoulders back against the wall. This is a vast change from the worried Tyler back in the woods. The Tyler who looked guilty for causing that giant bruise on my ribs. Right now, with the look on his face, he looks like he couldn’t care less if he did it again.

I grab at his chest, trying to push him away, but of course I can’t. He doesn’t even budge.

“That little stunt you pulled back there could have gotten us both killed”

“But it didn’t! We’re here aren’t we!” I challenge him, my eyebrows raised. He shakes his head at me in bewilderment.

“Don’t EVER do that again? Do you hear me? If I fucking lose you I-” He catches himself before he finishes his words. I stare up at him, heart racing for what he was about to say. For what he stopped himself from saying.

“If you lose me what huh?” I stare up at him “Why the fuck do you care what happens to me?”

His chest rising and falling heavily as he looks down at me, our faces only inches apart. Our eyes locked on each other, I watch his internal battle. For a moment I see the smallest, fleeting hint of weakness. Of softness. Why is he looking at me like that? But it doesn’t last long.

“I need my fucking pay out. Try anything like that again and I’ll kill you myself”

But his voice sounds unsure. Like he doesn’t believe his own words. With that he gives me one final shove before stalking away from me to the other side of the room. I’m unable to take my eyes of him as I try to swallow and comprehend whatever just happened between us.

Just when I thought he showed me a moment of tenderness, of care, back in the woods. His normal disgust and hatred for me is back again. My supposed ‘rescuer’, who couldn’t hate me more.

He turns away from my slightly, busying himself with reloading his gun. As he does, my eyes fall over his arm - more specifically the blood that is covering one of them.

“Tyler you’re bleeding” I blurt out. It’s not a lot, but enough to show through his sleeve. Enough to do damage if left unattended.

He follows my gaze, looking down at his arm where blood is soaking through.

“Yeah a bullet will do that to you” I replies nonchalantly.

Thinking that he has been hit with a bullet I rush over to him, but he waves his hands, dismissing me.

“Relax, it just grazed me”

“You still need to cover it” I urge, completely baffled at how little he cares about this.

“Why the hell do you care?”

“Well I wouldn’t want you to miss your fucking pay out now would I” I scoff, watching as he rips the bottom of his shirt with ease until he has a long strip of fabric in his hands.

I expect him to fire back an insult, but to my surprise, he smirks. The tension easing a little, I also find the corner of my mouth curling up into a smile.

“Since you’re so worried, tie this around my arm” he raises his brows, holding out the fabric for me to create a tourniquet.

I snatch it from him, as he holds his wounded arm out to me. I try to ignore his eyes staring at me, trying to intimidate me as I wrap the shred of t-shirt around his arm. I also try to ignore the realisation that’s dawning on me at just how huge his arms are. They’re practically bulging out of his shirt. Making a knot, I pull tight. Tighter than I probably had to, but he deserves it for being such an asshole.

He clenches his jaw, grimacing in pain when I do so.

“Watch it” he warns me, but I shrug at his comment acting clueless.

“Come on, it’s just a graze, right?”

He stares down at me, his lips slightly parted to speak but no words following their lead. I know he see’s me as just a money grab. Some rich guys daughter who he needs to return home for a big case of cash in exchange. But that doesn’t mean he gets to treat me like an idiot.

I stare back up at him defiantly, not wavering under the firm grip that his eyes have on me. Then, if I’m not mistaken, his eyes flicker down to my lips. He quickly pulls them away from my mouth and back up ti my eyes, so fast that if I had of blinked I would have missed in entirely. But I didn’t miss it. I saw it.

I don’t have more than a few milliseconds to begin trying to understand what the hell that means when gun fire sprays the building we’re in. Immediately Tyler springs into action. The Tyler that was bantering with me just moments ago is gone, as the switch flips in him and he jumps straight into his stone cold soldier mode.

We both crouch down below the windows of the room as he grabs my hand and leads me out of the room. Once we are away from the windows we both stand, he lets go of my hand, replacing it with his gun. Standing protectively in front of me, we stalk through the abandoned apartment building, snaking through each room until he finds one with no windows.

He turns back to me, hand on the small of my back as he guides me into the room. Once we’re inside, he stands me against the wall - gently this time - and raises a finger to his mouth, signalling to stay quiet. I feel my ears prick as footsteps begin to approach from outside the room.

Tyler hides right out of sight in the door way, and I hold my breath, praying that he doesn’t get hurt. If something happens to him, not only am I a goner, but I will never be able to live with the fact that he died saving me. I can’t. The footsteps get louder and louder and I feel the anxiety in my stomach clawing its way up into my chest.

Suddenly, Tyler strikes forward, and the man hunting us down is flung against the wall. In a series of movements that happen entirely to fast for me to even comprehend, Tyler knocks the gun out of his hand and pins him against the wall so ferociously I can hear the mans bones cracking against the concrete. A knife appears in Tyler’s hands seemingly out of no where, and before my eyes I watch him plunge the blade into the man’s neck. He delivers three more fatal blows, slicing the bloody knife across the mans jugular vein over and over again.

And then, it’s over seemingly before it even began. The man falls to the ground, landing at my feet, with blood gushing from the wounds in his neck. Dead.

I pull my eyes away from the dead body at my feet to look at Tyler, but there’s nothing much to see. He’s already moved on, completely dismissing the life that he just took like it was nothing. He signals for me to follow behind him in the hall way, and when I take to long he grabs my vest and forces me behind him. Staying so close to his back I may as well be attached to him, we take a few slow, quiet steps forward. But that’s only as far as we get before two more men come flying towards us from around the corner.

I stumble backwards as Tyler attacks the first man, taking only seconds to kill him with a fatal shot through the chest. When the second assailant approaches, Tyler combats him with his fists. It only takes one punch to disorientates the man, who stumbles backwards giving Tyler enough to aim his gun. I watch with my mouth open so wide in shock it my jaw may as well have touched the floor as Tyler fires a bullet straight through the man’s head.

Two bullets. He has killed two men with only two bullets in what feels like a matter of moments. Now that I’m learning how lethal Tyler really is, witnessing it with my own eyes, my mind flashes back to the room full of dead men that Tyler had mowed through to rescue me earlier today. Now that I’m seeing what he’s truly capable off, that doesn’t seem that far fetched. In fact, it seems like it would have been a breeze to him.

The sound of Tyler shouting my name rips me abruptly from my shock induced flashback. He lunges forward, scooping me up with one arm and planting me firmly behind him. It’s only once I’m being shielded by his giant stature that I see what he was yelling about. Another attacker had been coming up behind me with a gun, and I was second away from being just as dead as the men around us. But Tyler had stopped that. He had thrown himself in front of me, literally putting himself in the line of fire to protect me like it was nothing. Like it was a reflex. Muscle memory.

As Tyler wrestles with the man who almost killed me, movement to our left catches my attention. Realising another man is running towards me at full speed, I spin on my heels and begin sprinting. As I burst through apartment after apartment, I can hear the man hot on my heels. I have no plan. No where to hide. Just every atom in my body screaming at me to run. Until, I meet a dead end. As I burst into the room and head for the door that will take me out to the balcony that wraps around the entire apartment complex, I shake at the handle desperately, just to discover that it is locked.

Back pedalling as I fast as I can, I turn to run out of the room, but instead I smash straight into the body of the man chasing me.

“No, no, no” I begin to beg, each cry for mercy louder than the other as I try to back away from him. But I have no where to escape. With one blow he punches me, delivering a blow to my cheek so hard I can feel it swell almost immediately. As I stumble, clutching at my face, he wastes no time wrapping his arms around me, wrangling me to stay still and comply as he begins to drag me away.

All I can do is scream. When I do, the first and only thing that comes out of my mouth is Tyler’s name. It’s all I can say. Its the only thing that comes to my mind. Over and over again I scream, calling out his name. Begging, praying that he can hear me. That he will find me.

My arms and legs lash out maniacally, desperate to cling on to anything that will stop this man from taking me. Stop him from taking me back to my kidnappers. Stop him from taking me to my death. But something else stops him. One single gun shot bursts into air. Not only do I hear it, but I feel it. I feel it fly so close to my face that I can feel it’s hotness on my cheek. But it doesn’t hit me. Instead, my attacker suddenly goes limp. His once suffocating grip on me going completely loose. As he falls, he takes me to the ground with me. We hit the floor with a thud, and the only reason I know I’m not the one whose dead is the fact that I can feel my goddamn ribs pounding even worse than before.

I look up to find Tyler standing in the doorway, his gun pointed at us. As soon as he knows the man is dead he drops his gun to the floor immediately, running over to me. I don’t know what it is, desperation maybe. Complete and utter fear. The fact that he had thought I was about to die. But for some reason when Tyler runs over to me, he scoops me up in his arms and holds me so tightly for a few moments that I can’t breathe. But I don’t care. As I’m enveloped in his arms, I’ve never felt more safe in my life. The sensation is overwhelming I feel like my heavy panting is about to turn into even heavier sobs.

“You’re okay, you’re okay I’ve got you” He chant’s over and over again in my ear, breathing heavily. For the next few moments we forget everything, clinging onto one another desperately. To scared to let go.

He lets go momentarily, but only to move his hands to my face, holding it firmly.

“Are you hurt?” He panics as he scans me up and down, desperation on his face. When his eyes fall over the mark on my face from where I was punched he curses under his breath.

“I’m okay, I’m okay” I nod and he exhales harshly in giant sigh of relief.

“You scared the shit out of me, yeah. Don’t ever scare me like that again” He tells me firmly as he can, but I can hear the poorly hidden shakiness in his voice.

As we stare at each other intensely, I see something I haven’t seen on Tyler’s face yet. Fear. He looks completely terrified. But not just terrified of anything… terrified of losing me… Everything he was saying before, about how he just need’s me for the pay check has gone out the window. No. In this moment, he couldn’t care less about his pay check, and there’s no hiding it. Right now, all he cares about is that I’m alive and safe, and in his arms.

TAGLIST

@hp-hogwartsexpress

@s-v-e-l-t-e

@chickensarentcheap

@alievans007

@gazzan-a

@farihafangirls

190 notes · View notes

petals-and-bullets · 4 years

Text

Clan

Pairing: Izzy x Reader

Word Count: 1327

Info: Anon Request! I was wondering if you could do something where the reader is Duff’s older cousin(she’s around Axl and Izzy’s age).. she’s a doctor and comes and see her baby cousin duff, the boys are over Izzy falls in love. Duff sees that and gets overprotective even though she’s older. Thank you ❤️ A/N: Thank you so much for requesting! Sorry for taking a little longer than anticipated; I hope it’s what you hoped for <3

The McKagan clan weren’t known for their small families – if anything, they were akin to Catholic rabbits. That’s what your mother always said at family gatherings, winking whenever one of your many cousins spluttered in protest at her words. Regardless of the number of family members, it was undeniable that you were all close with each other; and despite claiming to not have favourites, you surely did. Your favourite was most certainly the youngest, that being Duff, as he seemed to be the wild child that you always wanted to be, but never could be due to your determination to join the medical field.

It had been a good few years since the last McKagan gathering, given that most of Duff’s siblings all moved out of state and Duff followed suit, so when you were sent a letter that had the familiar chicken scratch, you couldn’t help but book a week’s holiday with your hospital and drive down to LA to join him. Granted, you were not prepared to be greeted with the squalor and overall disgusting living environment when you walked into the building, but the sight of Duff was enough to make you dismiss it.

“Duff!” You squealed in excitement when the tuft of blonde hair came into view, and you shrieked as he suddenly lifted you and spun you, ignoring the four men he had since abandoned when you walked into the building – there was barely a door there, and Duff had said to just walk in when you arrived. A quick survey of the group allowed you to gauge some form of hierarchy in the group, although your eyes lingered on the thin, dark haired man hunched in the corner of the room. Hazel eyes regarded you with just as much curiosity, before he looked away from you before Duff could notice the pair of you staring at each other.

“I’m so glad you could make it, Y/N! These are the guys I was telling you about,” Duff started to ramble about the rest of the group, but you couldn’t stop staring at Izzy, as you came to realise. Something about him seemed to stand out far more than the rest of the band, and you wanted to know more about him. So while Duff took up most of your time during that week, any spare moments you had was spent with Izzy – learning about his guitar, his childhood, his interests, anything. Hell, when he gave you the number to the store he worked at with his rota on the promise he’d answer if you called during that time, your heart fluttered a few beats faster than usual and you merely smiled and promised you would.

The last day of your visit wound up with you pressed against the wall, Izzy’s hands firmly planted on your waist as his lips travelled from your collarbone to your jaw, a soft whimper escaping from your throat.

“Izzy, it’s cutting it too close. Duff could be back at any second, you know,” you mumbled, although you made no move to push him away. He’d pulled you aside under the guise of needing stitches, and given that you were a doctor, you couldn’t exactly say no to him. And so, there you were, trying your damned hardest to stay quiet while the man peppered kisses across your skin. No wounds in sight. Although, should Duff discover the pair of you, you had a feeling that someone would most certainly need stitches – that someone most likely being Izzy.

“He won’t find out unless you keep talking,” he muttered against your neck, his thumb brushing over your hip before his hand slid under your shirt, and a smirk played at his lips at the soft, high pitched breath you let out in response to the feeling of his cold hands on your stomach.

“Well if you stop trying to get us caught, maybe I’ll stop talking,” you shot back, only to bite your lip as his teeth grazed over your neck again, before he was suddenly yanked away from you, Duff suddenly in front of you and suddenly larger than you seemed to remember.

“The hell do you think you’re doing?” He hissed at Izzy, who was evidently trying to regather his thoughts after suddenly being interrupted.

“Duff, calm down, man,” Izzy began to respond, quirking an annoyed brow when he was interrupted.

“I will not calm down when I just walked in to you fondling my cousin!” Duff hissed, his eyes narrowed as he began to advance on Izzy, only to round sharply on you when you grabbed his arm.

“He wasn’t fondling me, Duff. We’re kissing,” you hissed at him, your eyes narrowed at him before you lifted your hand to shove him away from you. Clearly, Duff hadn’t understood the fact that you were an adult – and a good two years older than him – and was capable of making your own decisions; stupid or not. A tense moment was shared between the two of you as you glared at each other, only for Duff to throw his arms in the air and storm out of the room, profanities thrown over his shoulder before the door cut him off as it slammed closed behind him.

“Well. That went well,” Izzy mused dryly, before he ducked to avoid the playful slap you attempted to send his way in response to his words, a grin plastered on his face.

“Glad to see you’re not seeing the problem with this.”

“Well, it’s either that, or mope about because he’s upset that you’re getting laid while his dick is collecting cobwebs.”

You rolled your eyes at the matter-of-fact tone in his voice before you looked at him, your arms folded over your chest. Evidently Izzy wasn’t going to try and patch the problem in his relationship with Duff yet, and you weren’t willing to fall out with your favourite cousin over a boy – good kisser or not. Unfortunately for you, Duff seemed to pull an Axl and just up and vanished; even the local bars hadn’t seen him, and it was near impossible to track him down before you had to pack up your car and utter a goodbye to Izzy and the rest of the boys.

Just as you started to reverse out of your parking space, something – or someone – ran straight into the back of your car, forcing you to come to a stop and stick your head out of the window, only to let out a breath of relief as Duff’s face came into view from behind your car.

“Duff! The hell are you thinking, running into my car?! Are you trying to get into hospital?” You snapped once your initial shock subsided, sitting back as he stumbled to the front of the car.

“You were the one who reversed without looking! But it doesn’t matter. I just... I wanna say I’m sorry. I should’ve at least heard you two out before going off. But in my defence, you can’t exactly expect me to be perfectly happy with my bandmate and my cousin getting together.”

“I can, actually. Because it’s what happened,” you muttered, before you sighed and rubbed your face, “I can’t stay mad at you. But you need to get over the fact that I’m not some damsel in distress. You just need to deal with it.”

You eventually looked at him, your lips pursed as you considered your next course of action. He looked sorrowful enough to make your resolve crumble a little, and you sighed before getting out of the car to hug him as tight as you could.

“I’m coming back down next month for a convention. Make friends with Izzy again, okay?” You smiled when he nodded, and you clambered back into your car with a warm smile gracing your features.

You just weren’t sure how you’d tell him that Izzy had slapped a ring on you before you could escape LA.

#gnr fic #gnr fanfic #gnr oneshot #guns n roses fanfic #guns n roses fic #guns n roses oneshot #izzy stradlin #izzy stradlin x reader #duff mckagan

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lennydaisy · 4 years

Text

EPIPHANY SERIES // OUTER BANKS // CHAPTER FIVE.

(n.) a moment when you suddenly feel that you understand. or suddenly become conscious of something that is very important to you.

“Care to seize the day, my friend?”

Outer Banks Season 1- FEM OC! and ?

Here is a link to the EPIPHANY SERIES MASTERLIST!

"Come on, hurry up!" I shouted over my shoulder, running as fast as my legs would take me. The overhead birds chirping and singing encouraged me to go faster, looking up as they danced and twirled under the clouds, "We're gonna miss it."

"Macy, wait up!" I heard him yell, but I didn't listen. Dodging in and out of the sun beat trees, welcoming the comforting smell of freshly cut grass. The sight of the warm, orange sky meeting the deep, blue ocean made my eyes shine with wonderous adventure. The hot, summer rays beat down on my exposed arms as the humid air erupts my hair into a frenzy.

Beat sneakers skidded to a stop when I reached the edge of the drop. My chest heaved as I watched stones and dirt fall into the pool of water, scaring away the sparkle of fireflies.

"Since when-" my friend eventually caught up to me. His hands planted on his knees, leaning over with tiredness, puffing in and out air with his cheeks tinted red, "-since when did you get so fast."

I paid the exhausted boy no mind, my eyes never leaving the still oceanfront. We couldn't have missed it. I heard the lady at the dock say at sunset. It's sunset so, where are they?

"What am I supposed to be looking at?" He asked, not understanding why he is here staring at practically nothing. As soon as I had heard the news, I bolted to his place, pushing past his shocked mom who yelled profanities at me as I dragged her son out of the house.

"Shush," I hushed the boy, refusing to give up. The sun was slowly but surely setting in front of us, whilst the winds became nippier. Still, there was no sight of what I had been so excited to show my friend.

A few minutes of silence made my optimism fall quickly, "Let's just go," with slouched shoulder and a petted lip, I turn away from the edge feeling embarrassed, wanting to just get back home, "It doesn't matter."

"Macy, look!" I heard his voice chirp with excitement, Spinning around wondering what could be so exciting about this failed adventure. I followed his crooked finger that points outs at the ocean and the bubbling feeling explodes in my stomach again.

They're here!

In the distance, bobbing out from the waves was a pod of dolphins. There had to be at least ten of them. All making their away east of the sun that sparkles off the tip of their fins.

Now sitting at the edge of the drop, our feet dangling over the water as we watched the amazing creatures. I knew that dolphins were his favourite animal and sadly he had never seen them in person before, and neither had I, until today.

It was magically. With the sun shining its last light for the day, everything just felt peaceful. Turning to the boy beside me whose face is lit up with wonder, "How cool would it be to swim with dolphins," I dreamed, waving the last of the animals away. A feeling on contentment fluttered in my chest.

"That would be pretty cool," he agreed before flicking his eyes over to me, "you can't swim though," he teased, nudging his shoulder into mine.

It's true, I never learned how to swim. It's not that I don't want to, it's just, scary, I guess. We have no clue how big the ocean is. To put it into perspective, we have explored more of outer space than we have on our own planet. That's unsettling! It was hard enough for my dad to get me comfortable enough to go on a boat. The thought of teaching me how to swim was completely out of the picture.

If I did one day decide that I wanted to learn how to swim, my teacher would have to be someone I trust wholeheartedly. Someone who wouldn't give up when I complain. Someone who wouldn't laugh at me when I think I'm sinking. Someone who knows my limits.

I just nodded my head, ducking down timidly at my inability being mentioned. He placed a soft hand on my shoulder, "It's okay, Macy," he comforts, but his fingers slowly grip my shoulder tighter. His nails digging into my skin.

I didn't have time to wince before he said in a harsh tone, "Don't want you to drown like your old man."

And then I was falling.

He pushed me roughly off the edge. My legs scrapped against the tough dirt as my arms flap wildly in the harsh winds that dry up my eyes. I couldn't hear anything other than the sound of his distant laughter. The surface of the water getting closer and closer, as I finally let out a scream.

Jumping awake with a gasp, my hands gripping at my bedsheet tightly. Sweat drips down the bridge of my nose causing me to twitch. I look around. I'm in my room. 'I'm safe,' I remind myself.

Pushing my sheet off me, I didn't even want to remember what happened, but spotting my alcohol cover clothes in the corner of my room floods my mind with the memory. Shaking my head, erasing the thought as I place my bare feet on the cold floorboards, a shiver shooting up my back.

My head is pounding, my eyes feel like they are burning, no thanks to the blinding sun, and my throat feels drier than the dessert. 'I'm never drinking again' I thought but knowing fine well that's a lie.

I make my way out my room, the whole shack radiating nothing, but peaceful silence. John B must still be asleep. My knees shaking with the early morning chill as I make my way to the kitchen with one thought on my mind. Warm lemon tea.

Very Kook sounding I know, but that's because Kie introduced me to it me years ago when I had tonsillitis. I was reluctant to try it, but she practically forced it down my throat and it surprisingly helped me. And it tasted good too.

Since then, Kie gave me an emergency stash of lemon tea. It never tastes as good when I make it, but right now I will do anything to get rid of the stinging in throat.

It took a lot of resilience for me not to rip my throat out as I watched the water boil. The whistle of the kettle sounded like a prayer from God. Pouring the water into my ladybug cup, I can't help but scowl as I look out the window at the relentless rooster that's dancing across the yard. That thing is the devil. I nearly need to give it name so I can swear at it with confidence.

Norris.

Do you know who would like Norris? Mrs Adams. Do you think JJ would notice if I got rid of his beloved rooster? At least I gave it a name, he just calls it rooster-

A gentle knocking coming from the front of the house catches my attention. I go to glance at the clock that is nailed lopsided on the wall but realise it’s no use because I keep forgetting to put new batteries in it. Sipping my tea, I waited for a few minutes to see to if they would knock again.

It's too early for social interactions. The thought of having to talk to some chipper morning person is already giving me a migraine. Humming at the warm sensation in my throat, I stop peering around the corner and decided to make myself comfortable. It's my house. They'll just have to go away.

"It's the Sheriff, open up," the sudden voice of Peterkin’s causing me to choke on my drink, wincing as my knee smashes into the cabinet. Throwing my cup in the sink, ignoring the smashing sound as I quickly grab the trash can, running around the house in a fit of coughs, picking up the empty beer bottles, "No one's home!"

"The DCS called," I let out a scream, spinning around to see the woman now standing in our living room, "They want me to check on you," she said, eyeing the half-smoked blunt that was laying on the table.

Trying to hide my discomfort at the officer in my house, I force a smile onto my face, "Well I'm here," I hold out an arm, trying to lead her out the door, "Thanks for stopping by."

I can already she's far from done with me as my attempt to usher her out failed. Peterkins who has had a curious eye on the house since she entered, spots the picture that is hanging on the wall, "Is that Uncle T?" she asks, but I know what she's trying to do, "How's he been."

"He's uh," I clear my throat, picking at my hangnails, feeling pressured under her gaze, "Can I wake up my lawyer before I answer any questions?"

Running past the officer, I bolt into John B's room. The boy was still fast asleep, lying at the foot of his bed. I would have winced at the shiner on his eye, but I have no time. "John B," I shake him harshly. He just waves a hand tiredly in my direction, humming, before turning over away from me.

"John B," I whine harshly, "Peterkins is here, please get up. She scares me," I admit, smacking him with a pillow. At the mention of Peterkins, John B shoots up, wiping his drool on the back of his hand and attempts to make himself look like a normal, law-abiding citizen.

Stopping at the entrance of his door, he turns to look at me. I could see what he was asking me. He wants me to go first. No way. I shake my head at the boy, pushing him into the hallway first. Did he just ignore me confessing that the lady scares me? She always looks like she knows something and that because she knows everything. That's how she gets you.

Peering over John B shoulder, I spot Peterkins shuffling through the pile of letters that we have dumped on the counter. I would have pulled her up for raiding through our personal detail, but again- she terrifies me. And also, the amount of empty beer bottles that are scattered around the place is concerning.

I grab a bottle of the cabinet and pass it to John B with stern eyes. Understanding, he greets Peterkins picking up bottles as he goes along, "Peterkins. How nice of you to stop by."

"How you been John B?" she asks, getting straight to the point, "besides the-," pointing at his eye.

"I'm fantastic," he claims, eventually stuttering out an answer, the ladies early morning appearance shaking him up. "Thanks for stopping by," he excuses her as I rush over to the door, holding it open for her.

"Am glad to hear that," she muses, hat in her hands as she blatantly ignores my kind gesture. She really can't take a hint. "However, I've heard a few things that worried me. Let's see if you two can help me out."

Oh boy.

I let go of the door, knowing that she won't be leaving anytime soon. Listening to the list of worries she has; I walk around the house trying to hide any evidence that she could use against us. "One thing I heard was that your Uncle T, your guardian, has been out of state for three months."

"You think we could survive for three months on our own?" I laugh, trying not to wither under her gaze, "With his cooking, we'd be dead in a week," I point at my brother who turns to me with a look of insult and betrayal.

"As if you're any better, Miss 'can I put tins in the microwave'," He outs me, not wanting to be the only one under fire. And yes, I did put a tinned can in the microwave, but it wasn't that big of a deal, just don't try it at home. I mean it.

"It was one time!"

"The microwave exploded!"

"And we got a new one. Minor details, John B."

Clearing her throat to interrupt our argument, "Give up the act, I called the school," she stated, now leaning against the wall, sheet of paper in hand, "You guys use to be good students, now you're falling all your classes," she flashes the report card she is holding to us as evidence.

Looking at the card all I see is a long line of C's and D's. Her evidence holds nothing against me though. That's John B report card. I was smart enough to shred mine before I even got home.

"Actually, only Johnny boy is failing all his classes-" I start, John B butting in, "-No. Only history, the guys a dick, he's got it out for me," I nod my head understandingly at the boy, placing a hand on his shoulder, "I, however, am a model student. Straight A's"

"Expect for home economics?" she questions smartly, raining on my parade. I didn't have anything to say to that, just pulling a face which probably gives her the answer.

"I also heard there was a fight on the beach yesterday," I bit my lip, finally understanding why she's here. I move to sit on the couch, knowing I was in for the long haul, "and a gun was involved."

Did he really run and tell the police?

"Okay," John B huffs, shaking his head in disappointment, "Did I get in a dustup?" He asks and points his finger at me to answer for him, acting like we were on a game show

"Yes," I nod my head in excitement, smiling brightly when he holds his thumb up confirming my answer. Moving swiftly onto the next question, "But was there a gun?" he asks, acting out like it was a scenario I suppose to play out in my head.

I tap my chin, pretend to think, "Nope, that would make sense," I dwell before crossing fingers, saying my answer, "No."

"Is that your final answer?" John B sits down next to me, hold out the imaginary microphone. You could feel the anticipation rising, along with Peterkin patience, "Yes!" I confirm.

"Congratulation Miss Routledge!" he announces, "You've just won an all exclusive trip to The Bahamas," revelling my award as I wipe away the pretend tears, sniffling with happiness, fully prepared to give my thank you speech.

"I know who it was," she deadpans, ruining my moment, forcing me back to reality, "and I'll get to him."

"All I care about is makin' sure you're in a safe home," she continues, and I see the look in her eye. She thinks we're lost causes. That's a bit harsh, true, but harsh.

"We are in a safe home," I confirm, reaching over to pull the string of the light that was left on from the night before. In a blink of an eye, the blub blows out, short-circuiting with a sharp spark as the drawstring snaps from the lamp, "Super safe."

"And sturdy," John B adds, "besides, Uncle T's coming back," he says in a matter of fact, knowing that's what Peterkins would want to hear.

"Is that what they told you?" She muses but looks at me, already knowing what John Bs answer would be. I glance quickly at my brother, "Yes," I confirm, trying to act nonchalant.

"If he's coming, I think you should be allowed to stay," she shrugs, taking our side as John B and I nod at her, "Thank you."

It feels like the whole world is against John B and I. We're always wrong. We're always looked done on because we're Pogues. We're always pitted because our dad is missing. I want to believe that Sheriff Peterkins is truly on our team for once, but I can feel a strong meaning coming with her agreement.

"But if I stick my neck out for you," 'there it is' I thought, "you have to help me. Tit for tat."

"What does tat mean?" John B asks confused. What I'm more confused about is how did I end up with such a dumb twin. I'm the brains and he's the brawn, I guess?

"She wants something in return," I define the phrase for him. It's a bit corrupt if you ask me. She is basically acknowledging the fact we did something wrong but is willing to kick that under the rug for any information that we might have.

Pointing her finger at me, "Your 'A' in English is showing," she says before falling serious again, "A body was found in the marsh yesterday. Were you in the marsh yesterday?"

"Yeah," I confirm, seeing no point in lying about it, "we went fishing."

"You catch anything?" she asks, suspicion radiating of her voice as she leans against the wall in front of us. I feel like I'm being interrogated. I am being interrogated.

"Nah, we were skunked," Peterkins just laughs under her breath at John Bs reply, "Strange. Fishing's usually good after a storm. All sorts of things get stirred up."

I know where this is going. Scooter Grubbs body was found yesterday morning, but there was no sign of the boat that he supposedly left on. I'm assuming the still haven't found it, that's why Peterkins is here. Of course, she'd question us. With a background that is filled with trouble, it always finds a way into our lives. It wouldn't be a stretch to assume we knew something.

"You come across a wreck yesterday?"

The sheriff sigh as John B and I both shake our heads at her question, "The pair of you are just skimming above the surface," she starts, her patience completely gone, "now, down here is foster care, juvie," she lists off as I watch her twirling finger. My stomach churning at the mention of foster care.

"Pretty big drop for smart kids like you," she compliments, continuing of her sentiment, "Up here is you and your little friends doing whatever you want." I like it up there.

"Outer Banks," she weights in one hand with a soft voice, "or foster care on the mainland," her tone changing at the other option.

It hard to imagines that one singular event led up to all this. After dad went missing our life has just been a downwards spiral. Everything that Peterkin had said is true. John B and I used to be good students. We never missed a paper, or even dared to skip class. Fair we're friends with JJ, but we knew that dad wanted us to have a good future. I'd hate to know if we've disappointed him.

"You are one inch above the surface," she stresses, knowing that she is getting to us, "If I were you, I'd start flapping my wings."

We've had too many close calls. How many more can we have?

"Now, you sure you didn't come across a wreck yesterday?"

"We're sure."

Hopefully one more.

"It's better if you didn't, you understand?" she crouches down, placing a hand on both our knee's, her eyes not flickering, "I'm going to look the other way, as long as you two stay out of the marsh."

I bit my lip, listening to her footsteps heading toward the door. My body finally relaxing, realising she was leaving. "I've got dogs livin' better than this," she insults. Eyes snapping up when the sound of an empty bottle crashes into the overflowing bin, "You might want to think about cleanin' up."

When I was younger, I wanted to be a princess. I wanted to live in a big castle, with the most luxurious ballroom that would hold the biggest and best events of the year, and a huge kitchen with a countless number of chefs and bakers.

I dreamed of swirling dresses and pointed shoes. Dragons and dashing knights. True loves kiss and happily ever after. I would be friends with all the animals. I would have a Fairy God Mother. I would have anything I wanted.

My life would be the perfect fantasy.

The closest I've been to a princess is the one time JJ called me it, and I immediately told him to never do it again. Not because I didn't like it. It just scared me. My whole life I've wanted to be a princess and I like to believe that I know what it takes to be one. I'm not a princess. I don't feel like one.

A princess should never feel the way I feel.

"Watcha doin' out here by yourself?" I hear a voice call out. Turning my head, watching as Pope made is way over to the hammock that I'm occupying. Moving over slightly, I make room for him at the other end.

"Oh y' know, scheming," I joke, looking at the boy who makes himself comfortable. After two minutes of huffing and puffing, he eventually settles into the hammock. My eye catches the thick book that he has held in his hand, "What you reading?"

"Just some autobiography I found in the library," he shrugs like it’s no big deal. The book he's holding had to be at least 600 pages. I don't think I've read 600 pages of anything in my entire life, but this boy could probably read it all in one night. Also, we have a library?

"For my scholarship entry paper, they want me to write 6,000 words about myself and what I intend to do over the summer," I can tell by the tone of his voice that he is not looking forward to writing that and I wouldn't either.

"My name is Pope Heyward," I start, trying my best to mimic Pope's voice, "I have an obsession with dead bodies and this summer I plan to go grave digging-" he kicks his foot against my shoulder as I giggle at the disapproving face.

"It isn't an AA meeting"

"No, but it should be," I shove this foot away from me, "you really have a problem."

Whacking my knee with his ten-ton book, he urges me to stop talking, "With violence!" I exclaim, holding my kneecap with wide eyes. Pope just shakes his head at my dramatics, a small smile covering his face.

"Macy, this is serious," he huffs, "I have no idea what to write."

"Why don't you volunteer at like a youth group or something?" I suggest, now giving him serious ideas. I don't like seeing Pope stressed and I can tell that this scholarship means a lot to him. I might not be the best at advice, but I want to help him, "You can teach them how to dance?"

"Not happening," he deadpans, but I'm not taking no as an answer. Pope is the best dancer I know. I've asked him multiple times to teach me, but every time he declines, stating he 'Can't Dance'. If he can't dance, then what does that say about my dancing ability?

Jumping out of the hammock, I hold my hand out for Pope to take. I shake my hand wanting him to grab it, my eyebrows wiggling, "Come on Pope."

"No," but I didn't listen, reaching for his hand to pull him gracefully out of the hammock. I ignore his objections and helping him back onto his feet, taking both of his hands in mine.

Obnoxiously, I sing a cliché ballroom waltzing song, gliding around the grass with Pope. Pushing and pulling. Spinning and twirling. Both of us red-faced with cramping stomachs, stumbling over each other's toes.

For the first time today, I felt happy. After the mess this morning with Peterkins, John B and I have been in a stumper on mood. She really did rain on our parade. I know that she is only looking out for us, but it just feels forced. Right now, despite the slight overcast that is clouding the Outer Banks, I feel warm and peaceful.

I could feel my eyes shining with childish innocence, as I dragged Pope in circles around the hammock. I was having fun with my best friend.

The clearing of someone's throat caught my attention, halting me from twirling under Pope's arm. He was finally giving in, actually enjoying the silly dance. My hands still clasped tightly in Pope's, I look over to see JJ standing a few feet away, his expression unreadable.

"John B's back, let's go," he says quickly and walks away even quicker. Exchanging a look with Pope, both of us not sure what's up with our friend, we just shrug. It's probably just one of his moods.

Following JJ onto the HMS Pogue, I sit down at the bow of the boat, minding my step as I leap over the gas canisters. JJ had somehow convinced John B to steal from our boss, Ward Cameron. It felt wrong and that's because it is wrong.

I didn't want to agree with JJ, but in some twisted way, he was right. You never see rich kids going to foster care. And with the way, Peterkins was threatening us to not go near the marsh, it means she knows something. Something is down there in that wreck, and we have to be the first one to find out what it is.

Dad used to say that the OBX is America on steroids. You have your haves and have-nots, just multiplied. It's a rigged system we have here. One that makes the rich richer and poor poorer. And with no dad and no money, John B and I have no chance in life. Unless we make it on our own, away from the system.

Since Scooter body was found in the marsh yesterday, the whole body of water that surrounds the island just gives me a bad vibe. Maybe cause it sunset, and the winds are getting nippier or maybe I'm just freaked out because someone died. I don't know. But what I do know this that the marsh is the last place I want to be right now.

"This is empty," Kie complains, looking at my brother who is sitting beside her, "you took empty cans?"

"This one's a quarter full," I say before John B could interrupt, but even at that Kie still complains, "That's only enough for one of us."

"Do any of you even know who to dive?" I ask, moving to sit beside Pope at the wheel. I feel like this question should have been answered before we stole from my boss, but when do we ever think anything through. What I am saying is that there is no way that I am getting in that water, let alone diving down into a dead guys wreck.

"It's kinda a Kook sport," JJ finally answers after pointing back and forward with John B.

"I've read about it."

"Great, Pope read about it, so someone's gonna die," Kie nod sarcastically at her friends comment. I mean out of everyone here, Pope reading about it is more than what anyone else on this boat know. The boy next to me just looks out into the marsh, embarrassed after Kie comment. Placing a hand on his knee, I send him a smile hoping to cheer him up.

"Look, you put the thing in your mouth and breathe," JJ reasons, not understanding that there is more to diving than that.

"Well, if you come up too fast, nitrogen gets into your blood," Pope begins to inform us as I wince at the information, "and you get the bends."

JJ, still not understand what Pope is talking about, he holds onto the pole in front of him and bends over in a laughable position, "Bends like," he strains his voice as his back cracks, "bend over and-"

"The bends kill you."

"Right."

"I can dive," John B announces confidently, but the tone of his voice is telling me another story. Watching JJ nod in agreement with a John B, he's only happy because it's not him that has to go down there.

"No, you can't," I object looking at my brother, "remember that one-time dad took you snorkelling, and you got a nosebleed," I start laughing, remember that day like it was yesterday.

The local pool had just officially opened, and they had an arrange of clubs for the kids on the island to sign up to. One of them being snorkelling. John B was stoked, claim that he had always wanted to snorkel despite never mention it once in his 6 years of living.

I was just peaceful eating my doughnut, watching as the kids my age flapped around in the average-sized pool. Two seconds later, however, they were all screaming and running for the hills except for John B. Not understanding why all his new friends had run away in terror until he saw the crimson colour that danced around in the water.

The entire building had to be evacuated, so the pool could get cleaned. Let's just say that John B never went back to snorkelling club. One good thing came out of that day however, my doughnut. I've never had one like that since.

"I was 6," he argues, still looking determined as ever, "I'll do it," he says.

"Let me do some calculations real quick," Pope says, ripping a page out of his book, pulling a pen out of fine air. He began to write, "So, that boat's about 30 feet down. So, it will take 25 minutes at that depth. Which means you need to make your safety cheek at about ten feet. For two minutes."

I look at Pope calculation in wonder, is this what I missed out on in the Math Team. John B was trying his best to remember all the information that Pope was throwing at him. I glad he's taking it seriously; I don't want my brother to get the bends. I don't have enough money for a medical bill.

The movement of Kie taking off her shirt caught all our attention. All of us watching with confused eyes as she jumps off the boat, into the marsh, "What was that all about?" John B asks.

"I don't know," JJ wonders before looking at me, "but I like it. A lot."

Why is he looking at me?

"Me too," I admit, moving over to the scuba gear, wanting to help John B get it on. Turning around, all I'm met with was curious eyes, "What?" I question, not understanding the sudden silence.

John B just shakes his head, moving towards me to put on the gear. Helping secure the tank to his back, JJ finally speaks up again, "When you're down there, you look for the cargo hold," he explains and holds out a small key, "You stick this thing inside and twist and pull, okay?"

"Stick in, twist, pull."

"Hey!" a voice call out from the water, "I tied my shirt to the anchor chain about ten feet down," Kie says, John B just looking at the girl confused, "It's where you need to do your safety stop," she explains like she's talking to a child. To be fair he does act like one sometimes.

Making sure he is strapped in properly, I grab the monitor attached to the tanks, "Please keep an eye one this Johnny B," I say, showing him how much air, he has, "You need to have enough air to decompress."

John B just looks at me worried, but I place a comforting hand on his shoulder, "You'll be fine," I reassure, "Just don't breathe a lot."

I move to stand beside JJ, just for him to move away from me, 'What is up with him?' "Think zen, you know?" JJ suggests with exaggerated breaths, showing what zen mines in his mind.

Sitting at the control of the boat, my knees resting against the panel, I watch Kie march her way over to my brother. Thinking she was going to tell him he's stupid, I prepare myself for the show, but when she kisses him on the cheek I almost vomit. What? Since when was this a mutual thing?

Sharing glances with Pope and JJ, I see that they're just as confused, both their faces scrunched up at the affection.

"Diver down?"

"Diver down."

Watching as John B jumps down into the marsh, I salute him, "Diver down," I try to smile but I have that feeling in my stomach. Somethings not right.

Once John B was fully submerged by the marsh, the boat fell into an awkward and suspenseful silence. What is wrong with everyone? Kie's sitting at the edge of the boat, probably worrying about John B. Pope is staring intently over her shoulder doing the same. But JJ. JJ is standing at the back of the boat, playing with his rings. He hasn't looked, let alone spoke to me since John B got back.

"What's up with you?" I finally asked, his abnormal silence being unsettling to me. Nothing changes, he just continues to ignore me, clearly finding his hands more interesting than talking to me.

"What's wrong?" I ask again, but the blonde just shake his head, "It's clearly something, you're ignoring me." I stop beating around the bush. Even when JJ is in one of his moods, he still finds it in himself to talk to me and tell me what wrong, but today I can't tell what's got him in such a bad mood.

"It's nothing," he snaps, now looking at me with nothing but anger flaring in his eyes, "Just drop it, Mason."

Mason. What happened to May?

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I spin around, my back facing him. Looking up I earn looks from Kie and Pope which I just shake my head at. Turning my eyes towards the marsh, just wanting John B to come back.

The altering whoop of a siren breaks through the tense air. Coming our way in a rubber boat is two cops. Shit.

"Guys, that's the police," JJ points out what everyone can see.

"Yeah, no shit" I snarl at the boy, trying to move from my spot as subtle as possible, "Guy I'm not supposed to be on the marsh," I whisper, peering over the steering wheel at the cops that are slowly approaching.

Cursing under her breath, Kie grabs my arm and moves me to the edge of the boat, "Hide under the boat," she says before helping me lightly dip into the water, not wanting to cause an obvious ripple.

The warm water usually feeling comforting, now feels completely disgusting. A man died like two feet away from where I'm floating. Trying to block the thought from my memory, I squeeze my eye close and pinch my nose before ducking fully under the boat.

It's not a secret that I'm not the best swimmer, I only learned properly a few years ago. And even at that, I don't actively enjoy diving into open banks of water just for fun. I know that this moment it's detrimental that I don't get caught. Peterkins has probably told every cop on the island about our talk this morning, and I'm not about to get caught. Especially by Shoupe, whose voice I can hear above the surface.

"So, where's trouble?"

"Who?"

"Mason. Don't you guys usually hang out with her?"

Kind of like John Bs relationship with Peterkins, I have a similar one with Shoupe. Not by choice. He just happens to be the cop that always catches me. I don't do it on purpose and besides the last big thing that Shoupe had to turn me in for was the Komodo Dragons. Everything after that has just been minor inconveniences. Naturally earning me the nickname of trouble.

I've never been in a cell before, and I don't ever plan to be put in one either. It's just- when you live the way we do; you have to find your own fun. For example, what we are doing right now. It not exactly breaking the law, but it's not in line with their code of conduct. Also, I don't think Shoupe has the heart to put me in a cell. He might joke about it, at least I hope he's joking, but he would never actually do it. He has a bit of a soft spot for me, especially after my dad went missing.

The constant need to kick my feet in order to stay afloat is starting to take its toll on me. My legs are numb, the hand that I have gripping the bottom of the boat is slipping and I don't know how much longer I can hold my breath for.

Trying to push past my dizziness and ignoring the tiredness that is trying to take over my body, I hear Shoupe's protruding voice speak again, "Beautiful day."

Thinking is wasting too much of my running low energy, but when I hear the engine of the other boat start up again, a wave of relief rushing over me. Watching as the air bubbles push their way through the marsh water, the shadow of the boat getting further and further away.

Using the last of my energy, I swim up towards the surface, my lungs squeeze under the pressure of no air. As soon as I broke the tension of the water and breathed in the warm evening air, a rush of relaxation floods my body.

Floating on my back, I hear the relief coming from my friends, "May, are you okay?" I hear JJ ask, but I only care about one person right now.

"Where's John B?" I begin to panic, realising that my brother hasn't come up yet. He definitely ran out of air. With erratic eyes, I skim the marsh looking for a single sign of where he is, "Where is he."

Seeing the ripples in the water, I swim tirelessly towards them. Watching as John B emerges from the surface again, I let out a sound of relief, "Don't scare me like that, you idiot," I splash water in his direction.

"Did you find anything?" JJ asks John B, running to the back of the boat. Letting me go up first, I except the hand that JJ is holding out for me. I give him a small smile before making my way over to Kie how had her arms open for me.

My teeth chittering cause me to hold the girl tighter, my chin resting on her shoulder, trying to steal her body heat. Looking towards the setting sun, watching as the gulls dive for fish, I notice something come towards us. Squinting at the sight, I quickly realise it was another boat.

"Hey, guy? Boogie, two o'clock," I announce, moving away from Kie to get a closet look, halting the cheering of John B's finding, that was going on behind me.

"Do you recognise that boat?" Pope throws out the hopeful question. Shaking my head, noting that I have never seen it before, "What are they doing here? The marsh is closed"

"Let not stick around to find out," JJ concludes, not liking the idea of another boat being on the marsh. It a bit hypocritical of us to judge anyone who didn't listen to the sheriff's rules, but I really don't like the look of the two men that are making their way t over to us.

"JJ, help me with this," I ask, rushing over to the bowline, pulling up the anchor with the help of the boy, "Don't wait for us. Just go," I urge John B to start driving, not wanting to meet the figure on the boat.

"I got it," I hear JJ whisper, taking the wet anchor out of my hands after noticing I was struggling to hold it.

"Maybe they're fishing," I hear Pope wish as I run over to John B, throwing a quick glance over my shoulder, "Or maybe they're following us," I suggest, more like state the truth noticing that the boat was tailing us out of the marsh.

"John B, please go faster," Kie begs, not happy with the pacing of our boat, "I'm going! Act natural."

Looking back at the men on the boat, them being a good 20 feet away now allows me to see their faces more clearly. There is something oddly familiar about their brawniness. Both wearing all black, a bad choice in the Outer Banks if you ask me. Both very scruffy-looking, with uncut hair and beards that need a serious trim.

The smaller of the two reaches down for something just out of my sight. But when he stands back up, I knew what it was right away, "Get down," my timing just on the beat as he takes his first shot.

Grabbing the person closest to me, I pull them down to the deck, our backs pressed against the floor. My hand clasped tightly over my ears, I turn to my left to see JJ laying close to me, "You good?" he shouts over the sound of the amplified engine. Going to nod my head, but I get interrupted by another shot being aimed in our direction.

Pressing myself further against the floor, I watched as Kie runs to the back of the boat, "Kie get down," I shout, as another shot is fired at us. Watching with a wary eye as Kie grabs the old fish tangled fishnets, wobbling over to the edge. Shots still continuously coming our way, before Kie throwing the net with force into the water.

The sound of the net getting tangled in our follower's engine brings a wave of relief through my body. Pushing myself back onto my feet, I look back at the two men now stuck in the marsh. Definitely familiar. John B didn't slow down, turning the boat just in time around the bend before another shot could land.

"Oh my God!" Kie laughs out, running her hands throw her hair, "That was insane."

"Pogue life, man," JJ cheers, raising both arm over his head. Understanding the feeling, I sit down on the edge of the boat, my heart beating wildly in my chest. I can't believe we were just in a boat race being shoot at.

The ride back home was filled with adrenaline and giggles. All of us felt on top of the world. Like no one could stop us. But I still can't shake away the fact that those two men looked familiar. They definitely weren't from here, from their stance to them shot a gun at a group of kids on a boat. It just doesn't feel right.

I hadn't even realised that we had pulled up to the dock until I felt a tap on my shoulder. The marsh was now shining a deep blue. An unsettling feeling coming from the sudden overcast that roamed above us. Shake my daydream away, I go to step off the boat, but a hand circling my wrist stops me.

"I'm sorry for back there-" JJ apologises, scratching the back of his neck, struggling to keep steady eye contact with me, "-I was, uh, y' know, uh."

Wanting to hear what he was going to say, I try my best to keep the smile that I can feeling creeping on my face away. Raising my eyebrows at the boy, wanting him to continue. For some reason watching the usually cocky JJ stutter over his word is very entertaining and endearing to witness. I don't know why whatever happened back on the marsh happened, but with the way JJ is struggling to splutter out an apologue, gives he the feeling he doesn't either.

"I'm sorry," he manages to say again, letting out a rigid breath.

Against popular belief, JJ and I have never fallen out. Never had a serious argument. Never had any sort of conflict between us. Our friendship has always been smooth sailing. Sure, we've had disagreements, but it ends at that.

With a personality as strong as JJ's, you are bound to but heads sometimes. He does stupid shit, and I've told him this. But does that stop him? No. It often just leads to him pulling me down with him. And I'm not complaining.

JJ and I are very similar but also completely different. We complement and contract with each other. I know his limits and he knows mine. I know what a typical JJ thing to do is and JJ knows what a typical Mason thing to do is.

We might but heads sometimes and tease each other, but JJ genuinely blow up in my face earlier and it was different. I didn't like it. JJ has always been on my side. I like to believe that we have a relationship where we can tell each other anything. If he isn't comfortable with telling me what had him so stressed back on the boat, then that's fine. I won't push him. He doesn't have to tell me everything. I'm just happy he apologised.

My silence must have been unsettling for him, watching as he picks at the edge of his t-shirt, "So, we good?" he asks, his voice sounding as uneven as his thoughts.

"I'll think about it," I tease, blinking innocently at the boy. A small smile creeping onto his face, knowing that we're cool now. Looking over at the dock, I spot, John B, Pope and Kie all waiting for us, "Race ya'" I laugh, darting off the boat, running as fast as I can up the dock.

"That's so not fair," I hear him yell from behind me, the sound of his feet pounding of the deck pushing me to run faster.

"Beat you," I cheer triumphantly, giggling at him when he eventually caught up. "That because you cheated," he whines, flicking me on the nose causing me to push him away slightly. A smile permanent on my face when I feel JJ wrap an arm around my shoulder.

All standing around John B who had placed the black duffle bag from the boat onto the deck, we eagerly watching him unzip the bag, "What do you guys think it is?" Kie asks, excitement still lacing her voice.

"Gotta be money, right?"

"If it's not imma be pissed."

"Could be a couple of keys with street value of a low- to mid-mils!"

We all let out our expectations, the atmosphere high, "Can we please just open the bag!" Pope snaps, our cheerfulness coming to a sudden halt. Shocked by the outburst.

"Wow, Pope," John B gaps, looking up at the boy with impressed eyes, "That's a rare outburst of emotion."

"Yeah, something you want to talk about, Pope?" I ask, false sympathy radiating from my tone as I joke with him.

"You guys are literally killing me with anticipation," Pope whines, his eyes screaming with his pleas, "Open the bag."

I can't argue with his anticipation, almost want to rip the back out of John B hands. How long does it take for someone to unzip a bag?

Finally, John B pulls something out of the dripping wet bag. Another bag. Untying the smaller bag, a silver time capsule falls into his hands. Twisting of the secure cap, the excitement leads me to lean forward, wanting to see what we had almost risked our lives for. It better be worth it.

My gaze softens when I see what lays in John B hands. Kneeling down beside him, I gently take it from his hands, pressing the button delicately, watching at the lid pops open. Ignore the complaints that I hear coming from my friends, I turn to John B, looking for any sign that what we have is what I think it is.

It is.

"What? It's not worth anything."

"This was our fathers."

It was my father's compass.

Chapter Five: FIN!

Ummmmm Hi again... I don’t know if anyone still cares for this fic but I’ve had this in my draft for months and I kinda want to start this back up again because writing the first few chapters geniunely made me so happy and I want to feel that again, so yeah... surprise!

Mason and Pope are cute don’t you think. I want her to have good relationship with all the characters and I want to show that and not just tell, so expect flashbacks and fluffy moments from baby pogues.

I loved writing the scene with Peterkins and the twins, I wanted to show you their dymanic and playfulness especially since I have a rocky future planned for them...

What did you think?

I hope you enjoyed this long-awaited chapter <3

I’m going to start my taglist again, so if you’d like to be tag in future chapters just let me know and I will for sure do that!

Lots of love,

Daisy <3

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buckitybarnes · 5 years

Text

Not So Big and Bad [Bucky & F!Child]

Summary: Storytime with Uncle Sammy goes awry, but luckily, Bucky can win this child over fairly easily.

Warnings/Themes: a tiny bit of Angst, fluff, humor, profanity, child (NO PEDOPHILIC THEMES)

Author’s Note: Hey how’s it going have a thing

Last Chapter

–

"Once upon a time, there was a little girl. We'll call her Lil' Red. She was off to see her grandma with a basket of goodies."

Sam's excited face falls when Steve raises a hand in the audience.

"What kind of goodies?"

The little girl sitting on his lap mimics him, nodding her head. "Yeah, what kind?"

Sam chooses to glare at Steve. "Cookies, now stop interrupting the story."

Steve bounces the girl in his arms and smirks. "What kinda cookies?"

Yet again, the child pipes up. "Yeah, Uncle Sam! What kind?" When her smile grows, Sam feels his own lips tug upwards. He shakes his head in exasperation. “The tooth-rotting sugary kind,” he states.

“Uncle Sam?” she interrupts once more.

“Yeah, Sweetpea?”

“Can I be her?”

Sam laughs and Steve joins in. “Of course you can, Lil’ Red,” the blonde encourages. He clears his throat, and despite Sam’s warning glare, continues the story.

“Red walked through the dark woods, her basket in hand. She was a little scared, but you know what?”

“What?” the little girl asks, tightening her fuzzy red blanket around her shoulders. She giggles when Sam hands her a basket used last year for Easter.

“She had a lot more courage,” Sam answers, a gap-toothed grin on his face. “And she was going through those woods no matter what.”

Her mouth gapes in understanding. ‘Courage’ was a vocab word used during her class yesterday. It means strong. Brave. She wanted to be that. She grips her makeshift cape in anticipation, sitting up a little straighter.

“While she walked, she hears a noise from the bushes,” Sam shakes her homework, causing the paper to ‘woosh’ through the air.

“Nice bush noises,” Steve mumbles.

“Shut up, Cap. Anyway, she walked a little faster, but the further into the woods she goes, the louder that sound gets.”

The girl purses her lips deep in thought. Who could it be? What would they want with this poor, innocent young girl? Steve nudges her. “Who do you think it is?” he asks.

She’s heard this story before, of course, Sam tells it every now and then and it was her absolute favorite. “The wolf!”

“That’s right,” Sam assures. “The Big Bad Wolf --”

Just as he finishes his sentence, the door swings open, nearly knocking him over. He grunts, twisting his head around to see Bucky.

The little girl shrieks in surprise, causing Steve to snort and Bucky to be taken aback. When he recovers, he nervously juggles his weight from one foot to the other.

“Hey, sorry. I heard that Steve was here and I wanted to know if he could help me with --”

“It’s the Wolf!” Sam shouts, feigning absolute disgust. He ignores Bucky’s eyeroll and dives for the girl. “Don’t worry, Red, I’ll protect you from him!”

Believing everything that Sam says, the girl gasps and hides behind the man, pointing an accusing finger in Bucky’s direction. “No!! He’s gonna eat me!”

“Yeah...okay,” Bucky deadpans. Frankly, his mood dropped when he hears this. Of course Sam would have you believe he was a monster.

Sure, it was all in jest, but Bucky feels bitter about it. After all, he’d been avoiding the girl since her arrival for this very reason. He remembers when she first came, being the daughter of Pepper’s good friend (who unfortunately got killed during a messy mission). He didn’t want another person to fear him, not while he can help it. So when she stares at him in horror, a part of him dies on the inside.

“Don’t worry, I was just leaving,” he grumbles, storming out the door.

Steve sighs heavily, giving Sam that look -- the trademark Captain look. “Buck, wait up, he was joking!” he calls out, shifting you away from his lap. Before he exits completely, he turns and smiles apologetically. “Sorry to cut story time short, Little Miss Red.”

Despite all the attention focused on her, she can’t help but stare after the doorway. This was the first time she talked to Bucky, and well, frankly, she feels like the bad wolf in this situation, yelling at him and causing him to run away. Her bottom lip wobbles as she tries to hold back tears.

She really just wanted friends. After her mother died...well…

Sam knows the look and gestures for Steve to close the door. When it’s just him and the girl, he picks her up and sets her onto her bed. “Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” he mumbles softly.

“Does he hate me now?” she asks.

Sam shakes his head and tucks her in. “No one could ever hate you, Baby Girl.” He kisses her on the forehead and turns on her night light. “Goodnight, Red.”

“Night Uncle Sammy,” she says with little-to-no enthusiasm.

---

The night drags on and the little girl can’t help but toss and turn. Sometimes she had nightmares. Nightmares about her mother leaving. Nightmares of being alone. Nightmares, that whenever she tries to describe to her uncle Sam, she could never find the right words. Tony joked about her growing up to be an ‘insomniac’ just like him, and she has yet found out what that meant.

She sighs and decides there isn’t any use trying to sleep. It won’t come, and she can’t fight it. So, instead, she hops out of bed, stuffs her little feet in plush slippers, and ventures out of her room.

She doesn’t know where she’s going. She doesn’t really care. She just needs somewhere to be, something to do. Out of all children in the world, she’s the most restless.

A light down the hallway attracts her like a moth to a flame. She follows it, hugging herself. No one seems to be up at this hour, save for herself and this stranger in the kitchen.

“Hello?” she calls out softly, peering in from around the corner. She jumps a bit at the sight of Bucky, who had already been staring at the doorway as if anticipating her.

He almost waits for her to leave, to run away in fear, but she remains where she is in wonder. "What're you doing here, Little Red? It's 11 O' Clock," he says, trying to speak as gently as he can, but his throat is scratchy from crying in his sleep. He too had stepped out of his room to explore, and when he reached the kitchen, decided to raid the pantry for his favorite snacks. He planned on eating it all while sitting underneath the stars tonight.

With wide and curious eyes, she stares at the stash in his hands, her mouth slightly agape. She notices that he’s holding a bunch of stuff that could give an ordinary person diabetes. Cookies, candy, a slice of cheesecake in a plastic container, and then some. Her grubby little fingers were ready to snatch.

"Cookie," was all that slipped past her lips.

If Bucky knew that a sweet treat would get the little girl to warm up to him, he sure would've given her a box sooner. She was absolutely adorable up close.

Pretending to look around for Mother Hen, he drops his loot onto the counter and shoves a hand into the plastic jar. He wouldn't care if Sam berated him anyway. "Just one."

"Two."

Bucky's eyebrows scrunch together in disbelief. "One," he says more firmly.

"One and a half."

Bucky stifles a snort and shrugs his shoulders. "Fine, but it's coming outta your paycheck. Here's one --" he hands her a big round disc of chocolate chip then breaks another and holds it out to her free hand which takes it in an instant, even with the first cookie already halfway stuffed into her mouth. "And...one half."

When she smirks around her first treat, Bucky realizes he'd been swindled by a damn toddler. She probably couldn't finish the other half anyway.

"Who the hell -- heck taught you how to haggle like that?"

"What's haddle mean?"

From the impish look behind her gaze, Bucky can almost believe she was playing dumb. Oh, she was good. He liked her. She was like Sam’s prodigy and he wasn’t sure if he was ready for two little shitheads in this compound.

"You're an animal" he states, pulling out another cookie and taking a bite.

"No, you’re the animal. You're the wolf!" She deflects almost naturally. He doesn’t see her wince a bit at her own words.

He knows that kids can say damn well anything and not mean it, but God does it hurt when it comes straight from her mouth. He shifts uncomfortably under her gaze and tilts his head slightly away from her so she doesn't see his scowl. "Yeah, well I get that a lot," he laughs bitterly. Before he can spiral into despair, he hears her make an odd noise with her mouth closed, trying to catch his attention.

"The good wolf." When he turns back to her, he can see the determination in her eyes. She gives a look akin to Steve's expression when he's about to do something very very stupid. "Big Good Wolf!"

His eyebrows shoot up in confusion. "Uhm...there's no good wolf in the story."

"New story." She glares up at him, finishing her first cookie like a monster and using that free hand to take his metal one. At first, his heartbeat picks up, a flood of emotions running through his veins. What if he hurts her? Is his hand too cold? What if she gets scared? But, when she squeezes it firmly, he releases a breath he'd been holding. "I made a new story," she assures.

Bucky can't help himself. He laughs wholeheartedly, grinning like an idiot as he towers over her. "I'll have to hear about it sometime."

She thinks she likes his belly laugh. It was smooth and nice in a way.

When her eyes light up, he thinks she's the most precious gem in the world. "Time to get you to bed."

She fights back a yawn, twisting around to look at the TV while still holding onto his metal finger. "Cartoons please."

"You're gonna get me in trouble, Kid."

“Please, Uncle Bucky?” And for the second time tonight, she looks just like Rogers with her big puppy eyes. He feels his will to defy her shrink enormously. Oh, what the hell.

"F-fine. Okay. But, you better go to sleep soon."

She smiles and all is right with the world again. She allows him to gather his cookie jar before tugging him along.

---

"One more cartoon."

"Three more."

Bucky groans, knowing he can't win against her. He decides to just give in. "Three more cartoons. Take it or leave it."

"I'll take it," she giggles.

Little did he know, three turned to six. And by the sixth episode, bucky was knocked out, one leg draped over the back of the couch while the other kept her from falling off. She stares at him for a moment, thinking to herself how much more of a prince charming he was than a wolf. Happy with her thought, she lays down, resting her head against his chest while still paying attention to the animation on TV.

By episode seven, she too was fast asleep.

The next morning, while on the hunt for the little girl (it wasn't uncommon to find her wandering around in the morning), Sam spots Bucky's leg over the couch and wondered if the old man had finally died, considering he never slept. He creeps closer and melts at the sight.

Two slumbering and snoring forms are on the couch. The child clutching onto Bucky's shirt and pulling the neck down slightly in her tight grasp and Bucky sprawled out, trying not to squish her even in his sleep. Sam's never seen him so unguarded before. He thinks he likes that look on Buck.

Little Red may just be what the Big Bad Wolf needed.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x child!reader #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #white wolf #captain america #mcu #marvel #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #wolf writes #oneshot #fluff #humor #little red riding hood

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tsarisfanfiction · 4 years

Text

Drown (Tales From The Heart)

Fandom: One Piece Rating: Teen Warnings: minor injury, drowning Characters: Penguin, Law, Shachi, Bepo

They'd got too confident. With the news that Doflamingo had finally left North Blue to go on to bigger and better things in the Grand Line, they'd stopped hiding and started acting a little more like pirates. You'd have thought that Penguin and Shachi, at least, would have remembered that there were always bigger fish around, but with Doflamingo their only focus for the past three years, they'd long since stopped seeing other pirate crews as a credible threat.

Hence Penguin's current situation.

"Listen kid," the clearly-drunk man spat in his face, saliva landing unpleasantly on his cheek. His breath stank, and it took everything Penguin had not to recoil in disgust. "Playing pirates is all well and good, but you've gotta do it at home, where you can run to Mummy once the day's done. Leave the real pirating to those that know what they're doing."

Penguin spat back in his face, grinning triumphantly when he scored a direct hit to his aggressor's eye. The vicious backhand he got was worth it, even giving him an additional liquid to spit, which he did, admiring how the crimson made it look like the man was crying blood.

"You punk!" one of the man's companions roared, kicking him solidly in the back. His hands shackled behind him, Penguin failed to keep his balance and crashed down onto his side. From the corresponding pain in his arm, he'd at the least pulled a muscle in all the chaos.

He hadn't been looking for trouble, per say. It had been his turn to do the supply run, while Law browsed the town for medical whatsits (the captain might have been teaching them basic nursing, but that didn't mean he understood half the jargon the younger teen spouted). Shachi and Bepo had been left behind to guard the Polar Tang. He'd thought – they'd all thought – that he could handle a small bit of trouble if it arose, but he'd failed to realise the drunk pirates were out of his league until it was too late. His shopping was long since ruined, trampled into the ground by muddied boots, and he knew he would be sporting a beautiful black eye the next morning, to say nothing of the bruised bones and cuts he'd suffered when the assholes revealed they weren't averse to using a knife on an unarmed kid.

Penguin figured he should probably start arming himself, if he was going to be trounced that easily by a group of drunkards. Of course, that relied on him getting himself out of his current situation without irreversible damage. The crude yet effective cuffs on his wrists were proving to be quite the problem, the locks out of reach to pick.

A rough hand grabbed his arm – the one with the probably damaged muscle, the bastard – and began to drag him down the cobbled street, towards the harbour.

"I'll show you what happens to disrespectful brats," the drunk pirate declared as Penguin bit back as many noises of pain as he could. They stopped at the end of the wharf; Penguin could see the grey of the Polar Tang at the other end of the harbour, recognisable only by its unusual shape. At that distance, Shachi and Bepo wouldn't be able to see him, and they weren't stupid enough to interfere with random fights. On the plus side, the Polar Tang wasn't that far… if, as he suspected, he got thrown into the water then he could just swim for it, leaving the pirates none the wiser.

That plan went out the window the moment his ankle was grabbed, hoisting his leg up and overbalancing him, leaving him suspended by the grip on his ankle.

"You think you can swim for it, little water bird?" His hat fell from his head to land on the boards below him. Of course the drunkard had read what it said, because he clearly wasn't so intoxicated he wasn't aware of his surroundings. Penguin cursed silently again, and tried to lash out with his foot as he felt something heavy clamp around his captive ankle. "Let's see how well penguins swim with their wings clipped, shall we?"

He barely had time to take a breath, storing as much air in his lungs as he could before he was flying through the air, helpless against gravity as he crashed into the surface of the water and sank like a stone.

He dimly heard someone scream his name as the water closed above his head, and looked up at the surface to see the distorted view of his captain throwing himself at the drunk pirates, short sword in one hand and a blue Room expanding from the other.

The water was Penguin's playground. He could cut through the waves as easily as Law's Amputate sliced through flesh, finding comfort and solace in the way the water moved against his skin.

Not this time.

He writhed, fighting against the cuffs binding his wrists together tightly behind his back, but the water hadn't weakened them at all, and his injured shoulder cried out in protest as he tried to manipulate it to get his bound hands in front of him to no avail. A problem, but not an insurmountable one. Penguin refused to panic. He'd swum without using his hands before. It was harder, but not impossible.

Swimming with his hands bound behind his back, a shoulder in agony, and lead weights tied to his ankle was outside of even Penguin's ability, he discovered in horror as his attempts to kick towards the surface were thwarted by the weight. With his arms behind his back, he couldn't manipulate himself to tug them off, so he renewed his efforts to move them over his head, gritting his teeth against the pain in his shoulder. A dislocation was better than death.

He'd managed to claim a decent amount of air just before being dunked, but it wasn't infinite. As he sank lower and lower, dragged down by his weighted ankle, the bubbles escaping from his mouth were increasing in number. His time was running out rapidly, and the exertion and agony he was putting himself through to try and contort his body into a position he could use to swim was wasting more air than he'd have liked.

It might have been smarter to let himself sink limply, preserving his air for as long as possible, but Penguin had no delusions about rescue. While Law had seen him sink, his captain couldn't swim and wasn't stupid enough to think his devil fruit would suddenly forget it hated him in light of Penguin's drowning. The Polar Tang was the other end of the harbour, and Law had been too busy fighting to call for Bepo or Shachi. Quick calculations told Penguin that his air wouldn't hold out long enough for one of the two to find him.

A particularly rough twist of his shoulder had him involuntarily crying out in pain, air rushing out of his mouth all at once before the water began to rush in. A rookie mistake, he cursed himself even as he tried to close his mouth to the invading water. His air was out now, and it would be seconds, not minutes, before the pressure forced him to gulp, drawing water into his lungs faster than Law could make a Room.

The harbour was deep – they'd chosen it for that exact reason – and the light was beginning to fade. It could also be the lack of air clouding his eyesight, Penguin realised as the pressure got too much for his jaw and lungs, wrenching his mouth open in search of air that was nowhere to be found.

As the water rushed in and his sight dimmed, he thought he saw a dark shape in the water, heading straight for him.

A whale? was his last, delirious, thought.

His eyes snapped open suddenly as he retched, water expelling itself violently from his mouth before he shuddered, pained lungs labouring to draw in the precious air between coughs that felt as if his respiratory system had decided his body was a dead weight and was seeking freedom from its limp confines.

"Oh, thank god," he heard someone breathe, fingers carefully dragging through his hair.

It was then that the hard surface beneath his side registered, and the sweet sweet oxygen filling his aching lungs.

He wasn't in the water any more.

His eyes didn't want to open, but Penguin fought them until they begrudgingly gave in. An orange blob floated in front of his face. Odd. He forced a slow blink, and then another, watching as it began to gain definition.

Shachi. A dripping wet, very worried Shachi. Oops.

"Is he awake?" That was Law's voice, strained and oddly choked up. "Penguin, can you hear me?" A familiar spotted hat forced its way into his view, and he gave a weak grin, his eyes finally focusing enough to take in the scene presented to him. Behind Law and Shachi was an arm. Just one, singular arm. It wasn't attached to anything at all. Beside it was a head, which seemed to be screaming profanities. Penguin hadn't even noticed, but the sight was satisfying. The drunk pirate still had that trickle of blood falling from his eye. "Penguin?"

Law sounded in pain, so Penguin returned his attention to him. He didn't look injured, but his eyes were red and slightly puffy. It didn't look right.

"Sorry," he finally rasped, feeling like he'd swallowed sandpaper and washed it down with an impressive dose of metal filings. "I lost the shopping."

"Who cares about the shopping, you dumbass!" Shachi erupted, the fingers in his hair tightening. Penguin didn't have the energy to wince. "Don't you dare scare us like that ever again, you hear me?"

Penguin grinned again, closing his eyes to a sharp call of his name from Law.

"Lemme sleep," he slurred, too exhausted from his ordeal to bother with proper diction. "'M okay, promise," he added as a small hand rested on his shoulder lightly. The action reminded him of his aching shoulder, and he let out a groan of protest, which devolved into further coughing.

"No, you're not," Law said sternly, sounding as if he'd entered his 'doctor mode', as the rest of them liked to call it. "Shachi, help me." There was a grunt of acknowledgement, and Penguin felt himself being manoeuvred to his feet, arms wrapping around him from both sides. Feeling utterly boneless, Penguin slumped forwards, almost dragging them back to the ground with him.

"Watch it," Shachi complained, but it lacked his usual bite as Penguin felt him readjust his grip.

"Penguin, you need to stay awake until we get back to the Tang," Law told him. "You can sleep there, I promise."

He let out a sound that was supposed to be acknowledgement as he felt them pull him along, although it sounded like a drunken slur, and tried to persuade his legs to cooperate with limited success.

He made it as far as Bepo, who sounded like he'd jumped off the submarine as soon as they were close enough, before he couldn't fight any more, collapsing into warm fluffy arms.

"Close enough, I suppose," he heard Law sigh as Bepo lifted him easily to carry him the rest of the way, before he knew no more.

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #heart pirates #tales from the heart #tsari writes fanfiction #trafalgar law #penguin #shachi #bepo #drowning #hypothermia

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dgmagines · 4 years

Note

Hi Hi Hi!!! So how about a scenario with Allen running away from the order simallar to episode 12 ending but instead of lenalee going after him it's his s/o. You can keep or change the ending if you want!

Hey hi hiiii~! This came out longer than expected and uhhh I sorta,,, deviated from the request (I only realized this when I finished writing so,,, whoops?). Regardless, I hope this is to your liking anon!! q w q Please enjoy!!

Also, under the cut because this got hella long uwu;; and the ones in blockquote are “flashbacks” uwu

Word count : 1,542

“Exorcist?What are you doing down here?”

Somethingwas wrong.

“Oh,Cardinal,” they bowed their head respectfully before throwing a concerned gazetowards the hall that lead to Allen’s cell. Inspector Howard had been in therefor too long now.

“I’mjust waiting for the Inspector is all,” the man smiled – a most comfortingsmile had it not been for the chill that ran up their spine. Why… Why did hissmile look out of place…?

Somethingwas wrong - they could feel it in the way their heart wouldn’tstop worrying and their head wouldn’t stop theorizing as their feet franticallycarried them through the maze of a hallway the Order called home.

“Perhapsyou should wait for him upstairs, my child,” the kind-looking elder pattedtheir head, moving past them as he disappeared down the corridor. ______ staredfor a moment more, waiting with bated breath for something – anything really –to happen.

They’dbeen down there.

Theydidn’t know what they had expected and, with a minor self-deprecating remark,they turned and made their way down the opposite hall; towards the stairs thatwould lead to the upper levels.

They’dbeen down there before it happened.

“Lenalee!”Their hoarse voice yelled out to the taller woman- the tears streaming down herface matching that of their own; they felt their heart clench.

Theexplosion caught them off guard – the young (h/c) stumbling as they desperatelytried their best to not fall down the long flight of stairs. Bewildered, theirfrantic mind considered running back towards the cell, already anxious mindcoming up with several thousand scenarios that flitted through their eyes inthe split second it took for them to blink – none of them looked good.

Togetherwith the young Asian, _______ ran through the crowded halls; throwing outfrantic – almost rude – ‘excuse me’s and ‘pardon me’s. They parted when theycame to the stairs - _____ taking the one that would lead them to the groundfloor while Lenalee took the ones that would lead her to the roof.

______took several steps back out of shock as they stared at the guards who were supposedto be guarding the room – at the guards that now lay unconscious on the floorwith… with… something coming out of their eyes. Their body shook; theair felt heavy and suffocating and-

Wasthat… the cardinal…?

Theirlungs burned as they skipped several steps, feet pitter-pattering wildly asthey tried to reach the ground floor as soon as possible. Not once, not twicebut multiple times had they found themselves almost falling – almost sprainingtheir feet from how reckless they were running but their safety was the lastthing on their mind.

Stumbling,______ felt their hands shook as they cupped their mouth – not trustingthemselves to not make any noise as the cardinal started to move. With theirheart in their throat and the sting of tears in their eyes, ______ started tomove; they needed to get away-

Theyneeded to l e a v e.

Theyweren’t safe here and they knew it.

Gasping– out of breath - _______ winced as the branches and the leaves cut at theirskin, leaving tiny nicks here and there. Faintly, they heard the sounds ofbattle as their fellow exorcist fought teeth and bones to get rid of the akumassurrounding them.

Fromup above, they saw Lenalee landing on a tree – closer to the ground so that shecould talk with the (h/c). The noirette was clearly as out of breath as _____was. As they each exchanged information about Allen’s possible whereabouts,several level threes had spotted them and had taken to attacking them.

“________,go! I’ll hold them off and join you!” gritting their teeth, ______ glared atthe young noirette. Their heart was heavy – they were afraid and frustrated andconfused and angry all at the same time and they couldn’t – not for the life ofthem – make much sense of what was happening.

Whywas this all happening?!

“Don’ttry to play hero, Lenalee! You’re much faster than I am- you have a higherchance of catching Allen with your boots!” quickly doing away with the levelthree that tried to attack her, Lenalee turned towards her friend – barelyavoiding the swipe of another akuma.

“Youhave a better lead on his location!” and, you have a better chance ofconvincing him to come back, was what Lenalee wanted to say but her throatburned with the unsaid words and her tears were starting to cloud her visionand goddammit she has akumas to deal with!! She can’t be crying right now!!

“Nowgo!”

Andso they left.

Butthe path the (h/c) took was dark and confusing and they felt like they’d beenrunning around in circles and goddammit- they just wanted to see Allen!!Stopping to catch their breath, _______ honed their senses so that they couldhear of any approaching danger; the threat of the akumas were still aroundafterall. Letting their guard down right here, right now would be a stupid move.

“Link…?”_______ choked on their words, tears burning their eyes as they stared at theunconscious body of the inspector. Hadn’t the cardinal been watching over Linkjust a moment ago? Why was he… all….. messed up?

“Giveup on him, exorcist,” the voice snapped the (h/c) out of their reverie –shoulders tensing as they reached for their innocence. In front of them, with alaidback smile on his face, was the damned Third himself – Tokusa. He smirkedin his usual condescending manner, ______ gritting their teeth and growling inreturn.

“Shutthe fuck up,” they cursed, feeling all the repressed emotions frombefore bubbling and threatening to break under the surface. They wanted to lashout – wanted to grab the man by his collar or his hair and straight up yellprofanities in his face or punch the living daylights out of him but theshaking of their fingers and the almost painful clenching on their musclesprevented them from moving.

Deepdown, they knew they were weaker than the former CROW and that fact irritatedthem to no end.

“Letme through, Tokusa,” the man hummed, tilting his head to the side in aquizzical manner.

“Andwhy? You know you won’t be able to catch up to Walker in time right? He’s justgoing to join the Earl – just as we did,” the chuckle that fell from his lipsgrated their ears. _______ clenched their weapon tighter, swallowing thegrowing lump their throat as they readied for an attack.

Friendor not, Tokusa had turned to the enemy - ____ would’ve had to fight him sooneror later.

“Isee your hesitation, ______,” Tokusa smiled, closing his eyes as he slowlyretreated into the writhing mass of darkness behind him – a portal of theEarl’s making, perhaps.

“You’reweak. Just like the rest of us. Maybe we’ll ask the Earl if you can join us,”with a final, irritating chuckle, Tokusa disappeared; and so did the barrierthat surrounded the (h/c). Gritting their teeth, ______ gulped down the screamthat wanted to tear through their throat.

Frustrationbubbled under their skin and their heart felt like it was being boiled alive.It hurt it hurt it hurt it hu r ts-

“Allen!”

Lenalee.

Thefaint voice yelling for their lover’s name snapped them out of theiranger-induced stupor and the lead that weighed down their feet seemed to liftat the hope that surged through their veins. Breathed in deeply- shakily-before pushing themselves to their feet, _____ found themselves running at fullspeed to where they had heard the voice come from.

Allenwas close-!

Breakingthrough the foliage, ______ gasped when they saw the ark – the unknown devicefloating several inches off the ground as Allen and Lenalee conversed severalfeet away from it. They saw Allen smiling as he cupped Lena’s cheek and, justfrom that smile alone, _______ knew they were fucked.

Thatwasn’t a smile.

Thatwas a parting.

Theirlips shook as tears cascaded down their cheeks. Frozen, they began to move –slowly at first; walking towards the center of the clearing where her friendand her beloved stood – before their feet picked up speed and they startedrunning.

Pleaseplease please-

Forthe love of god-

Allen,p l e a s e -!

Allengave Lenalee one last smile, his back drawing ever closer to the ark – to theportal that would take him somewhere far far away from here. It was thenthat ______ found their voice – the burning sensation in their throat too muchfor them to handle.

“Don’tleave! Allen!!”

Theirvoice carried across the field – hoarse with unbearable emotions that theydidn’t want. It seemed to shock Allen, his eyes immediately drawing towards thestill running (h/c). ______’s heart clenched painfully in their throat at theresolve in Allen’s eyes – their lungs too out of breath for them to continuepleading for much longer.

“Takecare, ______,”

“ALLEN!!”

_______reached forward, gritting their teeth and hoping against all hope that theycould grasp his hand but – as the ark dissipated – the only thing they managedto grasp was the air that their beloved left behind.

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thebeethathums · 5 years

Text

Observers - 29

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Warnings: mentions of abuse, triggering situations, and a panic attack

Lestrade was relieved to see the two of you show up at the scene, handing Sherlock the case files for the other two murders and giving you a small grin. You returned it before diligently following Sherlock as he explained the case files to you while walking toward the house. You got a strange feeling as you took in your surroundings, letting Sherlock go ahead of you as you did what you did best- observed. You came out of it with a little frown, stepping over to the body to stand next to Sherlock, and he looked to you, “What do you see?” You shook your head, “Something’s not right. He fits the profile, same erratic stabbing pattern and similar features to the other two victims, but he didn’t live here… I just have this strange feeling that something is off. I can’t place it.” Sherlock nodded, going back to his own deductions, “The other two victims were killed in their own living spaces. This is his sister’s house.” You only vaguely heard that as you wandered around again, tuning out Sherlock’s deductions to let a wariness settle over you. The victim looked to be in his late thirties, hard worker, married with children, and his face held a certain aura of kindness mixed with determination. Your general observations couldn’t in any way compare to Sherlock's since deducing people didn’t come naturally for you, it was learned from years of watching people around you with the utmost curiosity.

Your ability to see people’s emotions just by looking at them, now that was natural. You always said that it was because you truly looked where others did not, it was what made you a fantastic artist as you captured things as they really were in a way that allowed others to see it. You could tell just by looking at that man that he would do anything for his family… so why was he here? What was going on with his sister that he came over alone while she wasn’t here and got murdered as a result… unless… You stopped in a sitting room a ways off and yelled, “Where’s the sister?” A random forensics person answered, “Talking with D.I. Lestrade, outside.” You turned on your heel and walked out, seeking out your target from the porch. Your eyes locked on a distraught looking young woman attached to a stocky man, both of them talking seriously to Lestrade, and your stomach turned before you called out to Sherlock, “Hey, genius! Come here a mo.” He complained that you were pulling him away from the area where the body was but came anyway and you turned to look up at him, “Rough me up.” He was visibly taken aback by this, already shaking his head, but you flashed him a look and he glanced toward where you’d been looking as you said, “I have a hunch.”

Sherlock considered this for a moment- he had promised never to harm you but you had approved and he could easily make it seem more severe with a little bit of acting. Hesitating for a moment longer before he set his jaw, he gave a single nod and roughly grabbed your wrist to drag you towards Lestrade, loudly announcing, “You useless idiot! Can’t you do anything right?! I asked for one thing, just one bloody thing, and you managed to screw it up!” You convincingly stumbled along behind him, welling up tears in your eyes as you pleaded, “Sherlock, I’m sorry. Please. You’re hurting me.” He chuckled darkly as he threw you forward into a car near Lestrade and the couple, clearly garnering their attention before he slapped you across the face, “That will teach you to pay more attention in the future.” You’d scrunched your eyes shut as soon as you’d hit the car, refusing to see the whole thing happen no matter how fake it was. He'd made it look far worse than it actually felt but you still pressed a hand to your stinging cheek, nodding tearfully, “Of course, Sherlock. I’m sorry.” He crossed his arms, “Go talk to the sister and don’t muck it up this time.” You purposefully hesitated, thinking to yourself that you would have made a fantastic actress as you waited for him to hiss angrily, “Go! Get out of my sight.” You slunk over to where Lestrade was giving you a rather horrified look and addressed the young woman, “Could I speak to you alone for a minute, Miss Thacker? I mean if it isn't too much trouble...” The man on her arm responded for her, “No. She’s already had a rough night. Can’t you just leave her alone?” You opened your mouth but were cut off by Sherlock audibly grumbling, "Useless. Why do I have to do everything myself..." and then addressing the man “We need to ask you some questions as well, this will go a lot quicker if you let my subordinate talk to her.” The man looked between the two of you and you kept your eyes trained on the ground and your stance weak, in no way posing a threat to him, so he agreed, following Sherlock a short bit away. Lestrade placed a hand on your shoulder, worry clouding his eyes, but you gave him a slight smirk and wink before pulling the young woman out of earshot of your respective men. You gave her a warm smile, “I’m (F/n) Watson. What’s your name?” “Lisa. Lisa Thacker.” She answered, sniffling. You pulled her down on to the hood of a police car, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, “I’m so sorry about your brother, Lisa. I have a brother too and I don’t know what I’d do if something like this happened to him.” She just sort of numbly nodded and you continued, straight to the point, “When did he start hitting you?” Her eyes shot up to meet yours, flashing fear in amongst the overwhelming grief, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You sighed knowingly, “I’ve been where you are.” She looked towards Sherlock and you added, “And not with him. He just did that to get you away from your boyfriend so we could chat.” She scrutinized you and you locked eyes with her, conveying that you spoke the truth as strongly as you possibly could, “Lisa. I need you to tell me what happened. I promise he won’t be able to hurt you anymore. It’s possible to get away, to start again, but you have to make the decision to leave and never look back. Don’t wait until he almost kills you like I did.” She searched your face for any sign of deception and then burst into tears, “He killed my brother… he just…h-he just killed him.” You wrapped your arms around her, letting her sob into your shoulder, “Your nieces are going to need you, Lisa. I know nothing can bring him back but he loved you enough to try and stop this and the only person to blame is the man who took him from you. Not you. Remember that.” You patted her back with one hand and pulled out your phone with the other, texting Sherlock and Lestrade the same thing before returning to comforting Lisa as Sherlock pinned her boyfriend against a car and Lestrade slapped some cuffs on him and shoved him into it as he yelled profanities. Lestrade approached you two cautiously and you hushed her, “Lisa, I need you to tell my friend Greg here exactly what happened ok?” She gave you an unsure look and Lestrade offered her a small friendly smile as you soothed, “It’s alright. I promise he’ll take good care of you.” He nodded, taking her hand, and you quietly whispered to him so she wouldn’t hear, “Make sure she shows you the bruises.” Once she was away from you, your calm façade broke down and you moved to lean against the side of one the further police vehicles, away from prying eyes. Your wrist was already starting to turn purple and your heart raced faster than your thoughts could form as your breathing became short and ragged. This could have so easily been you and John if he had intervened in your abusive relationship, it was so similar you couldn’t bear it. Damn your overactive imagination and the images it just called up. You were desperately trying to reassure yourself that it was all in your head and Sherlock had only been doing as you asked but you couldn’t seem to get a good grasp on reality. You were well on your way into a full blown panic attack when an unaware Lestrade approached you, “Good work, (F/n). How did you know about the boyfriend?” You shook your head, trying to keep from just sort of dissolving into a mess on the ground, “I lived it. Six months ago that could have been me.” Saying it out loud clinched it and you sank to the ground to hold your head in your hands, feeling like you couldn’t breathe and only peripherally aware of Lestrade calling for Sherlock.

TAGS <3:

@team-free-sherlock

@multifandom-ramblings

@madshelily

@severusminerva

@yes-but-theyre-my-dorks

@smitemewiththysherlock

@not-fandom-addicted

@unknownwonder

@deducingdevil

@aviien

@mrsfrankensteinsworld

@lolamurphy

@bakerstreethound

@musical-doll-x

#Sherlock x Reader #Sherlock Holmes x Reader #BBC Sherlock #reader insert #Watson!Reader #sherlock holmes #Sherlock #John Watson #reader #sibling!reader #Artist reader #panic attack #slow burn #x reader #fanfic #fan fiction #thebeethathums #Observers

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jikook-love · 6 years

Text

love stall (pt.1)

jungkook x jimin | hogwarts au | words: ?

gryffindor!jungkook x slytherin!jimin

Young wizard Jeon Jungkook had somehow become the ideal role model for all Gryffindors by his fifth year at Hogwarts: a charming and attractive personality, the best dueller of his year, captain of the Quidditch team and the best at trespassing into places he shouldn’t be without getting caught. But even the Gryffindor poster boy holds a shameful secret, a secret that would utterly shatter his reputation should it ever come out:

He had fallen in love with a Slytherin.

Blood pulsed through his ears. The chants were becoming louder and louder, gradually reaching an empowering crescendo.

“Go Go Gryffindor! Go Go Gryffindor!”

He squeezed his eyes shut for a fleeting moment, for that was all he had. The red Quaffle was in his hands, and the goal was hovering in distance, so close yet so far. This was it. Score this and the game would be over regardless of who caught the Snitch (unless the opposing team got another goal in afterwards which was highly unlikely considering their mental state). It was all up to him.

They were already starting to gain upon him, he ought to have felt incomparable pressure. But no.

After all, he was Jeon Jungkook, Captain of the red and gold Quidditch team.

And Gryffindor’s pride.

In a mad dash, Jungkook let out a cry as he pushed forth on his broom, the traditional Firebolt. It was a broom that had been world-class competition standard in its prime, but had since been worn out through the test of time. Regardless, it was still a reliable and solid piece of equipment--and more importantly it was the same class of broom that the legendary Harry Potter had once mounted, which made it all the more suitable for someone like Jungkook.

He heard the familiar screams and cheers as he whizzed across the stadium, his speed unmatched by anyone else on the pit. Usually, it was often the Seeker who was praised for their flying abilities, but Jungkook flew in a way that outshone them all. In fact, despite his remarkable flying techniques, the coach found him more suited to be a Chaser due to his equally impressive strength and reflexes. The way he handled his broom and flying patterns was almost theatrical, a show of speed and agility, unrivalled by anyone else in their generation.

Sweat beaded from his forehead as Jungkook headed straight for the goal posts. It was a one-man show now, and despite that there were two other Chasers on the team, it could only be him who could finish this.

In the corner of his eye, he noticed a Bludger headed towards him at full speed. Anyone else would’ve been hindered at once, as the the offending ball travelled at a much higher speed than their broomsticks at full power. But Jungkook was quicker than that. He quickly arched his back, sliding under the Bludger and using his agile body to avoid what his broom couldn’t. The crowd roared in excitement, realizing the goal was now quite in reach.

Jungkook grinned in anticipation. If he did this properly, the game was theirs, and nothing could possibly stop them. This was it, they would win yet another game, the first win for Gryffindors for this year. He watched in pity as the Keeper was desperately doing Double Eight Loops around the ring as fast as she could, but it was all futile, because he was much faster and his keen eyes could detect her exact trajectory.

And...now!

The crowd went wild as Jungkook suddenly stood up on his broom, ready for the final blow. All he could see was the goal post in front of him.

“OH MY GOD! IT’S THE DIONYSUS DIVE! HE’S GONNA DO IT AGAIN! HIS SIGNATURE MOVE,” he heard the announcer declare loudly and excitedly.

Jungkook’s eyes glinted, he reeled back to throw the red object that was about to become a bullet. Drawing back, ready to punch full force--

A flash of gold.

It all happened in a blur. In spur of the moment, he’d forgotten to watch out for the most unlikely scenario of them all. A sudden impact, as he inevitably collided with someone else. Quaffle falling from his hands as he was knocked completely off his broom.

He could only watch in horror, hands grappling at air as he saw the other team’s Keeper mercilessly seize the red ball, tossing it to her teammates. His own team had cleared out to make way for him, and had only realized their mistake now. But it was too late. Seconds later, a hopeful cheer erupted, indicating a goal.

He grimaced, realizing that that should be the least of his worries right now. He desperately tried to grab for his broom, which was just that much more than an arm’s reach away.

Closer...closer. He contemplated using his wand to retrieve the broom, but that would definitely forfeit the game for his entire team. Jungkook grimaced, deciding he would just get healed later, bracing for the worst as he plummeted towards the bottom of the pitch.

But the impact never came.

He opened his eyes, in shock as he realized that he was hovering barely centimetres above the sandy floor, perched upon another’s broomstick.

It wasn’t the expected red cloak he expected to see--deep green fabric fluttered in the air.

Jungkook turned to his saviour in surprise. “Oh my god. Thank yo--”

He was suddenly dumped into the ground, plummeting face first into the sand right next to his broom. He caught a glimpse of a wisp of blonde hair before his former saviour hovered tauntingly above him.

“You won’t be thanking me in a bit.”

And then his saviour was gone, gaining incredible altitudes at an impressive speed. Jungkook didn’t have time to contemplate.

That game hasn’t been called. That means the Snitch hasn’t been caught yet so...

He quickly climbed back on his broom and rushed back up to the top, desperately wanting to regain his pride. He could still do this. It would just mean two goals instead of one, he could easily--

The sounding whistle.

His heart sank in his chest, a dreading feeling coursing through his veins. There was a silence spreading throughout the stadium, as if something completely unexpected had occurred.

He desperately, quickly flew to the top, wanting to see what the result was for himself.

“Oh my god,” one of the announcers said. “Unbelievable. No way in fu--”

“Oh no, he went and done it!” the other one interrupted before any profanities could be uttered. “The Plumpton Pass! Haven’t seen that one in awhile. A snarky one this new seeker is!”

Plumpton Pass. The one where the Seeker hides the Snitch in his sleeve to confuse the opposing team? But why now of all times--

He froze, the explanation becoming thoroughly evident. A wave of blonde hair caught his eyes, right in the dead centre of the pitch.

Mostly because the light shade of hair, that was now certainly burned into his memory, so well complimented by the Golden Snitch he had clutched in his right hand and displayed for the slowly recovering crowd to see.

Jungkook couldn’t believe what had happened. He--the soul and pride of his generation of Gryffindors--had been absolutely outwitted and beaten. In the worst way possible.

By a Slytherin.

“Well, would you look at that?” The grin was inevitable in the announcer’s voice. “It looks like the new Slytherin Seeker’s way better than we all thought.”

✧✧✧

Jungkook slammed his broom down in frustration, unbuttoning his Quidditch attire in a fury as his friends followed him into the locker, concern written on their faces.

“Hey man, come on, you did great! Everyone knows that,” Jung Hoseok, sixth year Hufflepuff reassured. “You broke an insane amount of records that game, all on your own.”

“Dude, you’re crazy,” Kim Taehyung, also a sixth year Hufflepuff, was gawking. “You got over 100 points from Quaffles goals alone. No wonder people think you’re cheating.”

“Good thing he’s a Gryffindor,” Hoseok chortled. “Can you imagine if he was a Slytherin? The amount of inspections.”

“Good. Those snakes deserve it,” Taehyung muttered. “I’ll never forgive what they did to my toad.”

“What did they do to your toad?” Hoseok asked curiously. He quickly shook the thought out of his head. “Never mind. We should probably focus on Jungkook right now. The boy’s distraught.” The sixth year student patted Jungkook on the shoulder, who was still crouched over on a bench, face buried into his hands.

“Cut yourself some slack, bro,” Taehyung mumbled, sitting down beside him. “You’ve got to lose once or twice in your life. Otherwise people will think you’re some sort of monster.”

“Yeah, it’s not like any of us saw it coming,” Hoseok echoed. “I didn’t even notice there was a Seeker the entire game--he was so subtle.”

“That’s the point, Hoseok,” Jungkook pouted angrily, pulling on his regular school robes. “Usually no one else sees these things but I’m supposed to. I can’t believe I let him get away with that. It has to be the oldest trick in the book.”

“What? The little Snitch trick he did at the end?” asked Taehyung.

“No,” Jungkook frowned. “Blending into the environment and showing up only at the last second.”

“Well, on the bright side, it won’t happen again,” Hoseok shrugged. “People will be keeping eyes on him from now on as the new Slytherin seeker who managed to best Jeon Jungkook himself in a Quidditch game.” Hoseok’s smug smile quickly faded from his face when he noticed Taehyung shooting dirty looks at him, indicating that he was not helping in anyway whatsoever.

“A-anyways,” he quickly recovered. “Namjoon and Seokjin are waiting for us in Hogsmeade. Let’s go have some Butterbeer and take your mind off things, huh?”

“You guys go ahead,” Jungkook muttered without thinking much. Upon looking up and seeing their distraught expressions, he gave a sigh and quickly gave in.

“I’ll catch up later,” Jungkook promised instead. “You guys go get a table.” The comment managed to restore a slight sense of relief to their faces, and was enough to send them on their way.

Which Jungkook to sulk all on his own, which was something he hadn’t done in a long, long while. He hadn’t had such an absolutely demoralizing failure in a long while, not since he’d gotten to Hogwarts. Here, he had friends, and somehow, he was an exemplary example of anything he bothered to give the slightest effort into. People even looked up to him--naiively, of course. It’d be a long, long while since he’d experienced such a crushing feeling in his chest.

He could already see it: the cold, disappointed glances that he would inevitably receive upon returning to the Gryffindor Common Room. After their fervent cheering and unyielding faith in him, all he had given them in return was a disheartening loss. He didn’t know how he was going to face it.

As if waiting for the worst possible timing possible, the doors to the locker rooms suddenly burst open, revealing several windblown green capes. Jungkook looked up to see the members of the Slytherin Quidditch team, still decked out in full Quidditch uniforms and clutching their brooms with smug smiles on their faces.

Idiots, you guys couldn’t even block me once. If it weren’t for your Seeker...

“You’re the only one left?” one of them called out. “That’s a shame.”

“What? Came to gloat?” Jungkook spat back without hesitance. “They're all gone.”

“Well, I think you’re the only one we need to see, captain,” said the female Keeper from earlier. The way she dragged out the last word brought the nastiest goosebumps to his skin. “That’s what you get for underestimating us.”

Despite his insecurities, Jungkook still managed shrug and give them the coldest response:

“You let me score ten goals on your hoops,” Jungkook restated the facts. “And that was just me alone. It’s hard not to judge you guys after that.”

Their smiles were immediately replaced with angry scowls, and Jungkook couldn’t help but smirk to himself. It was amazing--he was feeling his lowest now, but he could still talk back to the Slytherins without a scuffle.

I am a Gryffindor, after all, Jungkook thought proudly to himself.

“Whatever, Jeon,” the girl crooned, her lips curling in disgust. “You and your pompous team still lost, and that’s the final verdict.”

“The scoreboard also says 170-160, a 10 point difference despite your team catching the Snitch, which is also a final verdict,” Jungkook pointed out. “How about you guys just go back to your gloomy dungeon and pretend you deserved the win there? At least there’s probably people there who would fulfill your delusions.”

He didn’t even bother watching their angered and frustrated expressions as they stormed out of the room, throwing swear words behind--he’d seen and heard all that one too many times.

“Pathetic,” Jungkook muttered to himself, shoving away his broom angrily.

“I’d be more careful with that if I were you. That looks expensive.”

Jungkook whirled around at the sound of the unfamiliar voice. He froze immediately, slightly jolted by who was standing in front of him.

He’d thought the entire team had left after his harsh words but it turned out he was wrong.

One person had remained.

The one person who could probably get to his head beyond anyone else on that team.

That shade of gold...

“Relax, will you?” the boy said, his voice much more melodic than Jungkook could ever imagine it to be, high toned and somewhat pleasant. He tilted his head, a teasing yet charming smile written on his lips. “I’m not here to pick a fight or anything.” Jungkook watched as the boy ran his fingers through his unusually silky blonde hair, fully revealing what was undoubtedly the face of the Seeker who’d bested him only minutes ago.

Jungkook found himself to be surprisingly obediently, as he body loosened immediately, his grasp removed from his wand.

“Why are you still here then?” Jungkook asked, annoyed. “To rub it in my face?”

“Maybe,” came the shameless answer.

Jungkook glared at him, before turning away again. Evidently the only way to truly fight those arrogant assholes was to ignore them.

“Look, I’m kidding,” the Seeker said suddenly, stepping closer as a gentler tone appeared in his voice. “Honestly, I came to offer my condolences. What I did was a bit...over the top and unnecessary, and I just wanted to let you know that I’m perfectly aware of that too.”

But Jungkook wasn’t so easily persuaded, the burning anguish from the loss still eating away at his heart. “Then why’d you do it in the first place?” he fired back, his voice filled with spite.

He watched, as a subtle, mysterious smirk appeared on the Seeker’s face.

“I couldn’t help it,” he said. “The once in a lifetime chance for a measly, faceless Slytherin like me to tarnish the reputation of the glorious Jeon Jungkook, the pride and trophy of the entire Gryffindor House...you don’t actually blame me, do you?”

Jungkook’s chest tightened threateningly upon hearing his casual yet piercing words.

“Don’t tell me you waited until that exact moment to catch the Snitch,” Jungkook spoke, his eyes widened.

His newfound rival shrugged, the mysterious smile so beguiling, almost dangerous.

“You’re so rude,” he said casually. “We all know so much about you yet you didn’t even bother to learn my name?”

“What--”

The boy took one step closer, offering an outstretched hand to Jungkook.

“Park Jimin,” he smiled brightly. “Nice to finally officially meet you.”

On impulse, Jungkook took his hand without thinking. Jimin’s grip was firm and convincing, and Jungkook saw a strange twinkle in his eyes that he hadn’t noticed before.

“Also...I’d tell you whether or not I’d planned it all along,” Jimin spoke slowly. “But you probably wouldn’t believe me either way.”

He let go of Jungkook’s hand, turning his back and heading for the door. For the first time in a long while, Jungkook was rendered completely speechless.

But, as courteous as Jimin was, he didn’t leave without leaving Jungkook a few last words:

“I am a Slytherin after all.”

✧✧✧

“Slytherins suck man,” Taehyung hummed, kicking back on his stool as he downed his Butterbeer.

Hoseok nearly spit out his drink. “Well, that escalated quickly.”

In the olden days, Hogwarts students had only been permitted to visit the lovely village of Hogsmeade on the weekend, but for awhile now, that restriction had been lifted, and the students were allowed out for a break whenever they fell fit so long as it didn’t clash with their school schedules--many professors seemed to agree that it would be better for students to buy some sweets or go on dates to distract themselves rather than wander into the more precarious areas of the school grounds in their free time.

The group of five males were comfortably seated at the Three Broomsticks, each well-comforted with their own individual foaming hot mugs of Butterbeer. Taehyung and Hoseok had gotten a table as promised, and was later joined by their close friends and older 7th year Ravenclaw students Kim Seokjin and Kim Namjoon.

Jungkook didn’t even recall how they even got to that conversation topic, but upon hearing Taehyung’s statement, Jungkook said nothing--partly because of the recent strange encounter he’d had with Park Jimin that he’d chosen to keep quiet about until now.

Another part was due to the fact that he already knew full well of the majority of the school’s views on Slytherins. Ever since the last Wizarding War, Slytherins had suddenly obtained the reputation of being vile, devious, and calculating, and everyone abided by that generalization. Jungkook, on the other hand, was a brave and proud Gryffindor, the house that was considered a direct lineage from the legendary Harry Potter himself. Everyone loved Gryffindors, everyone wanted to be a Gryffindor. They surely were the central house of Hogwarts, their mention always coming hand in hand with the reputable image of their school. On the other hand, no one liked the kind of snakes that was associated with the horrible image of Voldemort himself. Times had changed, and nowadays it seemed even the Hufflepuffs had a better reputation than the Slytherins most of the time.

And it showed in their daily social lives as well. Jungkook, as well as most of his Gryffindor friends, had no qualms in incorporating numerous Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs into their main groups of friends. But rarely did one see a green robe amidst the red. Considering the history of their houses, it was almost taboo for Gryffindor and Slytherin students to associate, with very few exceptions. Besides, it was clear to Jungkook that the Slytherins’ sense of elitism prevented them from dwindling with the “other students”, and it was hard to befriend one in their first place due to their conniving natures--you never knew which one to trust.

“What about Yoongi?” Namjoon asked suddenly. “He’s cool. You all like him.”

“Yeah but that’s Yoongi,” Taehyung retorted. “He’s not in that House by choice, he’s in that House because no one can imagine him anywhere else. He belongs there.”

“Doesn’t that go for everyone?” Seokjin said pointedly.

“How naive,” Taehyung cackled. “That’s what they want you to think. Without realizing that the single choice was literally the difference between Harry Potter and Tom Riddle. Besides, didn’t the Sorting Hat say you had potential in other places? I was a Hat Stall, you know. Could’ve been a Gryffindor. You know, because I’m the main character of every story.”

“Oh yeah. I was almost considered as a Ravenclaw by the Sorting Hat,” Jungkook pointed out suddenly.

“Yeah see--wait, seriously?” Taehyung choked.

“What do you mean ‘seriously?’” Namjoon asked. “Jungkookie is a smart kid.”

Taehyung stared at Namjoon for a good few seconds, trying to figure out if he was being sarcastic or not.

“Well, we’ll truly see when his OWLs come out next year,” Taehyung mumbled to himself.

“Oh yeah, how’s that going by the way?” Seokjin caught on at once. “You’ve been studying well for awhile now, right Jungkook?”

“Don’t look at me,” Hoseok said. “I got through that mess last year. Did alright though.”

“You know people study for that from like third year,” Namjoon noted.

“Relax,” Taehyung drawled, grabbing onto Jungkook’s shoulders suddenly. “He’ll be fine. Besides, no one’s going to call the great Jeon Jungkook anything less than Acceptable--he’s Gryffindor’s prodigy boy. Besides, he’s probably gonna go play Quidditch anyways. Even if he fails I’m sure they’ll give him a slight nudge and let him chug along anyways.”

“You know this is school, right?” Seokjin noted. “Not a popularity contest.”

“Whatever, whatever, Head Boy,” Taehyung smirked, waving his hands dismissively. “Clearly you don’t know the true powers of the incredible and beautiful Jeon Jungkookie~”

Hoseok, in the meantime, was staring at him in disgust. “What is he? A House Elf?” he spoke. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m not drruuunk~” Taehyung murmured again, tilting his head over so that he was leaning on Hoseok’s shoulder.

“Oh my god,” Hoseok sighed. “I think we gotta go. If the professors catch us on the way back to the Common Room, this won’t be good.”

“Just tell them what happened, what’s the big deal?” said Seokjin.

Hoseok gave Seokjin an exasperated look. “Would you believe it if I told you he got tipsy off Butterbeer?”

“...no.”

“Exactly,” Hoseok sighed, draping Taehyung’s arm over his shoulder and pulling him off his stool. “I’m sorry about this, guys. We’ll see you soon.”

Hoseok dragged Taehyung away, mumbling something about how Hufflepuff might’ve actually had a chance for the House Cup this year but not anymore.

“So Jungkookie, what have you been up to?” Namjoon asked. “You’ve been so busy lately we haven’t seen you at all.”

Jungkook shrugged. “Nothing much, really.”

“We heard about the game,” Seokjin said nonchalantly. “I hope you don’t feel responsible or anything.”

Another shrug, indicating his confused state. If he had been his regular self, he probably would’ve gotten over it already, especially with his friends trying to comfort him like this. If it weren’t for...

“Heyyy, Earth to Jungkook,” Namjoon called, waving his hand in front of Jungkook’s face. “Why don’t you go home and get some rest then? It’s been a long day. Sleep has a tendency to heal a lot of things.”

“Oh right, sure,” Jungkook snapped back to attention, trying not to get distracted by the image of that person. “Of course...uh, what were talking about?”

Seokjin sighed. “Go home and get some rest. You seem like you need it.”

“Oh, true,” Jungkook mumbled, his brain still not entirely in the right place.

“Jungkook?” Seokjin called again.

“Hmm?”

“You gonna be alright?”

Jungkook paused for a second, before standing up and giving the obvious answer.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he spoke, grabbing his stuff. “I’ll feel better by tomorrow morning. Are you guys coming with or...?”

Namjoon and Seokjin swiftly exchanged glances with each other. Jungkook, as mentally and physically exhausted as he was, still managed to take the hint.

“No, I think we’ll be good,” Seokjin answered. “We’re just gonna...stay here a little more and just do some talking.”

“Yeah, we haven’t had a decent night out in a while you see,” Namjoon replied.

Jungkook nodded. “I’ll be off then,” he smiled weakly. “Thanks for everything guys.”

Namjoon and Seokjin waved politely, and watched intently as Jungkook waved back one last time before walking out the door, heading back to his dormitories. The both of them immediately leaned back in their seats, letting out simultaneous exasperated sighs as if they had been waiting this entire time to get it out of their systems.

“What do you think it is?” Seokjin said, keeping his tones still slightly hushed, as if he still feared the thought that Jungkook could still be around. “There’s gotta be something else. He’s nowhere near angry enough. He’s...pliant almost.”

Namjoon rubbed his fingers into his temple, attempting to think even deeper. “You don’t think someone got to him did you?” he spoke. “You know how Slytherins get snarky. They might’ve hit his ego in a wrong spot or something.”

Seokjin shrugged, wrapping the blue scarf tighter around his neck to warm himself up a bit more. “Maybe we’re just overanalyzing. Maybe he’s truly mature enough now to not get worked up over such things, being the captain and all.”

A final sip of Butterbeer entered between Namjoon’s lips before he placed his mug down, his eyes glinting as if he was suddenly understanding something.

“Yeah,” Namjoon mumbled. “He’s...growing up, isn’t he?”

✧✧✧

Jeon Jungkook had made it back to the Gryffindor Common Room just in time for his usual curfew, but he found he didn’t have it in himself to crawl into bed yet, despite how exhausted his mind was feeling. Instead, he kept pacing back and forth on the common room floors without changing into pajamas, with some nagging feeling in the back of his head that he couldn’t quite pin down. Something had been left unresolved. His thoughts were restless and there was a strange feeling in his chest. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt before.

Before long, he found his feet taking him down the Grand Staircase and out of the main building, taking him towards the one and only place which could bring peace by distracting him. After all, a true Gryffindor always had an uncanny knack for sneaking into the wrong places, at the wrong time, yet always getting out (mostly) unscathed.

Before long, he found himself in the Quiddtich Training Grounds. He quickly made his way over to an abandoned shed where he’d managed to stash an extra broom--one of the cheaper ones they used to train the first year students--for use in times like this. He quickly clambered on it and lifted off into the deep, evening sky, naturally swerving this way and that, practicing his school-famous flying maneuvers, trying to empty his mind of all thoughts. It was the one place where he felt at peace, flying without wings, in the sky where he somehow naturally excelled beyond everyone else.

Before long, he had become accustomed to the cool breeze threaded through his hair and touched upon his skin. His body finally felt calmed, and he had forgotten whatever it was that was bothering him before. He did a final loop before landing gracefully on the soft field, finally ready to call it a night.

“That was some pretty smooth flying, Jeon Jungkook,” a voice suddenly called out of nowhere.

Instinctively, Jungkook jumped, hand into his chest pocket where he kept his wand. But when he looked up, the person he saw was not a professor nor a monster like he’d expected, but rather someone completely unexpected.

The person stepped closer to Jungkook. He pushed back his blonde locks to reveal his forehead, the familiar sly yet simultaneously charming smile plastered on his face like he had been born with it. He, just like Jungkook, was still dressed in his school uniform, though without the black robe adorning his shoulders.

And Jungkook didn’t know why, but as soon as he saw the Slytherin seeker, the feelings which he’d tried so hard to ignore suddenly came rushing back again despite his efforts.

“What are you doing here?” Jungkook asked, slightly terrified at the certain prospects of his situation.

“I was wandering the halls, when I noticed you were doing the same,” Jimin shrugged. “Curious, I decided to follow to see where you were headed. I never thought you’d end up here.”

Jungkook remained speechless, still worried about the consequences.

“Relax,” Park Jimin spoke, still smiling. “I won’t tell anyone you’re here past curfew.”

Jungkook gulped. “I could say the same to you.”

Unexpectedly, Jimin shook his head.

“I actually have special permission to be here, unlike you, Jeon Jungkook,” said Jimin. “Hooch noticed my busy schedule and supposed lack of prior experience despite my desire of wanting to join the Slytherin team. So she’s allowed me to use the Training Grounds off hours.” Jungkook suddenly noticed Jimin was also clutching a training broom in his right hand.

Jimin threw another smile at Jungkook’s direction.

“I’m not like you, Gryffindor,” he spoke slowly, the words slipping off his tongue as if he was chanting some sort of dangerous spell. “I was never ‘naturally talented’ at any of this. I couldn’t even control my broom for the entire first semester of my time here at Hogwarts. So I had to work with everything I had. I hope you understand.”

“Why...are you telling me this?” Jungkook inquired, feeling slightly uncomfortable. He was out here in the middle of the night having a conversation with a Slytherin. If anyone caught him, his reputation would be as good as over. Plus, there was no telling what Jimin was actually planning.

“So there’s no animosity between us,” Jimin answered, avoiding Jungkook’s eyes as he gazed towards the dark sky above them. “Like I said, I hope you understand. It was a chance for all my efforts to pay off and be completely noticed for the first time--granted, I had to sacrifice your dignity in exchange. But now, people are finally becoming curious about me. You’d probably do the same in my situation.”

“You didn’t have to do it like that,” Jungkook grumbled before he could help it. He was referring to the way Jimin had clearly hid the Snitch away only to reveal at a climatic moment in the middle of the field. He still vividly recalled the defeating feeling he’d experienced, as that seemingly hopeful moment of recovering was crushed in an instant.

“But that would’ve been no fun,” said Jimin. “I am a Slytherin, after all.”

As he spoke the last words, he tilted his head towards Jungkook, who found himself unable to stop staring. He didn’t know if it was his tired brain conjuring up detrimental ideas, but for some reason Jimin looked strangely captivating with his slightly long golden hair drifting through the wind like that, and that ambiguous half smile with so many mysteries and hidden intentions behind it.

“How about this?” Jimin said suddenly, interrupting Jungkook’s drifting thoughts. “I don’t expect you to forgive me so quickly. I probably wouldn’t either if I were you. So...what if you played a game with me? If I win the game, you forgive me. And if you win the game, I’ll agree to any one thing you request of me.”

Jungkook’s ears perked. He was always one for a challenge. And the stakes seemed to be in entirely in his favour, regardless of the outcome.

“I’m listening,” Jungkook voiced his interest at once.

Jimin smirked. “That’s what I’d figured you would say.” He suddenly reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wand.

Jungkook froze. “Don’t tell me--”

“Accio.”

After a few seconds, a red silk bag suddenly rushed out of the school building and into Jimin’s palm. Jungkook’s eyes widened as he realized what it was that was inside, squirming and writhing for freedom.

He gaped in disbelief. “How did you--?”

“I told you, special permissions,” Jimin grinned. “How am I supposed to train to be a Seeker without a Snitch?”

Jungkook had no retort, as he stared at the bag, transfixed, and slightly impressed at how Jimin had managed to convince the professors to give him a Golden Snitch to practice with in his free time.

“So how about it?” Jimin asked. “No destruction of property and no wands with the exception of absolute emergencies. First one to catch the Golden Snitch after it gets a 30 second head start wins. Also, you can’t get caught by anyone otherwise you’re eliminated. It’s gonna be difficult because it’s pretty dark out. Are you still up for it?”

Jungkook contemplated for a few seconds, trying to figure out if there was a catch, though his blood was already pumping at the prospect of being able to have a Quidditch battle at night when no one else was watching.

“Wait a minute, I’m not a Seeker though,” Jungkook said. “I’m just a Chaser. Shouldn’t that give you an advantage?”

Jimin blatantly scoffed in Jungkook’s face. “Everyone knows how you fly, Jeon Jungkook. The only reason why you’re not a Seeker is because your flying abilities are so valuable that they should be utilized at all times, not just when the Snitch is released.”

Jungkook couldn’t help but grinning a little at the fact that Jimin knew this. He could literally feel his ego inflating, even if just a little bit.

“Thanks,” Jungkook responded dumbly, not even sure if it was the proper answer. And from the way Jimin laughed at him, he realized that it was probably not.

But for some reason, it didn’t feel too bad. Not at all.

Jimin reached out as the broom rapidly whizzed to his palm, mounting it promptly. Jungkook nodded as he did the same, his heart thumping eagerly in his chest.

“Ready?” Jimin asked, as he undid the drawstring of the bag. Jungkook watched as the Snitch whizzed excitedly at its freedom, already shooting away at remarkable speeds.

“You know it,” Jungkook answered, his eyes changing. He also had his pride as Gryffindor’s Quidditch Captain on this line. No way was he gonna lose this. Jimin and Jungkook narrowed their eyes in anticipation, both of them already shaking on their tippy toes, ready to launch on the count.

“Okay then,” Jimin smiled. “Then...3...2...1.”

They both kicked off and accelerated rapidly, reaching extreme speed and height within an impressive amount of time, despite using training brooms. They both swerved towards the direction they saw the Snitch heading, over one of the stone bridges of the school building, racing neck and neck. They launched themselves over treetops and swerved around corners with remarkable control, refusing to give in even just a little. Though Jungkook was known for his ability to accelerate in record time and impeccable control, he was surprised to find that Jimin was right on his tail.

Hmm...he’s not bad. At all. Jungkook thought. But I’m better.

Without even looking back, Jungkook took an unexpected dive towards what seemed to be impenetrable wall. However, beneath some protruding stone there was a narrow crack which he tilted his body and managed to cut through with an impressive amount of agility. One turn within a narrow, deserted alleyway followed by a quick shot upwards brought him back out to the exterior, with Jimin nowhere in sight and likely left way behind due to his sudden shortcut.

He couldn’t help but smirk to himself, trying to imagine the shocked look on Jimin’s face when he managed to pull that off.

Taking a quick breather from his sudden lead, he found himself at a vantage point that allowed him to see quite a large field of vision, despite it being the evening. He squinted his eyes, desperately trying to make out the tiny Snitch. He suddenly understood why Jimin suggested this battle--not only was it a battle of flying alone, but also a battle of vision, as a keen eye was a valuable possession for any exemplary Seeker.

Fortunately, Jungkook also had almost perfect night vision.

And that’s when he saw it. A yellow glimmer in the distance towards where a forest of trees loomed. It could’ve been anything, even a mistake. But Jeon Jungkook was a true Gryffindor, and as true Gryffindors usually were, he wasted no time in following his instincts and immediately accelerated as rapidly as he could towards the sparkling object.

Though it appeared that Jeon Jungkook was shooting at his maximum speeds, he was actually being moderately cautious this time--he’d let his neglect for his surroundings get the better of him once, and he wasn’t about to let it happen again. So he flew at a speed lenient enough to allow him to still keep a steady eye on every other movement around him.

The twinkle again, but this time, much closer, and this time, he knew for sure that it was the Golden Snitch, sparkling and beckoning him to come closer for the victory. He smirked to himself, as he already started to fantasize about what favours he would make Park Jimin do.

Suddenly super motivated, the Gryffindor Chaser pointed the nose of his broom downwards, accelerating to his maximum speeds at last. He was ready to reach his arm out, literal seconds away from finally gaining back his pride--

A wisp of gold, suddenly appearing out of nowhere and blocking his way.

“WHERE’D YOU COME FROM?” Jungkook couldn’t help but screech in pure disbelief, when he suddenly found himself tailing behind Park Jimin in their pursuit of the Golden Snitch.

He heard a bubbling laughter from the front which did nothing to ease his already tormented mindset.

“You managed to look in all directions, even behind you impressively,” he heard Jimin shout from in front of him. “But you forgot to look above you.”

Jungkook felt the blood pumping in his ears again, as an unexplainable surge of excitement coursed through him.

“Were you circling above me this entire time?” he asked, incredulous.

“Some of us prefer not to use flashy tricks, Gryffindor,” Jimin said, before abruptly gaining speed again.

Jungkook suddenly realized what was going on, and that he was now seconds away from losing this battle. And that wasn’t an option. Gritting his teeth, he used everything he had left to chase after Jimin, until they were finally side by side. The Snitch was still whizzing in front of them, but was slowing failing to shake them of their tail despite its abrupt changes in direction.

“Give up, Park Jimin,” Jungkook growled, as he lunged forwards, trying to grab at the flying ball. “I lost once I’m not gonna lose again.”

“Oh? You finally learned my name,” Jimin retorted. Jungkook was feeling his presence more than ever, now that they were side by side, chasing after a single goal. “I beg to differ, Jeon Jungkook--once you defeat someone once it’s not hard to believe you can do it a second time.”

Jungkook couldn’t help but smile to himself. He suddenly found himself seeing Park Jimin in an entirely new light--the boy clearly didn’t know when to give up. And somehow, he appreciated that. It reminded him of a certain someone he was all too familiar with.

But there was no time for pleasant thoughts. The Snitch suddenly made an aberrant move, diving madly towards one of the corners of the school building, ready to round it and disappear out of sight again. But Jungkook had seen this before, back when he was training to be the prospective Seeker for the team.

Mercilessly, being the quicker one, Jungkook aggressively cut his broom in front of Jimin, forcing him to the inner side and trapping him as they headed straight for the corner, ensuring that he would round the corner first. But Jimin wasn’t giving up, trying to push as close as possible to the wall without getting hurt. But it was useless, he would have no choice but to back out and go behind Jungkook.

Sorry Jimin, it’s my win this time.

“AHHHH!”

Jungkook suddenly halted when he heard the pained scream shoot through the otherwise silent night. His blood ran cold, as he realized that in his desire to win, he had caused something horrible to happen.

Oh my god, I’m an idiot.

In a deranged fury, Jungkook immediately halted his broom to turn around and expect the worst.

His voice started to cracked as he called out to his opponent. “Jimin, I’m so sorry I--”

A sudden whiz passed by him, his hair and clothes being picked up by the fast wind. It all happened in a blur, and he didn’t even realize what was going on for the first few seconds. He soon noticed that it was empty behind him, where there should’ve been carnage, and in front of him was Park Jimin floating triumphantly on his broom, clutching the struggling Snitch between his thumb and index finger with a glorious smile on his face, as if it was the easiest thing he’d ever done in his life.

Jungkook was in disbelief. Breathing heavily he managed a “You...you...you tricked me.”

Jimin’s smile only widened. “I win,” he declared proudly.

And when Jimin broke out into his bubbling laughter, tilting his head back and simply enjoying the moment, Jungkook felt a surge of something through his heart, and it was in that moment that he finally realized he had messed up in more ways than one.

Yeah, he had lost. Absolutely and again. Probably in the most miserable way possible.

But seeing Jimin laugh like this...it almost felt good.

He almost wanted to do it all over again.

The two of them slowly drifted back towards the Training Ground, with Jimin laughing gleefully all the way, while Jungkook was training to control this strange, confusing and overwhelming mess of emotions which he had never dealt with before.

“Now, you need to keep your end of the promise,” Jimin reminded Jungkook, as he slipped the Snitch back into its pouch for safe-keeping again.

“Oh, right,” Jungkook mumbled, words suddenly not working well with him. “I, uh, I forgive you.” What am I forgiving him for again?

But of course, Park Jimin wasn’t done tormenting him as it was.

“Hold on,” Jimin replied at once. “I never said I was going to accept your apology that easily. Don’t you think you were being much too harsh for someone so soft and fragile like me?”

Normally, Jungkook would’ve scoffed and called him out. Saying that it was Jimin’s problem, not his. But for some reason, his tongue refused to cooperate, and he couldn’t do anything but keep his eyes fixed on Jimin, who, as if by some mysterious incantation, was becoming more and more attractive to him by the second.

“So...uh...what do you...what do you want me to do?” Jungkook asked. For some reason, Jungkook suddenly wasn’t so impartial to the idea of being able to spend more time with Park Jimin after this.

Jimin pushed his hair back and smiled brightly at Jungkook. “Meet me here at the exact same time tomorrow, and every week after that for a month. If you’re so willing to see me, then I’ll accept that you’ve truly forgiven me.”

Jungkook was stunned at the awfully odd request.

“You make a good practice buddy,” Jimin continued. “Practicing by myself has its limit. So help me out for a month.”

“What if I get caught?” Jungkook protested. “I can’t be here so freely. I don’t have ‘special permissions’, unlike you.”

“Well then,” Jimin replied at once. “That’s too bad for you. See you tomorrow night, Gryffindor.” He was already turning on his heels to leave.

“Wait!”

The word slipped out of Jungkook’s mouth before his brain could catch up. Jimin had already stopped his tracks and caught his eyes.

Oh? He has pretty eyes too?

Jungkook gulped. He knew he had wanted to say something but he wasn’t sure exactly what. It seemed that he just wanted to prolong the moment, even for just a few seconds.

“Everything alright, Jeon Jungkook?” Jimin asked, slightly amused.

“I think you’re really good at Quidditch,” Jungkook blurted, instinctively, as the first thing on his mind.

For the first time, Jimin appeared shocked for a few a seconds, but that quickly melted into his usual smile again.

“I couldn’t hear you,” Jimin spoke.

Jungkook stepped closer boldly, as if this was something he suddenly really wanted Jimin to hear when he repeated:

“Park Jimin, I think you’re really good at flying.”

Jimin broke out into laughter, and for a second Jungkook thought an angel had blessed his ears.

“That means a lot coming from you, O Legendary Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team,” Jimin grinned. “But you haven’t seen anything yet. This is only the beginning.”

Jimin was started to walk away again, but this time with a strange little bounce in his steps that Jungkook couldn’t help but notice.

“Sleep tight, Jeon Jungkook!” Jimin yelled gleefully over his shoulders. “Try not to see me in your nightmares tonight.”

And with that Park Jimin was gone. Not realizing that he’d left Jungkook there, alone, barely clutching onto his broomstick with a dazed smile on his face and his heart thumping in a way it never had before. He attempted to take a step back towards the entrance to the school, but found himself to be light-headed.

And when Jungkook briefly recalled those charming eyes and bewitching smile, he suddenly felt strange lurch in his chest.

Oh boy...

✧✧✧

“Jungkook, there’s egg on your face.”

Jungkook immediately snapped back to reality, reaching to wipe his mouth. “Sorry,” he said to Taehyung. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Good. You didn’t hear us shit-talking you for the past five minutes,” Taehyung rolled his eyes.

“What? Seriously?”

“No. You idiot. You actually weren’t paying attention for the past five minutes I can’t believe you.”

Their usual group of friends were sat in the Great Hall for breakfast, the sky above them as clear as day. Over the past few years, the school had finally abolished the year old ritual of segregation by houses, and students could sit wherever they wanted for informal gatherings such as breakfast, lunch or dinner. Students were nowadays encouraged to set their differences aside and mingle between all the different houses, and get to learn good things from everyone. However, despite the mixture of red, blue and yellow amongst most tables, there remained a large strip of green for the long table closest to the doors by the entrance to the Great Hall, as if tradition had never changed for the Slytherins.

Of course, there were always a few exceptions.

“Oi, Jungkook, what’s up with you anyway?” 7th year Slytherin Min Yoongi groaned aloud before munching on a slice of ham.

“Are you ill?” Hoseok asked in concern, from his seat right next to Yoongi.

“No, no, I’m fine,” Jungkook muttered. “I just...didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Ah, you’re a sore loser, aren’t you?” Yoongi couldn’t help but snark. “It’s okay, I personally slept like a baby last night. It was a good day for us D-boys.”

“D-boys?” Namjoon asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Dungeon Boys,” Yoongi stated, as if it should’ve been the most obvious thing in the world. “You know, cause our Common Room is a Dungeon?”

“That will never sound appealing to me. Living in a hipster dungeon,” Seokjin commented nonchalantly.

“Shut up. It beats getting stuck outside your posh-ass lily adorned tower cause you don’t know the answer to one of those elitist dad jokes,” Yoongi shot back.

“Those are not dad jokes, those are certified Ravenclaw riddles for your information,” Seokjin grimaced, fully offended.

“Can we focus here?” Taehyung interjected. “Jungkook’s having a crisis here. We should worry about him first.”

“Guys, I’m fine, really,” Jungkook insisted. “Couldn’t have been better.”

“Really? What time did you fall asleep last night?” Seokjin interrogated swiftly.

Jungkook shrugged. “I dunno...like 4 a.m.?”

“What the hell were you doing up at that time?” Hoseok asked.

“I was...uhhh...doing laundry.”

The entire group promptly glared at him.

“That excuse doesn’t work here, Jungkook. a) we’re not your naive parents and b) we don’t do even do our own laundry here,” Taehyung frowned.

“Just tell us the truth man, we won’t tell anyone,” Hoseok insisted.

“Yeah,” Seokjin agreed. “You’re our Gryffindor baby. We would never say or do anything to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Jungkook considered his options for his seconds, weighing the genuineness of their words.

“You sure you won’t tell anyone?” he spoke.

“Promise,” Namjoon nodded, on behalf of the rest of them.

Jungkook took a deep breath.

“I met up with Park Jimin last night.”

A chorus of gasps echoed amongst the five of them and Jungkook immediately knew he’d made a mistake. The variety in emotional reaction was quite impressive: Seokjin and Namjoon looked concerned and displeased grandparents while Hoseok and Taehyung had their faces scrunched up in disgust, almost as if Jungkook had just sold away their most well-kept secrets.

Yoongi was only one grinning. “Park Jimin,” he repeated the name, playing with it on his tongue. “I know that kid. I like him. He’s a bit too naturally erotic for his own good though.”

Hoseok stared at him in horror. “Why are you talking about real people like that?”

Yoongi shrugged. “Have you seen him?”

“No, but--”

Namjoon raised his head. “I saw him once. Passed by him in the halls. The way he walks though. I wasn’t even trying to pay attention and...” His voice trailed off as he realized Seokjin looked livid, ready to choke the living hell out of Namjoon.

Jungkook was bewildered. “I don’t think he’s like that.”

“Oh, what do you know? You’re blinded by hate,” Seokjin growled, clearly agitated. Jungkook wasn’t even sure if he was talking to himself or not.

Jungkook thought about for it a few more seconds. He never really saw Jimin as attractive at first, too consumed by his competitive desire to dominate and outplay him, and it wasn’t until later that he saw him to be beautiful rather than...whatever it was they were describing. Though, it didn’t take him very long to understand their point of view.

Oh. Yup. I totally see it. Jungkook quickly shook it out of his head, trying not to make his situation even worse than it already was.

“What’d you do with him anyway?” Taehyung spoke up suddenly. “Did you guys get into a scrap or something?”

Jungkook shook his head, starting to think about how much he should tell. “No, we were just...talking.”

“About what though?” Seokjin added. “That’s always the most important part.”

Jungkook was about to answer genuinely, when he heard some snickering from across the table.

“Maybe Kookie was having some moonlight confessions with the Slytherin Seeker,” Taehyung said suddenly. Jungkook froze, wondering if they were actually onto something.

But then he realized--much to his dismay--that they all had fairly amused looks on their faces.

“Ha. Can you imagine? If Jeon Jungkook, the Gryffindor pride, actually messed around with a Slytherin? Oh man, what a knee slapper!” Hoseok spoke in a mocking voice, and finished with a loud, obnoxious laugh.

Jungkook felt his heart sink to its depths, as the vibrant sound of their joyous laugher completely crushed the seedlings of his ludicrous fantasies.

“Stop teasing him!” Seokjin scolded. “Why would even suggest something ridiculous like that? Jungkook would never.”

But even Yoongi was laughing. “Oh man, you guys kill me. Jungkook, of all people, the most ‘Gryffindorest’ person I know. With a Slytherin. That’s actually hilarious.”

“Please,” Namjoon interjected, placing a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “As if Jungkook could ever be infatuated with someone from the very house who did their best to humiliate him yesterday...and all other days to be honest. Everyone’s got pride and self-love. No way could someone ever fall into something so deprecating.”

“Bro, chill. I was just kidding,” said Taehyung, as he tore at a chicken drumstick. “As if Jungkook would even get close to those snakes in the first place. Other than to fight them, of course.”

“Hello? I’m sitting right here,” Yoongi waved, slightly annoyed but simultaneously used to the usual chirps Taehyung (and others) liked to poked at his house.

“I already said you’re different,” Taehyung reassured. He reached over and wrapped an arm around Yoongi who swiftly pushed it off. Before anyone could stop them, they had commenced their usual debate of whether Hufflepuff or Slytherin was truly superior nowadays within the modern social hierarchy of Hogwarts.

Jungkook chose to zone them out, having a whole new set of problems to deal with. He desperately tried to keep a grimace from appearing on his face but he wasn’t sure if it was working, so he tried to cover it up by drinking some more pumpkin juice. His chest was starting to acquire that extremely tight, uncomfortable feeling again, as that conversation wasn’t at all what he’d wanted to hear at all. He’d hoped that he could introduce the prospects of a new friend to the group, but from the way they had all reacted, that was far from reality. In fact, he wasn’t even sure if he could keep all their comments from affecting his own personal judgment of Park Jimin.

Jungkook held back a sigh, wondering what to do with himself when the evening would finally arrive again. That fluttering feeling when he was with Jimin had been pleasant, and he’d wanted to explore for a bit longer, but at this rate it seemed that he would have to seal it all off in order to keep all his current relationships as they were.

As Jungkook raised the goblet to his lips again, he noticed someone in the corner of his eye. As if with impeccable timing, Park Jimin had suddenly risen from his seat along with some of his friends, having finished their meal. Before he could help himself, Jungkook was staring again, intent on observing his former acquaintance within his natural surroundings.

He truly had a lovely smile, similar to the one he threw at Jungkook several times last night, but this one seemed more genuine. The way his blonde hair gently toppled amongst itself as he leaned back in laughter was quite nice to look at from a distance. Jungkook continued watching as Jimin gestured for his friends to go ahead of him,s tarting to pack several large books back into his bag.

At last, he was done, and Jungkook quickly tore his eyes away as he realized Jimin was headed towards his direction, or at least passing by the table in front of him. He pretended to indulge in his pumpkin juice again, when he suddenly made the mistake of glancing upwards.

Namjoon was right. There certainly was something mesmerizing about the way Jimin moved, every sway of his hips slightly more captivating than it should be. And then Jungkook was staring again, the goblet still pressed awkwardly against his lips. His eyes raked over Jimin’s pretty guise, his heart thumping way faster than it ought to.

And that’s when it happened.

In a decisive moment, Jimin glanced over towards Jungkook, right when he was passing right in front of him, as if he’d been aware that Jungkook was watching him all along. Jungkook’s breath hitched in his throat. Jimin met eye contact with him for barely more than a second, but it was more than enough to give him a slight smirk and nod to acknowledge their acquaintance.

Oh...wow...

And suddenly, a loud clatter resonated from where they were sitting, causing Jung Hoseok to curse and nearly jump out of his seat.

The sound immediately brought Jungkook back to reality, and when he looked back Jimin was nowhere to be seen. All that remained was his now empty goblet that had evidently slipped out of his hand and crashed onto the floor in his dazed moment.

“Jungkook, are you okay?” Namjoon asked in concern, as he rushed to clean the orange-coloured juice off Jungkook’s robes.

“Um...there’s some juice dripping out of your mouth...” Seokjin commented, half in concern, half in disgust.

Jungkook hurriedly wiped himself down, in order to decrease the amount of attention he was suddenly attracting.

“Sorry,” Jungkook muttered, embarrassed. “I just...um...zoning out. Really sorry.”

“See this is what you happens when you don’t get enough sleep,” said Seokjin matter-of-factly.

“Okay, mom,” Jungkook responded boldly.

“It’s fine. You didn’t miss much anyways,” Hoseok frowned as he waved his hand dismissively. “Those two are still going at it.” He nodded at the Slytherin and Hufflepuff sat next to him, glaring at each other viciously.

“Fight me, Min Yoongi,” Taehyung was growling. “You and me. Duel after D.A. tomorrow. Hoseok’s the referee.

The owner of the mentioned spit out his mouthful of potatoes, much to everyone’s else distaste.

“WHAT?! Why me?!” Hoseok protested. “Get Namjoon to do it. He’d probably be more fair.”

“Nah, we like you,” Yoongi and Taehyung both said simultaneously.

Hoseok suddenly revoked his stance, softening at once and even seeming slightly flattered as indicated by his partial smile.

“What does that make me?” Namjoon muttered, slightly offended.

Jungkook silently groaned to himself. Sure, they were excited about duelling with each other, but none of them seemed to care that he would be dealing with the most difficult battle of them all--an internal battle against himself.

Careful not to let them notice, Jungkook slowly slumped into his arms on the free space on the dining table and buried his head into them.

Their mocking laughter echoed in his ears, followed by the vivid imagery of Jimin’s smile.

Jungkook let out a sigh at last.

His heart was probably going to be torn apart at this rate.

✧✧✧

That evening, Jungkook walked towards the Training Grounds with more bravado than he could ever expect. In the hours between his last conversation with his friends until now, he had somehow managed to convince himself that maybe, just maybe he wasn’t infatuated with Jimin like he thought he was at all.

As Jungkook kept walking, he started contemplating other possibilities. Maybe, it was much too soon to jump to such rash conclusions. Maybe, in the heat of the adrenaline, he had mistaken his excitement for some other feelings. Maybe, it was his first time meeting a slightly strange person so his brain justified for his lack of social skills by making him constantly think about that person. Maybe, he wouldn’t have to worry about causing any turmoil as a Gryffindor after all. Maybe--

A pair of soft, small hands suddenly snuck around his face and covered his eyes. Before he could be startled, he felt a lingering breath on his ear, followed by a familiar voice in the gentlest whisper:

“Guess who?”

The hands removed themselves, and then Park Jimin was in front of him, smiling brightly and standing much closer than he’d ever intended for them to be.

Jungkook’s heart did a complete 180, plummeted in its cavern, rose back up and did a few flips before slamming against chest full force.

Haha, nope.

“H-h-hey,” Jungkook said smoothly.

“You’re awfully timely, Mr. Jeon Jungkook,” Jimin drawled out his name in a way that made him want to slam his head against a wall so it would echo in his brain forever. “Maybe you really do wanna forgive me.”

“O-of course,” Jungkook replied, mindlessly following Jimin like a puppy. “So, uh, should I get my broom or...?”

Jimin turned on his heels, tilting his head at Jungkook. “Oh? No need for that right now. Follow me.”

Jungkook jolted a little, before obediently following Jimin back towards an alleyway hidden between the stone walls of the school buildings. He was slightly surprised that Jimin knew of a place within Hogwarts that even he didn’t know.

Gradually, Jungkook became more and more aware of how narrow the alleyway was, and more vexingly how close he was to Jimin. He could barely feel the rustling of the other’s clothes on his own, and he was holding his breath, hoping Jimin didn’t notice his hyperawareness.

“Um, what’s in here?” Jungkook asked cautiously.

“What are you waiting for?” Jimin replied with his own question. “Take it off.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your robes, take them off,” Jungkook couldn’t help but stare with a gulp as Jimin started unbuttoning his own robe and undoing his tie.

“W-what?”

A tiny laughter escaped Jimin’s throat as he suddenly tapped Jungkook’s shoulder, nudging him aside. It was only then that Jungkook noticed there was an opening in the wall, or rather several missing stones making for a little storage space. And to further demonstrate this, Jimin cast the summoning spell once again, and out came his practice broom and the bag containing the Snitch. He threw his own robes and tie back inside.

“Wouldn’t want them to get ruined, do you?” said Jimin. “Unless you plan on using the hindrance as an excuse when you lose again.”

"Who do you think I am?” Jungkook scoffed. “Are you trying to provoke me on purpose?”

Jimin’s smile only widened. “Always.”

Swiftly, Jungkook immediately followed suit and shoved his own robe and tie into the opening, the competitive spirit already coursing through his veins.

“Also, one more time,” Jimin spoke. “Accio.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened as another broom suddenly hovered in the opening, and he recognized it as none other than the iconic Nimbus 2001 broomstick, the one that Jimin used in game.

“Bring your Firebolt here next time,” Jimin suggested. “I wanna have a battle with no handicaps.”

“Why do you use the training brooms if you have this one safely kept here?” Jungkook asked out of curiosity.

Jimin shrugged. “I guess I like the challenge,” he spoke. “I like using the training brooms because they’re the bare minimum, so when I actually go out to play, it’ll feel easier.” He paused for a second, and then added as an afterthought. “Plus, I guess I like being mildly restrained.”

Jimin gave Jungkook no time to properly process what he’d just said before he brushed past him and headed back towards the Training Grounds.

“Grab your training broom and meet me out there,” said Jimin. “We’ll have the same battle as last time?” He waved the wriggling Snitch bag

“I won’t lose this time,” Jungkook said confidently.

Jimin smiled. “We’ll see about that.”

✧✧✧

Jimin and Jungkook collapsed onto the soft, green grass of the Training Grounds, breathing heavily in satisfaction, with the sweat dripping down their necks and foreheads. Park Jimin laid with his broom falling out of his left hand, while Jungkook’s was still clutched in his right, and the Golden Snitch gripped firmly in his left.

It had been a fierce battle, neck-in-neck and without mercy. But ultimately, a victor had been determined.

“Good game,” Jimin exhaled, turning over onto his side to look at Jungkook.

“Yeah...” Jungkook sighed, his chest heaving as he remained flat on his back, staring up into the dark sky now speckled with stars.

“You really wanted to win this time, huh?” Jimin asked softly.

“What? You didn’t?”

“Fair enough. But you flew especially well today.”

“I had to. I couldn’t let you win again.”

“Mmm. If I wasn’t so busy trying to beat you I might’ve swooned for you...”

Jimin shuffled closer. Jungkook tensed, as Jimin’s eyes suddenly appeared in front of him, glimmering mischievously as Jimin leaned over and pressed a hand into his chest.

“I guess we really do bring out the best in each other huh?” Jimin’s voice was quiet, almost in a whisper.

Jungkook had forgotten about the butterflies in his stomach up until now (as he had been too focussed on winning), and when they came back in a flurry, he immediately became hyperaware of how nervous he was. He couldn’t even move, and it was as if his body was Petrified. He wondered if it was just in his imagination that Jimin was leaning even closer.

“Hey, Jungkook, I think you really have forgiven me, haven’t you?” Jimin asked.

Blood. Coursing through Jeon Jungkook’s veins. Pulse. Rapidly beating. Sweat. Dripping endlessly from his temples. Was it the remnants of adrenalin? Or was it something else entirely?

Certainly, Jimin was definitely leaning closer.

“Jungkook?” Jimin called his name. The way it slipped off his tongue felt so right. “What do you say? Have you forgiven me? This was the whole point of this, remember?”

The way Jimin’s fingers were dancing on his chest was so intensely noticeable, it delayed Jungkook’s response a few seconds.

“I...I already said that yesterday,” said Jungkook.

“Said what?”

“That I forgave you.”

Jimin pulled back, seemingly unsatisfied with the response.

“I don’t believe you,” he said. “You can’t possible forgive me so easily for humiliating you in front of the entire school.”

Jungkook had no idea what Jimin was trying to get him to say or do, it was bothering him immensely.

“I don’t care about that anymore,” Jungkook replied. “Not since last night.”

“Hmm? Why is that?” Jimin asked. “What’s changed since then?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“I think you do know.”

And then Jimin had moved closer again, his eyes slightly lidded and lips slightly pursed. And from the way Jungkook’s heart skipped a beat, he realized that he did indeed know after all, deep inside.

“Can you prove it to me, Jungkook?” Jimin hummed.

“Huh?”

“Show me that you’ve forgiven me.”

It all happened in an instant. In reality, Jimin moved slowly, giving Jungkook plenty of time to move should he choose to. But he didn’t. He let Jimin move forwards, feeling the weight of his hand pressing into his chest. His eyes fluttered to a half-lidded state as he felt the fleeting warmth on his lips, a soft, gentle sensation that made his head spin as if he was dreaming.

It lasted barely more than a second, but it was more than enough.

Jimin slumped onto Jungkook’s shoulders, so that his lips were right next to his ears. “I’ll be busy tomorrow night,” Jimin whispered. “But I’ll let you know when I can see you again. Don’t forget about tonight.”

Jungkook sensed a sudden emptiness from within him. “Jimin, I--”

“Sleep well, Jungkook.”

And then Jimin was gone, with Jungkook still lying there, still feeling completely dazed from everything that had just happened. In fact, he wasn’t sure if even happened at all, or his he’d just dreamed it all up in his exhausted state.

It was another good five minutes before Jungkook could even bring himself to move again.

✧✧✧

The answer was obvious. And anyone else would’ve known it. It was about time that Jungkook recognized it himself.

He sighed to himself as he sat up in his bed, barely sleeping a wink last night as he attempted to find alternative answers. But there were none, because the truth was as plain as day. The smile captivated him, those eyes enchanted him, and his words were like an Imperius Curse. He couldn’t stop thinking about Jimin. He liked Jimin. And he could no longer deny that his young, naive heart had fallen for the cunning Slytherin.

Last night, he speculated if Jimin had planned this all along. Seduction seemed second nature to the pretty Slytherin boy, and Jungkook couldn’t help but wonder if he was playing right into his palm without even knowing it. Despite it being a very likely scenario, he knew he was already caught deep in the web, and there was no easy way of getting out now.

Dragging himself out of his covers, Jungkook decided the best way to approach this was to ask for someone’s else opinion. Getting himself cleaned up, Jungkook quickly changed into his school robes and headed for the dining hall, where his group of tight-knit friends would surely already be waiting for him, filled with wise and unbiased advice.

As Jungkook rounded the corner, he noticed Kim Taehyung and Jung Hoseok walking ahead of him as if on cue. With a blazing smile on his face, he quickly rushed towards them, opening his mouth to call them.

“It’s like they put all the assholes in one group and called it a House,” Taehyung was saying,

“Yeah, when are they going to abolish the Slytherin house already?” Hoseok agreed spitefully. “Nothing good ever came out of it anyways.”

“When Min Yoongi graduates,” Taehyung joked. They both laughed happily at the comment.

Jungkook froze in his steps, ccidentally overhearing the conversation they were having. Heaviness weighing down his chest, Jungkook slowly hid behind the one of the pillars in the hallway, heart pounding rapidly as he contemplated what they’d just said.

They surely were not intentionally being hurtful, he was sure--they’d always talked like this, for as long as he’d remembered. And if anything, maybe others in the school shared the same cynical opinion, based on the history that they knew.

It’s none of my business, Jungkook reassured himself internally. It’s the school’s problem, not mine. Anyways, if that’s that case, then I probably shouldn’t let them know about this.

Jungkook was torn, and the already sparse pool of people who he could ask for advice had suddenly diminished greatly.

Think, Jungkook, think! Who would offer you decent advice and not be judgmental...

His eyes widened as he realized that there was one person left, the only person who could effectively aid him in his childish endeavours.

✧✧✧

“So basically, you want me to help you get into Park Jimin’s pants?”

Jungkook couldn’t help but feel humbled. Min Yoongi’s blunt way of talking somehow always had a way of revealing a person’s true desires in the most crude way possible.

They were sitting in an empty classroom, yet for some reason, he couldn’t help but fear that other students--or even worse, a Professor--could be listening in.

“Well...more or less,” Jungkook mumbled. “But it doesn’t have to be like that right away.”

“I’m surprised,” Yoongi chortled, quite amused at the situation. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I couldn’t imagine a straight-laced Gryffindor like you falling for any Slytherin, let alone the one who stole your thunder so ruthlessly like that.”

“That doesn’t matter to me anymore,” Jungkook said. “It’s the first time I’ve liked someone like this. And I really want to do something about it.”

Yoongi’s expression softened, and his tone suddenly became more understanding. He reached over and patted Jungkook encouragingly on the shoulder.

“Aw, don’t look so distressed,” Yoongi reassured. “The heart wants what it wants after all.”

Jungkook calmed down at once, grateful for Yoongi’s rare sympathy.

A sudden exhale from Yoongi nearly extinguished the relax mood.

“But I have to warn you,” Yoongi spoke suddenly. “This won’t be easy.”

“W-what do you mean?” Jungkook panicked, stumbling over his words. “Why? Why wouldn’t it be easy?”

“I’m not sure what Park Jimin said or did that made you so head over heels for him,” Yoongi explained carefully. “But you have to realize that he’s a special one--he has that charming effect on a lot of people. You may just be one single red apple in a giant orchard, if you know what I’m trying to say.”

Jungkook remained silent, waiting for Yoongi to elaborate.

“The point is, you have to stand out amongst the rest,” Yoongi continued. “Be that ripest, biggest, roundest, shiniest apple. Make yourself someone he can’t help but pluck. Only then will he truly be yours.”

It took Jungkook awhile, but eventually he understood. “That’s not a problem,” he grinned. “I’m Jeon Jungkook.” He promptly received a smack on the back of the head.

“Do you even hear yourself right now?” Yoongi scowled. “I’m Jeon Jungkook. Who the fuck do you think you are? Do you ever hear me going around telling the world I’m Min Fucking Yoongi? No. So put a sock in it. No one cares.”

“Can’t you at least let me down gently?” Jungkook complained, rubbing the back of his head.

“Listen, do you want my help or not?” Yoongi shot back. “I don’t care how much those Gryffindor jocks hype you up but to us Slytherins, being an obnoxious, dick-waving Gryffindor immediately gives you a negative ten points on the datable scale. And you, being the Jeon Jungkook who is the practical poster boy of those people, probably makes you at the very least a negative fifty thousand.” He gave another frustrated sigh before continuing again. “I mean just think about it for two seconds--if he cared at all about you and your name, he would’ve never publicly humiliated you in front of the entire school.”

Jungkook felt utterly defeated. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” Yoongi agreed. “But, no worries. Not all hope is lost. I have an idea. We Slytherins tend to respect those who can outsmart us, so that’s all you gotta do.”

“You want me to outsmart Jimin?” Jungkook gawked. “Do you not realize how my brain practically turns into mush every time I talk to him?”

“It’s not like you can beat him with your non-mushy brain either,” Yoongi grinned, clearly having fun with this at this point. “Which is why you’ll be following my plans step-by-step, and not acting on your own.”

Jungkook contemplated for a few seconds. “Okay...let’s hear it first then.”

Yoongi cleared his throat, looking more and more like a mad scientist by the second--and Jungkook was the guinea pig.

“First, you’ll need some Polyjuice Potion.”

✧✧✧

end of pt. 1

pt. 2 will come. eventually. but not until after i finish my exams probably. XD and ofc it gets complicated so take this as like a sort of teaser and whie you’re in the mood for this kind of trope? :3

the houses were my preference of course, what i’ve always imagined them to be. i had the longest time deciding whether or not to put taehyung into hufflepuff or gryffindor but i figured...he has those badger-like qualities and is super popular and friendly so... :)

also. the second part of this fic will focus more on the dynamics of the Slytherin house and people’s feelings towards it in general. Believe it or not, these “hateful” comments are all real comments I’ve heard about the green house, and I just wanted to address them a little. Being my “second house” recently, I think there’s a lot of qualities of Slytherins that people don’t see or appreciate, and we’ll be definitely be seeing something like that in the second part. Also, I hope that you all kind of a see a bigger image for all of this despite being just a happy go lucky Harry Potter AU--no one should be judged on superficial, pre defined categories ;)

hope you enjoyed! and believe it or not i had this started before any of this run stuff came out, so this just happened to be impeccable timing and simply validated the realness of my characters so that got me even more excited ! ^^

don’t forget to come back for the (juicier) pt 2 :P

#jikook #jikook fic #harry potter au #fanfic #secretfanfics #before i go mia for a week. lmao

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