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castle-dominion · 1 year ago

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c4x14 the blue butterfly THIS EPISODE IS SO GOOD I WAS SO HAPPY THE FIRST TIME I WATCHED IT & I WATCHED THE AUDIO COMMENTARY & NOW I GET TO LIVEBLOG IT IDK IF I'LL BE ABLE TO GET THROUGH THE EPISODE TODAY BC IT IS THAT GOOD I WILL HAVE TO PAUSE IT AFTER EVERY LINE I SWEAR

Starting off sexy af, love the music love the costuming (even tho 40s colours were not ideal) love the singing love TJ/LP/BS love everything about this ugh I am dying & I have played maybe five seconds of the episode Ugh the way they talk mmmm I remember when I first watched casablanca & then it was ages until I had the chance to see double indemnity (which actually takes place 10y before this but shush) & heck the way we start off in the middle with castle/JF doing the investigation mmmmjsfhkjhdsjfs it's just sooo good so good so good. "I'm lookin at her" hhhh their eyes meet across the bar aaaaah this is so good.

You know before they flashed forward I thought this might have just been an AU.

Love this fellow's outfit she's so new york. Is ship coming in a figure of speech? We've heard it before. Does it just mean they are coming into money or getting something good like a job promotion? JE: Well, if you can remember anything else, can you please give me a call? SRO manager: Don’t hold your breath, hot shot. *walks out* KR: I think she likes you.

Banks: [we last spoke] Two months ago, which is crazy, ‘cause there was a time we couldn’t go two hours without talking. Glad s2 rysposito aren't here bc espt would make fun of ryan for calling jenny sm. Maybe he was an entomologist. Yo stan owes someone A Lot of money

KR: Just a bunch of books about mobsters and Manhattan in the ‘40s. Castle should read them. he'd probs enjoy them & he's a speedreader too. Ooh the diary! RC: Uh, this diary in Stan’s stuff, it’s also from the ‘40s. It sounds like it belonged to a private eye. Listen to this. “Usually wives turn on the waterworks when shown pictures of their husbands stepping out, but not this dame. She wanted payback. So what’s worse, that I pitched woo with a client, or that I invoiced her for services rendered after?” espt sounds so good when he uses the term "right on" I like it RC: Um, Beckett? Can I take this home for the night? I mean, it might be the key to what Stan was looking for. KB: You just want to read it because you think it’s cool. RC: Yeah, well, that, too. KB: Okay, just so long as…you… [Castle is already walking off with it.] KB: Bring it back in the morning.

Mmm music, old diaries, this is so good. I love the transition bc I could hardly tell what with the VO & the bourbon. Joe Flynn/Rick Castle: So, I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone with a little hair of the dog that bit me. What does that mean?

Oh Martha/Florence Kennard I love! Ugh the outfit the coat the accents & vernacular mmm! The way the characters have a bit of their counterparts in them is so good. Kennard is just enough like martha & susan sullivan can play her so well

How did you know it would change your life? When are you writing this diary? Is it the evening after today or is it days later or what? After the case entirely? Picture of map of manhattan in the 40s. Oh that accent is... something. Gosh alexis is a baby how is she a married woman? hhhhh I can't say everything I love abt it "my shingle" Was her name really vera mulqueen? Was sally's maiden name sally mulqueen? *dabs her eyes* $15 in 1940 is worth $325.85 today or at the time, what 2012? $245.99 in 2012. That much a day plus expenses, hoo that's a lot Ugh the costumes, the acting, the preproduction... JF/RC: Looking at that photograph, all I could think was… Me: Hot dang? JF/RC: what a beautiful doll.

Ugh the scenes of the city jjghhjkfhghg

I KNOW THAT GUY HE IS MR SCOFFIELD I THINK, FORSHADOWING OMG Satchmo Besty Sinclair <3 ugh she sings so well. & I love this music & I love dancing but I do better with big band music I think. I would loooove to dance there. Shrapnel in my hip? From ww2? Well I love how we get to learn about So Much of the character but it is only mentioned in passing. He is such a big character but we only get these little pieces of him & it was just one mention of shrapnel but it tells us a lot about his character. She's pretty af! & you can see dempsey there in the background. gorillas lmao is that what you called your henchmen back then? You got it boss. RC/JF (V.O.): What was I thinking? This dame was trouble on two legs. I kept telling myself to look away. [A tough-looking man steps up next to Beckett/Vera.] RC/JF (V.O.): She was with Tom Dempsey, for crying out loud – the most ruthless mob boss New York has ever given birth to. [Beckett/Vera kisses Dempsey on the cheek.] Ooh his outfit! RC/JF (V.O.): Dempsey sent over two of his gorillas – an Irishman and a Cuban on loan from some Havana mob family. You can loan henchworkers? [Ryan/irishman and Esposito/cuban tough-walk over to Castle at the bar.] Esposito looks almost normal but ryan looks way out there. KR/Moxie: The boss wants to see you, boy-o. Ooh that accent tho. (my canadian ass first thought "newfie" lol but they say bo'y not bowy or they even say b'y) RC/JF: Sorry, boys. My dance card’s full. JE/Cuban: This isn’t a request, compadre. *shows his gun* That accent too They get to have fun & play other characters. But the characters are not too far off. Their ties too btw, wowie

& the music! Audio mirroring! RC/JF: The waiter? I’ll take a whiskey. The boys here can share a sloe gin fizz. LMAO Great fight scene! Going to clip that for sure! Words cannot describe how I feel about this. (noo not the kitchen! ugh the way he picks him up) & ngl that booty as he throws him into the alley? Nice.

RC, probably not what JF actually said: You should see what my face did to the other guy’s fist. Vera/KB is wearing the fur over her neck entirely. Covering up the goods. Que passando? I speak french not spanish but is that "what's going on?" like "what has passed?" Doesn't put the tapped R before the D, yeah lol. Ah finally revelas the necklace!

Woah that was kind of jarring to jump back to present day but heck yeah! RC: The Blue Butterfly. It’s a necklace. That’s why Stan Banks was killed. Why am I narrating? Because you were just imagining this guy's day while reading his narration & bc it's what hot girls do. u never talk to yourself? ig it is different from narrating...

OMG WHAT A SEXY INTRO THERE

Ok so what I know from acting is from the moment you hit the set you need to use your accent, you cannot just slip it on & off easy so filming the ryan parts & the henchone parts must have been, well, something. Gosh I can't believe we only get one audio commentary of this ep. I want more, more I say! Also I like ryan's patterned red tie & red vest but that striped shirt? The only reason it's ok is bc he is mostly covering it with the vest. It has red stripes. He has a lot of buttons on the sleeves of his jacket. American flag lapel pin today. With smth else ig. Ooh blue diamonds. I miss when blue diamonds were sexy & white diamonds were just there. RC: *passes his papers to ryan* KR: *shows it to Beckett as if castle didn't already hold em up for her to see*

RC: Turns out the Blue Butterfly disappeared sometime in the ‘40s, and rumor has it, it’s hidden somewhere in The Pennybaker Club. If he found it…a million dollar-necklace? Talk about motive for murder. By the way, Ryan, say “boy-o.” [meaning he really was imagining these people in these positions] KR: *looks up from the papers castle gave him* Boy-o. RC: “Boy-ohhh.” KR: Boy-o. RC: “Boy-o.” KR: Boy-o. RC, accented: “Boy-o.” KR: Boy—O. ??? *looks to beckett* [they go back to talking about the case & rick doesn't get nazi gold but SS officer diamonds which is the same thing. Cursed necklaces? stealing stuff from nazis? mob bosses? this is right up castle's alley.] KB: Okay, Ryan, you see if you can get a hold of the bookie. Castle and I will go back to the crime scene. KR: Okay. RC: Boy-o' KR: Boy-o RC: Boy-o' KR: Boy-O RC: Like a leprechaun. KR, with an angry "ew" face: Castle! RC: Sorry.

RC: Can you blame the guy? I mean, she was gorgeous. Castle how do you know? You are reading it not seeing it. You are imagining beckett there. I was too caught up in the story to think about the "animosity back home" they kept saying Castle is so right. Minor hidden safe, very hidden secret safe. I love how castle insists on telling the story to get to the part abt the safe. RC: Well, people didn’t waste time back in the ‘40s

Oh gosh look at her dress... lmao the transition

KB: Did you just say, “Kate”? Are you picturing the P.I. as you, and me as the gangster’s moll? RC: What? No. And I didn’t say “Kate”. I said “Fate”. “Fate’s heart quickened.” I was being poetic. (chuckles nervously) God. Anyway, as I was saying, they were just about to kiss when… Why not just read from the diary & say the PI was being poetic? Maybe she would read it & call him out tho. Or ig he was reciting from memory

Oh I love the collar on Esposito/Cuban Henchone rn! Raises his fists like that lol & then Besty/Lanie saves the day & gosh that is a good kiss. "mixed laundry" XP Betsie/Lanie almost sounds normal lol

Two Brunos? Interesting word. Well they are not here right now actually so...??? So you became the girl of a mob boss to wear his jewelry? That's it? That's the reason?

KB & me: WHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT'S IT? I'M NOT ONLY INTERESTED IN THE SAFE I'M ALSO INTERESTED IN THE STORY. btw I like her coat with that red scarf it's v pretty. KB: Well, why would you tell a story when you don’t know the ending? RC: If you wanted a beginning and a middle and an end, I have 27 novels you can choose from. XD

Ray Horton: Stan? And who— who killed him? KR: JE: RH: Me? Why would I kill my business partner? 10g for a diary?

RC: So, I traced the diary. Stan did his research. He purchased it from the granddaughter of Joe’s old secretary, a woman by the name of Ruth Huntsacker. Ah that's where the diary came from KB: Look, Castle, I admit that Joe and Vera’s story is fun and romantic, but whatever happened back in 1947 has nothing to do with who murdered Stan. RC: Uh… (chuckles) I’m not so sure about that. Our bookie alibied out. But ballistics came in, and we got a match. The .38 caliber revolver that killed Stan was used in an unsolved double homicide…in 1947. WOAH NOW THIS IS GOOD. This is so so sexy. Ok so vera mulqueen is her name so sally scoville probably made that mistake when meeting joe flynn on purpose.

RC: Murdered. That’s too bad. I really thought those two crazy kids were gonna make it. KB: Yeah, not exactly the ending I was hoping for. RC: I didn’t even know ballistics went back that far. Me, who watches murdoch mysteries: Oh ho ho! The man also invented blood types & fingerprints & tape & silly putty & (he didn't actually invent any of this he's a fictional character) KB: You know what? I bet you Dempsey caught the two of them trying to run away together, and he killed them. But how does Stan’s killer get Dempsey’s gun sixty years later? KR: Unless Dempsey killed Stan. He’d be, what, like 90 years old? But it’s still possible. RC: Couldn’t have been Dempsey. He died of a heart attack four months after Joe and Vera were killed. KR: Ah. RC: Still…we should dig up that 1947 police report. There could be something in there about the gun that could shed some light on Stan’s murder. KR, resigned: All right. I’ll go to the warehouse and I’ll pull up the old case files. RC: Oh, wai- oh, uh…I want to go. KR: ? *looks to becks* KB: *shrugs* KR: Uh…okay. RC: Can I drive? KR: I don’t care. RC: OwO!!! Espt always make ryan take passenger & beckett never lets castle drive so this is fun. But is it a police car or a personal one? bc castle is probs not allowed to drive if it is a police car.

Belasco is pretty for an old guy. Watercrafter lookin dude.

Someone else accessed your police files? Nice location u got here. Different place to film in. RC: Damn it, Joe. You old sap. Dizzy with a dame and got yourself cooked. KR: So, Mr Bogart, what exactly are we looking for here?

CB: Of course not. When I asked to see the alleged diary, he refused, and yet, he wanted access to all my research on The Pennybaker Club. I mean, really, the whole thing was absurd. Yeah that is kind of rude...

Esposito's hair is... interesting. Short but long enough that he brushes it & parts it.

KR: It feels like we’re looking for a needle in a haystack, except for, we can’t find the haystack. RC: Who needs a haystack when the needle is right here? Wait I just realized-- where did they get that previous photo of tom dempsey?? Wait nvm it was in castle's internet search along with the initial photo of the blue butterfly

Love the transitions "Hatchet men" lol Doyle, my nova scotian uncle has that last name. Lots of scottish & irish immigrants there obv. It's like newfoundland but less intense. Then PEI is like nova scotia #2. RC/JF: So every clover-loving Irishman worth his salt will be huddled around a radio tonight, cheering good ol’ Jimmy on. You’re gonna wait till a rousing part of the fight. Then you’re gonna excuse yourself. Whoever’s assigned to be watching you surely won’t be paying much attention. That’s when you slip right out the back door, where I’ll be waiting for you. that's way too easy. No way theyre going to let that happen But hey they are both so good looking. JF/RC: Look at me. I’m a new man. I’m a better man. I haven’t even had a drink since I met Vera, Girl it's been like a week. Then again for someone who consistently drank himself to sleep in his office, maybe this is a miracle. What if she doesn't have a sister HA I WAS RIGHT

KR, with his cheek in his hand, listening: What happens next? [btw I like his wedding ring, it's rly pretty. & also I love seeing it, he is In Love.] RC: I don’t know. That’s the end of the statement. KR: But if Sally wasn’t Vera’s sister, then who was she? [I love how castle is getting everyone invested in this story] RC: Sally set up the P.I. It’s a classic film noir twist. KR: But whhhy? RC: I don’t know. :D KR: What was Sally up to? [Ryan he only knows as much as you do! He may be a writer but you are a detective] RC: I don’t know. :D KR: Do you think she was connected to Dempsey? *takes the file* RC: I don’t know, :D but isn’t this great? KR: KR: *double take from castle to the file to castle*

YESS THE ADVENT OF WEST SIDE WALLY At least espt excuses himself before taking the call. That's the polite thing to do. Becks sharing the file with some other detective there. the little things make the show

Man has a wedding ring... WOAH TOM DEMPSEY Nice outfit! the makeup team possibly could have done a bit more to make him look related to tom dempsey not genetically identical to him imo but whatever that's just me Wait no maybe they did do enough about it I think. it's good.

So how do you know his real name was stan? Pillar in the community...? Oh guest book at betsy's funeral, that's how he figured it out. TD: No, I did not—I did not shoot him. Stan—Wait. Stan did find it? KB: Come on. You tell us. TD: I don’t know. I was not there! "was not" rather than "wasn't" I like it

Ok espt what are you wearing? Today you are wearing a dress shirt & a tie which is nice (if different from your frequent pyjama look) but grey on grey with THOSE greys does not work bud.

Ah good grammar <3 Jerry Maddox was the old bartender??? (But ik how this goes, why would he sign his name that way in the guest book?) JE: Good job, Castle. RC, like a puppy: Yeah? JE: .. Yeah.

The med guy calls him jerry too. I see. Aw she offers homemade soup <3 Beautiful blue eyes on this man, love the old music too. JM: but I was just a bartender back then What did you become later then?

Ooh interesting, he says: Of course. It was a big deal back then. Dempsey, the fella that owned the club, shot them in cold blood. So confirming the story But then when rick asks: The same year, do you remember a woman named Sally Scofield? She was a redhead. In 1947, she would’ve been about 18. JM looks really confused like he doesn't know her. Which would make sense for Jerry Maddox, but he looks overly confused bc he is JF trying not to reveal that he, well, you know.

Gina? Ooh different person narrating! Except... not really a different person narrating ; ) Drops the pretty girl for a new, younger, pretty girl. Ew. Then again she was there bc she wanted to wear his bling RC: & Sally? JM: Couple months after, uh, Vera and that P.I. got whacked, Dempsey died of a heart attack. RC: (yea I asked abt sally bro) JM: The evening of his funeral, in walks Sally, all dressed up. Ordered a whiskey neat, slammed it back, gave me a big ol’ crocodile grin, said she was free. Then she strutted on out the door, and that’s the last time I ever saw her. Interesting claim... it's a revenge story. It would be SO good from the other point of view, you're in the hold of a mobster & then he dumps your mom for the younger prettier thing & mum kills herself with pills bc this pretty girl wanted bling & your mob daddy wanted a pretty girl so you kill the pretty girl & probably kill the mobster too? That would be good except we know it didn't happen like that & it ends up a tragedy. RC: Somehow she used the P.I. to do it. JM: >:(

KR, pink shirt no tie, cute af as usual: So…West Side Wally. May I call you Wally? WSW: I prefer West Side. I LOVE HIM SM WSW: Whoa. Cagney and Lacey, [XD] you can stop right there. I wasn’t living in the club two days ago. I had already gotten bought out by the other guy. [but u leave your sleeping bag & stuff?] KR: Bought out? JE: By the other guy? yeah babes that's what he said. I love west side, he's great.

No he cannot do his show from prison b'y Oh & again he looks good he has nice style too. Bull whip. That's cool ig. lol so dramatic holding his hand as he says stan was holding the necklace Sure bestie.

Wasn't it so that she could kill vera or smth but dempsey did it for her so she ended up faking his heart attack instead & she killed the one who stole her mother's spot & the man who dumped her mom? Except wait why would maddox only see her in 1946? Maybe that's when he started idk. Do you trust what a man has to say abt shoes? Also there are many pairs of shoes, they could have both had those shoes... except then you said she'd be wearing heels. RC: Beckett, I just realizes something. KB: ? RC: "I Can't Give You Anything But Love." KB: ???? Ouh louis armstrong Satchmo! But listen maybe he played this club many times & that's why they BOTH fell in love with his music.

the fear on their faces when they get called by their old names <3 so good (sad)

He really really sounds like Castle's Joe Flynn when he says: Lady, you got it all wrong. WHOA THE MED AIDE? Huntsacker? His mom sold the diary. Her gramma was mrs kennard. He's back here after all this time. yk that's a good point. He is gently being a spy but then some other guy bullies them lol. But for how long were these two pretending to be the bartender? Frankie Benjamin Huntsacker the aide called him jerry earlier when the detectives came to talk.

"Bushwhack" lol

GASP THE BLUE BUTTERFLY Ugh the MUSIC tho! *casually touches it with his hands* How much of it was paste? Apparently the one they actually made was made of blue sapphires & they auctioned it off for charity. There are plenty of minerals that you can use in place of diamonds. Moissanite & white sapphires are both subs for diamonds. I'm sure blue sapphires can replace blue diamonds, except blue diamonds are typically not as coloured as a good quality blue sapphire.

Joe you said that any irishman worth his salt would be around the radio, not the cuban & mob boss too. I can't believe dempsey let her go but ig he was focussing on the fight. Hoo that leg The ice? Oh the bling, the diamonds Oof she just killed lenny! Yeah Sally was totally a victim! That's sooo cool they just ran away & burned the bodies & UGH THAT'S SO GOOD I'VE BEEN WANTING TO LEARN HOW TO LIGHT A MATCH ON MY THUMB FOR YEARS They probably lied tbh... You know, didn't want to get caught for a murder they did so many years ago, they did not struggle for the gun & have it accidentally go. Girl it is not up to YOU to decide. Tho I do like your decision. JF: We don't know how to thank you RC: I do Ok but here's the thing, how would they get by without the money they were going to get from this thing? Also hold on didn't this guy have a fake? The writer believes it was always a fake, castle believes it was switched out back in the 20s, Jerry & Viola (Joe & Vera) seem to think that they hid the BB but Frankie got his hands on a fake... idk I KNEW the brick would be a thing! Oh the music <3 RC/JF: Let the bastard spend the rest of his life not knowing his prized possession is right under his nose. Love <3 <3 <3 woah that dog! Tell them it was fake or tell them someone found it? The way he pulls her in like that <3 ALWAYS <3 <3 <3 How did they make it without the money from the BB tho? That's why they concocted this plan in the first place Weird ending but So Good I love it! ugh too good! Brilliant!

I am going to transcribe the audio commentary I swear.

this episode is one of my faves & I know I say that abt a lot but DANG this one was golden! So freaking good! So Freaking Good!

#castle 4x14 #the 40s episode #castle 4x14 spoilers #castle 4x14 quote

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2dmenenthusiast · 2 years ago

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"Say it again."

(John Seed x Deputy Gn!Reader)

Ahahah heeeeey long time no fic. So, first thing first, I have a job now, yay. which takes up a lot of my time, along with, ya know, being an unmotivated wreck. But I finally gathered enough to come out with another angsty piece for this rat of a man. So I hope ya'll enjoy!

ALSO!!! This is a companion piece to THIS fic. So please read it first before continuing

Reblogs are always encouraged and appreciated!

Word count: 2.5k

Summary: after saving you, John brings up what he asked you all those years ago

Warnings/other info: angst, swearing, nearly drowning, gender neutral reader

You’ve never heard of drowning to be a pleasant death. You’ve heard it described as chilling, nerve numbing, limbs thrashing and fingers grasping at nothing as water filled your lungs. And it was like that, for a moment. A moment of panicked desperation as you tried to will your tired body to swim back to the surface, but your arms and legs felt like they had been filled with cement, stones in your chest as you watched bubbles float. How you wished to be a bubble. Light and so easily rising towards the surface of the water.

And then, you were calm. No air left to escape you as black started creeping in at the edges of your vision and your body slowly sank to the bottom of the laker. A peggie crashing his plane into yours wasn’t something you anticipated. But among the chaos and destruction happening from the cult, maybe this wasn’t the worst way to die.

But there was suddenly a rushing in your ears, your body heavy and something jagged digging into your back. You could feel pressure on your face and chest, and your eyes shot open as you violently coughed up water, gasping for air. There was a soft mutter of your name, muffled by the water clogged in your ears, and you blindly reached out only for fingers to tightly grasp your hand. You tried to blink away the water in your eyes, too tired to tell if they were tears or if it was from the river, but when your vision finally cleared, you wished you were back in the water.

“John?”

He looked down at you, gaze full of concern as he reached a shaking hand out to carefully wipe the droplets of water off of your face. You slightly flinched at his touch, not expecting it to be so gentle, but he didn’t waver. His grip on your hand tightened, and as you got a better understanding of your surroundings, you realized he had moved you onto to rocky river bank, your body partially resting in his lap, and you found yourself unintentionally seeking out his warmth. John hurriedly took off his coat, gently shifting you so that he could wrap it around your body and pulled it tight around your shoulders, enveloping you in his arms and holding you tight against his chest.

If you were in any right state of mind, you would’ve realized that there was something very wrong with this scenario, but right now, you couldn’t care less. John was warm, comforting, and your shivers became less violent as you slowly relaxed in his hold.

“I’ll kill them. I swear to God, I’ll fucking kill them,” you heard him say between clenched teeth, and you just buried your head further into his chest.

You could hear his heart racing, pounding against his chest. And as you absentmindedly stared at the small white planes that decorated his coat, you couldn’t help but wonder if that reaction was because of you.

“Can you stand?”

You stared up at him for a moment, your brain trying to catch up as you slowly processed what he said. Shifting your gaze to your legs, you miraculously found the strength to move them, bending your knees as John carefully helped you stand. Your legs were weak underneath you, just barely holding yourself up, and John let you lean against him as he wrapped an arm around your waist and had you wrap your arm around his shoulders for stability.

“John, I-”

“Don’t talk. I’m gonna get you outta here, okay?”

You nodded, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, but it was getting harder and harder to do that when your vision started to fade again. John noticed how your body grew heavier against him, and you heard muffled cries of your name as you blacked out again.

***

“I don’t know what you want me to say, John. We just have to wait. There’s nothing else we can do for them-”

“There has to be something!”

“... Why did you bring them here anyway? Wouldn’t it be better for Eden’s Gate if they were dead?”

“... What did you just say to me?”

BAM!

You woke with a start, body jolting as you let out a gasp. Frantically looking around, you noticed you were in a bedroom, the walls a dull grey color and the bedsheets stark white. Your grip on the sheets loosened, the material scratchy underneath your fingers as you took a deep breath to try and calm your racing heart. Although, it was sort of hard to do that when you quickly realized why the cement walls and the white bedding looked so familiar. You were in John's bunker.

You jolted when the metal door loudly screeched open, John standing at the entrance of the room with a tray of food in his hands and his lips quirked up in a small smile. You backed up into the metal headboard, springs squeaking under your weight as he moved closer to you and sat down in the chair next to the bed. He carefully placed the tray on the bedside table, and you glanced at it to see a bowl of soup and a piece of bread, along with a glass of water. It actually looked kind of appetizing.

“How are you feeling?”

Your brows tightly knitted, eyes searching John’s expression before glancing over at the water. He followed your gaze and quickly handed you the glass, and you hesitantly took it from him before bringing it up to your lips. The second the water went down your throat, you desperately gulped the rest of it down, the youngest Seed sibling watching you with an amused expression on his face before you sheepishly handed the empty glass back to him.

“You should eat, too.”

“Why are you doing this?”

He didn’t answer at first, grabbing the bowl of soup and moving to hand it to you, but you quickly swiped it out of his hands, the bowl shattering and soup splattering on the floor as you moved to kneel on the bed.

“Why are you doing this?! Why are you helping me?!” He didn’t answer, just staring at you as rage and confusion bubbled up inside of you, and it just made you angrier, unaware of the tears streaming down your face. “I should be dead at the bottom of the lake! Why did you save me?! Answer me!”

John’s hands were suddenly grabbing your face, causing you to let out a gasp as you sat back on your shins to try and get some distance, but he just followed you, moving closer the farther you moved back. You grabbed at his wrists, trying to pry his hands away, but the look in his eyes made you pause.

“You don’t understand. You… It’s not your time yet.”

He seemed almost desperate, his eyes wild as he tried to get you to understand, to see where he was coming from. He was right, you didn’t understand. This whole time, the cult has been on your ass from the very beginning. Ambushing you when you least expected it, filling you with holes that the people holding out at the prison had to stitch up. You were supposed to be dead. It would’ve been a relief to the cult to finally have you gone. So why were you here?

You hesitantly met John’s stare, each inhale and exhale shaky as a lump that you couldn’t swallow formed in your throat. You opened your mouth to speak, but you choked on whatever words you wanted to say, and a sympathetic look took over John’s features.

“That lady from before,” John visibly tensed, the muscles in his jaw clenching, “She was right. It would be better for Eden’s Gate if I was dead. I’m sure… everyone would agree.”

John moved to sit on the bed next to you, finally releasing his hold on your cheeks, but he sat so close his thigh was pressed against yours. His fingers slowly reached up to brush against your jaw, and you flinched at the dull pain. Right, the crash probably left you with some cuts and bruises.

“There are so many things you have yet to realize. So many-”

“God, cut the cult speech, John. Eden’s Gate has made their intentions towards me perfectly clear. And I thought I had an idea of yours too. But…”

You let out a sigh, standing up on trembling legs, and John reached out in case he needed to steady you. You were able to make it a few steps on your own, feeling more confident as you slowly began to pace.

“Fuck, you are the most confusing man I’ve ever met! You-You send your Chosen after me, your peggies with their fucking bliss bullets. I just-” Your legs started feeling tingly, so you plopped back down on the bed next to John and leaned over to put your head in your hands, letting out a sigh. “I… don’t think I can do this anymore.”

Your words came out more unsteady than you wanted them to, bottom lip quivering as you clenched your teeth to try and stop yourself from crying again.

God, you’re so fucking stupid.

You felt John’s hand on your back, his small attempt to soothe you as you tried not to break down in this prison-like room. You felt so fucking pathetic, crying in front of John fucking Seed. You quickly sucked in a breath and wiped away your tears, hands digging into your eyes as you felt frustration creep up inside you.

You needed to get out of here

***

A few days had passed, and you were quickly starting to get your strength back, able to walk around and keep up a good pace without feeling like your legs were going to give out on you. John had visited you every day, bringing you food and sitting with you as you ate. You didn’t know what his intentions were, but his company was unsettling rather than comforting.You felt like he was eyeing your every move, gaze following your hand as you lifted a spoonful of soup up to your lips. You let out a sigh, spoon clattering in the bowl as you roughly tossed it.

“What’s your angle?” He didn’t answer, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs. The simple movement only seemed to frustrate you more. “Are you ever gonna let me go? Are you gonna kill me? Are you going to fucking answer me?!”

Rather than answering, he just stood and held out his hand to you. You’re eyes shifted between his hand and his face, rolling your eyes before brushing it away and standing from the bed.

“I’ve known you for a while, John. This whol aloof thing you’re trying to pull doesn’t suit you.”

John hummed in amusement, lips twitching up in a small smile before he pressed a hand against the small of your back and gently encouraged you forward. “Walk with me.”

Deciding not to question him, you stepped out of your room and walked down the dimly lit hall with him at your side, peggies sending you glances as they passed.

What-the-fuck-ever.

“Nervous, Deputy?” John said.

You slightly winced at the title, turning your head so he wouldn’t see it. Deputy. Jesus christ, it sounded so formal and awkward when he said it. Like he was trying to distance himself by depersonalizing you. Like he didn’t used to know the most intimate parts of you, knew your deepest secrets and desires. Like he didn’t used to love you. You cleared your throat of the lump currently forming in it.

“No. More like unsettled. They don’t have anything better to do than stare at me?”

“Don’t you know? You’re famous, Deputy.”

You scoffed. “More like infamous.”

The both of you quickly reached the entrance to the bunker, the sun almost blinding as you blinked rapidly to get used to it. Standing here, looking at the sun filtering through the trees with John by your side, you couldn’t help but wonder how the hell you ever wound up here. How every decision you’ve made could’ve led you to this very moment. Oh, how different things would be if you never became junior deputy, if you said yes to John’s offer. Maybe… maybe you could’ve stopped him.

You felt his hand brush against yours, and you couldn’t help the melancholy feeling that settled in your chest. You remember when his touch was warm and loving. Now, it was cold, and stiff. You supposed John always had a certain coolness about him. When he was some rich, hotshot lawyer who could afford anything he wanted. But now, it seemed all those small quirks of his, the things that made him jaded, and sometimes ruthless, had overtaken him. His love for you was replaced with the hate his brother instilled in him, and it made you sick.

Reaching out, you wrapped your hand around John’s bicep, fingers squeezing as your eyes stung.

“You know, I find it completely unfair that you have this- fuck, this ridiculous hold over me.” John turned to you, quickly noticing the tears bordering your eyes. “I hear your voice, see your face, or god, you touch me, and I feel like I’m suffocating. You torture my friends, you kill without remorse. I’m supposed to fucking hate you.” You choked on a sob, “But I can’t. How fucking sick is that?”

John gently placed his hand on your jaw, thumb brushing over your cheek to wipe away your tears, and you hated the way you leaned into his touch. It almost reminded you of how he used to touch you, and you craved it desperately despite everything inside you telling you not to.

“You make me sick, John Seed. Fuck, you fucking digust me!” You slapped his hand away, pushing against his chest. “How could I have ever loved you when this is the man you became? HOW CAN I STILL LOVE YOU!?”

There was a split second where you felt air rush by you, and John was back in front of you, hands cradling your jaw and lifting your head so you were looking him in his eyes. It felt like all your breath had escaped you at once.

“... Say it again.”

You let out a shuddered breath, and whispered: “I love you.”

A smile slowly formed on John’s face as he searched your eyes, chuckling in disbelief before his lips were on yours. You sucked in a breath as you threw your arms around his shoulders and squeezed your eyes shut, barely able to believe what was happening. Your fingers quickly found themselves in his hair, mussing up his perfectly slicked back strands. There was a certain desperateness to his kiss, one that had your lips tingling and swollen, and your chest heaving for breath when he pulled away, pressing his forehead against yours. He softly muttered your name, and your heart dropped to your stomach. You knew what he was going to say.

“Please. Please don’t ask me.” you whispered.

“Deputy-”

“Please, John. God, please don’t. I can’t. I can’t”

“Sweetheart-” You shook your head as John lifted it to look at you, tears rolling down your face. “Please. Just… say yes.”

Your teeth clenched together as you sobbed freely, collapsing against John’s chest, and he held your trembling body. You wanted nothing more than to be at the bottom of the lake.

#john seed x deputy #john seed x reader #john seed x you #john seed imagine #far cry 5 #fc5 #far cry 5 imagine #john seed #john seed fanfic #madssss

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hoebii · 4 years ago

Text

No Doubt About It

Pairing : OT7 x Reader

Genre : Angst? CEO!Au

Rating : pg15

Warnings : swearing, I have no idea how pawn shops work, Jimin is a jerk

Wc : 1.7k

A/N : Lord help me Idek what this is anymore... Thank you @agustdjoon for being my amazing beta! This fic would be a bigger hot mess if it weren’t for you lol Also this is supposed to be a two-shot so don’t @ me for keeping the ending as it is huhu. Place your bets, how long will I take to finish the second part? As usual, hope you like this hot mess~ Feedback is always welcome!

Next ->

--------------

Jungkook sat on the couch, typing away on his laptop. He didn’t even know what he was typing anymore, fingers moving over the keyboard without a thought. He should’ve been paying attention, but he couldn’t get the earlier events out of his mind.

Giving up on work, Jungkook leaned away from the screen, hands coming up to run through his hair, tugging on it in frustration. Why was something like that getting to him so much? He should be used to people talking shit by now but this time it stuck. Why? He wasn’t sure. Maybe it was because they tried bringing you into it, but then again why was his mind fixated on it for so long?

Closing his eyes, he let his head fall back and rest against the couch. Cracking one eye open when he felt someone begin to play with his hair, only to close it again when he saw it was Hoseok.

“What’s on your mind, Kook-ah?”

Jungkook sighed, rubbing his face, “It’s just… what that asshole said before… I can’t get it out of my head.”

Hoseok glanced at Jin when he heard a scoff, raising a brow in question. Jin slammed his laptop shut and put it aside, face red from anger. “How dare that guy say something like that about our baby? Who the fuck does he think is he calling her a gold digger?”

Continuing to play with Jungkook’s hair, Hoseok was about to reply in hopes of calming Jin down when a quiet murmur caught everyone’s attention.

“What if he was right, though…?” Jimin asked, eyes downcast and lips tugged down into a frown, “Maybe she really is using us for money…”

The whole room fell silent. None of the boys made a sound; in that moment you could hear a pin drop. No one knew what to say, on one hand they loved you with their whole hearts and would never think such a thing, but on the other hand no matter how much they tried not to give into those thoughts, a part of their mind kept asking, what if?

Taehyung got up from his seat, walking over to Jimin and sitting beside him, “Don’t think that way. You know Y/N, you know she isn’t like that. She’s with us because she loves us, not for our money.”

“Do we really? What if it’s all just an act to get to us. This wouldn’t be the first time someone has tried this, you know?” Jimin replied, looking up to meet Taehyung’s eyes.

Scoffing, Taehyung abruptly stood up and started pacing, “Don’t compare them to Y/N. She is not like that and never will be! I’m not going to let you ruin what we have with her just because of a baseless doubt!”

Sensing a fight about to break out, Namjoon sat up straight, clearing his throat to get everyone’s attention, “Both of you, calm down. Y/N is upstairs, she can hear you if you argue right now.”

Taehyung looked away, jaw clenched in anger. Hoseok looked at Namjoon and gave him an appreciative nod, quietly thanking him for stepping in before something bad could have happened.

“We could ask for some money from her and see how she reacts,” Jin suddenly proposed, anger no longer present in his voice.

Hoseok stared at him in shock, did he hear him right? When no one replied, Jin shrugged, “I mean think about it, the maknaes are fighting over this and I know you people have doubts too, why not test her?”

“I agree with hyung,” Yoongi spoke up after staying silent the whole time, face void of any emotions as he did so, “it’s not a bad idea, we get to see if she’s really here for the money or not.”

Seeing how no one protested against the suggestion, Taehyung sputtered, “That’s a terrible idea. Where will she get the money? We’re the ones who made her quit her job, this is absolute bullshit!”

Maybe it was pettiness after the little argument with Taehyung or perhaps it was simply because he wanted to test you, Jimin agreed right after Taehyung’s little rant. The others humming in agreement or vocally letting the rest know that they were in, it was decided between them that they would ask for some money from you as a ‘test’, much to Taehyung’s chagrin.

------------------

You hummed happily as you walked downstairs to check if the boys were back and maybe get some food. You hadn’t eaten anything the whole day, too busy working on the book you were writing. Usually at least one of them would check up on you and if you had eaten if they were at home. You smiled to yourself at the thought, how lucky you felt to have the fortune to call such amazing people yours. You’d always be grateful for everything they did for you, they were the reason you had enough courage to leave your job and follow your dream of being a writer.

Your smile dimmed as you stepped off the stairs, Taehyung was sitting on the couch alone, a frown on his face. Walking to him, you sat down beside him, placing a hand on his lap as you looked at him. You couldn’t help but smile when you felt him grab your hand and squeeze it tight.

“What happened Tae, why the long face?”

Taehyung sighed at your question, refusing to meet your eyes when you tried looking at him, “I..I need your help, Y/N.”

“Help with what, bub? I’ll try to assist you in any way I can.”

He finally looked at you, tongue slipping out to lick his lips, “I need some money…”

Your eyes widened, Kim Taehyung, one of the CEOs of Bangtan Co. was asking for money? This had to be something serious.

“Why?”

“It’s eomma… she’s sick. I can’t withdraw enough money at once from the bank due to previous withdrawals… I don’t know what to do.” Taehyung explained, voice thick with sorrow.

“How can I help, baby?”

He bit his lips, seemingly contemplating his words before saying, “Can you lend me some money? The others are going to chip in too but it’s not going to be enough.”

“How much do you need?” you asked, already trying to formulate a plan in your head.

“Approximately three million won”

You sucked in a breath at that, how were you going to get that much? You shook your head at the thought, “How soon do you need it?”

“As.. as soon as possible.” Taehyung answered, hesitation clear in his voice.

Nodding, you got up from the couch, Taehyung looked at you in question as you did so, “I have to go right now, but don’t worry Tae. I’ll try my best to come up with something.”

He said nothing as he watched you rush out of the house, frowning to himself at your departure.

-----------------------

“So how was it? How did she react?” Jimin asked, as he and the others strided into the room where Taehyung remained seated.

“She left.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened at his words, “What do you mean she left? Where did she go?”

“I don’t know. All she said was she had to go and that she’d come up with something,” Taehyung answered, his frown only getting deeper as he spoke. Maybe Jimin was right after all? No he couldn’t think like that.

“So let me get this straight,” Yoongi started, looking at Taehyung with furrowed brows, “You asked her for money, and she left? After saying that she would ‘come up with something’?”

“Precisely.”

Jimin scoffed and rolled his eyes, “I was right then. She’s with us for the money.”

As much as the others wanted to argue, no one said a word.

-------------------------

The bell chimed, alerting anyone inside of your arrival as you stepped into the little pawn shop. Eyes darting around nervously before they settled on the man tending to the cash register. You gulped, wringing your hands together as you slowly walked towards him.

“How may I help you today, ma’am?” the man asked, giving you a smile.

“I’m here to pawn some jewellery?” You answered, though it felt more like a question when you did so.

“Of course. What are the items you want to pawn?” he inquired, the smile never leaving his face.

You fidgeted in your place for a second, contemplating if this was what you really wanted before deciding that yes, this was what needed to be done. Taehyung asked for your help, and you were not going to turn your back on him. Not after everything he and the others did for you.

Taking off the diamond ring that you had gotten from your mother, you placed it in front of him. Then your hands raised to unclasp the necklace that hung around your neck before placing it down too. You smiled wistfully at the items; the necklace was a gift from the boys for your first anniversary while the ring was your late-mother’s. It was the last thing you had to remember her by but now you had to part ways with it, even if it was only for a while.

“Is that all?”

“Yes,” you started, looking him in the eyes, “how much are they worth?”

------------------

It was near midnight and you still weren’t home. Jin paced around in front of the entrance, while the others sat or stood around, all of them worried.

“Where is she?” Hoseok exclaimed, anxiously running a hand through his hair.

“Ran away when she realised she wouldn't get any money, I bet,” Jimin chimed in, rolling his eyes in annoyance as he leaned back into his seat.

Taehyung growled, speed walking towards the man and grabbing him by the collar, “I am tired of you. No one fucking asked you to stay up and wait for her.”

“Taehyung!” Namjoon shouted, rushing towards the duo alongside Jungkook to break them apart, “Now is not the time to fight.”

“Then tell him to either leave or to keep his mouth shut,” Taehyung hissed, glaring daggers at Jimin who just rolled his eyes again and remained silent.

Hoseok sat on the couch and watched the scene unfold in front of him in worry, “Where are you Y/N-ie?”

#thebtswritersclub #bangtaninn #blackswannet #ot7 x reader #bts fic #bts x reader #bts angst #ceo!bts #bts au #castlebangtan

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polaroid15 · 3 years ago

Text

Parker Luck

Summary: Two weeks after the Vulture-incident, Tony buys a parenting book. Too bad there isn't a chapter on Parker luck.

Read on Ao3 HERE :)

------

Two weeks after the Vulture fiasco, Tony buys a book called ‘Parenting for Dummies’.

He almost immediately regrets the purchase and hides it in a drawer in the lab, not yet brave enough to face it. Then one day he spends three hours squished against Peter’s side, listening to the boy ramble about everything under the sun while they adjust his web shooters. It hits Tony like a brick wall, and when Peter bounces out of the lab after teaching Tony a complicated handshake he knows he’ll never remember, he swears under his breath.

He shouldn’t be surprised, really. He had known it from that very first moment in the kid’s bedroom in Queens.

For once, denial has gotten him nowhere.

After his eyes ache from staring at the door Peter had disappeared from, Tony stands, stretches out a kink in his lower back, and grabs the book from the drawer before he can lose his nerve. Still standing, he traces his thumb over the word Parenting on the cover.

Retreat, his mind begs. Stop. Before it’s too late.

But deep down, he knows he’s already in too deep.

With a heavy sigh and a pressing warmth in his chest, Tony flips the pages to chapter one.

--------

Peter calls it ‘Parker luck’.

Tony calls it the source of his ever-increasing gray hair.

When Peter stumbles into the Tower covered in blood and delirious from a nasty hit to the head, Tony thinks he’ll pass out from the sudden weight of his worry. It only takes some gentle coaxing and seven stitches to make it better, but the unease sits in Tony’s gut long after Peter falls asleep. When the boy wakes up, he apologizes until Tony snaps at him not too.

“It’s the Parker luck, Mr. Stark,” Peter tells him, his head wrapped like a mummy on halloween. “It gets me everytime.”

Parenting for Dummies Chapter Three: Listen. “A nasty concussion doesn’t exactly sound like luck to me, kid.”

“Oh, well it’s not good luck,” Peter clarifies with a weak smile. “In fact it’s really bad luck. Exceptionally bad.”

“You’re killing me here.”

“Did you know that I slipped on a banana peel once? A banana peel. I was on crutches for three weeks in middle school.”

Tony’s worry melts into a hesitant amusement. He sits back on his stiff medbay chair and makes a distant note to invest in a better one. “That is pretty lousy luck, kiddo.”

“And it just keeps getting worse,” Peter says. “Getting bitten by a radioactive spider, crashing Flash’s car, or the fact that I spent homecoming destroying a plane while fighting my date’s dad.”

“I hope this Parker luck of yours isn’t contagious,” Tony jokes, but something in Peter’s eyes darkens. He leans back against the white sheets, chewing on his bottom lip. Tony thinks again of chapter three, of the subtitle that prompts to push at the right times, and takes the liberty. “What is it, kid?”

Peter closes his eyes and gives a watery smile. “Nothing, Mr. Stark. Sorry.”

And because he’s an idiot, Tony believes him. Something tells him he needs to buy Parenting for Dummies 2.

--------

When Peter saves a school bus full of third graders from a thirteen car pileup at the expense of his collar bone, Tony rereads his book, this time with a highlighter in hand.

He wishes there was a section on Parker luck.

This time, he’s less careful about where he reads. Pepper catches him one night, her eyebrows disappearing behind her bangs in her surprise. Her smile is genuine. “Is that what I think it is?” she asks.

“Maybe.”

“Oh God, please don’t tell me you’re pregnant.”

Tony rolls his eyes and dog ears his page before setting it aside. “I am, actually. And sorry to break it to you, but you’re not the father.”

Pepper laughs and sits on the arm of the couch. She runs her hand through his hair and he can’t help but lean into her touch. “This is about Peter,” she says.

His first instinct is to deny it. He feels vulnerable in a way he isn’t used to. “So what if it is?”

“He’s a good kid.”

“I know.”

“He’s making you soft.”

Tony scoffs, but doesn’t deny it. Not with Parenting for Dummies on his lap. “He’s stressing me out, is what he’s doing.”

“He really cares about you, Tony. I see it every time he’s over here.”

His body betrays him by the gentle swoop in his stomach. His mouth twitches in a smile. “I care about him too.”

“You’re a good example to him. He needs someone like you in his life. Especially after what happened to his parents. And his Uncle.”

And then it clicks. Parker luck. Tony’s mouth goes dry.

“I’m trying,” is all he manages to whisper. The book in his lap seems to increase by ten.

Pepper leans over him, pressing her lips into his hair. “I know.”

---------

It’s his and Peter’s fifth mission together.

Today, they’re going up against “the Detonator”, a crazed woman with an affinity for making bombs and setting them off in busy neighbourhoods. She’s armed with a team of rocket-launcher-wielding henchmen, and it’s taking every effort to keep the city in one piece.

Most of the block has been evacuated, thanks to Peter. Tony remembers chapter seven and shoots the boy some praise over their coms. Steve, who’s joined them for the day’s fight, agrees with clipped enthusiasm.

“Thanks guys!” Peter says in his usual animation. “These rocket launchers are no joke. Have you ever seen the movie-”

But whatever it is, it’s lost in the deafening sound of an explosion. He hears Peter swear over the com and Tony’s blood runs cold. Three blocks down, an orange fireball balloons into the air. Steve is already running, his shield tucked into his chest.

Tony shoots off into the sky.

---------

Peter thought they had everything under control.

Until rocket launcher man number 3 decided to explode the bank off 47th street, that is.

He feels the heat from the explosion before he can process what happened. It rips across his back and throws him off his feet into a hot dog cart across the street. Rubble and ash rain down on parked cars and their alarms begin to sound.

“Crap,” Peter groans, shoving away the dented cart and stumbling to his feet. His ears are ringing.

“Pete?” Tony’s voice cuts through the haze. “We’re on our way. You alright?”

“Yeah,” he responds, breathless. His shoulder aches. “These guys are not in a good mood.”

“You can say that again.”

The man who had fired the shot runs up the steps of the bank, bypassing chunks of concrete. Peter limps after him.

“Sorry man,” Peter says when his opponent’s back is still turned. “It’s after hours.”

Startled, the man spins. Peter fires a web to disarm him and it only takes one swift punch to finish the job. He webs him to the floor and kicks the rocket launcher into the corner.

“Kid?” Tony lands beside him, faceplate lifting and his hands reaching to grab onto him. His grip is tight on Peter’s arms, and Peter is unsure which one of them Tony is trying to comfort. “You still in one piece?”

Peter’s ears are still ringing, a high pitched whine that makes his eye twitch. His ankle throbs and he can feel warmth spreading down his back from a cut on his shoulder. He nods anyway. “Are you?”

“Better now that I see you haven’t been barbecued.”

Steve joins them as Peter laughs off Tony’s worry. He’s breathing heavy, his forehead streaked with ash. “Someone sighted the Detonator. She’s heading east towards the Empire State Building.”

“Of course she is,” Tony sighs. Finally, he lets Peter go. “Ready for a field trip?”

But just as he says it, another violent explosion lights up the street across from them. Peter stumbles against the force. Tony grabs his arm, and Steve his shoulder, and he steadies. Through the black smoke, a child cries.

Chest tight, Peter takes a step forward before he’s yanked back. It’s Tony. His helmet hides his expression, but Peter can tell from his stiff posture that he’s worried. That he doesn’t want to separate.

As if sensing it too, Steve places a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Peter and I will clear the rocket launchers. You go take care of the Detonator.”

“But-”

“She can’t get to it first, Tony. You’ll be the fastest.”

The crying continues, and Peter takes another step. This time, the metal fingers wrapped around his elbow loosen, letting him go. “You better watch him, Rogers.”

“Mr. Stark-”

“Don’t do anything stupid, kid.”

And then Tony is off, blasting off into the sky. Peter shivers against the hot air his exit leaves before turning to run towards the smoke and debris, Steve hot on his heels. Without hesitation, he jumps over the small flames and emerges on the other side, his throat closing up against the smoke.

The first thing Peter sees is the child, snot-nosed and hidden underneath the bed of a truck. His eyes widen when he sees them, a cry stopped short. “Spider-Man!” he yells.

“Get the kid,” Steve says. “I think I see our guy.”

And then he’s gone.

Peter doesn’t dwell on it, vaulting over a smashed mailbox and a stretch of broken glass to reach the kid’s side. He’s trembling, but his hands reach out. Trusting him.

“It’s alright,” Peter says, accepting the kid’s outstretched hands. “We’re okay. Do you know where your family is?”

The boy shakes his head, lip wobbling but obviously trying to be brave. “N-no. I lost them over there,” he says pointing down the street.

“Okay. No problem. Let’s go find them.”

He doesn’t give the boy an option to walk, but instead guides him to rest against his back. Small fingers lock together at the base of Peter’s throat, holding tight.

“What’s your name?” Peter asks as he heads in the direction the boy had pointed. Keep him distracted.

“Benny.”

Peter’s breath catches. “Nice to meet you, Benny. I’m Spider-Man.”

“I- I know.”

“Oh yeah?”

The boy’s head bobs against his back. “I see you on TV. And on the newspapers on the street. You fight bad guys.”

“I try too.”

“You’re awesome,” Benny says, and the shaking quality to his voice recedes.

“I think you’re the awesome one. You’re being so brave.”

“Brave?”

“Yeah, Benny. Even though it’s scary right now you’re still going.”

Benny sniffles. “Are you scared?”

“Nah,” Peter says. “I’ve got you to protect me.”

Against his back, Benny’s chest swells with a breath of a response, but before he can let the words lose a relieved cry erupts from their left. A woman in a pastel headscarf runs towards them, her arms outstretched. “Benny! My little Ben-”

“Mom!”

Peter maneuvers him to the ground and as soon as his small feet hit the ground he’s running. The pair meet in the middle of the street, their arms wrapping tight and their tears mixing. The mother’s eyes meet him from over Benny’s shoulder. “Thank you,” she says, every ounce of her emotion leaking into her words.

“Of course,” is all he can manage.

Once he’s sure they're safe and off the street, he deviates his attention to his coms. “Steve?” he asks over a private channel. “Where are you?”

For a long time, Steve doesn’t respond. Then just as Peter’s worry spikes the man’s voice fills his ears, pinched and strained. “By the river. I’m cornered.”

“Karen-” Peter starts, but Steve’s location pops up on his screen before he can ask further. He changes the trajectory of his swing and just barely avoids clipping his hip on the corner of a building. Then, to Steve, “I’m on my way!”

He finds the Captain in worse shape than he had expected. He’s hunched against an upturned car, it’s tires melted from the sheer heat of the destruction on the street. His shield is raised over his head to protect him from debris raining from the crumbling buildings.

Across the road, three of Detonator's accomplices are shooting the buildings around him, shrieking with glee whenever new glass shatters. Peter glides between the chaos before landing beside Steve. He scrapes his hands on the landing.

“Oh my god,” Peter says, flinching from another loud explosion. “What do we do?”

Steve grimaces, and it’s only now that Peter sees how messed up his leg is. It’s twisted at an unnatural angle, the material of his suit singed and still smoking around it.

“What the hell happened?” Peter gasps, feeling sick.

“It doesn’t matter. We need to get out of here.”

“Not with those crazy rocket guys standing guard. You can’t walk!”

“I can try.”

Adrenaline courses hot through Peter’s bloodstream. He peaks over the car and reassesses their opponents. “I can take them.”

“No. Tony said-”

“Tony isn’t here,” Peter argues. “Besides, I have my Peter tingle. I’ll be fine.”

“Peter tingle?”

“Be right back.”

“Wait!”

But Peter ducks out of cover, knowing that Steve won’t be able to stop him. He runs towards the one closest to him and hopes the element of surprise will be enough to take them down. It is, but barely, and now his cover is blown. The other two turn their weapons towards him and before he can suck in a breath, fire.

Peter swears and jumps high, the rockets whistling as they pass under his feet. They hit the edge of the sidewalk by the river, blowing it open and skipping chunks of debris into the water. Not wanting to wait for them to reload, Peter swings and takes them both out with a single kick. He lands in a messy roll, disoriented by the quickness of the fight.

“We’re clear!” he yells over to Steve, but even as he says it dread sits heavy in his gut. He takes one step towards the car before he hears it- a sharp release of air.

Fire blooms up at the base of the building closest to Steve, the crack of the impact enough to rattle Peter’s teeth and throw him to his knees. It’s the last straw. The building makes a horrible noise of grinding cement, like a scream, and Peter knows enough from experience that it’s close to collapse.

“Steve!”

He sprints to where the man is trying to limp away. His eyes find him, their blue shocking through the dust and smoke. “Peter. You have to get out of here-”

“Not without you.”

Before the man can object, Peter pulls his weight over his shoulder and makes it his burden. He wonders distantly where the fourth rocket launcher is and why they haven’t been blown sky high yet.

But then glass and cement falls down around them like rain, and Peter realizes. Because the building will finish the job for them.

“We’re not going to make it,” Steve says through ground teeth. His hold on Peter’s shoulder is bruising. “Peter, please.”

The building sways again. They have a couple seconds. Nothing more.

Then Peter sees it. A manhole.

“Here,” he gasps, dropping to his knees and tearing off the cover. Every alarm bell in his head is screaming, but it’s the only option. The only way they’ll both have a chance. “Go.”

Steve drops in, disappearing into darkness and landing below with an aborted shout. Peter kicks his legs in just as the building crumbles. Fear stops the breath in his chest and he slides the rest of the way in. He falls and lands hard, head spinning, before finding Steve’s arm in the darkness and pulling him deeper into the sewer.

There’s a couple moments of silence.

And then the world erupts.

Peter will remember later how the force of the impact threw both of them off their feet and how it was impossible to keep his grip on Steve’s arm. He’ll remember the deafening noise of the building smashing onto the street above them, of the great plume of dust that filled the tunnel and blinded him.

He’ll remember falling, his legs jelly, and struggling to his knees.

He’ll remember wishing he had called Tony.

But none of it registers in the moment. There’s only terror.

And then there’s nothing.

----------

“Peter. Come on. Work with me here.”

Awareness brings pain. He strays.

“Nope. No. Peter. Open your eyes.”

The voice belongs to Steve, Peter realizes in a stilted disorientation. Steve, who had been hurt. Steve, who sounds very much alive.

It’s enough for Peter to lift his heavy eyelids. His surroundings are dark, but he can see the Captain’s worried face swimming in front of him, warping in and out of focus as both of them release a breath of relief.

“Thank God,” Steve says.

“Are you okay?” Peter murmurs, surprised for a moment by how unwilling his vocal cords are to cooperate. There’s new blood on Steve’s face and the torso on his suit is torn.

“It’s you I’m more worried about.”

“Mm. Why?”

Steve might respond, but Peter doesn’t hear it, his awareness slipping like the close of a stage curtain. Strong hands shake him and the sting of his injuries are enough for him to struggle back into wakefulness.

“Stay awake, kid. Alright? Tony is on his way. Keep your eyes open.”

Peter didn’t remember closing his eyes, but sure enough, when he tries they open. “Tony?”

“He’ll be here soon.”

There’s a tightness in his chest, and Peter coughs against it. It sparks a sharp pain behind his ribs and he curls his fingers into the ground as Steve braces him by his shoulder. His ribs are definitely broken. His leg throbs and the skin on the right side of his face itches terribly with drying blood. He blinks a couple times to try and alleviate his double vision, but it does nothing.

“What happened?” Peter asks.

“You don’t remember?”

“Not really.”

Steve’s expression pinches like he’s just eaten something sour. “The building above us collapsed, but don’t worry about it too much. Tony will be here in a flash.”

Collapse. Peter sucks in a panicked breath and it makes him cough again. It hurts worse this time, and his vision goes gray. He comes back to himself in Steve’s lap, his whole body shuddering and then man’s hand clamped protectively against his back.

The new perspective shows Peter a growing red stain on the Captain’s side.

“Steve,” he gasps, uncoordinated fingers reaching out to press against the wound.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not- it’s not nothing-”

Before Steve can retaliate further, their coms crack back to life. Peter winces against it, his fingers reaching up to struggle with the edges of his mask. Steve pushes his hand away. “Leave it. It’s helping filter your air.”

“Peter? Rogers?” Tony’s voice comes through in a mess of static. It reminds Peter of Ben’s favorite radio station that had been broadcasted too far to have a good connection. “I’m here. Oh Christ, I’m here. Are you okay?”

“Steve’s hurt,” Peter mumbles. It’s important Tony knows.

“Rogers?”

“Just hurry, Tony,” Steve says. There’s a pressure in his voice that Peter’s too tired to translate.

“The explosion caused the river to flood. You’re under about three feet of water right now.”

“We’re airtight.”

“For now.”

Peter feels himself dip further into Steve’s lap and the man’s steadying hand is delayed. Weaker. “Peter? What did I tell you about staying awake.”

“What’s wrong with Peter?”

“Queens. I need you to put pressure on this for me. Don’t give up on me now.”

Peter groans. For once, he doesn’t care how young it makes him sound. He struggles up anyways and replaces his hand obediently over Steve’s side. It paints his hands red and he tries desperately not to think of Ben.

“Rogers-”

“I got it, Tony.”

There’s a weighted silence. Peter bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself lucid. The static in his brain reminds him of the time he had gotten stabbed, and wonders if he’s bleeding somewhere too.

“Okay. I found a weak spot. It shouldn’t cause too much damage. Are you ready?”

“Go for it.”

There’s another lurch of shifting rock. Peter can’t help but cry out, his muddled brain struggling to comprehend that this time, it’s to help. Then there’s a loud crash, a weak beam of sunlight, and the rush of water.

Within seconds, the cold spray is up to their waists. Peter grinds his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut against reflexive tears the biting temperature brings. It gives him a boost of adrenaline, and when he opens his eyes again, his vision is more clear.

Tony is with them moments later, hovering above the water. His hands reach for Peter, but Peter shys away. “Steve first,” he pleads. “He’s bleeding-”

“You’re bleeding too-” Tony starts, but even as he says it, Steve lists dangerously to the side. His face is pale, his breathing shallow. Tony catches him by the shoulder. “Don’t move,” he tells Peter, and works to lift Steve up towards the hole.

The water is up to Peter's chest now. It steals the breath from his lungs and he scrambles to stand. Somewhere in the journey the ground above him groans and he loses his footing. He hears Tony yell out for him, feels metal hands push him hard, and then he’s completely underwater. There’s more noise. More pain.

He breaks the surface, stuttering on his breath and his teeth clattering. More sunlight has entered the tunnel, and it’s easy to piece together what had happened.

“Tony!”

Peter fights against the current to reach his mentor’s side. His suit is pinned under a large slab of concrete by his left leg, the water already sloshing up to his neck. Peter practically collapses beside him and digs his fingers under the weight, but his ribs scream in protest so violently that his vision goes white.

“Easy!” Tony yells, catching him by his arms when he falters. “Kiddo, listen to me. The suit will let me breathe for a while. You need to get out of here.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“You have to. FRIDAY took some damage, but she’s recalibrating my boosters. I’ll be able to get out.”

“No,” Peter chokes, trying again to lift the concrete keeping Tony pinned. “I won’t leave without you.”

“Peter-”

“I’m not losing you too. I can’t- I can’t-”

Tony’s voice is more gentle, his hand reaching to cradle the side of Peter’s face. “Listen to me, bud. I know this is scary. But you have to trust me. You have to go. For me.”

Peter shudders. Feels hot tears pool under the tight confines of his mask. “Told you I have Parker luck,” he says.

Tony finds it within himself to laugh. The water is at their chins. “I know, kiddo. But you don’t have to be afraid anymore. We’ve got each other now.”

“Tony-”

“Go.”

The water rises over his mouth. He wouldn’t be able to answer even if he wanted to. Then Tony’s head is submerged, and icy terror closes around Peter’s heart.

He dives under and reaches once more for the weight on Tony’s leg. He pulls and struggles and feels Tony’s hands on his arms, trying to pry him off and pull him away. The light is gone in the murky water.

Please. Please.

The concrete shifts. It takes everything in Peter not to gasp out at the pain it causes, to waste the precious air he has left.

Please.

It shifts again. Tony has given up on trying to push him off and is instead helping to lift the weight. Just a little bit more.

Peter screams, tiny bubbles escaping and carrying whatever he had left away. His body loses strength just as the concrete is alleviated. He thinks he feels Tony’s hands close around his numb body. But really he can’t be sure.

Tony is safe.

And it’s all that matters.

-------

“Peter. Don’t do this.”

“Breathe, Queens. Oh God-”

“Steve. What do I- I can’t- I can’t-”

“Keep the compressions going, Tony. Keep going okay? Don’t stop.”

“I can’t do it without him. I need him, Steve. I need-”

“Keep it together. He’s going to be fine. Right, Peter? You’re going to be fine. You just have to breathe for us.”

“Kiddo. Baby. Please.”

It’s all water down a drain.

A swirling, murky mess.

And it takes Peter with it.

-------

Parenting for Dummies: Chapter 12.

Love them unconditionally.

Tony hasn’t left his kid’s side for hours. He’s been glued to him, the boy’s limp hand pressed between his own like a lifeline even when the doctor’s had worked to splint his leg. Every breath, every rise and fall of Peter’s chest is a miracle, and Tony stares at the heart monitor until his eyes burn.

May is dozing in a recliner in the corner, her glasses crooked on her face. It’s just nearing three in the morning.

There’s movement behind him, and Tony turns to find Steve. He’s traded his hospital gown for a pair of loose sweats and a white shirt, the skin on his arms wrapped with thick bandages. The Captain turns and sees May. When he speaks, his words are almost a whisper. “How is he?”

Tony shrugs, a sudden lump monopolizing in his throat. “He’ll be okay.”

“Has he woken up yet?”

“No.”

Steve sighs. He limps to Tony’s side, but still manages to keep some distance. “He was brave today.”

“If by brave you mean dumb, then yes.”

“He saved our lives. We both know that you wouldn’t have been able to blast out of there by yourself.”

Dread sits heavy in Tony’s gut, because it’s true. He would’ve said anything to get Peter to safety. His blasters weren’t recharging. Weren’t even close to functioning.

But the kid had been too selfless for his lie. Really, Tony shouldn’t be surprised.

And now every time he closes his eyes he sees Peter. Hurt, small, Peter. Jerking with the last of his energy to free Tony. Of going limp in the water, no more air leaving his lips and remaining totally unresponsive as Tony fought to return the life to him.

“I wish it didn’t have to be him,” Tony says.

“But it is. It was.”

“I know.”

Steve lays a hand on Tony’s shoulder. He’s too tired to flinch away from it. “Let me know when he wakes up.”

And then he leaves.

Tony runs his thumb over Peter’s knuckles. “Wake up,” he says. Pleads.

But with his usual stubbornness, Peter doesn’t show signs of waking for another hour. First his fingers twitch. Then he groans. His eyelids flutter and Tony nearly collapses in his relief. Soft and weary eyes turn to find him, and Peter’s lips turn into a smile.

“You’re okay,” he murmurs.

“You have no idea how angry I am with you right now,” Tony says, but any heat behind his words is lost behind his relief. Peter must see it because his smile only widens.

“You don’ look angry.”

“Furious?”

“Nope.”

“Enraged?”

Peter laughs, then winces. He looks down and notices Tony’s hand clamped on his own. “I’m really glad you’re okay.”

“Well, the feeling’s mutual.”

Peter looks up. Tony tightens his hold.

“Maybe I don’t have Parker luck after all.”

“We’re breaking the cycle,” Tony agrees. He lifts Peter’s hand and presses a firm kiss to the back of his hand. Peter smiles again.

“Pepper told me you bought a parenting book,” he says, eyes drooping.

“That woman is nothing but a liar.”

“Mm. I believe her.”

“Sorry to break it to you kid, but whoever would want to willingly parent a danger seeking, heart attack inducing kid like you would have to be crazy.”

Peter squeezes Tony’s hand. “Sorry to break it to you, but I guess that means you're crazy.”

Tony’s heart compresses with warmth. “Yeah kid,” he says, “I guess I am.”

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

#peter parker #spider-man #tony stark #irondad #irondad fic #hurt peter parker #peter parker whump #protective peter parker #bamf peter parker #protective tony stark #steve rogers #captain america

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writingsfromhome · 4 years ago

Text

Bad Timing I

A/N: This is you and your ex, (Detective) Harry, winding up in each other’s lives again after a traumatic event in your life. I’ve had this idea in my notes app for like a year, and I just decided to go for it this week! It’s a little all over the place as I set it up but I think the next part will go a lot better if you can stick with it (and I appreciate you if you can <3).

Warnings: Violence (guns), PTSD?

Part 1 / (.5) / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

------------------------------------------

I had booked Thursday and Friday off in advance. I made sure my e-mails were forwarded, my clients were told I wouldn't be in, and any internal matters were allocated to my assistant. It was going to be a relaxing long weekend where I could have a homemade meal for once and watch Netflix all day. I was my branch’s youngest director and even though it was a fulfilling job, I hadn't had a day off since I got the position four months ago.

This was probably why, at 9am, I get a call from my assistant. One of our bigger clients was refusing to discuss his loan terms with anyone and wanted to speak to me directly.

"Tell him I'm not in Adam, you shouldn't even be calling me-I have the bloody day off."

"Yess but he said he's coming in at 10 and if you're not here he's switching banks for his personal and business accounts." Adam stuttered. “If you lose this client H-”

"Jesus," I look at my outfit and the time-I barely had any time to make it to the bank; it took me 40 minutes just to get to work. "I'll be there-distract him if I'm late. Oh! Ask about his daughter's new private school!"

I rush to my room and apply minimal makeup, pull back my y/h/c hair and throw on my black cigarette pants and a blazer. I'm halfway down the lift when I realise I was still in my t-shirt. "Shite," I mutter. I button the blazer and put my scarf around my neck so it's covered. That was decent enough for my day off.

I arrive breathless and sweaty 5 minutes early to the bank despite the cool weather. Might have seemed like a win if that wasn’t when everything went downhill. Just as I walk up to the side door, waving at Adam who was walking out to greet me, a crash from the entrance startles me.

"Hands up!” A loud voice booms from behind me. “Don't touch a fucking thing!" I turn, seeing Adam’s shocked expression, just in time to be shoved to the floor by four people dressed all in black, and wearing celebrity masks. In all my time working here, I’d never been part of a bank heist and some part of me is frozen, mind blank. I wasn’t even supposed to be here!

"I said to put your hands up!" The one with a Brad Pitt face points the gun around the room as people scramble for cover. I inch backwards to the counter as I watch them manhandle the customers and pull our bankers to the floor. I release a breath, trying to snap out of the shock I seemed to be in. The base of a column digs into my back and I focus on that to ground myself, scanning each robber, and where my employees were. Adam has his hands on his head, the closest one to me. I try to catch his eye to reassure him but he’s squeezing them tight. I didn’t blame him, Brad Pitt stands over him menacingly. I look to the customers, they weren’t trying to be smart--that was good. I’d watched enough TV to know that was never a smart move.

Just as I think that, from the corner of my eye, I catch Cole, one of our guards reach for his gun. A loud shot echoes through the small space and I swivel my head trying to see what's happened while making sure everyone was okay. The thief wearing a Kanye West mask, manning the front entrance of the bank, had shot Cole in the arm and he was bleeding all over the floor. My first instinct is to help him but I'm yanked back down before I make it a step.

"We’re not missing the next person who moves a muscle. I want you all to drop your phones in the middle! No. Fucking. Funny business." The thief who shot Cole points his gun to all of us and it takes all of me to not hyperventilate. I hear a few people crying but I don't dare look. Instead, I watch on as David Beckham drags Cole to the side and ties his hands behind him. I can see by the wincing that they didn’t care whether they twisted his arms too hard. This wasn’t a petty robbery, they were hardcore.

"Who has the passcode to the vault?" Brad Pitt asks as one of his friends goes around zip tying everybody's hands behind them. When nobody answers he shoves the gun in Adam’s face and I let out a sob. What did we do to deserve this?

"Me," I choke out. “Don’t hurt him, I have the passcode. I know it.”

"You?" The man asks. "You better not be lying bitch or you'll be joining your friend there."

I nod as he pulls me up by the arm and uses my scarf to tie my hands. I try to stay calm, the only way I could get through this before the police arrived was to keep my calm. Everything in me is screaming to do something--fight, scream, swear, cry, but I keep my mouth shut and follow Brad Pitt and the joker to the back. I'm led at gunpoint to the vault and they untie me so I can put in the code and my thumbprint. The one in a Joker mask presses her gun into my back and I know the least of my worries was a bruise but that was the only thing I could focus on.

She shoves me forward when I pause, hovering my finger over the finger pad, in the distance I hear sirens. Please let us all be okay, I pray.

"Don’t be a fucking hero, let’s go!" The female behind me yells in my ear and I rush to press my thumb.

As soon as I finish the procedure, I feel an explosion like fireworks against the side of my head and everything goes dark.

H POV:

I walked into the station around 10, just having come back from a nearby escalated domestic call. It wasn’t the craziest thing I’ve ever been involved in at 10am on a Thursday morning.

"Harry, there seems to be some sort of commotion near Holborn, the director wants you in his office." Serena, the receptionist tells me gravely. I don’t even consider the street, assuming it would be another criminal to go after. But when I go into the office, we get the rundown: there was a robbery happening at the HSBC. That’s when I understand the gravity of the situation.

"We’ve sent a few men right now, they seemed to be armed so proceed with caution." He warns. I had been on the force for over four years; I moved rank fast and knew how to handle myself so the warning was mostly for the junior constables. But my heart thuds violently in my chest when I think about the possibility...no. I had to focus. But I can’t help but try her cell on our way to the scene. When it continues to ring, my thoughts go to the worse place possible. I know I hadn’t spoken to her in nearly a year, like she wanted, but if anything happened to her, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.

When we arrive at the scene, the thieves are still inside. I make sure nobody makes any moves, following protocol, and trying to gauge the exact situation inside. But before I could give orders, a man holding up his zip-tied hands shuffles out of the building. I notice the terror on his face and the fact that he's not armed.

"Down!" I say. The restless energy building up inside of me makes every move feel frantic.

"They left out the back! They left!" The man's shaky voice reaches our ears. I gesture a few of the officers to head around back and radio in the update.

"Get his statement, be sensitive,” I snap at the closest officer before I take a few of my officers indoors. The scene inside only reminds me why I do what I do, there's glass on the floor, phones in a pile and bullets littering the floor. Everyone looks shocked, people are crying, and a man in the corner is bleeding profusely.I scan all their faces but I don’t see her. I pray that she might have taken the day off today or something, even though I knew she rarely every did. Where was she?

"Medical," I order. I face the crowd, "You're all alright, If everyone can slowly get up and follow Officer McGregor out, we'll see that your belongings are returned to you and collect statements later. You’re all alright now."

"Sir," a bloke off to the side steps forward from the group getting up. "Our manager was taken to the back...we're not sure how she is, she hasn't come out...”

I reassure the crowd she should be fine. I didn't want them to see me panic, not to mention if we had any casualty the press outside were going to bombard this crowd with insensitive questions and I really wanted to keep this on the low. I was considered young for a DCI and any screw up meant I took it twice as hard. And I didn’t know if I could behave normally if I didn’t find her in any way except breathing. I put on my brave face.

I get an officer to stand by and venture cautiously into the back, spotting an open vault. I hurry into the area when I spot her, laying motionless on the floor.

“Y/N,” I rush forward, skidding on my knees to check on her. “Pleasepleaseplease.” I put my fingers to her pulse and nearly shout in relief. She was alive! I send a thanks out into the universe, to whoever was watching over her. “Y/N! Y/N, can you hear me?”

Her eyes flutter under her lids. I turn her gently onto her back, she was wearing a Green Day t-shirt under a smart jacket and trousers--that was unlike her. She always dressed very smart. I gently remove her short strands off her face to reveal a nasty bruise on the side of her head. I try to stifle my heartbeat; it scared me seeing her like this. I’m about to call my officer but her long lashes flutter and suddenly she's looking at me, dazed.

"Y/N! Are you alright?" I inquire. She blinks, and then again, her eyebrows drawn together as she stares at me. I try again, “Y/N, answer me please! Are you alright?”

"I...do I...bloody look alright? Where did they go?" She snaps out of her daze and tries to sit up but her hand goes to her head which must be throbbing. I place a hand on her back so she doesn't fall back down.

"Oh thank god,” I sigh in relief, she could talk. She was alright. “Th-they’'ve managed to escape. We'll deal with that. You were knocked unconscious so we should get you checked-”

"Those bastards," she snarls. I bite back a chuckle as I help her up. She pushes me away as soon as she's on her feet. "I wasn't even supposed to bloody be here today you know that? It was my day off and....Jesus.” She clutches her forehead. “How's everyone else? Chris? Adam?"

"Everyone is fine, your guard’s being taken to hospital. Everyone else is untouched, we need to have you checked out though." I am mesmerized, as always, by her ability to talk about ten things at once.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“It’s my case, I guess,” I tell her, expecting the question. She scowls. “I’ll have to ask you some questions later, but Y/N we need to have your head checked.”

“I’m sure you’d like that,” she mumbles.

“You’re proving by the second that you’re quite alright but we’ve got to get you to a medic anyway,” I gesture forward so she can walk ahead of me. I didn’t want her falling or anything. The constable at the door watches her walk out and eyes me warily.

"She need her statement taken chief?"

"I'll take her down to the station myself--she's hurt." I dismiss the officer and follow Y/N out. I wanted to keep an eye on her right now. “Can I help you walk?”

“My legs are working fine,” she snarls whilst clutching her forehead.

Your POV:

I could not believe today's turn of events. I was supposed to have a relaxing day off but instead, I’m rushed to work so I could be held up by thieves, forced to help them rob my branch, only to be mildly concussed. And the person on the case is none other than my ex-husband Harry Styles.

The only thing going for me is that I don't cry easily (or i would be a sniffling mess right now). And Harry was the last person I wanted to cry in front of although he’s seen me at much worse. I push aside those memories, ignoring his lingering eyes and try to walk ahead of him.

I cover up my shaking hands by stuffing them under the blanket I'm wrapped in when Harry leads me to the ambulance. He stays to the side while the medic goes through a questionnaire and informs me on what I need to know about being mildly concussed. All I could think about is the feeling of a gun pressed to the small of back, the chill of it through fabric.

"Miss?" The medic asks.

"Sorry, I got it. Yes. Thank you."

"I asked how you got here?" The medic begins to look concerned. Shit. I did not want more attention.

"I...meant I got what you were saying. Sorry, I rode the tube in."

"Great. You can ride with me to the station," Harry says from the side. I avoid his gaze but I have to agree. There was no way I was taking the tube during a time like this. I had a concussion.

So I'm sat in the back whilst Harry drives with his partner. I catch Harry glancing in the rear-view more often than he should and when we make eye contact, he gives me a reassuring smile. But sitting in the back of the car, I feel like the metal tip of a gun still keeps my spine straight. My lungs feel like they're not expanding large enough for air and I clutch the seatbelt strapping me in. I try to name all the countries I could remember--a coping technique I’d used since I was a kid to try and distract myself.

"You alright miss?" The other officer sounds concerned.

"Yeah," I choke out. "Just a little stuffy back here."

"Oh ‘m sorry," Harry opens the back window and I greedily gulp the fresh air coming in. My panic subsides and I settle back into the seat.

"And that's all you remember?" Harry sits on the desk chair next to me even though his own seat remains empty behind the desk.

"Exactly as I've told you, like, 20 times Harry."

It was now two hours later; I'd sat waiting for an hour before receiving my phone only to find multiple calls from the bank’s higher-ups. After dealing with them, I had to wait another half hour before finally being interviewed. I proceeded to drink two cups of bad coffee while giving every detail of what I remember, their masks, and so on. Every time I said something that could help, Harry would backtrack and I would explain it three different ways. It was frustrating and the repetition kicked my anxiety up so that I was on the edge of a breakdown. I grip the arms of the chair and respond to Harry. "Listen, alright, why would I not be telling you the full story? Of course that's all I bloody remember! It's not like I had an out-of-body experience and I saw them leave through the back door.”

"I'm sorry Y/N, it's just routine." Harry keeps a straight face on. "We have a few suspicions we're trying to corroborate by interviewing everyone involved. I promise I’m just being thorough-"

"Yeah yeah alright, you sound like you're reading from a bloody manual," I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh into the silence. When Harry doesn't say anything, I look up to see him watching me with an amused expression.

"What?" I ask, annoyed.

"It’s been a while...I forgot how charming you can be.”

“What can I say, you bring it out in me.”

"Very interesting outfit by the way," he takes my snark in stride, gesturing to my outfit with his pen instead. I cross my arms in front of me. He's still got the stupid expression on his face, it looks unchanged from the one he used to give me once upon a time. When he found something I did funny but in a loveable way; the feelings that surface are almost unbearable.

"Don’t judge my outfit, I had to rush to work for our client meet-oh shit." I pull out my phone and check my email but there's nothing from the client. Probably avoiding the shit show. I notice the time, with all the time I’d wasted today I may as well not have taken the day off at all.

"So you weren't meant to be at work today except for this client? Bad timing isn’t it." Harry reads to himself from his notes. I stare at him, wishing I could burn a hole into his skull to see if he really had a brain in there.

"I've told you this five times before, Harry. You're literally reading from your notes. If you're just going to ask the same questions over and over I’m sure you can find the answers in there and I can go home."

"Right but something doesn't add up, I just want to make sure I have all the details."

"Do I have to be here to watch you do your mental maths?" I wasn't very nice when anxiety and frustration became my base emotions. But Harry knew that.

He looks at me, eyebrows raised at my snark. "I'm sure that you want to get to the bottom of this just as much as I do-"

"But that's not my job," I remind him. "That's yours. I've done mine, and I'd really just like to go home." My voice cracks, and I feel a rush of embarrassment.

"How about I drop you off home? I can walk through the day with you once more during the drive?”

He looks at me expectantly, “I’d rather stab myself in the eye.”

"Best not to with the concussion,” Harry pushes my buttons, and I’m kind of surprised. The last time we saw each other he’d been accommodating to my anger but he was pushing back today. Like he used to when we were together when he riled me up simply because he found it amusing.

When I scowl though, he gets serious. “Y/N, just let me give you a ride home and we can talk more.”

I didn’t want to stand around arguing, I was tired, so I just agree. He smiles, his dimples making a pretty appearance. Damn him.

H POV:

I’m surprised she agrees to ride home with me. I knew Y/N had a stubborn streak and giving in to my offer was new. She’d made it clear last time we saw each other that she wanted nothing to do with me. I was also curious to know where she lived, I’d only been to her office once since we’d split. And that was usually to drop off papers.

She actually answers my questions on the drive, albeit they’re one word answers, but she gives me space to talk out some theories I had. But she also disagrees with most of them, pointing out their flaws. The comfortable back-and-forth between us is bittersweet. This was why we were married once upon a time. We worked well together; after all, we’d been friends for years before dating the other. It was the friendship I missed the most when I thought about us.

When we drive up to her address, it’s a townhome in a decent part of the city. Her promotion clearly had its perks.

I leap out of the car to open her door before she could but she beats me to it, scowling at me as she realises what I was trying to do.

“So you live here?” I try to ease into a conversation, get her to open up, ask her how she was doing. But she looks at me like I’d asked a stupid question, waving her keys.

“You’re kind of dense for a detective,” she says when I raise an eyebrow. “Don’t look so shocked.”

“Forget I asked,” getting personal was useless.

“Done.” She always manages to get the last word. She climbs her steps but I follow her up. She eyes me as she finds the correct one on her key ring. “What?”

“I just-have you got anyone living with you?”

“What’s that got to do with the case?” She asks, her defenses going up.

“You’re concussed, it’s best you have someone with you for the next 24 hours like the med-”

“I’ll be fine Harry,” her sharp edges soften but still, she only opens her door wide enough to step through. I can barely see anything behind her except for a hall.

“You shouldn’t be alone,” I try again.

“Nice of you to care,” the way she says it implies a deeper meaning, one that borders on a dangerous topic.

“I’m serious Y/N, this--a concussion’s no joke. And it was traumatic what you went through you really shouldn’t-”

“I’ve been on my own for a while now, I’ll be okay.” There she goes having the last word again. I raise my hands and back off.

“If you say so. I’ll...head back to the station but if you need anything, well, you know how to reach me.”

She nods, closing the door softly behind her. I sigh, it was a whirlwind last few hours but I was just grateful Y/N was going to be okay. I know she hated me, but I still cared about her. It was hard not to. We’d known each other for over a decade, and even though I hurt her in our past, and she might not agree with me, I cared. Caring about her didn’t have an on/off switch. I only wanted her to be okay. Maybe even happy.

Y POV:

I go through the motions for the rest of the afternoon, mostly I sit zoned out in front of the window while the morning plays like a loop in my head. Something about having your life hang in the balance of a stranger’s pointer finger made it feel so fragile. It unraveled me, and I can’t focus on anything. I just keep feeling the gun on my back, and smashing against the side of my head.

I keep my head iced, and avoid screens except to send out a couple emails and to call my sister after 8 voice messages that progresses from panic after hearing the news to annoyance as I don’t respond. When she finds out Harry’s on the case she swears.

“That bastard,” I can see her face in my mind, the one where she pursues her lips like mum used to. “You should report him, conflict of interest right? It’s traumatic enough what you’ve been through, you poor thing. I was just talking to Lewis and he said I should come down to stay with you this weekend-”

“That’s really alright,” I nip the idea in the bud. I loved my sister dearly but she was an overly anxious person and I don’t think that would be helpful for me right now. “It’s just a mild concussion, the medic said I should be cleared after 24 hours so it would only be a hassle for you to come down here.”

“Alright,” she says grudgingly. “But you say the word and I’m on the first train out. And I’ll give that ex of yours an earful if he’s anywhere near you again.”

I smile at my sister’s overprotective nature, “I appreciate the offer, but I think I can manage that fine on my own.”

“That you can,” she laughs.

But when I put down the phone, the silence creeps in again. And normally I loved the quiet but like a broken record player, the voices and sounds from this morning continue to play in a loop in the silence.

I give up after 7 and start preparing for bed. But a call interrupts my nightly routine.

“Y/N,” it’s Harry. “It’s me, Harry.”

“I do have call display,” I say dryly.

“Right, I...wasn’t expecting you to pick up.”

“Is this about the case?” I was hoping he was calling to say the bastards were caught.

“Oh...not exactly. I was wondering if you’ve fed yourself. I’m in your area for work, it’s my last call. I thought I could bring you some takeout or...?”

“I was about to get ready for bed.” I reply.

“Oh. That’s early? Have you had dinner?”

I think about the pathetic cheese toast I’d managed to make. My stomach growls thinking about food, I didn’t seem to have an appetite until he’s said something. “Fine, only if you’re in my area.”

Surely, not even 10 minutes go by and by doorbell rings. Harry stands outside with a takeout bag, his pressed shirt from this morning is more rumpled with a few buttons undone.

“I parked on the street--is that alright?”

“I guess? You’re just here to drop this off.” I shrug.

“Actually I uh, I thought I’d keep you some company.”

“I...” I don’t know if I should be offended. “I don’t need company. I only agreed to the takeout.”

“I’m part of the package,” he hides the bag behind him, a smug smile on his face. I roll my eyes, it was too late to do this with him.

So I leave the door open and head inside, tightening my robe around me. Harry was part of my past and having him here, in the place I’d built myself back again, feels wrong. This was where I’d shed the identity of being a divorcee before 30, and here he was. When I turn to see why he was so quiet, I find him scanning my gallery wall and smiling at the pictures.

“Hey, I’m on here,” he points to a small group picture.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I walk back to him to get the food. “I just looked good there.”

It was a shot from my sister’s wedding, Harry and I with the newlyweds. It was taken a few weeks before we’d made us official actually--moving from friends to lovers was maybe one of the bigger mistake I’d made in life. Another was agreeing to marry him.

“I look pretty good too,” he leans in closer. I ignore him and take the cartons of Chinese out and grab cutlery. He joins me, I hand him a beer and take a sparkling water for myself. “How’ve you been feeling?”

“Okay,” I shrug. “Just sorting through it all. Trying to avoid screens, all that.”

“That’s good,” he steals a chicken from the container I’m dumping into my plate. I eye him but he just grins, chewed food between his cheeks. I let it slide. “So you’re not supposed to sleep with a concussion or something?”

I sigh, “That’s not true, I only have a mild concussion!”

“Well I’m not a bloody doctor!”

“Thank god for that.”

“You’ll never stop doing that will you?” He rubs his chopsticks together and attempts to eat with him. “Always so snarky.”

“I can’t help it,” I continue to watch him fail with his chopsticks and pick up a fork. “It sustains me.”

“You should try being nice for once.”

“Tried it once, didn’t work out well for me. So...here I am.”

I was being passive, I knew that. He knew that with the way he eyes me over his food. He keeps quiet though, knowing there was nothing he could say in this moment to make a difference. We eat in silence until he receives a call and he leaves to take it. I clean up so by the time he gets back I’ve just loaded the dishwasher.

“I know the sleep thing’s not true for you,” Harry says as he approaches. “But I think I should stay here overnight. Just to make sure you’re-”

“No,” I cross my arms. “There’s no reason for you to stay the night Harry. I don’t need you here.”

“It’s for your peace of mind-”

“It’s for your peace of mind Harry. And frankly, I don’t care about your peace of mind. I don’t want you sleeping over, I’m not comfortable with that.”

“Y/N, c’mon! It’s not a big deal. It’s not like we didn’t sleep in the same bed for years--I’ll be sleeping on the couch! You’re not in your best shape and it’s just for a night, it’ll be like I’m not even here.”

“Don’t you have a girlfriend or something to go home to?” I ask. He shifts his gaze and shakes his head.

“Nope, my bachelor pad just me. I’ll be out of your hair in the morning.”

I dry my hands and watch him, he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. I knew him well enough to recognise the wide stance, shoulders back, and jut of his chin. He wasn’t backing down.

“I don’t want to hear you, Not even a peep. I’ll make up the couch but this is the one and only time you’re wearing me down, you’re lucky I’m not in the mood to argue-”

“Promise,” he holds his hand up to his chest, a grin on his face knowing he won.

I leave him with a comfortable setup and head up to my own room. There was a spare upstairs but I don’t think I could handle him sleeping next door to me. It was weird how in just one day I’d seen more of him than I had in the last couple years and now he was sleeping in my living room like we were okay. Not like he wasn’t the man who’d broken my trust, and my heart.

As I lay awake in bed, unable to sleep as the day replays in my head, another set of memories infiltrates my mind and keeps me from sleeping. The story of Harry and I, the naive beginning, eventful middle, and heartbreaking end. My mind repeats its history and I don’t fall asleep for hours. When sleep finally comes, my dreams are haunted by the same memories.

405 notes · View notes

20moonchild21 · 4 years ago

Text

𝗦𝗲𝗵𝗻𝘀𝘂𝗰𝗵𝘁 [𝗯𝘁𝘀]

⇉ 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 15

[pairings]

JK x female!oc, Bunny!JK x human!female!oc, Jin x female!oc, Leopard!Jin x human!female!oc, Jimin x female!oc, white Tiger!Jimin x human!female!oc, Taehyung x female!oc, black Tiger!Taehyung x human!female!oc, Hobi x female!oc, Fox!Hobi x human!female!oc, JK x Jin x Jimin x Taehyung x Hobi x female!oc

[warnings]

none, just a lot of fluffy fluff

[words]

4.4K

[author]

I hope you all are doing fine! Finally, it’s moving forward in the story and I am so excited what you think about it.

Important information:

For the next few weeks, I will only upload new chapters each Sunday, because I will take my final exams in two weeks, and it would be too much to learn and write at the same time. I am sorry for that, it’s just for about 3 or 4 weeks💜I hope you can understand

If you need more and can’t wait for next updates, you will definitely have to check out Inferiority complex written by @starlightauroras-writes. Her story is super cute and inspiring. Plus, she puts a lot passion and effort into her story, so please, leave likes and messages under her chapters!

Make sure to also leave under this chapter a like or comment! It would make my day!

Stay healthy and safe!

Mꨄ

[chapter 14 ||| chapter 16]

“Are you excited for the day, Kookie?” Hope asked happily, as she walked around the car.

A few days ago, she had promised Jungkook that they would spend a day on their own, because with all the boys home it could get really hectical sometimes. Together, they wanted to go to the park, walking around and maybe making a picknick somewhere. Luckily, Jin had prepared them a few sandwiches this morning.

“Yes, I am.” The bunny stepped out of the car and stretched his arms in the air.

The weather was actually really beautiful, because it was a little bit sunny and warm, but not too warm for wearing a beanie. Like this, Jungkook could hide his ears with no one noticing. When he opened his eyes again, he looked happily at the girl, before he reached for her smaller hand and both of them began to walk towards the park.

As they were walking, Hope noticed for the first time how other people would see them. Since they were holding hands, the people passing by would probably think that the two of them were together in a relationship. Her cheeks went red when she thought about that.

Her gaze fell onto the boy next to her. Jungkook had his eyes closed, as the sun fell right onto his face, letting his skin glow. He looked so healthy and happy, nothing left from the shy, skinny boy she had found in the alley several month ago. She caught herself watching the shape of his nose and lips closely, bringing up the memory of that night where they had almost kissed into her head.

But still, there was one thing missing in the picture of his beautiful face. The poor boy still had to hide his long floppy ear that the girl loved so much. She loved to driver her fingers through the soft, grey fur, all the way up from the base towards the white tip and that back towards his dark hair. In that moment, she wanted to pull his beanie form his head so bad, showing all the people the true boy, but she knew that Jungkook would feel uncomfortable.

“Are you enjoying this?” He suddenly asked and turned his head down towards her, catching Hope completely off guards. “Just walking around, I mean.”

If it was possible, her face became now even more red when she realized that he didn’t meant her staring. She quickly cleared her throat and ripped her gaze away from his face.

“Y – Yes, I do enjoy it.” She said, trying to steady her voice. “It has been a long time since I have found the time to do something like that. But it is nice to actually clear my head like this.”

The boy just nodded, before he squeezed her hand a little bit tighter.

“Me too.” He eventually said after a few seconds of silence. “Especially with you. Doing something simple like this is anything I have ever wished for. Even though I have to hide my ears, I don’t care.”

Hope gripped his hand tighter when he spoke, pulling herself closer to press her face against the soft fabric of his jacket. Even though she had no extra senses to fully smell the boy’s scent, she caught catch at least the slightest hint of his masculine smell. Immediately, her heart began to beat faster.

Together, they kept walking a little while longer, talking about anything that came into their minds, until Hope spotted an empty bank. Both of them agreed to take a seat and take their picknick there. Jungkook placed the backpack he had insisted to carry, because it would be ‘heavy’, in between them, and both began to eat their sandwiches.

“Did I actually tell you that I have a job interview soon?” She swallowed the last piece of bread down and cleaned her mouth with a tissue.

She had told Jin a few days ago, that she applied to that lawyer firm in New York that were standing up for Hybrid rights in front of the judge. Jungkook’s eyes went wide, before a large smile formed on his beautiful lips.

“Are you serious?” He breath out, reaching over and grabbing her hand carefully. “That is great. I am so happy and proud at you.”

Hearing him saying that he was proud of her was making her cheeks blush again. She tried to hide it with a few giggles, making the boy giggling as well. But suddenly, Jungkook stopped and looked pretty serious into her eyes.

“But will you still have time for us once you will have started working?” He asked in a small voice.

“Of course, I will.” The girl slide a little bit closer towards him, giving attention to not let their hands go of each other. “I will always have time for you, Kookie. You guys are my number one priority.”

Jungkook was still not looking up into her eyes. He kept his head down and carefully slide his thump over the soft skin of the back her hand.

“But what if you will find a boyfriend.” He almost whispered. “Will there be space for us anymore?”

Hope chuckled slightly. It was cute how worried and protective the bunny was about his brothers, but inside in, she had known for a long time now, that there would not be a stranger boyfriend in her life. It were the simple things that would make her heart beat faster, like Jin hugging her from behind while she was cooking, or Jungkook holding her hand and sliding his thumb in small circles over her skin.

Lately, she even had taken Jimin and Taehyung into her heart, even though they hadn’t know each other for long. Those boys had made their way into her life and straight into her heart, making it difficult for her to organize her emotions. Could it be possible that she was developing feelings for all 4 of them at the same time?

“I don’t think I will find myself a boyfriend so quick.” She tried to overplay her awkwardness. “But what is about you? Should we find you a cute bunny girl?”

Immediately, Jungkook’s head shot up, and sharp eyes were looking into hers. He squeezed her hand even tighter, before he shook his head wildly.

“I don’t want a cute bunny girl.” He stated with a steady voice, making Hope think that she might had overstepped the border. “Besides, I already have a mate.”

The last part he mumbled more to himself, but Hope could clearly understand the word ‘mate’ from which she didn’t know what it meant. She wanted to ask the boy, but she decided against it, not wanting to upset Jungkook more. It should be a happy day for both of them.

She leant her head against Jungkook’s shoulder an closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun that was shining into her face. Both stayed like that for another few minutes, before Hope felt Jungkook’s nose nuzzling into her hair. She opened her eyes again and looked upwards.

It was just now that they found themselves once again int the same position like they had been a few days ago in her bedroom. Their faces just inches apart, noses almost nuzzling against each other, but this time, there was nothing that could interrupt them.

Slow-motion-like, Jungkook face came closer, until she could feel his hot breath on her lips. Hope could swear that her heart would spring out of her chest any second. Never in her life had she been that close to someone, but in that moment, there was no one she would rather be in that situation as with Jungkook.

Time seemed to stop when their lips met properly for the very first time. Carefully, Hope started moving them after a few seconds, exploring Jungkook’s mouth while steading herself by pressing her free hand against his chest.

A million questions were racing through her head, as Jungkook started to move his lips more passionately against hers. What would happen after this kiss? Would their relationship change now? Would they be together? What would be about the other boys that had a place in her heart?

All those thoughts faded away and her mouth escaped a small gasp when they both pulled away, facies staying close. Both were now looking into each other’s eyes, cheeks red and not knowing what to say.

“Look at those two.” They suddenly heard an older lady say towards her husband, as they were passing by. “Isn’t young love beautiful?”

Jungkook and Hope were looking back at each other, breaking out in small laughers. The boy wrapped his arms around Hope, pulling her closer and leaning his head against her hair. Both of them stayed like this the rest of the day.

“Out of the kitchen, woman!” Jin pretended to scare the girl away with his wood spoon, before she fake-whined and quickly walked out of the kitchen. “I have to concentrate in here!”

She turned her head back and stuck out her tongue, before she looked around for something else to do while Jin was preparing the dinner. She spotted Taehyung, Hobi and Jungkook sitting on the sofa with their fingers sliding over the controllers wildly, while they screamed some comments from time to time.

It was amazing how fast the boys had accepted Hobi in their circle. Just after a few days, they were already joking along with the older boy, laughing and playing together like they had known each other for years. It made her happy. Hobi was a great person, always funny hand happy.

When her gaze fell onto Jungkook, her cheeks redden. The memory of earlier came into her mind, but she had to remind herself that drooling now wouldn’t be suitable. She sighed and was about to sat down next to them, when she noticed that there was one boy missing.

Jimin was nowhere to be found in the living room or in the kitchen, which was quiet strange, because normally, he loved to hang out with his brother and Jungkook, and if he wasn’t with them, he usually would be with Jin.

She walked down the hallway when she already heard a soft humming coming from the two tiger’s room. Hope slowly pushed the door open a small gap, peeking her head into the room. Jimin was laying back down on the bed, his eyes were closed the small ear buds she had given him a few days ago in his ears.

He must have smelled the girl coming inside, because he suddenly opened his eyes and looked towards the doorway. When he spotted the small human, he pulled out the ear buds and smiled wildly at her.

“Hello, Hope.” He sat up straight, as she walked closer towards the bed. “Come and sit down with me.”

Jimin was always a warm and welcoming person. Every time she saw him, he had his wide, beautiful smile on his face, making his eyes from into half-moons and her knees weaken. When she sat down on the bed next to him, he laid himself back onto his back and with his head into her lap.

“Why aren’t you with the others?” She carefully asked him, before she began to slide her hands through his thick hair.

Jimin hummed a little bit, before he closed his eyes again and pushed his hands further into her hands.

“I wanted to listen to some music.” He simply said. “Thank you again for the MP3 player, Hope. I love it.”

They stayed in that position for a little while longer, just enjoying the moment together. She had grown attached to Jimin really quick. His sweet and lovely personality made it hard for someone to not love him.

“Did you had a great time with Jungkook today.” He suddenly whispered into the dimmed room, not trying to hide the smile in his tone.

Hope was glad that the room was a little bit darker, because for the thousandths time that day, her face went red as a tomato. She awkwardly laughed and shifted around the mattress before she could find her voice again.

“I – “ She stuttered, not knowing if she should tell him or not, but it wanted to come out of her. “We – ehm – we kissed.”

She was giggling like a little school girl while talking, trying to cover her embarrassment. Jimin was now chuckling as well.

“I know.” He confessed, and she could practically see the smirk on his face. “You smelled more intensive like him when you came home earlier. I could tell straight away that something happened.”

A gasp escaped her mouth when he told her about that. If he smelled it, the there was no doubt that the rest of the boys had smelled it too. She wanted the ground to open up and swallow her away forever.

Before she had the chance to think about it further, Jimin had already pushed himself up from her lap, and was now wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her close towards his chest. Instinctive, she placed her head onto his shoulder while he snuggled his head into the creak of her neck, moving it carefully around. This gesture didn’t stay unnoticed by Hope, because she knew this gesture form Jungkook.

“Jimin?” She slightly chuckled as his breath tickled her sensitive skin. “Are you scenting me?”

The white tiger hummed a little bit, causing a wave of shover over her spine, before he pulled away. For a moment, they were just looking into each other’s eyes, before Jimin moved his hands to screech his neck.

“I am sorry.” He quietly whispered, pressing his ears flatly against his head. “It’s just – you smell so strongly like Jungkook and that just triggered my – my instincts. I am sorry.”

Hope chuckled at his cute stuttering. Though they had known each other for a few weeks now, Jimin would still get shy over the simplest things sometimes.

“It’s okay, Jimin.” She said, before he laid his head back into her lap.

As she drove her hands through his thick hair, she sunk back into her thoughts. She had never thought about the boys actually having animal-like instincts. Of course, she knew that their ears and noses were really sensitive, but she had also heard about other – needs – that Hybrids would develop while living together with a girl. Her cheeks blushed immediately when she thought about that.

“What are you thinking about?” The boy in her lap suddenly asked, looking up at her.

With redden cheeks, she quickly tried to find an answer when suddenly that one question popped up in her mind.

“How – how do I smell actually?” That question had been burning in her head ever since she had met the boys. “Do I smell – okay? I mean, do I smell like sweat or something, because if I did it – “

“Do you smell okay?” Jimin had abruptly pushed himself up from her lap and was now facing her directly. “Your scent is absolutely….amazing. You can’t imagine it, but a scent isn’t comparable to – sweat. I don’t know how to describe it, but every time you enter the apartment your scent is flashing me and the other boys. It smells so sweet and clear but also natural at the same time. Just amazing.”

With every word Jimin was using to describe her scent, her cheeks would blush more and more. She would have ever guessed that the boys enjoyed smelling her. Not knowing what to do, she began to twirl a strand of her hair around her finger while starting to laugh awkwardly.

“O – okay.” She eventually stuttered between her giggles. “Thanks, I guess?”

Though it was an uncommon way to compliment someone, she somehow felt proud to hear those words from the male. Never in her life had some boy made a compliment to her. Only her mother had told her often that she was a beautiful, but that was different.

Since she had been living with the boys, she had got a lot of compliments. Jin would often tell her that she was beautiful or that she would be cute when she couldn’t reach the top shelf, because she was tiny. Jimin had told her that he liked her scent, but he had often told her that he liked to hug her, because he felt comfortable around her. Taehyung was another thing. Though their relationship had made much process, he was still more reluctant when it came to compliments. Jungkook on the other hand made a lot of compliments. What she loved that most was that they all really meant what they said, not just like telling a phrase.

When she thought about Jungkook, her thoughts drifted back towards the scene where both of them had been sitting on the bank in the park together. Jungkook had seemed to be pretty upset when she had joked about finding him a bunny girl, before he had said something about ‘finding his mate’.

“Jimin.” It was just now that he realized that she had said his name pretty often today. “What is a mate? I heard Jungkook talking about it, but I didn’t know what he meant by that.”

Jimin cocked an eyebrow up, his ears standing up high in attention.

“He told you about it?” He asked, his voice was holding a hint of surprise and confusion.

“He just told me that he already has a mate.” She quickly answered. “Whatever that means.”

The white tigers chuckled slightly, before he sighed and scratched his neck, obviously looking for the right words.

“A mate is something like – what do you call it – marrying someone?” He began, before he sat up straight across from her. “Or more like a soulmate! You met a special person you love and with whom you want to spend your whole life together. You have no influence on the time you will meet your mate, under which circumstances or who he or she is.”

Jungkook had a mate? Someone he loved? Somehow, that hurt her more than she thought. It was not like she was not happy for him, because everything she wanted was that her boys could feel happy in their lives.

“But – but –“ Her mind was suddenly filled with thousands of questions. “ – what do you mean by who he or she is?”

“It means that there are no rules for finding one’s mate.” While he was talking, a small smile was forming on his face. “Age, gender, religion, race, breed – it doesn’t matter, everyone is just equal. Boys mate with boys, girls mate with girls, Christians mate with Muslims, Hybrids mate with human. Love has no definition in that point. There are even cases where Hybrids have more than one mate.”

Her heat shot up at that statement and her heart was suddenly pounding in her chest. On the one hand, it should make her happy that it was possible for Hybrids to find their mates in a human – like her – because in her heart she had known for a long time that she like her boys very much, but on the other hand, was there actually a chance all of them would feel the same for her too?

“What if one partner doesn’t want to be the mate of the other?” Her voice got quieter and quieter.

“Usually, mates are destined for each other, but of course, there are cases where one partner doesn’t accept his mate.” Jimin began to talk again, and Hope could tell that he was pretty serious about that topic. “It’s one of the worse cases ever. Losing our mate is like someone rips out a part of your heart. It’s very hard to get over the pain.”

Hope gasped slightly. She knew how much it hurt to loose someone you love deeply, but she didn’t know if that was comparably with losing your mate.

“How do you know who your mate is?” She almost didn’t dared to ask more question, not wanting to step on Jimin’s nerves, but somehow she got more and more interested with every new detail about that topic.

“I don’t know about you humans.” Jimin lifted his hand to scratch his neck, a slight tone of red was somehow covering his cheeks now. “But we Hybrids, we can smell it. It is the best feeling ever when you find your mate. It feels like you have thousands of butterflies in your stomach every time you see her – or him! Yeah – ehm – and you just want to be with your mate all the time, hugging him, marking him and just be together. It’s great.”

“Marking?” Hope had the feeling that with every word she got more and more confused.

“Hmm.” Jimin hummed. “It means that you bite your mate somewhere on his neck or shoulder to leave a mark there. When you mark your mate, it means that you will be together forever.”

Every word Jimin was using, she could hear the passion and love he put behind it, just like he had already felt all of that. She wanted to feel that too.

“Did – did you already find your mate?” Actually, she didn’t want to hear his answer, knowing that it would probably hurt her.

Jimin hesitated for a while, before he bent his head to the side, smiling almost unnoticed by her.

“I would say that Tae is my mate in some way.” His eyes sparkled slightly when he talked about his brother. “We are just clicking with each other and I love to hug or to cuddle with him, but yes, I – I think I also have another mate somewhere.”

When he showed her his perfect smile, Hope just couldn’t destroy his happiness by showing him that it hurt her. She just leant forward and hugged the boy tightly, burring her head into his neck.

“I am so happy for you, Jimin.” She whispered.

“Okay, gentlemen.” Jin looked at the 4 boys in front of him, who were sitting on the sofa in a row. “You all know that Hope has her job interview today, which is pretty exhausting for her. Therefore, we will make this evening as relaxing as possible for her. I – “

The leopard was interrupted by Hobi, who was carefully holding up his hand in the air, gesturing that he wanted to say something. He patiently waited for the older boy to give him a nod so he could start talking.

“What is a job interview?” The younger boy asked innocently.

Before Jin could answer his question, Jimin had already bent forward from the other side of the couch to look at Hobi.

“People are asking her a lot questions to see if she is suitable to work in their company.” He simply answered.

The fox cocked an eyebrow up, but eventually, he nodded after a few seconds and turned his attention back towards the oldest boy.

“Exactly, Jimin.” He showed Jimin a smile, before he was about to start talking again, when suddenly Taehyung was interrupting him. “That’s why –“

“Why are you even talking like that.” The black tiger asked with a smirk on his face. “Are we some kind of soldiers now?”

Jin just rolled his eyes. Though Taehyung had laid off his bratty attitude some days ago, he still loved to teas and provoke the people around him.

“Because –“ He locked eyes with every one of them, before he continued. “ – I want you to understand the importance of the situation. Hope is doing everything for us. It would only be fair from us to support her whenever we can. She will be pretty exhausted when she is coming home, and that’s why we will cheer her up with the apartment already cleaned, the laundry washed and a prepared meal. Do you understand? Okay, then let’s go!”

Without any protest, all the boys stood up from the sofa and began to do their job. While Jin and Jimin went towards the kitchen to prepare dinner, Jungkook and Hoseok went towards the storage to get the vacuum cleaner and cleaning stuff, and Taehyung began to collect all the used clothes into a basket to sort and wash them.

When two hours had passed by, all the boys met up in the living room again.

“It looks pretty good.” Jungkook stated, as they were all staring at the set up table. “I think she will like it.”

The other 4 boys agreed with the youngest. They had really put all their effort in preparing a nice evening for them and especially the girl. They didn’t even had to wait long, because all of them were still standing in the middle of the living room when they heard the front door being pushed open.

“I am ba – “ The girl stopped in her mid-sentence when she saw all 5 boys turning around at the same time. “What are you guys doing? Oh no, did you break –“

“Hope!” Jungkook was the first one to break out of his staring.

He almost ran over towards the small girl and threw his arms around her, quickly followed by Jimin who pressed himself between the bunny and the girl. Jin on the other hand waited patiently for the younger ones to let go of Hope, before he pulled her into a tight hug himself.

Hobi and Taehyung watched the scene in front of them in very different ways. While the fox Hybrid stood a little awkward and dumb folded there, not knowing what to do or how to behave, Taehyung held his typical smirk on his face and his arms crossed over his chest.

“Hello, human girl.” He smirked, before he stretched out his hand towards her.

“Hello, Tae.” The girl just rolled playfully her eyes but eventually, she shook the taller boy’s hand slightly. “Hello there, Hobi.”

She happily waved at the older boy, before she placed her purse and coat onto the sofa. She took a deep breath and turned back towards the boys.

“Hope, you look sad.” Jimin carefully took a step forwards, while he fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “Did you not get the job?”

Hope didn’t answer for a moment. She took another deep breath, before she looked up with her big eyes, making the boys believe that Jimin guessed right.

“I – ehm – “ She cleared her throat, before her face suddenly changed and a scream left her mouth. “I got the job! I did it!”

[inspirations ||| recommendations]

@starlightauroras-writes

@wishesunderthestars

@agustdakasuga

@ditttiii

@angelicyoongie

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sicparvismorrigan · 3 years ago

Text

Big Fun

Sam helps you feel better after you lose your temper.

Uncharted/Sam Drake/Post-U4

Viewpoint: 1st person gender-neutral reader

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: ~2.6k [complete]

Okay, outing myself a little here in the hopes that it’ll be a comfort to at least one other person. This happens…more often than I would like. I’m working on it.

This came about because of a discussion with @writingawaymylife thanks Aerin!

Read on Ao3

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, are you shitting me!”

You finally lose what little patience you had left and punch the wall. Underneath the cheap wallpaper it’s solid concrete and you instantly regret your feral outburst. There’s a millisecond of nothing before the pain comes rushing in, and then you’re bent double, clutching the wrist of your injured hand with the other and groaning.

You try and flex your fingers to check if they’re broken, but you can’t really tell. It’s too late. Your hand is numb within the minute. Shit, that’s really going to hurt in the morning.

You’re clumsy anyway, it’s the way it’s always been and the way it always will be. You know what you need to do, how you need to move, but your body won’t respond how you want it to. You’re always dropping plates and glasses, smashing them to bits. Usually when you’re already running late, and then you have to waste more time by scurrying around looking for a dustpan to get rid of the evidence.

You’re forever bumping into things, stubbing your toes and taking layers of skin off your shoulders and shins when you walk straight into doorframes. When you try and pour things you spill them more often than not. Yet more mess to clean up, yet more time wasted.

Your fingers just won’t work sometimes, often so badly it takes you multiple attempts to tie your shoes. And when it’s cold you’re practically useless. You just give up and tuck the laces into the shoes, feeling them rub through your socks, promising yourself to fix them once you’re back in the warm, everything will work out as long as you don’t trip over your own feet before you get there.

It’s the most frustrating thing in the world. Normally you can shrug it off, you’re used to it by now. But things had been going wrong all day, even without your clumsiness, and matters just came to a head.

You remember exactly what caused you to erupt into expletives and punch the wall. It had already been a frustrating day, work was a pain in the ass, as usual. All of the most awkward customers in the world had decided to descend upon you right before your break. By the time you got home you were in a pretty foul mood. Too wound up to relax, you decided to take a load of laundry downstairs to put in the washer.

You attempted to, anyway. After trying and failing 3 times to pick up the same damn sock from the floor of your room that your fingers just would not grasp, you’d given up and kicked it away under the bed in anger. Oh sure, couldn’t pick it up but you managed to land a furious kick the first time around.

Though you were trying your best to manoeuvre around the doorframe with the pile of clothes you still bumped off it with your shoulder, muttering ouch as the latch scraped your arm. Then you overcompensated by moving too much in the other direction and stubbed your toe on the corner of the door. Instant pain that made you see red.

The pile of clothes in your arms were promptly thrown on the floor in a fit of rage. That was when you punched the wall. And now you’re a sorry state, fingers throbbing and face red, trying not to scream.

Oh shit, you hear Sam moving around in his room down the hall. There’s no way he didn’t hear you. Well, this is embarrassing. There isn’t time to pick everything up and hightail it down the stairs before he catches you, not with your mangled claw out of action.

You hear his door creak open. You slowly turn around and stare guiltily at your roommate as he pokes his head around the doorframe.

“I heard…” He takes in the sight of the pile of laundry scattered on the floor and you holding up your tingling hand, still hopping from foot to foot. “Jeez, again?”

***

Sam is your friend Elena’s brother-in-law, or something like that. You aren’t clear on how exactly they’re related, but you knew her from college, long before she got married. She heard you were looking for a new roommate a few months back, and she got in touch, telling you she knew just the person.

You baulked initially when you got a phone call from her after sparse contact over the last few years. You were actually enjoying living by yourself again, though money was a bit tighter. Your last roommate was pleasant enough at first, however they soon turned out to be a nightmare, it was a relief to get rid of them. But you liked Elena a lot, and you did owe her one or two favours. For some reason she thought you and Sam would hit it off.

And much to your surprise, you did. You were a bit nervous of him to begin with, but Sam turned out to be so laid back he was almost horizontal. The perfect foil to your occasionally manic energy. Living with him was easy, there weren’t any awkward silences. If you were in the same room but didn’t feel like talking, he was fine with it.

Your apartment was pretty basic but he seemed happy there with you. He even made you dinner sometimes when you’d had a tough day and you’d just come in and flop face down on the sofa. Sam would wordlessly stand up and then half an hour later come back through to get you with the same phrase every time. “You gonna eat something, or what?”

Elena had reassured you he probably wouldn’t even be there a lot of the time. He just needed somewhere to touch base every few weeks, she turned out to be correct.

You didn’t even really know what Sam did. He didn’t appear to have a job, he was almost always home during the day and seemed to spend a lot of time on your Playstation (“our Playstation” according to Sam). But he came up with his half of the rent every month and then disappeared again for a few weeks. You didn’t ask, not your business. You’d started to find the house too quiet and empty when he wasn’t there and you were always waiting to hear the keys in the lock and his joking “Honey, I’m home!” whenever he came back.

After moving in it didn’t take him long to pick up on your quirks, or notice that you were more accident-prone than the average person. It had led to the only argument you’d ever had with him.

One time while making dinner you’d dropped a plate and cursed yourself as it cracked in half on the tiled floor. You’d stared daggers at him, daring him to say a word about it. You totally weren’t expecting what he did next.

He’d just looked at you dead in the eyes as he pushed another plate off the counter. Exactly like a cat would.

You blew up at him. “What in the hell did you do that for? Now there’s twice as many sharp bits to clear up!”

“It’s just a plate.” He had shrugged, leaning back on the counter.

“What’s your damn point?”

“That it really doesn’t matter, and that I don’t care that we’ve had to replace pretty much everything in this kitchen since I moved in.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Not everything. You owe me a plate now.”

“You know, maybe we should invest in plastic ones.”

“We are adults Sam! And it’s not good for the environment.”

“And the current… situation is not good for your bank account!”

“Just because you’re used to plastic cutlery.” Kind of a cheap shot, but you’re still mad. You’d gathered he’d done jail time, but you didn’t dare ask what for, or how long. You caught him saying weird things sometimes and eventually realised it was because his concept of time was a little warped. He kept referring to the 90’s like it was only last week, instead of nearly 20 years ago.

Sam just laughed at your plastic cutlery comment, not at all offended. “Yeah, and I like living here so much I’m willing to do that if it means you’ll stop beating yourself up.”

“I’ll think about it.” You grumbled. But you got some plastic cups and plates on your way home from work the next day. Sam was right, it was a lot better, though it made you feel like a kid again.

As you’d gotten more comfortable with Sam you’d given up trying to hide the fact you were a walking health hazard and didn’t stifle your curses anymore.

At first he seemed amused by your clumsiness, he even laughed the first few times you did something stupid. But he quickly realised how upsetting your lack of control over your own limbs was for you, because it happened so damn often. He stopped making fun as soon as he noticed you couldn’t laugh it off with him. It wasn’t a joke to you. From then on he’d been surprisingly nice, he always attempted to make you feel better when it got too much.

***

Even so, right now as you were having a stand-off with him in the hallway, you gritted your teeth and tried to keep your voice even. Stay calm, he’s just concerned. “Yes, again.”

“What did it ever do to you? Y’know, standing there, being all wall-like…stopping our house from collapsing?”

“I lost my temper again. Punched the damn thing.”

He shook his head. “I’ve told you, you’ve got to look after those hands.”

“But they’re so fuc-“ You stop and sigh when he raises an eyebrow. Calm. “Flipping useless. I’m useless.”

“Not true.” Sam steps out of his room and walks in your direction. On the way he kicks a rogue sock back onto the main pile of mess on the floor. “Take that, you scoundrel.”

“I just wish my brain worked normally.”

“Your brain is fine. Your music taste on the other hand.” Sam moved his hand up and down in an ‘ehhhhhh’ motion and shook his head. “No no.”

He’s kidding, of course he is. Damn his sense of humour. But you don’t feel like smiling just yet. It still fucking hurts. “I think I broke something this time.” You really thumped the wall. You wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve actually done damage.

“You want me to check?”

“Please.”

You hold out your hand for him and he carefully wiggles and stretches your fingers one by one, watching your face for any reaction. You wince once he gets to your thumb. Oh, that one hurts the worst.

“No, thumb on the inside? For real?” Sam looked at you in disbelief.

“Apparently so.”

“That’ll learn you. That’s like rule number one of punching anything.”

You sigh. “Anything broken?”

“No, we’re all good. But keep your thumb on the outside next time or you really will break it.”

“Surprisingly, I wasn’t really focusing on technique that much. Oh hey, you should check this one again.” You hold your middle finger aloft.

“Very funny.” But he smirks at you, knowing he’s helping you feel better.

“Come on, you do that one to me all the time.”

“Learning from the best, what can I say? Oh, shit…” Sam’s staring past you.

“What, what’s wrong?” You glance back in the direction he’s looking.

Sam moves to the wall, right where you just punched and looks at you in faux-panic. “I need a medic!”

“Really?” You watch in amazement as he starts to do something to the wall which looks an awful lot like the chest compressions from CPR. Wow, he’s very committed to this bit.

“We’re losing them!”

“Sam, there’s barely a scuff on the wallpaper. I definitely came off worse.”

“I need a crash cart stat!” He yells at nobody in particular.

“Jesus Christ. You’ve been watching too many daytime medical dramas.” You just shake your head, but the corners of your mouth are threatening to twitch upwards.

“Have not…Beeeeeeeeeep! Aw, we lost them. RIP.” He finally steps away from the wall and shrugs. “I tried.”

“You’re such a goofball.” At least you’re smiling now.

“Hey, it worked didn’t it? Frown upside down.” He squeezes your shoulder. “You really did a number on that wall though, huh? I heard it all the way down there. Hell, I felt it. Made the stuff on the shelves rattle.”

“Yeah, I’ve had a bad day. A really bad day. People are assholes.” You glance down at the pile of laundry still littering the floor. “I should pick this up.”

“Do you have to right now?”

“Well, yeah…I was on the way downstairs to wash it.”

“I’m not sure the structural integrity of our house could take it if you had another…incident on the way to the washer. That wall’s concrete but you’re gonna end up going clean through one of the others. Then you’ll lose our security deposit.”

“My security deposit.”

“Right, right, right. That doesn’t mean you can punch holes wherever you like.”

“You could fix it though if I did?”

“Yeah, I guess. Y’know, I’ve never really asked you about it before, but talk me through it, what goes on in your head right before you flip out?”

“I don’t know, I just…see red and it happens before I can stop it.”

“Uh-huh.” He’s nodding. Bizarrely, he doesn’t look too freaked out to you admitting you pretty much go into berserker mode over minor inconveniences. “I know you can’t do anything about having 2 left feet, but you can do something about letting it get to you.”

“What, count to 10 or something?” You ask, mocking. Like you haven’t heard that one before.

“Yeah, seriously.” You get the impression he’s talking from experience. “It works, don’t question it.”

Screw it, he’s being really nice. At least he understands it’s not because you’re an idiot, it’s because your brain isn’t wired like most peoples. And he was right about the plastic plates. “Alright. I’ll try.”

“And you come tell me if this thing pisses you off again, I’ll deal with it.” Sam shakes his fist at the wall. He really is an idiot sometimes. But he does make you laugh. He’s your idiot.

“Gotcha.” You give him a thumbs-up with both hands, wincing again, the movement hurts.

He gives you a sly look. “How about you flex those fingers, and we play a game awhile. Crash Bandicoot maybe?”

“Again? I’ve got loads to do….” You fidget anxiously. you know what he’s up to though. Trying to get you to chill out.

“Just for a little bit. Scared I’ll beat ya?”

“Pffft, not even close, but I’m at a disadvantage this time.” There’s still no way he can win.

“I resent that, I’m getting pretty good.”

“You just mash the buttons.” It’s a fact and he knows it.

“C’mon, c’mon. I gotta at least beat your high score before I have to leave again.”

“Okay, okay, fine. I’m in. Let’s go!” You nod in the direction of the stairs.

“Loser deals with that later on.” He points at the abandoned pile of laundry on the floor.

“Deal, don’t go easy on me.” You step around it and follow him to the sitting room. Even with a crippled hand you’re pretty sure you can thrash him. “Elena and I used to play this in college, wonder if she still has it…”

***

Thank you for reading!

Yeah…I am not just clumsy, I am more like ‘danger to myself and others’ levels of uncoordinated. But I can’t be the only one! Don’t worry, Sam’s got your back ;) Also the title is the song Big Fun from Heathers the Musical because once again it has invaded my life. The whole soundtrack has been on a loop for days now. I LOVE IT. Punch the wall and start a fight!

- Sam Drake and Elena Fisher belong to Naughty Dog/the Uncharted creative team and I (sadly) take no ownership of them.

- This work is not for profit though it belongs to me and I must be credited when copying or reposting elsewhere

- As mentioned before reader is intended to be gender-neutral so please interpret this fic however you like. This is my first x Reader fic published and first g/n reader viewpoint I’ve attempted so I hope I did okay. I myself identify as mostly female so that’s what I normally write because it’s easier for me to connect with. But this was fun.

#uncharted #naughty dog #sam drake #samuel drake #sam drake x reader #uncharted fanfiction #my writing #my fanfiction #no y/n #sam drake x g/n reader #sam drake x you #elena fisher #one shot #big fun #sfw #anger issues #no smut #hopefully just makes you feel a lil bit warm and fuzzy #roommate!sam

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doubleleoenergy · 3 years ago

Text

iii. Angel, The Princess and the Pogue Series

And even though we live inside a dangerously empty life. You always seem to bring the light, you always seem to bring the light.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, mentions of alcohol, mentions of drug use, mentions of suicide, mentions of alcoholism and addiction, swearing, if there are any others please let me know.

Summary: JJ spends a late night with y/n and finds out they’ve got a lot more in common than it seems.

Words: 2863

As soon as the last school bell chimed Thursday afternoon, the gang jumped from their seats and headed straight for John B’s van. JJ lingered in the hallway, leaning against a set of lockers outside of y/n’s class as he waited for her. He had spent any chance he had during the school day around her. It was like she was a beacon of light, a beacon of hope, after so many things in his life had gone wrong. Of course, he wasn’t sure if she even found him remotely attractive in that way, but he sure as shit thought she was.

Y/N’s class had finally dismissed for the day and she stepped out into the hall, smiling as she saw JJ who was standing there with a big goofy grin on his face. “You didn’t have to wait for me, I could’ve walked out to the van on my own.” She commented.

JJ pushed off the lockers, falling in step beside her, an arm draping loosely over her shoulders. Her heartbeat quicker in her chest, though she tried to play it off, letting her expression remain calm. “A princess should never walk alone.” He teased, pushing the front door of the school open with his opposite hand.

“Not sure I’m a princess.” She retorted, rolling her eyes dramatically which caused him to laugh.

“Well, that’s your new nickname, sorry princess.” He let go of her shoulder and jogged forward to the van, meeting Kiara for their secret handshake before sending a salute in John B’s direction.

“You ready to fish, y/n?” Kiara asked, hopping in after her into the van and shutting the door behind them. Again, she was sandwiched between Kiara and JJ, which of course she didn’t mind at all.

“Yeah, I think I’ve only fished once in my life, with a cousin in Montana. But I didn’t catch shit and refused to go after that.” She picked at her cuticles, watching as the van started cruising down the street, John B’s free hand moving to grab Sarah’s who sat in her usual spot in the passenger seat.

“Well, we’re kinda experts at this, so if you don’t at least catch one fish you’ve got some bad juju on you.” Pope responded, earning a smack to the chest from Kiara. “Damn Kie, it’s just a joke!” The gang laughed, John B continuing to drive until he pulled over at a dingey corner store, JJ hopping out of the back seat and going inside. Sarah started belting out the lyrics to a Bob Marley tune as they waited, JJ emerging minutes later carrying two cold packs of Natural Light.

“Can’t fish without beer, that’s a Pogue sin!” He claimed, shutting the door as he nestled back into his spot beside y/n. Five minutes later they pulled into the docks, John B parking his van in an empty spot before everyone hopped out one-by-one. The boat John B had was not the prettiest, but it just showed its resilience. He hopped in first before helping Sarah get in, JJ passing up the beer for John B to set down in the boat.

Y/N, Pope, and Kiara got in after, JJ waiting on the dock for John B’s signal to push off. He gave it a swift push after a nod from the other man, jumping in as John B turned the keys in the ignition, driving the boat off into the deeper portion of the water.

“It’s beer o’clock!” JJ commented, opening one end of the first case and passing out beers to everyone, including y/n. She opened the can and took a long swig, admiring the water as they trolled in the deep.

“We’re gonna want to go to the far side, that’s where the fish are feeding right now.” John B noted, the speed of the boat increasing as he headed in that direction. Sarah turned on the radio, the music wafting as they sped farther away from shore towards the sweet spot where they’d anchor down at.

Y/N’s hair whipped in the wind, taking in the view as they cruised along the water. The Outer Banks truly was paradise on earth, as the sign had stated when she first arrived. She wasn’t sure how she would feel, being in a new town for her final year of high school, but she just felt meant to be there, like it was fate.

Soon enough the boat slowed, Pope grabbing the anchor and tossing it in when John B instructed him to, finally turning off the ignition and sitting back in his seat, taking a heavy swig of his beer.

“Alright, let's get the poles set up.” John B took the poles that were slid tight against the side of the boat, handing one to each person aboard before opening the container of worms. JJ pulled a knife from his pocket, cutting a few longer worms in half, everyone grabbing a piece.

“Can you put it on yourself, princess?” JJ questioned, wrapping his worm tight on his hook before inspecting y/n’s in her hand. She scoffed, following what JJ had just done, wrapping the worm around the hook, stabbing it through until it was stuck tight.

“How’s this?” She tilted her head to the side, sticking her tongue out at him. JJ displayed his middle finger playfully at her, finishing the last little bit of his beer before he moved to the bow of the boat, standing up and casting his rod.

Y/N moved to stand next to Sarah and Pope, casting out as they did and making sure not to cross lines, as Pope had told instructed her not to do. It wasn’t long before the Pogues were reeling in fish, taking them off and inspecting them before tossing them back in the cool water. They seemed to make a competition of it, seeing whose fish was bigger and how many fish they could catch.

Ten minutes had gone by, everyone but y/n catching a fish. “Maybe you were right Pope, I’ve clearly got some bad juju following me.” She huffed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Nah, you’re just not doing it right.” JJ motioned her over to him where he stood at the bow, having y/n watch him cast. “See, I cast it out and I let it sink a bit before I start slowly reeling in. You gotta jiggle it a bit now and then too. Now you try.” He reeled in completely, his eyes on her as she took her turn. She listened to his notes, casting out far and waiting briefly before she started to reel, stopping after a few turns of the handle to jiggle her line. Sure enough, after a few turns of the handle she felt a bite, tugging sharply to ensure it was on the hook. Her line started moving from left to right as the fish tried to swim away.

“Fuck, I got one!” She cried out, reeling it in bit by bit, listening to JJ as he coached her through it. Soon enough the fish was above the water, y/n jumping up and down happily. The Pogues clapped behind her, cheering her on as she put her finger in the fish's mouth just as she had seen Sarah do, carefully freeing the hook from where it had been caught.

“We need to document this!” Kiara stated, opening the camera on her phone. “Say...fish food!” Y/N smiled at the camera, allowing the woman to snap a few pictures before she looked up at JJ proudly.

“Great job, and now a kiss.” JJ instructed, taking a swig from his second beer.

“For you or the fish?” The boat became dead silent at y/n’s words, JJ’s cheeks flashing crimson as he choked on the swig of beer. “I’m kidding.” That was a lie, she would’ve kissed him. She pecked the fish near its eyes before tossing it back into the water with a smile.

They continued to fish until the sun started to lower in the sky, y/n finally catching five and Kiara catching the most with eleven. The Pogues settled back into the boat, the music softly playing, the fishing poles now stashed away as they continued to sip on their beers.

“So, y/n, you said it’s just you and your sister?” Sarah chirped, leaning back into John B’s embrace.

“Uh yeah, she’s great. She’s actually working a double shift tonight at the hospital, but she told me to tell you guys hello and she can’t wait to meet you all sometime.” Pope trolled the boat on the route back towards the docks, taking another swig from his can.

“What about your parents?” He blurted out, receiving a hard smack from Kiara.

“You don’t have to answer that y/n.” She retorted, a death glare meeting Pope’s confused expression.

“N-No, it’s alright.” She swallowed, looking down at her hands as she continued. She’d eventually have to share; it might as well be now. And she’d had three beers, the liquid courage all she needed. “Well, my parents, my sister, and I lived here until I was three. My mom moved us after...well, after my dad shot himself. He battled with depression his whole life and the depression finally won.” John B turned the music off as she spoke, everyone going silent, even JJ.

“My mom couldn’t enjoy living here after my dad’s death, so she packed us up and we moved to Montana. My Aunt and Uncle live out there, so she wanted to be closer to family. My mom became a shell of a person, she couldn’t get over losing my dad and so she coped with alcohol. She was good at hiding it at first, sipping from a water bottle at my sister’s high school graduation, or adding a splash to her morning cup of coffee. Eventually it just got worse and she developed cirrhosis of the liver. She died a year ago from it.” Y/N cleared her throat with a sip of beer. “Enough of my sad, shitty life, the sunsets sure are beautiful here.”

JJ knew how she felt, all too well. Though his mother left him, and his piece of shit father was alive, he knew the struggles of having a parent with an addiction. He put a hand on her thigh, startling her briefly before her body untensed, enjoying the comforting gesture.

“Yeah, it really is.” Kiara agreed, eager to move the conversation away from y/n’s family, as it was clear she was done talking about it. “Ya’ll down for a dip?” Before anyone can protest Kiara is shimmying out of her shorts and top, her body clad in a navy-blue bikini as she hopped off the boat into the water.

“Hell yeah!” Pope added, pulling off his shirt as he dove in next to her. Sarah and John B joined them, jumping hand-in-hand off the boat.

“Shit, I forgot to put my bottoms on.” Y/N noted, Kiara leaning up on the edge of the boat beside the woman.

“It’s fine, just go in your underwear. It’s basically the same thing.” She let go of the boat, floating on her back in the water.

JJ stood up beside y/n, tossing his shirt off, giving y/n a view of his bare chest. His chest was tanned from the sun and chiseled; his arm muscles taut as he stretched them over his head. He met her gaze, a smirk playing on his lips as he noticed her eyes on him.

“C’mon, princess.” He joked before he dove off the boat and under the water, emerging seconds later, shaking out his blonde locks.

“Alright, I’m coming.” Y/N pulled her shirt up and set it on the seat, JJ’s eyes instinctively taking in her breasts clothed in a tiny orange bikini top. She pushed down her shorts, her black lace cheeky panties catching JJ’s attention, his breath hitching in his throat. Her body was gorgeous. She moved to the edge of the boat, John B and Sarah egging her on as she jumped in.

The water was cool, enveloping her body and refreshing her skin. She stayed under for a moment before resurfacing, whipping her hair off her face. They all waded around in the water, John B and Pope starting a war over who could splash the other the hardest.

JJ floated over to y/n, taking in the sight of her again beside him. Breathtaking, as always. “Sorry about your parents.” He mumbled, running a hand through his wet, shaggy hair.

“It’s alright, I’ve been through tons of therapy by now to know ‘it’s not my fault’, ‘addiction is a disease’, ‘depression can develop in the happiest people’. Blah, blah, blah.” She mocked herself, her lip quivering slightly at her words.

“My dad’s an alcoholic and a drug addict.” JJ admitted. “Used to beat the shit outta me. Luckily that bastard is far gone, haven’t seen him since he left over a year ago. So, we’ve got that in common. The parent with an addition, I mean. And you know, I’m here for you. Or whatever.” He mumbled, trying to seem nonchalant about the offer.

“Thanks, JJ. You’re a good guy.” It had been awhile since he heard that, but it made his heart soar knowing she felt that way.

They swam until the sun had disappeared in the sky, heading into shore and docking the boat once again. They had air-dried by that point and pulled their clothes back on, everyone hopping out of the boat and heading for the van.

“Alright, John B do you mind dropping me off at The Wreck? I promised to help my parents clean up tonight.” Kiara asked, leaning back against the seat of the van.

“Yeah, sure Kie. We’ll drop you off first.” They drove towards The Wreck, everyone exhausted from the day of school followed by their boating adventure. As the gang talked amongst themselves, y/n’s eyes started to drift shut, her body lulling until she leaned her head against JJ’s shoulder, startling him at first. He took one look at her sleeping, a smile creeping onto his face, and he let her sleep, his fingers tracing lightly against the skin of her thigh as they drove.

They dropped Kiara off first, then Pope, dropping Sarah off at her place after, but not before she gave John B a soft goodnight kiss.

“Alright, let’s head to y/n’s place.” John B looked back at JJ, noticing y/n still asleep on his shoulder.

“Let her sleep, JB. We can just bring her back to your place for the night.” JJ announced, his hand still tracing her thigh.

“Dude, you’ve got it so bad for her.” John B replied, backing out of Sarah’s driveway and heading towards the Château.

“Shut up.” He retorted, shooting up his middle finger for John B to see in his rearview mirror.

“Is it so bad if you did? I’m with Sarah, and I couldn’t imagine my life without her.” John B turned down the road towards his place, glancing at JJ from his mirror every so often.

“M’not good at this stuff, JB.” JJ had never really held down a steady relationship. He got girls, for sure, but all were just one-night stands, nothing more. If he was being totally honest, he didn’t know if he deserved to be loved by someone like John B and Sarah. He didn’t know if someone could actually love all his broken pieces, and he didn’t want to feel like a burden on anyone.

The van pulled to a stop, John B hopping out and heading inside. JJ wrapped one arm behind y/n’s back, scooting her until his other arm scooped under her legs, pulling her up and out of the back seat. He carried her in his arms, y/n’s eyes fluttering open, blinking in the night sky.

“What are you doing?” She mumbled, her head lulling to look up at JJ as they entered the shack.

“I didn’t want to wake you, you just looked...peaceful. We can take you home if you’d like.” Y/N shook her head, letting him carry her until he kicked open his bedroom door, setting her down gently onto his comforter.

“I’ll stay, if that’s okay. I don’t really enjoy being home alone when Bailey’s gone all night.” She fell back against his bed, taking in the sight of his room. It was messy, but she expected that from a guy like him, although the comforter was soft and his mattress plush underneath her back.

“Yeah, of course you can stay. You can stay here anytime.” He glanced at her as she pushed her body under his covers, nuzzling her face into his pillow. “M’gonna sleep on the couch. If you need me, you can come get me…” Before he could finish his sentence y/n’s eyes closed, her breathing heavier as she drifted to unconsciousness again.

“Goodnight, y/n.” JJ whispered, creeping out of his room and shutting the door. He walked into the living room and plopped down on the couch, a huge smile on his face. She had him wrapped around her finger, an angel in his hell, and she had know idea.

Tagging those who may be interested. Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged/untagged: @midnightf, @serendipityrogers, @bucksmotel, @eireduchess, @fuckandfluff, @moniamaybank, @astrydis, @sokovianheadtilt, @blackwiddows, @matbarzalschain, @bigassnocash, @sspidermanss

#doubleleoenergyseries: The Princess and the Pogue #the princess and the pogue outfits #jj maybank #outer banks #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x fem!reader

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morkleemelon · 4 years ago

Text

off the ice || chapter 3: steady now

previous || m.list || playlist || next

pairing: college hockey player! mark x college figure skater! reader

genre: fluff, humor, college au, sports au

word count: 6.9k

warnings: swearing, party with drugs and alcohol, scene of borderline harassment (nothing actually happens), financial struggle, insecurity, social anxiety, mention of injury

a/n: huge thank you to my beta readers @writing-frog and @skiimmiilk for helping me edit this! now I won’t have to tweak it a hundred times after posting XD also (not spoiling) I’m sorry I did you like this, sungchan :(

I’m not sure if I’m awake, dead, or dreaming, but somebody please take me out of this misery.

Your neck struggled to support your head as you fought to stay conscious on the locker room bench. It was early Saturday morning and team practice was far from over. Unwillingly, you had to stay up the previous night, studying deep into the AM because a certain boy kept distracting you in your head.

Over and over again, through your shift at the diner to the ride home to right here as you clung onto Yuna’s arm for support, Mark’s cute smile and Lisa’s daring accusations spun through your tired mind. It’s really not fair- a guy talks to you once and you’re already imagining things…

You quickly shake the thoughts from your head.

“Alright girls, thanks for coming in so early today,” your head skating coach, Tanya, smiled warmly, “captains, get everyone warmed up and I’ll go over some exciting announcements at the end of practice”.

“Thank you, Tanya,” the fatigued girls chorused half-heartedly as the captains ushered everyone out of the locker room and into the hallway for stretching.

Reaching down to touch her toes, Yuna looks over to you. “Y/n, are you okay? You look worse than usual”.

The exhausted expression on your face said it all as you bent down to do the same. “I’ve got a lot on my mind. Econ test is coming up too”. You yawned into your words.

“I know you’re gonna say no, but if you wanna let loose a little, there’s a party tonight,” Yuna peers at you upside-down from in between her legs.

“You know I’m not a party person,” you decline, blacking out slightly as you stand back up. You blink to clear your vision.

As much as you admired your popular best friend for putting herself out there and being able to have fun at a party, it couldn’t be you. The drinking, the smoking, the groping, ogling men- not to mention the anxiety of existing in a frat house full of judgmental people, was all too much for you. As tempting as letting loose a little on a Saturday night sounded, you’d much rather do it in a way that involves your cozy pj’s and watching your favorite skating compilations on YouTube. Alone.

“I know, I know,” Yuna holds her hands up innocently, “but it could be fun. I know Mark is gonna be there”.

You whip your head around so fast that your ponytail nearly slaps her in the face. Flustered, you smooth down the nonexistent wrinkles on the front of your skating jacket. “Oh, that’s nice. What’s that got to do with me?”.

“Just letting you know,” Yuna shrugged in a ‘matter of fact’ manner.

The captains led the team out to the rink to do laps. You weighed Yuna’s words for a minute as you skated across the ice. Naturally, being here where you were the most comfortable with yourself made you more susceptible to her convincing ploy. If you looked at the last few days in review, you had already made four new friends from just letting Yuna take the reins for one afternoon. That’s about one friend for every dollar in your bank account!

But the nagging reality was that Yuna had a massive amount of friends, cool friends, who were probably going to be at that very party while you had nobody but her and a guy you just met. This didn’t sit well with your anxieties. You’ll just end up awkward if Yuna wants to talk to someone else, or desperate if you cling to Mark, who would probably be weirded out.

As expected, it’s best to stay in.

The practice ran smoothly. As always, the hour and a half of spinning, falling, and getting back up resulted in soreness and loss of breath. Nonetheless, it recharged you and the cloud of tiredness in your head finally dissipated. You felt so free on the ice because you knew that you did it well. It isn’t about the money or your popularity or if you have to work part time just to afford the skates that you wear. If you put in the hard work and effort, you are rewarded with success; that’s a big part of what you liked about it.

“Excellent job today, ladies. I’d like everyone to give a special round of applause to y/n today,” Coach Tanya suddenly singled you out as the team gathered around to hear her ending announcements. Tanya gave you a warm smile and gestured towards you as you bow to your clapping teammates. “For mastering the triple lutz. I can tell you’ve been practicing extra hours, both from the log sheet and from your performance today. At this rate, we may send you to nationals in the spring”.

Gasps echo across the cold, near-empty stadium. Your jaw hung open at Tanya’s ambitious plan and Yuna grabbed onto your arm excitedly, giving you a nudge of congratulations. It was extremely rare for a sophomore to be sent to the national competitions. Even some seniors never make it past the pre-auditions at Seoul University alone. You weren’t even dreaming of going within the next year despite all of your extra night-time practices. Looking at Tanya’s face, it didn’t seem like she was joking either.

“Thank you, Coach Tanya. I will work even harder”.

“That being said, I have some exciting news pertaining to all of you ladies: this year, Seoul University is sponsoring our team to hold a friendly competition for the winter festival as a sort of main event. Don’t be alarmed because it is optional. It’s September now, so if you are interested in participating, you will have just under four months to prepare a pair skate for the festival in December. Untraditionally, the audience will be voting to choose a winner instead of a panel. Furthermore, the theme, costumes, and music will all be up to you, so have fun with it! Oh and not to mention, the winning pair will be rewarded a monetary prize of $5,000 each”.

Shocked looks were exchanged between teammates. Your brain was still processing to make sure you heard Tanya right as she reiterated.

“Yes,” Tanya laughed, “you heard me right, girls, $5,000 each. It’s a tremendous opportunity and if not for the money, for a chance to practice performing in front of a crowd”.

Murmurs of excitement hush across the near-empty stadium.

“Yuna,” you look up to the taller girl and grip her arm with both hands, “Yuna please we gotta do this”. You shake her slightly with your pleading, “be my partner?”.

The blonde giggled, “duh, of course! Lisa and Hope will probably do it together since they’re both on JV so it’s perfect. Let’s get that ten grand for you!”.

“Wait no, but-”

“Y/n. You know I’m not about to argue with you about this,” Yuna sighed, looking up to the fluorescent ceiling lights to avoid your indignant stare. You relaxed your grip on her arm, knowing that you wouldn’t win this fight no matter how guilty you felt. “You’re better than me by a long shot. If anyone could bet on a winner, they’d put their money on you without a doubt. And if we win it’ll be because of you, so think of it as a fair split based on contribution. I’ll take a $20 cut to buy us dinner,” Yuna encouraged.

You close your eyes and rest the side of your head on her shoulder.

That’s my best friend. I don’t deserve her.

You felt bad, but you knew that you needed this money more than anything right now. Your parents didn’t earn much and they were already burdened by this semester’s tuition, even with the scholarships. Picking up extra shifts at Frankie’s did little more than cover skating fees and rent. The heavy, looming fear of next semester being the one when you’d have to drop out often kept you up at night. It’s nobody’s fault, but that’s how it is.

Yet like a miracle angel sent from Heaven, this competition could cover an entire semester’s worth of tuition if you win. You needed the prize money desperately. You were going to have to win it no matter what.

“Bye!”. You waved to your teammates as they exited the locker room, probably to go out and be social on a Saturday afternoon. Unfortunately for you, your only plans were to sit alone at the library, studying.

“You seriously don’t wanna join us for lunch today?”. Yuna slung her skating bag over her shoulder. Her wet hair from just showering stuck to her face, but even like this she looked like she could be on the cover of a teen magazine.

“I’ll pass. I can grab a salad from the convenience store before I head to the library. Midterms are coming up and I gotta do a lot of review,” you explain, brushing a wide comb through your tangled mess of hair. Yuna moved to pull her hair back into a ponytail. You watched as her perfectly sculpted reflection made an action so simple into a reason for envy. The stained locker room mirror, however, did your bare face no favors. Your best friend remained oblivious as you picked yourself apart again. Your cheeks were a little too round, nose a little too wide, eyebrows a little too uneven. You shove the brush in your bag and turn around before you could fall deeper in insecurity. “Let’s go”.

As always, you chose to disregard your insecure thoughts and pretend like they never existed. Talking about it seemed weird, so you just chose not to do it. And you didn’t like bothering other people with your problems either. It was best to just keep it to yourself.

“Y/n!,” a familiar voice called out from behind you. You stopped walking down the stadium corridor, turning around to see who could’ve known your name. Usually it’s Yuna getting stopped by one of her many friends.

Ashy blonde hair came into view as the boy jogged to catch up with you. Your legs were doing just fine after over an hour and a half of training, but they trembled at the sight of a certain dreamy junior boy.

“Hey, fancy seeing you here,” Mark smiled down at you, the dim hallway lights catching on his cheekbones and jawline, accentuating his beautifully sculpted features.

“I’ll see you later,” Yuna winked, patting you on the back and making a break for the exit before you could protest.

“I-uh, hey, Mark,” you stutter. Was it just you or did he get even more good-looking since the last time you saw him?

“Did you guys just get out of practice?”. You could hardly pay attention to his simple question as you checked him out. Mark sported a simple outfit consisting of a plain black hoodie with matching black joggers and sneakers. His red hockey bag which was slung across his back was supported by one of his thumbs. With the sleeves of his hoodie rolled up to his elbows, you watch as the lines of his forearm muscles shift and strain with each fine movement from the weight of the duffel.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah! We did,” you answer after an awkward pause. Oh, God, please let that not have been weird. “Are you here for your practice?”. You mentally slap yourself for your stupid question; he’s wearing gym clothes and has his hockey gear, what else was he going to do at the rink?

“Yeah, I am,” Mark laughed good-naturedly, leaning slightly on the wall next to you, “I came here a bit early, actually. I was hoping to catch you”.

Catch...me?

Your face flushed at his heart-fluttering remark. Contesting with the urge to spontaneously burst into flames, you try your best to give a steady reply, “Oh! What for?”.

“I-uh,” Mark diverted his gaze down to his shoes, “I know I got your number from the group chat, but I wanted to ask you in person. There’s a party tonight at the sheep’s house- my friend’s house- and I was wondering if I was gonna see you there”.

You simultaneously wanted to sink into the floor to disappear forever and jump into the air to celebrate. You did neither.

Was he asking you out? Not really. But then again, he wants to see you there at the party. And he came here early to specially ask you in person.

You replay the debate you had with Yuna earlier. Past-you had made some valid points about not going, but how could you say no when he put it like this?… oh, fuck it.

“For sure. I’ll be there”. You offer a wry smile to try to cover your nervousness.

“Awesome,” Mark’s eyes twinkled as he smiled, “can’t wait to see you tonight, then”.

“Can’t wait,” you echoed. You couldn’t help but notice how he was a few inches taller and you had to tilt your head back to meet his soft, brown eyes.

“I should probably get down to the rink to set up for practice”

“Oh okay! Don’t let me keep you”

“Not at all”. His fingers shifted to adjust the strap of his hockey bag and your eyes brushed over the ripple of his forearm. He was doing the bare-minimum and your knees were ready to buckle in the middle of the hallway.

“I’ll get going then!,” you excuse yourself with a curt wave. Turning around, you head briskly for the exit before you could embarrass yourself further and agree to more irrational proposals.

Before your hand could even touch the exit door to let yourself out, reality hit.

Oh no. I have to go to the party.

Yuna squealed and pounced you onto your bed as you told her the news. “I can’t believe it! You’re really gonna go?”.

You run a stressed hand through your wavy locks, “I guess? He didn’t leave me much of a choice”. Rolling around on your bed, your best friend clapped and cheered despite your wanting to travel back in time and tell Mark you couldn’t make it. But how were you supposed to say no to that face? Thanks to this, your library study session was far from focused or helpful.

“We gotta get you looking hot, y/n. I mean, you’re already hot,” Yuna corrected, “but even more hot for your first college party”.

Hopping off your now messed-up covers, you go to observe yourself in the full-body mirror in all your said ‘hotness’. You were currently enveloped in a grouchy oversized tee shirt that you got from a choir field trip in high school paired with plain gym shorts hidden underneath. Your hair was especially frizzy from being air-dried after your shower.

“The only hot I am is a hot mess,” you groaned. Did you look like this when Mark saw you earlier? Shit.

“Nonsense, silly,” Yuna hugged you from behind, “you’re adorable and you’d be surprised how much hair, makeup, and a good fit can change someone”. She looked into your eyes eagerly through the mirror as if asking for permission. You were too nervous about the party to deny her so you gave your roommate a reluctant nod. It was better that she helped you get ready so you could fit in and thus blend into the background.

Squealing again, Yuna gave you a squeeze and scurried to flit through her closet for something you could wear.

“Go straighten your hair, y/n!”

“Yes ma’am”. This much you could do. “How’s this?”. Yuna held up a skimpy bralette top, its white lace barely covering any surface area at all.

“That’s a top?!”

“Ok nevermind”. Tossing the tiny piece aside, your roommate continued sifting earnestly through her collection of expensive clothes.

You ran the straightener through your partitioned hair carefully.

“What about this one?”. Yuna held up a simple red crop top. A small notch ran an inch down the neckline which gave it a little edge, but it seemed like it would be in your comfort zone.

“That’s perfect,” you smile.

Hair now pin straight and finally smooth, you change into the red top and ripped black denim shorts Yuna picked out for you. Your best friend was much better at makeup than you were, so you let her take the lead once again. The only times you wear full makeup are for performances and you would look like a complete clown if you showed up with the two inch eyeliner you knew how to do.

Applying a small amount of base makeup to your face, Yuna went for a more natural look, knowing that you weren’t comfortable with standing out too much. Subtle brown eyeshadow and lengthening mascara made your eyes pop just the right amount and a cherry lip balm tinted your lips a translucent, shiny red. Even you had to admit your confidence was boosted from the new look you weren’t used to seeing in the mirror.

That’s me. I’m… kind of pretty

“Aw, honey, you look so beautiful,” Yuna cooed, wrapping up your makeover with a clap. She did her own makeup effortlessly and put on the discarded bralette from earlier. However ridiculous it looked on the hanger, she made it look like a million bucks and it suited her perfectly.

You moved to sit on your bed and lace up your trusty white sneakers. Yuna wore a bigger shoe size than you which came as a relief because you weren’t sure if you could handle wearing any of the daring stiletto pumps in her collection.

“You know, I’m so happy you’re going to come this time. I was always really sad when you stayed home studying every weekend instead of going out and having fun”.

“I would’ve gone if I knew how to talk to people,” you reason, picking at the dirty aglet of your shoelace, “and I’m honestly really nervous right now. You better not leave me, okay?”.

“You’re so sweet and thoughtful, anyone would be lucky to talk to you! I know it’s easier said than done, but you’d be surprised what a little confidence will do. And of course, I won’t leave you”. Yuna gave you a bright, reassuring smile before pulling you off the bed.

You take one last look at your reflection in the mirror.

That’s right, confidence. I’m confident.

“Let’s go”

The walk down to the party was much shorter than you expected. Turns out, the ‘Sheep’ lived in that sketchy house just off of campus which you made a point to avoid during your nighttime jogs. The tables were turning as you approached the rickety front porch on purpose. You clung to Yuna as an array of neon lights shines through the window blinds and the open door. The bass of a generic pop song jolted through your bones.

Walking into the home, your grip on Yuna’s arm tightened as unfamiliar faces surrounded you. The crowded room stank of sweaty bodies and weed. A countertop stocked full of red solo cups and different types of alcohol was visible from where you stood. Heads turned to stare at Yuna while the two of you entered.

What am I doing here?

“Hey, you made it!,” an unfamiliar voice shouted from over the ruckus. Your eyes fell nervously on the voice’s owner. He had dark brown hair and sharp, defined features. His accent was strange, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“Hey!”. Yuna brought the stranger in for a loose hug. “Yangyang, this my roommate and best friend, y/n. Y/n this is Yangyang also known as ‘the sheep’. He’s from Germany”.

Ah, Germany.

You offer him a small wave, surprised when he pulls you unexpectedly into a hug.

“Nice to meet you, y/n. Mark’s told me all about you,” Yangyang smirked, “please help yourself to drinks, girls. The guys are in the basement playing pong”.

“Woo! Let’s get wasted!” Yuna yelled while pulling you towards the drinks.

You stood awkwardly at her side as she poured both of you drinks- a half a solo cup of strawberry vodka for her and a sprite zero for you. You wish you could be in bed, curled up alone with a good movie. Or even at the library studying-

“Hey,” a deep voice right next to your ear wrecked your train of thought. Alarmed, your eyes were met with the middle of a chest as you turned around to see who it was. Craning your head back, an unfamiliar, tall boy with stiffly-gelled brown hair looked down at you. You winced at the acrid smell of axe body spray now flooding your nostrils. He looked young, maybe even younger than you, but he was clearly very drunk. “Where have you been all my life?”.

“Excuse me?,” you exclaim over the booming music. The boy placed his hands on the counter on either side of you, trapping you in between his arms. Looking over to find Yuna, she had already shifted deeper into the crowd and was busy talking with other people.

“I’m Sungchan,” the boy unwelcomingly introduced, “what’s your name, beautiful?”.

“I-uh I’m y/n,” you stuttered. Sungchan’s face was way too close for comfort and his breath stank of cheap alcohol. You felt his humid exhalation brush over the top of your head like a toxic cloud and you fought to not gag.

“Y/n. You come here with anyone?”. You pressed your back as far into the counter as you could to get away from him, but there was little room to go. Fear began to set in as you realized you were trapped. What should I say? What do I do?

“I-I…”

“She came here with me”. A firm hand gripped Sungchan’s left arm and yanked it forcefully away from the counter. Your saving grace put a gentle hand on your shoulder, tugging you slightly away from the drunk perpetrator. Struggling to comprehend what was happening, you looked up to see it was Mark, staring the intoxicated boy down.

“C-captain”

“What’s a freshman doing with my girl?” Mark pressed. His expression was unamused.

Your heart trembled at his unanticipated lie. His girl? Mark brushed a reassuring thumb over your shoulder, clueing to you that he would handle this.

“I didn’t know, I-”

“Sungchan, right? You still trying to make varsity next year?,” Mark interrupted, eyebrows raised in annoyance at the freshman. Sungchan’s eyes went wide as he held both hands up innocently.

“Y-yes I-”

“Misconduct can get you kicked off the team, you know. Not to mention I’ll be senior captain next year so I’ll have a say in who makes it into varsity”.

“I’m sorry, captain, I really didn’t-”

“Fuck off”. Mark gestured his free hand towards the open front door. Sungchan looked around, as if unsure what to do. The surrounding party-goers danced and drank on, unaware of the altercation and more interested in who they were going home with tonight. Finally, the lanky boy’s head cleared enough to make a decision. Sungchan bowed slightly in apology and stumbled towards the exit. The untouched solo cup of sprite fizzed in your shaking hands.

“Are you okay?”. Mark faced you with a concerned look.

You clenched your grip tighter around your drink as you fought back tears, the shock wearing off and the gravity of the situation hitting you full-on. You set the cup down and shake your head no.

“Do you want to get out of here?”.

You nod your head vigorously and tears began streaming down your cheeks. What a waste, all of Yuna’s hard work down the drain. Mark nudged you forward and guided you towards a back door. Weaving your way through the crowd, Mark greeted his friends with a “hey” or a simple nod. You felt a few girls eye you discontentedly at the sight of Mark’s hand ghosting over the small of your back while others were too high or drunk to notice. The cool night air welcomed you as Mark urged you outside and you rushed to escape the cramped house. He shut the door behind him, muffling the heavy bass so you could finally hear yourself think.

Dabbing away at your tears so he wouldn’t see, you breathe deeply to regain your composure.

“Thanks for that”. You managed to let out after a few minutes of sniffling and silence. Your voice was slightly hoarse and you couldn’t meet his eyes, but he waited patiently by your side.

So much for coming to this party, he probably thinks I’m a mess. This whole thing was a huge mistake.

“I think I’ll go. Sorry I can’t stay”. You turn to walk down the wooden porch steps.

“Wait-”. Mark’s voice halts your departure. “Would you like to go on a walk with me? Or I can at least take you home. I don’t want you going out alone after what just happened…”.

Looking up at him, the dim porch light glowed behind him, giving him a soft golden halo. His brown eyes which were usually smiling now shone with worry as he scanned over your tear-stricken face. Your heart which was beating rapidly from fear earlier began to settle down in his reassuring presence. Being alone right now might not be the best idea. But more importantly, being with him sounded like what you really needed. You nod.

The sound of crickets chirping and sneakers scuffing took over as the two of you walked farther away from the booming music of the party. You weren’t sure where you were headed, but you also didn’t know if there was anywhere you wanted to go. Wandering down the deserted streets in comfortable silence, Mark followed you patiently as he waited for you to be ready to talk. Before you knew it, your feet brought you to the lake and you stood watching the water ripple under the night breeze. The moon, almost full, illuminated silver each ebb and flow.

“I’m sorry you’re missing the party”. You quietly broke the silence. You felt bad for making him leave. All of his friends were there and he probably really looked forward to it.

“Don’t be. I only went so I could talk to you, anyways”

You look at him in surprise. Mark’s eyes remained glued to the lake, sparkling from the reflected moonlight.

“How many girls have you told that to?,” you scoff. Internally, you screamed.

“Couldn’t name another one”

You pause before resolving to stroll further down the lakeside. The sound of footsteps behind you confirmed that he was following. Stopping as you reach the familiar creaky wood, you take a seat on the worn-out dock, him on your right. You dangle your feet over the dark, sloshing waves. It was cool, despite the summer season. A breeze rolled by, making you shudder. However cute the crop top was, it didn’t do much to keep you warm. Not that you could have planned on running away from the party and needing a sweatshirt beforehand.

“Here, take this”. Mark unzipped his jacket to give to you.

“Oh it's ok-”. You couldn’t finish your protest before the warm fabric was draped across your shoulders. Your face grew pink once more. If you didn’t know better, you could be admitted to the hospital for how much you’ve been blushing recently. “Thanks,” you mutter, looking down at your hands with a small smile.

“Is that Frankie’s?”. Mark’s voice cut through the silence.

“What?”

“Is that Frankie’s?,” Mark repeated, nodding at the small restaurant bordering the lake some distance away. It looked as if it had just closed, yellow fluorescent lights still on while a tired waitress scrubbed away at a table. Only one car, probably her’s, remained in the parking lot.

“Oh, yeah. That’s where I work part time,” you confirmed. “I come here to the dock to sit sometimes. You know, just to think”.

“I feel that. Sometimes everything is way too much to handle and you need to take time to breathe. I have a place like this too”

Mark’s sincere confession came as a surprise to you and unintentionally, it showed on your face.

“What, you don’t believe me?” Mark feigned hurt, putting a hand on his chest. “Do you think hockey guys can’t have feelings too? I have a fan club for heaven’s sake!”.

You laugh at his exaggerated outcry.

“And that’s a bad thing? Don’t you guys like the attention? Attention from lots and lots of pretty girls”. You raised an eyebrow, teasing him.

“As if,” Mark ran a stressed hand through his hair, “they’re all crazy as hell. Honestly, none of the guys really like the attention”.

You nod in understanding. Seeing how the Lovelees acted the few times you were around them, you’d hate being the subject of their affections too.

“But how about you,” Mark continued, “I haven’t seen you much at parties”.

You let out a sarcastic laugh, “if you couldn’t tell from tonight, I’m not much of a party girl. Today was my first and probably last party”. You had gotten so comfortable walking and talking with Mark that you had almost forgotten about the horrible incident that occurred earlier. Pulling the soft jacket over yourself more, your face falls as you remember Sungchan’s intoxicated face.

“Hey” Mark’s hand grazes over your slumped shoulders, bringing you back to focus on him. “I’ll never let him bother you again”.

While you were unsure of how your makeup was holding up due to all the crying, his delicate features were all the more beautiful under the pale moonlight. You notice how close you’re sitting, knees almost brushing against each other’s and his face was but inches from yours. And even though you were wearing his jacket so he was left with only a tee shirt, you were sure you weren’t imagining the heat radiating from his body. Slowly, your eyes flutter down to his parted lips.

There it is once more, the hot flush in your cheeks and the strain in your chest.

Meeting Mark has been a rollercoaster of emotions, but you felt undeniably comfortable sitting next to someone who would’ve been a stranger just a few days ago. Something about him felt familiar to you now and you trusted in his words. He was someone... safe.

“Really?,” you whisper, not taking your eyes off of his soft, pink lips.

“Really”. His confirmation was too gentle to be heard above the sound of the rushing water below, but you read his lips as they shaped around the word.

Before you know it, you were leaning in, just enough so you knew you weren’t imagining it. A mellow breeze plays with your hair, causing a few strands to fall astray. Cautiously with his hand, Mark slowly tucks the fallen pieces back behind your ear. He hesitates there. The feeling of his warm fingertips sends tingles down your spine. Carefully scanning your expression to make sure you were okay, his hand inches down to gently cup your cheek. “Can I kiss you?”.

You could feel the warmth of his breath fan across your lips, his own not centimeters away. Your heart pounded rapidly as you gave an affirming nod. Closing your eyes, you wait.

This is happening.

A jolting vibration from your pocket caused your eyes to shoot right back open and Mark let go of you in surprise. Your phone kept buzzing, the harsh sound amplified by the wooden dock. Sighing in frustration, you struggle to remove it from your back pocket as Mark looks away, coughing awkwardly. Your face burned red from embarrassment.

Why does this always happen to me?

“Hello?”. Your tone was laced with annoyance.

“Y/n! Where aare youu?,” Yuna slurred. Trap music blared in the background confirming that she was still at the party. You could hear Ten asking if Mark was with you over the ruckus.

“I left. And yeah, Mark is here”. You put the phone on speaker and held it up towards the boy you were about to kiss moments ago.

“Hey guys,” Mark said sheepishly. Yuna squealed in delight.

“That’s my boy!”. Ten’s booming voice took over the call.

“Stop it man,” Mark warned, increasingly agitated at the couple for ruining the moment.

“Okayy kids! Have fun, but not tooooo much fun”. Yuna giggled into the microphone.

“I’m hanging up,” you said quickly before pushing the red button to end the call. Any longer and you weren’t sure you could resist throwing your phone (and perhaps yourself) into the lake. A brief moment of silence ensued, both parties unsure of what to do next. Was there anything you could do to save the moment after that?

“I uh…,” you start.

“Yeah umm…,” Mark agreed. Silence ensued.

“Uhh…”. Your steady tone wavered as you started to giggle. The awkwardness dissipated because before you knew it, both of you were laughing wholeheartedly at the unfortunate situation.

“Yuna tends to have great timing,” you explain.

“Mm. Ten does too,” Mark related, stroking his chin and nodding as if thinking deeply.

“She said she wouldn’t leave me at the party but lo and behold”. You gesture to your surroundings, exasperated.

“That sucks,” Mark agreed, “you should have come found me. I was waiting for you, actually”.

“I was going to,” you picked at the zipper of his jacket, “but we had just gotten there when... you know”.

“Yeah. You don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready. I don’t want to pressure you at all, but I’m always willing to listen”

“You’re,” you look for the right words, “you’re so amazing”.

“Yeah?”

You keep your gaze in your lap, “Yeah. And you know, I wish we’d met earlier, Mark. Because it’s really nice talking to you and you’re a really great guy”. You check for his reaction.

“Yeah, I wish we met sooner too”. His expression was that of… adoration.

Being with Mark was so easy. Conversation came to you two easier than anything else in life did. And just like that, feet swinging in sync above the water, you talked for hours. He told you about his alien conspiracy theories and his aspirations to be a professional hockey player and then retire into sports medicine. You told him about your parents and how you missed them dearly because they worked way out of the city to support you and your dream. You did everything you could to be able to pay them back, even majoring in economics which was more profitable than environmental studies or professional skating. Mark listened thoughtfully and admitted that he related in a lot of ways with his parents being all the way in Canada.

The night rushed by and the two of you talked until the golden peaks of sunrise painted the water from its usual blue. You had shifted so you were sitting facing each other on the dock. The early sunlight cast a warm glow over Mark’s face. He looked like a painting- a Monet. Or a Renoir.

“Um so, I guess it’s Sunday now”. Mark rested his chin into the crook of his elbow. You could hear the tired in his voice, but you mutually understood that neither of you wanted to leave.

“Do you have to go?”. You picked at a piece of fuzz on the sleeve of his sweatshirt which you were still wearing. The disappointment was evident in your question. Even though you had spent the whole night getting to know each other, it felt like you had just barely scratched the surface. There was still so much more you wanted to talk about.

Checking his watch, Mark contemplated for a bit.

“It’s 6:12 a.m. right now. I actually have to get somewhere by 6:30,” Mark explained.

“So early?”

“Yeah it’s… you could come with me if you want?”. His sleepy eyes twinge with hope.

You look to the lake, the sparkling ripples tinted gold with the rising sun. Sunday was usually a rest day for you and you didn’t have anything planned. As fatigued as you felt, everything in you wanted to accept his invitation. You cracked a small smile, getting up to stretch your legs. You hold out a hand to help him up.

“Lead the way”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you home? This might not be fun for you…”

Mark’s expression was worried as the two of you stood at the entrance of the local church, the doors open and you could see rows of tables and food set up as if ready for people at any minute. The streets were starting to bustle as the world began to wake up. A volunteer from inside the church spotted you, walking out to give his greetings.

“Mark!,” the man called out as he pulled Mark in for a warm hug, “good morning!”.

His eyes turned towards you and Mark moved to introduce you.

“Daniel, this is y/n. Y/n, this is Daniel. We volunteer together here at the church to serve breakfast to the homeless,” Mark disclosed.

“Nice to meet you, Daniel”. You shake his hand with a smile. Gosh, I probably look like a mess right now. I didn’t even get to change or take off the makeup from the party yesterday. You self-consciously zip up Mark’s oversized jacket to hide your exposed midriff.

“Nice to meet you, y/n! This is the first time Mark has brought a… friend here”. Daniel’s eyes darted between you and Mark with an assuming smile.

“Yeah,” Mark coughed, turning to you, “do you want me to take you home? This probably isn’t what you expected I don’t know why I-”

“No,” you interrupted, “I’d like to stay and volunteer”. Offering him a reassuring smile, you rest your hand on his arm to show him that you were okay. There was truth to his worries when Mark said this wasn’t what you were expecting. You never would have thought that a popular guy like him woke up early on the weekends to help the needy. Evidently, he did it out of the kindness of his own heart, not for attention. You always imagined it was all parties and messing around, but you were pleasantly proven wrong.

“Great! Mark can show you around and get you started,” the older man clapped before heading inside.

“You’re kind of awesome, you know that?”. Mark’s question caught you off guard. He slipped his hand into yours to lead you into the building, the simple action sending your heart into a frenzy.

“Awesome how?”

“Just… awesome,” Mark clarified cryptically, holding the door open for you to enter the storage room. He tosses you a green volunteer shirt.

“Alright, I’ll take the compliment,” you laugh, taking off his jacket and handing it to him. To your surprise, he pushes it back to you.

“You keep it. I like it a lot better on you”

Mark Lee if you keep saying things like this, I’m going to catch on fire.

You fight to put out the flames spreading across your cheeks and give a single nod, setting the sweatshirt down on a nearby box. Not willing to strip in front of him in the church storage room, you pull the volunteer shirt over on top of the shirt you were already wearing.

“So anyways,” Mark continued as if he didn’t just say the most romantic thing you’ve heard in your life, “the people will start coming in about 20 minutes. Our job is to portion out the food and once everyone is served, we can go eat and talk with them”.

“Got it”

“Here, let me get this for you”. His hand guided your waist to spin around as he pulled an apron over your head. Tying the back of the garment together, your breath hitches in your throat as you feel his fingers brush under the fabric of your shirt. You turn your face to the side and you can see his soft expression in your peripheral vision. The heat from his body behind yours feels so welcoming.

I wish he’d kiss me right now.

And he wants to. He tries to. He’s leaning in and everything is perfect. Your heart is beating fast as you tilt your head back, but like clockwork, a jolting buzz from his pants makes you jump apart. No, not like that.

“I swear to God, I’m throwing away my phone”. Mark ran a frustrated hand through his hair, picking up the kiss-blocking call. “Hello?”. You sighed.

You watch as the annoyed expression on his face fades into shock as the speaker on the other side panicked through the phone. Your own frustration transforms into concern as Mark looks at you and you catch the words “car” and “hospital”. Mark paces back and forth.

“Alright, I got it. Yeah, she’s with me. I’ll tell her. We’ll come right now. Don’t worry, Ten, she’s going to be fine”

“What is it?,” you ask as soon as he hangs up the call, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and worry.

“It’s Yuna…,” Mark trailed off, shocked by the news. Your heart dropped down to your feet.

“What about Yuna?” Your voice shook with panic.

“She-she was in a car accident. She’s at the hospital right now”

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eberles · 4 years ago

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On The Course

Rafe Cameron

if this gif is yours, lmk and i’ll tag you!

A/N: this is the longest thing i’ve ever written coming in at 3.8K!! it’s set the summer AFTER the show so like a year later basically and rafe isn’t a murderer obv, it’s also loosely based on A Cinderella Story - the one with Hilary Duff, okay enjoy :)

Warnings: mentions of parent death, brief mention of toxic living environments, swearing, lots of dialogue (idk if that needs a warning but)

You never had many friends growing up, or any really. Except JJ, he was always there for you, your very best friend and even though he offered all the time for you to hangout with the other pogues, you always declined. Of course, you went to school with them and had classes together and sure they were nice, but you never actually felt welcome. JJ was the first friend you made when you moved to the Outer Banks after your parents died. It’s been 4 years since then and living with your ugly aunt and her horrible twin daughters was the last thing you ever wanted for yourself. The only upside of moving to Outer Banks all those years ago was meeting JJ.

Everyone assumed you were dating and both of you had considered the fact, but quickly decided that it wasn’t meant to be for the two of you. JJ liked to be a playboy and he wasn’t really your type anyways. for years you watched him get with girl after girl while you sat idly by watching and looking out for him, never having a guy of your own to trot around with. You never minded it though, being by yourself gave you a sense of comfort and with your current living situations, your cousins made it difficult for you to have many friends or otherwise anyways. JJ always made you feel better about it though and assured you that you didn’t need a man to be happy because of how independent you were and how ‘one day you’re gonna get out of here and meet the guy of dreams, the one that lives up to your standards.” You would always shake your head and roll your eyes at him when he said that, but he believed it. At least the getting out of here part. JJ knew from the moment he met you 4 years ago that you weren’t destined to be on a little island like Outer Banks and you had bigger things coming to you. For now, this was home and you were making the best of it.

“JJ, please talk to your boss. I need a job, I have to get out of my house this summer.” you begged JJ one sunny afternoon, knowing that school was ending in a few days.

“Y/N, you’re gonna hate it. Trust me, you don’t wanna serve a bunch of rich pricks.” JJ sighed, looking over at you briefly and noticing you had your best puppy dog look plastered onto your face, the one you always knew got him to cave. “Fucking fine, i’ll talk to him.”

A few days passed and you were finally done with school. This was your last summer before heading off to college and as much as you didn’t want to spend it working, you knew your aunt had no intention of giving you any money for college. So here you were, serving your first day as a cart girl at the most prestigious country club on Figure 8. The course was fairly slow today and you had a small training session for the first few hours of your shift, but it wasn’t all that hard. Drive around, serve drinks, get tipped. As you were riding around on your little golf cart you noticed none other than Rafe Cameron flagging you down.

“Hi, what can I get for you?” you refrained from immediately rolling your eyes at him and forcing a smile onto your face as you climbed out of your cart.

“I’ll just get a beer, thanks.” he pointed to his beer of choice and watched as you poured the beverage slowly into the plastic cup. “I haven’t seen you around here before.”

“That’s because I just started.” you stated pointedly, handing Rafe the drink and giving him a small smile. “Can i get you anything else?”

“Do you know how to golf?” Rafe was speaking before he could stop himself and you were taken aback by his question, let alone his politeness towards you. You’d never actually come in contact with the boy in front of you, but you’d heard horror stories from JJ surrounding the summer before. You shook your head no, not moving back to your cart just yet curious to where this was heading. “Do you wanna give it a shot? I can teach you.”

You knew you shouldn’t, JJ would scold you up and down for it, after previously warning you Rafe was an often golfer and that you’d probably see him quite a bit, but this wasn’t the Rafe you were expecting. Not after JJ’s multiple stories of Rafe beating him and the other pogues up and constantly giving them a hard time. However, you couldn’t stop yourself from agreeing to Rafe’s offer. Moving closer to him and grabbing the club from him you did exactly what you’d seen in the movies: knees spread, club down, aimed at the small golf ball and raising your arms back only for them to swing the club right into the dirt.

“Damn, you weren’t lying.” Rafe chuckled, taking a spot behind you making sure it was okay that he helped you first. Rafe was a good 6 inches taller than you, but when he came up you could still feel his breath hitting your ear causing your heart to beat out of your chest and goosebumps to erupt all over. He wrapped his arms around yours, placing his hands over yours adjusting your grip on the club. “Ready? One...two...three.”

“Oh- oh my god! I did it! Well you did it, but I did it!” you turned around in Rafe’s grasp jumping up excitedly after watching the ball move this time. Before Rafe could react, realization hit you that you were at work and not making a very good first impression. “I have to go, I'm sorry.”

You ran back towards your golf cart, jumping in and driving off checking in on the other golfers. Rafe had a big smile on his face watching the cute new girl drive off. He felt a sense of home building in his chest after your small interaction and he wasn’t sure what was going on. No girl had ever affected him the way you did and he didn’t even know your name. Yet.

“Dude, what’s got you blushing?” Topper asked, joining him on the course and snapping Rafe out of his thoughts about you.

“Have you seen the new cart girl?”

“Yea she’s cute but she’s a pogue.” Topper stated and Rafe looked at him skeptically not wanting to believe the words. Rafe was almost positive he’d never seen you around before and definitely not with the other pogues. Granted, the way everything happened last summer he never saw the pogues anymore, choosing the high road and turning himself into a better man so he could eventually leave Figure 8 on his own.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Y/N!” you turned around hearing JJ calling your name. You just entered the cut after having to walk home from your first shift at the country club. “I’ve been texting you for hours.”

“Oh sorry JJ, my shitty phone died.” you shrugged letting JJ catch up with you before continuing your walk home.

“How was your first day?” you knew JJ would ask, but you hadn’t quite figured out what you were planning on telling him. Do you bring up your weird but pleasant interaction with Rafe?

“It was good! It was a pretty slow day, perfect for learning.” JJ hummed in response, looking at you quizzically not fully believing you didn’t have anything more to say. You decided to keep it short, not looking forward to JJ mocking your newfound connection with his enemy. You felt bad enough about it without having him breathing down your neck. JJ walked you home, the two of you making small talk for the rest of the short distance to your house.

“Charge your phone, how else will I annoy you?” you rolled eyes, laughing at what JJ said, pushing on his chest.

“Goodbye JJ, Y/N has things to do.” your aunt spoke, catching you off guard as you were saying bye to JJ outside your house. JJ gave you a sympathetic look before walking off, never wanting to leave you alone with them. “Y/N, I’m going out of town tomorrow. I’ll be leaving you this list to work on while I'm gone. I expect everything to be finished. You will go to work, come home and work some more. Zero play time and in the house everyday by 6 pm, missy.”

“Okay but there’s this one event the country club is having and it’s a night shift for me.” you followed your aunt around the small house, hoping she would let you out of the house for Midsummers knowing the tips would be great.

“Well that’s not going to work, now is it?” she huffed, shoving the 7 page list into your hands and storming off, her heels clicking with every step. “One page for everyday, don’t miss anything.”

The next day your aunt left just like she planned to, her twin daughters staying behind to ‘keep an eye on you’ but really, they were just going to annoy you the whole time. The only thing you could really look forward to anymore was going to work and hoping the customers were nicer than your cousins.

“Y/N, we’re coming with you today!” the twins spoke at the same time with fake chipper voices.

“Great.” you deadpanned, turning away from them and making your way towards their shared car and climbing in the back seat. The drive was short and they talked the whole way there so you practically jumped out before the car stopped moving noticing your arrival. You were feeling giddy to be at work today secretly hoping you would see a certain kook boy again. You didn’t know much about him, only the awful things JJ had spoken about him briefly but didn’t see that side of him only enticing you to know more.

After a few hours driving around the course serving drinks to mostly middle aged white men you finally noticed Rafe with a few of his friends. You wanted to talk to him again, but having his friends around made you unsure about the situation so you decided to play it cool.

“Did you guys want drinks?” you stopped on the path behind them before getting off the cart and making your way to them.

“Rafe, is this your cute cart girl from yesterday?” Topper laughed, hitting Rafe’s back pushing him towards you and you noticed a blushing Rafe shoot a quick glare in his direction.

“Hey, how’s your second day going?” Rafe moved closer to you and the cart hoping to get out of ear shot from Topper and Kelce.

“It’s been good, lots of older men come around here I’ve noticed.” you laughed handing Rafe the same drink as yesterday since you remembered the specific beer he wanted. “It makes for good tips though so I can't complain.”

“Yea these guys might be old but they’re rich as fuck.” Rafe sipped his beer, smiling at you and apologizing for his friends being stupid behind him. “Hey so I never got your name-”

“Hey Y/N!” you turned, hearing your name being called and saw JJ running towards you. You mentally cursed because of course this was the one time he would ever step foot on the course to look for you. Rafe looked at you confused even though Topper previously told him you were technically a pogue yourself. “Y/N, your cousins are inside and they’re driving me crazy. I needed a break. What’s going on here?”

“Oh JJ, I’m sorry about them, they insisted on being here for my whole shift.” you ignored JJ’s last question, putting all the attention on your cousins, hoping it would deflect from you and Rafe chatting.

“You okay?” JJ asked in a hushed tone, glaring at Rafe and you laughed nodding your head yes. “Okay I guess I’ll go back inside then. Be careful.”

“So your name’s Y/N?” Rafe stood back a few feet while you had your short conversation with JJ and returned to your side once JJ started walking away. “I’m assuming since you know Maybank that you already know who I am.”

“Well I know of you, but if we keep meeting like this maybe i’ll be able to find out more.” you were feeling brave all of a sudden, hoping putting yourself out there would get your somewhere with Rafe. Everything felt natural with him, and you didn’t want to let that feeling escape you by ruining it.

“Why don’t you give me your number and then it won’t have to be exclusive to only here?” Rafe smirked, pulling his phone out and placing it in your hands. You laughed, typing your phone number in quickly and returning it back to him.

“I should really get back to work, Rafe but I’ll see you around yea?” you climbed back into your golf cart as Rafe smiled and waved bye to you.

The next few days passed and you hadn’t seen Rafe at the club, but you had been texting quite a bit. Just in a few days of talking you felt like you were already learning so much about him and his life. He told you everything from who his friends are to how overbearing and controlling his father was. He explained that he went to college at Chapel Hill for a year before dropping out and his father never forgave him. You shared your deepest feelings with him about your parents deaths and how your aunt and cousins were Satan's children. You told him you couldn’t wait to get out of Outer Banks and go off to college at the end of the summer. He understood you and you meshed together so well just after a few days.

i haven’t told my dad, but after getting my shit together this past year i started applying to schools. my first choice is princeton.

princeton?! rafe, no way! that’s where i’m hoping to go.

You couldn’t deny the fast connection you felt with rafe, everything in your body was telling you that you belonged together. Rafe told you he was looking forward to seeing you at the Midsummers event tonight, but you had to break the devastating news that there was no way you could go.

curfew is 6 pm cameron, get with it😂

jesus, i’m sorry i didn’t know you were 7

You laughed at the text on your phone when a tapping noise on your window startled you. You dragged yourself out of bed to see JJ standing on the ground below you.

“JJ, what are you doing?!” you whispered after opening the window and sticking your head out.

“I'm coming up!” JJ whispered back, scaling the side of your house next to your bedroom window. Lucky for him there was a small rock wall giving him the perfect entrance. “I'm breaking you out, you’re coming to Midsummers.”

“JJ, I can't! They’ll kill me if I leave!” JJ gave you a look as if to say ‘stop being a baby.’ It only took a few more seconds of convincing from JJ for you to agree. He successfully helped you out your window and down the rock wall without your cousins noticing you had left for the night. JJ borrowed John B's van and left it parked a few houses down so the twins wouldn’t be suspicious.

“Thanks for this, JJ. You’re the best.” you smiled wide, feeling free for the first time in a while. It was nice getting out of the house while it was dark out.

“As much as I want to take credit, I can’t. This was Rafe’s idea.” you looked at JJ with wide eyes, completely caught off guard.

“What?!” you all but screamed, not sure why JJ would ever talk to Rafe about you. Especially since you hadn’t even told JJ that you and Rafe were talking almost constantly.

“I’ll try to forgive you for not mentioning your budding relationship, but yea. Rafe came to me and apologized for everything last summer and although I don’t forgive him. He does talk pretty highly about you and I can't deny that.” JJ explained and you couldn’t have been more proud to call him your best friend in these moments.

Once you arrived, JJ snuck you in the back and you couldn’t help but take a peek out and notice Rafe standing by the bar dressed in a navy colored suit with his dad who looked like he was scolding him for something. He looked good, really good. JJ pulled you into the locker room handing you a uniform with a white shirt and a black vest to put over it and informing you that you were on drink serving duty. You made your rounds looking over at Rafe every so often wanting nothing more than to approach him. You noticed Rafe's dad pulling him away from the crowd with a yank to his collar and watching as he stood in front of him yelling and pointing a finger in his face. Your feet were moving before your brain could process it and before you knew it you were in front of the two.

“Hi, can I get you guys anything to drink?” you put the sweetest smile on your face, hoping it wouldn’t be obvious that you were trying to distract Rafe’s dad. Ward cleared his throat before looking at you and ordering a whiskey on the rocks with a fake smile on his face. Rafe took the opportunity to make a break for it while you wrote down his fathers drink, exactly what you hoped would happen. After returning to Ward with his drink you went looking for Rafe only to find him back inside the club.

“Oh look who it is, my savior.” Rafe teased, watching you approach him before pulling out a chair for you to sit next to him. “Thanks for that by the way, you didn’t have to.”

“Of course I did, I understand family issues all too well, Cameron.” you laughed, taking the seat beside him.

“I’m surprised to see you here, so much for that curfew huh?” Rafe smirked, eyeing you from across the table.

“Funny enough, JJ came up with this super smart plan to sneak me out. Usually he’s not that on top of it, but I guess something changed.” you joked and reached for Rafe’s hand across the table. “Thank you for talking to him, you have no idea how much it means to me.”

“I know it sounds weird, but I think I would do anything for you.” Rafe blushed, squeezing your hand in his and putting his head down to hide the pink tint on his cheeks. You pulled your hand from his and reached up to lift his face to look at your before moving in closer to him. Your lips brushed his softly before he pulled you closer by your waist and your lips molded to each other and you melted into your first kiss with Rafe.

“Uh, sorry to interrupt but Y/N your aunts outside.” you pulled away from Rafe hearing JJ’s voice and you couldn’t believe what you heard. You looked between the boys with a horrified expression on your face and walked passed JJ outside to where your aunt and cousins were standing and causing a scene.

“Where the hell is she?!” you frowned, running up to them, hoping you could get her to leave without losing your job.

“There you are! You ungrateful piece of trash! How dare you sneak out with this scum of a boy!?” with each word your ugly aunt used her finger to push on her chest and you felt the anger bubbling up inside of you.

“Don’t touch me! And don’t talk about him like that. I’m 18 now, you can’t tell me what to do anymore!” you pushed her hand away, yelling back in her face with JJ and Rafe watching you from a few feet away, everyone else at the party enjoying the show.

“I sure as hell can if you’re living under MY roof!” you could hear your cousins laughing from behind her and that only fueled more anger in you.

“Don’t worry about me, because I'm moving out.” you finally had it, you couldn’t take dealing with her for another second longer. Unbeknownst to you, Rafe and JJ were sharing knowing looks at each other as the scene unfolded in front of them.

“And where do you think you’re gonna go?”

“With us!” JJ spoke up, and you felt him take a place at your side with Rafe following his actions on your other side.

“Good luck with that. They’ll be tired of you soon enough, don’t come crawling back.” your aunt scoffed, rolling her eyes at the two boys and retreating back to her SUV, “Girls! Here! Now!”

You felt tears start to roll down your cheeks and you laughed feeling both the boys wrap their arms around you. “Everything’s gonna be okay now, y/n.”

“Jeez, I don’t know what to say. Thank you guys for being here.” The rest of the party goers were clapping at you standing up for yourself and finally being free of her even though they didn’t know you or your situation.

“You don’t have to thank us, Y/N.” Rafe smiled as you pulled him into a tight hug feeling safe as his arms wrapped around you.

••epilogue••

Summer was officially over and you were sad to be moving on, but you could easily say this was the best summer of your entire life. After the screaming match with your aunt you moved in with JJ and John B and yes it was tough adjusting to living with boys but it was amazing. You were finally getting close with the other pogues Rafe’s sister Sarah and you just wish you hadn’t waited 4 years for it to happen.

Rafe did some digging with a private investigator and found a savings account in your name for your full college tuition that your aunt had been hiding from you. Everything was falling into place for you and speaking of Rafe: you guys were officially dating and going two months strong. You felt the happiest you ever had in your entire life and he was partly to thank for that.

You wound up going to Princeton together and lived happily ever after. At least for now. Hey, you’re only a freshman.

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#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #drew starkey imagine #outer banks #outer banks imagine #rafe cameron blurbs #rafe cameron x reader

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trulivin · 4 years ago

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Not What Everyone Thinks

A/N: Yay I got another one done! LOL. Anyways, to the nonny who requested, I hope you enjoy. I hope I did a decent job at portraying Rafe. He’s more down to earth in this one so I don’t know if I like it too much. We’ll see. I rewatched OBX and like I’m telling you he is ten times fucked up than he is in here. Pardon my language, but hopefully you all will forgive me if he isn’t really like how he is in the show. Anyways, enjoy, send feedback, like, comment, etc.

Rafe Cameron x Reader, Outer Banks

Warnings: implied sexual innuendos? uhhh language. That’s it.

*gif isn’t mine*

Upon the request of Sarah Cameron, Y/N was enlisted to help decorate her mansion for her birthday party. She tried roping the rest of the Pogues into it, and Kie was originally going to help but was needed elsewhere at the time, and the boys opted out. Even John B.

“Sorry sweetheart,” he had said with a peck on the cheek. “Whatever,” Sarah rolled her eyes and turned back to Y/N. “Fineeeee,” Y/N sighed, earning a hug.

So, when the day finally arrived Y/N found herself walking up to the oh-so-familiar house she had spent many days with Sarah in.

Y/N was essentially a Kook by blood, but, much like Kie, she chose to hang out with the Pogues, much to her mother’s disappointment. Sarah Cameron, however, had been her best friend growing up and remained a very good friend even when Y/N started hanging out with John B’s crew.

For Y/N, she stayed out of the whole Kook versus Pogue thing. It was never something she, quite frankly, wanted to be involved in and she was thankful neither sides made her pick. It was absolutely ridiculous that the boys were constantly getting into fights. And, it was especially annoying when Rafe Cameron always decided to mess with JJ, John B, or Pope all the time.

Y/N never understood why he did it. She had known him her whole life becoming friends even, because of Sarah, and then she saw what drugs did to him. It was quite depressing to watch, so Y/N didn’t and went to hang out with the Pogues instead.

Luckily, though, that didn’t mean she wasn’t allowed on Tanneyhill anymore. Especially now that Sarah had to decorate the entire mansion.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Sarah said, opening the door for her. “I know,” Y/N laughed. Sarah playfully rolled her eyes and shoved her friend a bit before the two started their job.

Y/N and Sarah were in the middle of stringing lights when she heard two approaching voices arguing down the hall. “Tonight is your sister’s birthday! Do not screw this up, Rafe! I’m sick of your inability to get anything done around here. You are almost twenty years old, it’s time to get it together son,” Ward chastised.

“I told you, I’d get it!” Rafe argued back. “When?” Ward asked, extremely annoyed. “If I recall you were supposed to get the new parts ordered last week!”

“I know, but I swear I--” Rafe started but was cut off.

“Save it. I don’t want to hear it anymore. I have to help get everything in order tonight. Just get it done,” Ward spat, before crossing the living room. Sarah and Y/N exchanged nervous glances before Sarah’s mouth turned up into a grin. “Sorry you had to hear that,” Sarah giggled quietly before stepping down the ladder. “It’s fine,” the other girl smiled back.

“I have to go grab more lights, you good?” she asked. “Yep all good here,” Y/N said standing up on her toes a bit.

As Y/N was focusing on trying not to fall off the ladder, she heard Sarah say, “Shouldn’t have taken that money to buy that stupid bike.” “Piss off Sarah,” Rafe snarled as Sarah laughed all the way down the hall.

“What the hell are you doing?” Rafe snapped at Y/N. “Putting up lights. What does it look like genius?” Y/N bit back, making a face, but not turning to face the pissed-off Kook. “I don’t recall Pogues being allowed in the house,” he hissed.

Y/N turned to face him. Rafe was glaring at her. Instead of cowering away from him, like most people do, she glared right back. “If you do recall Rafe, I was once a Kook. I practically lived here my entire childhood,” Y/N hissed.

“Yeah well that was until you and my sister ran off with the island trash,” Rafe spat. Y/N just glared at Sarah’s brother. Truth be told, a long time ago, the two actually liked each other when they were friends. They were only two years apart in age, and yeah, Y/N was his little sister’s friend, but she was one he never minded. At least until she ran off with the Pogues.

“Why do you have to act like this?” Y/N asked, catching Rafe off guard. “What?” Rafe replied.

“Why do you act like such a dick? We were friends once you know,” she said.

“I’m not a dick,” Rafe scoffed, his anger subsiding a bit. Y/N snorted, “Yeah, you are. And you’re a big baby too, oh my god.”

“Oh shut the hell up, Y/N,” Rafe grunted, slumping in the lounge chair. Y/N giggled hopping down from the ladder and moving to the balcony that overlooked the room. Her new position also happened to be nearly right in front of the moody boy.

Rafe glanced up from messing with his shirt as Y/N placed the ladder a few feet from him. He found his eyes wandering up her legs and to the skin that showed when she reached up to hang the lights across the railing. “You’re staring,” Y/N sing-songed, not looking away from what she was doing.

Rafe felt his face heat up. He was still of the male species after all. It didn’t matter how out of it he was or how angry he was: he still had eyes.

Y/N let out another laugh, and glanced back down at him. Rafe was no longer staring at her but was extremely occupied messing with his sleeves. She watched his ring-clad fingers bunch the material up his toned, tanned arms, and found herself staring this time.

His vineyard-vines button up fit perfectly across his broad shoulders and muscular arms. It was also fitted so perfectly that you could almost see the outline of his abs through the material. Y/N felt as though the room got quite hot even with the air conditioning on.

Ever since she met Sarah, she always thought her older brother was attractive. There was something about him that caught Y/N’s eye. The best part was that she knew the real Rafe too. The one who wasn’t on drugs and acting like an idiot. Maybe that’s what always made her so intrigued by him.

But, alas, he still acted out which stopped her from hanging around him. Yet, that still didn’t mean he wasn’t extremely hot for a Kook.

“Please stop rolling your shirt sleeves up, I am trying to focus here,” Y/N mumbled before she could even think. Rafe instantly froze and locked eyes with the girl on the ladder. He noticed how one arm was holding on to the railing while the other hung by her side. Her shirt was also still noticeably bunched up, and Y/N’s eyes were also partially blown.

“Now who’s the one staring?” Rafe smirked, a hint of his old self in his voice. Y/N snapped out of her daze, rolling her eyes. “Hush,” she said, turning back to the last string of lights.

Y/N finally finished and hopped down, Rafe following her every movement. “Listen,” Y/N started, standing in front of him, “You were a decent person before the drugs. This isn’t the way to get your dad’s attention.”

“You don’t know shit,” he snapped, his anger flaring again as he looked up at her.

“Oh stop yelling at me, I don’t care what you think. I just know you weren’t like this,” Y/N rolled her eyes. “Rafe, you and I used to be friends.”

“Yeah, until you ran off with those damn Pogues!” Rafe shouted.

“God! Enough with the whole Kooks versus Pogues shit! What does it matter? My parents are Kooks! I’m a Kook! So what? It’s the person, Rafe, not their social status. Sarah gets it! But that’s not even the problem! You’re the problem,” Y/N snapped.

“Do you really want to associate yourself with a bunch of lunatics who put guns to peoples’ heads when they feel like it?”

“Rafe, Topper was drowning John B! What the hell was JJ supposed to do? Let his best friend die? Tell me this! If it were the other way around, would you have pulled the gun?” Y/N groaned.

Rafe didn’t answer this time, but just stared up at her. He really only thought about her question for a second before studying her face. Her pupils were still slightly dilated yet he could see her sincerity as well.

“Exactly,” she huffed. “Look, I’ve known you for so long,” she said softly, “You aren’t the bad guy. Drugs mess people up, Rafe. And it sure as hell won’t get your father’s attention the way you want it.”

Rafe was shocked to hear what she was saying, but he pulled his gaze away from her hard one. “I--I really don’t know what else to do though,” Rafe finally spoke, refusing to look at her. Y/N closed her eyes for a second taking a breath. “You can start by being present for your sister’s birthday party tonight. And not shitfaced and present, or on crack and present. Sober,” Y/N suggested, firmly.

“Wow, you two on speaking terms again?” Sarah’s voice cut in as she strutted in the room. Y/N turned her attention to her friend and rolled her eyes, her normal relaxed look slipping back on her face. “If you count arguing,” she laughed as she took the lights from Sarah.

“Oh of course,” Sarah shot back with a wink. Rafe watched Y/N as she and his sister laughed and joked with each other. To say he missed the easy-going conversations with Y/N was an understatement. He always found it was so simple to talk to her. She would never judge and would always somehow say the right thing.

But, unfortunately, as he began working with his father more, Rafe found himself trying to impress Ward in any way he could to make his father proud. In the midst of all of that, Rafe managed to push her away and go down an even darker path.

“Well, I will see you tonight, birthday girl,” Y/N said snapping Rafe out of his thoughts. “Thank you for helping me set up,” Sarah smiled. “Oh and tell your mother she does not need to bring me any gifts tonight!”

“No promises,” Y/N said, giving her friend a hug. “You know how she is at parties.”

“I know,” Sarah rolled her eyes. “The whole island is going to be here tonight I swear. Leave it to Rose to throw a huge party. It’s like Midsummers came early.”

“It’s your seventeenth birthday. It’s a big deal. Just enjoy the attention,” Y/N giggled as she headed for the exit. “Bye Rafe!” she called down the hall. Rafe put a lazy hand up as he heard the door slam shut. He was still lost in thought over everything Y/N had just told him.

“Shouldn’t you be getting those parts dad wants?” Sarah asked her brother with her hand on her hip. “Mind your damn business Sarah,” Rafe snapped.

Sarah glared at her brother before rolling her eyes. “Whatever,” she responded, turning on her heel, leaving Rafe all alone.

At 6:30, Y/N stood in front of her mirror with a horrified expression. “Why do I have to wear this mom?” she groaned. Her mother had decided it would be a good idea to wear a light pink dress with a neckline for a prude. “This is a party, not a church service!” Y/N complained.

“The dress is gorgeous sweetheart, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Y/M/N replied. Y/N studied herself in the mirror for a moment.

“I’m not wearing this,” Y/N concluded.

“Yes, you are, Y/N,” her mom said strictly. “You’ve been running around with those street rats for too long. A bunch of your father’s business partners and their families will be attending Sarah’s party tonight. You need to look your best.”

“But mom,” Y/N whined, “It’s still a seventeen year old’s birthday party. Not some business thing!”

“Y/N, you are going to wear that and that’s final. You can wear whatever you want when Sarah throws her own party for a bunch of idiotic teenagers,” her mother said before walking out of her room.

At least this stupid thing goes above my knees, Y/N thought to herself before following after her mother.

“You ready?” Y/N’s dad asked as the two girls walked into the kitchen. Y/N’s father turned to his daughter and stifled a laugh. “Wow, sweetheart.” Y/N groaned and buried her face in her hands. “MOM!” she groaned. “No, let’s go.”

When they arrived at Tanneyhill, Y/N slunk through the crowd hoping no one would notice her. She had a feeling her mother might pull something like this so she stashed other clothes in Sarah’s room.

Y/N caught a glimpse of JJ’s blond hair and ducked behind a person. She wouldn’t hear the end of it if he saw her in a dress like this. The man she was hiding behind turned around giving her a questioning look. “Oh hi Mr. Daniels,” Y/N smiled sheepishly, straightening herself out and ducking behind another person. Fortunately for her, she made it out of the crowded room and to the steps leading upstairs.

Just as she began her ascent a voice rang out from behind her, “Oh my god. What the hell are you wearing?” JJ cackled. Y/N closed her eyes and turned around slowly. “Har har guys,” she glared at all of her friends crowded around the steps. Both Sarah and Kie had nice casual dresses on while the boys wore what they would typically wear. Except JJ was in an actual t-shirt rather than one his tank tops.

“Oh shut up I know I look like Peppa Pig. Blame it on my mother,” Y/N said sourly. “I’m going to change.”

“Hahahahahaha!” they all cackled. Sarah finally calmed down, pretending to wipe her eyes from her tears of laughter. “Let her go change,” she said, “c’mon.” Y/N shot her a grateful smile before they shuffled away.

Just as Y/N was about to get into Sarah’s room, however, she heard a door close down the hall, and looked up to see Rafe approaching her with a shit-eating grin. He was still wearing what he had on that afternoon.

“Just shut up, don’t say anything,” Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose. Rafe burst out laughing and Y/N’s face flushed. He was the last person she wanted to see while she was still wearing this damn dress. If she wasn’t so irritated right now, she would have even been happy to hear Rafe laughing so care-free.

“Why are you wearing that? Holy shit!” he continued to laugh. “You look like Little Bo Peep just with your knees showing!”

“Go awayyyyyy,” Y/N whined, banging her head on the door. Rafe put his hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine,” he grinned walking past her. “But if I’m going to this party, you have to show back up too,” he called before disappearing down the steps.

Y/N stood there in mild shock. Rafe wasn’t angry or wasted. He was just Rafe.

Shaking herself out of her little daze, Y/N hurried into Sarah’s room and found her ripped jeans and black tank top. “Thank the lord,” she muttered to herself before stripping.

Downstairs, Rafe gulped nervously trying to shake that urge for cocaine. It was his safety net that took his mind off the disappointment in his father’s eyes. He had almost done it though. Almost. Right before he came downstairs actually. But something told him not to. Well, someone really. Y/N’s words echoed in his mind from earlier. He noticed when she mentioned the word ‘drug’ she almost had that same look of disappointment in her eyes. And god, she was the last person he wanted to disappoint, for some reason.

So, he didn’t do it.

But, he still made a beeline for the adult drink table. Y/N would still drink if she could. Not shitfaced, but still, he thought to himself. Luckily, Rafe had managed to get through, sober, the whole awkward “you’re here” conversation with his dad too, so his drink was well-deserved.

Rafe stood there allowing his eyes to wander all over the room. He saw Topper was trying to talk to Sarah again about her dating choices. “Idiot,” he muttered into his glass.

Kelce was flirting with one of Sarah’s friends, a lot of the men, including his father, were huddled in the corner talking about some business thing while the women were gossiping about something, the Pogues were looking wildly out of place and little uncomfortable, keeping to themselves since Sarah was busy talking with Topper, and the rest of the people were breaking off into little groups talking amongst themselves.

This is stupid why am I even here, Rafe thought before his gaze caught Y/N’s figure. She had obviously changed into something more her style.

Rafe’s eyes followed her beautiful hair that fell over her shoulders and down her back, across the skin revealed by deep cut in the back of her top. He let his eyes linger on her butt for a moment longer, before trailing them down her toned, jean-clad legs and to the floor.

She was far hotter than he remembered. When did she grow up?

Sighing, Rafe brought his eyes back up to her face and frowned when he saw a scowl on hers. He liked her much better when she was laughing like this afternoon. She appeared arguing with her mom who was gesturing up and down to her outfit.

“That neckline is cut way too low, Y/N!” her mother hissed. “So what?” Y/N flung her hands in the air, annoyed.

“That’s too inappropriate!”

“I don’t care! It’s a birthday party! Plus! I can actually breathe right now! That neckline was too high!”

“It was perfect!”

“No!”

“Y/N!”

“I’m not having this conversation at my friend’s birthday party,” Y/N shook her head, rolling her eyes and pushing her way past her mom. She slipped through the crowd and disappeared out the back into the night.

Rafe watched as her mother went right back to her group of ladies and began complaining about her daughter. Ah, yes, he was very familiar with that one. His father had pulled that on him so many times.

He sighed before pushing off his spot on the wall and grabbing one of the extra bottles of wine from under the table and followed Y/N through the door she just went out.

Y/N sat at the end of the dock furiously picking some of the wood that was splintering. “I just wanted to enjoy my friend’s birthday party but NO! Always have to be the perfect little daughter you want me to be,” she mumbled to herself. “Just so I don’t mess up the stupid little reputation on this damn island.” Y/N groaned, allowing her anger to get the best of her.

“Well guess what?” she finally shouted, “I’m going to get off this damn island one day so I don’t have to put up with this bullshit anymore! How about that?” Y/N felt better yelling into the darkness.

“If you leave then can I come too?” a familiar voice said in the darkness. Y/N whirled around in bewilderment and found Rafe standing a little ways off with a hand in a pocket and the other gripping a bottle of alcohol. Y/N’s face softened as he sat down beside her, handing her the bottle of wine.

“You looked like you needed this,” he said.

“Thanks,” she responded before putting the bottle to her lips. She sighed as the wine seemed to warm her body up and already started washing her irritation away. Y/N also became hyper-aware of how close Rafe was sitting next to her. Their arms were slightly pressed against one another.

“It’s ironic you know,” Rafe started, “You lecture me about getting my father’s attention, but here you are pouting about your mother.” He let out a laugh. “Yes, yes it’s all very funny. She just expects me to be this perfect little Kook daughter and wear pretty colors and go shopping or some shit,” Y/N ranted.

Rafe listened patiently until she finally let out a huff.

“Well, you know, in your mother’s defense, you still looked good in that dress,” Rafe spoke after a moment still looking out at the star-covered marsh. Y/N snorted, passing him the bottle. “Oh please. I looked like Peppa Pig.”

“Yes, you did,” Rafe laughed a bit. “But still a pretty Peppa.”

Y/N felt her face go warm again at his compliment. They hadn’t spoken like this in years. Y/N remembered how kind Rafe could really be. She was devastated when he did a 180 and lashed out at everyone he cared about. Yet, could she really blame him? She saw how hard he worked to impress Ward, but his father still dubbed him incompetent. And yes, Rafe did some stupid stuff, but don’t all teenage boys?

“Thanks,” she smiled as he handed her back the bottle. They sat in silence for a while, listening to the small lapping of water and passing the bottle back and forth.

“I’m surprised you aren’t scolding me for drinking,” Rafe sighed after a bit. “I never said you couldn’t drink when you got to the party. Just not before,” Y/N specified. “Oh right,” Rafe said.

“I’m glad you came,” Y/N said quietly, turning to look at him. Rafe felt her gaze on him and turned to face her too. “Why?” he asked. Y/N shrugged a bit and looked down at her hands. “I don’t know really. I guess it was just nice talking to you today,” she said.

“We argued more than talked, you know,” Rafe grinned as she looked back up at him rolling her eyes playfully. “Well of course,” she smirked. “Who would we be if we didn’t argue all the time. Remember when we argued that whole ride up to the mainland with your dad and Sarah?”

“How can I not?” Rafe laughed. “You were so mad you turned bright red.”

Y/N burst out in a fit of giggles, and Rafe couldn’t help but find himself smiling harder at the gorgeous sound.

Eventually, their laughs died down and they both stared out into the night sky. “This is what I was talking about earlier, you know,” Y/N said, breaking the silence again. “What?” Rafe was puzzled.

“When I said that you weren’t the bad guy,” she mumbled.

“You’re the opposite actually,” Y/N said more firmly, looking back up at him. He watched her, thoughtfully, as she continued, “I mean look how much fun we’re having. Yes, we’re drinking, but we aren’t completely wasted, and you aren’t high right now. You’re you again.”

“I can’t shake it though,” he replied quietly. “I know it’s hard, but there are ways to fix it,” Y/N said.

Rafe didn’t say anything as he looked into her dark eyes. Through the darkness, he saw a flash of pain dance through her eyes. He hadn’t realized their faces had gotten extremely closer. “Rafe,” she practically whispered. He felt her breath fan over his lips. “You don’t have to do drugs to get Ward’s attention. You’re better than that.”

Y/N finished speaking as their noses brushed up against one another. She heard her friends’ voices in her head, the voice that told her Rafe couldn’t just up and quit, but she didn’t care. His arm behind her locked her in and his skin burned on her back. She knew she shouldn’t, but she did anyway.

With a slight tilt of her head, her lips met his in the night. Y/N’s body turned more towards him as he returned the kiss immediately. It was a slow burn that started in her chest and spread throughout her body as his soft lips melted with hers.

Y/N felt Rafe gently tug at her bottom lip, eliciting a soft moan from her. He instantly gripped her hips and pulled her on top of him allowing his tongue to explore her mouth.

Inside, Sarah was wandering around looking for her friend. “Have you seen Y/N?” Sarah asked John B after looking around for her for the past ten minutes. “Nope,” John B shrugged and went back to trying to throw shrimp in JJ’s mouth. “Boys,” she rolled her eyes and went to the back door.

Sarah stepped outside and squinted down the dock. It was fairly dark, but the moon granted her some light. A weird looking silhouette broke the moonlight a bit and Sarah called, “Y/N?” The dark blob split into two figures and Sarah heard a faint, “shit!”

“Well that’s new,” she laughed when she realized the voice belonged to her brother. “Ok never mind!” Sarah called before ducking back inside.

“Shit,” Y/N cursed, slipping the straps of her tank top and bra back up.

“Oops,” Rafe laughed from beside her.

“We should probably go back inside,” Y/N giggled a bit before standing up. “Or we could, y’know,” Rafe smirked, sitting up on his knees and pushing up her shirt a bit planting wet kisses on her stomach. Y/N resisted the urge to moan and tugged him up.

“I can’t ditch your sister’s party as much as I really...really, want too…” she half moaned looking up at Rafe as he bit his lip and raked his eyes shamelessly all over her body.

His mouth quirked up and then he burst out laughing, “Wow. How the tables have turned.” “Shut up,” she said, shoving him out of the way playfully.

“Oh don’t be such a baby,” he shot back at her with a grin. Rafe caught up and slung an arm around Y/N as they started walking back towards the house. “Rafe,” Y/N said with a serious tone, stopping before they started up the lawn. He looked down at her nervously, afraid this moment would be ruined and it somehow would be his fault.

Y/N took a deep breath and faced him. “I can only do this if you can promise me you’ll stop.”

He knew what she meant. He felt the itch rise again, but easily pushed it away as he looked into her nervous eyes. He didn’t know what to do. Rafe knew he wanted her. God he wanted her so bad, but he didn’t know if it would be enough. “I-I don’t know,” he finally said.

Y/N’s face fell slightly, but he quickly caught himself, “I don’t know if it’ll be that easy. Believe me, for you, I want to so bad. But the reality of it…” his words died in his mouth. This was the most sober Y/N had seen him yet.

“Of course. I know how hard it would be and I’m not blaming you for that,” she said with a small smile returning to her face. “Please help me,” Rafe finally broke, bending down and wrapping his arms around her.

Y/N stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around his shoulders and tall frame as the wave of emotion passed over him. “Shhhh. I promise you I will,” Y/N whispered in his ear. “I want to make this right,” he said softly.

“You will, Rafe. You will.”

__________________________________________________

Wow so proud of myself that I actually finished this tonight. Hope everyone liked it!

1K notes · View notes

starksvixen · 4 years ago

Text

Best Shot - Part 3

Warnings: severe injury to reader, lots of angst, mentions of sexuality (no smut), swearing, violence

Word Count: 2456

Prologue - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 4 - Part 5 (finale)

2 weeks. It had been 2 weeks since you had left Jay’s apartment and crashed at Connor’s. Things at the station hadn’t been the same with you and Jay at odds. You still kept things civil, but every time you both left from work, Halstead would give you a piece of his mind. Why you shouldn’t be staying with Connor. Why you should just come back home. He would almost have you convinced, but you knew him too well. Jay would always hold something back and you could tell. What you mistook as his arrogance against apologizing was him holding back from saying those three little words. Nevertheless, you still would part ways with him and spend most of your nights with Conner.

You rummaged through your small duffel bag you had packed from your and Jay’s apartment, trying to find anything that didn’t have bullet holes or were permanently stained. After these past weeks, you were left with only one outfit left.

“(Y/N), I know this is tough, but you gotta make a decision.” you hear Connor say as he leans against the doorway to the living room.

Looking over to him, you see one of his minimalistic mugs in hand, filled with a steaming liquid. In only sweatpants from your last...session, he looked like a perfectly handsome mess. Connor Rhodes was the perfect guy. Good job, smart, sarcastic, sweet, caring, unbelievably good looking. But deep down you knew he was too perfect. You wanted your fucked up boy from the army who would lay his life on the line for you in a heartbeat. The guy who made mistakes with you but would always return to make things right. You wanted Jay Halstead.

“Think you can spare some room for me here?” you ask with a half hearted smile.

“I always will. But both you and I know this won’t last because you took the easy way out. You’re always going to want-”

“Him...” you whisper as your hand graces over one of Jay’s shirts that had found its way into your bag.

Gently, you pick up the worn out garment and run your fingers along the collar. Even without pressing your face to it, you knew it would smell like him. Smell like home.

“Need a ride?” Connor asks softly.

Shaking your head, you quickly pack up and grab your keys. Before leaving Connor’s apartment, you turn to him with a sad smile.

“I’m sorry, I know this probably didn’t turn out like you wanted it too.”

“No hard feelings, this was temporary. And it was lots of fun. But you both deserve to be happy.” he replies with a smile.

You smile too and nod before leaving and going to your car. After throwing your duffel in the back and yourself into the driver’s seat, you were on your way home.

Parking in the same spot as you always did, you turn and pull the keys from the ignition as your eyes scan over the building. The living room light was still on, a small flickering every now and then telling you that Jay was probably watching the Hawks game.

You step out with a deep breath, bag in hand, your exhale crystallizing into fog from Chicago’s chilly winter weather. Walking towards the door, you unlock it with the keys you have and walk in, dropping your duffel by the door.

“Will, I’m not in the mood.” you hear Jay say from your living room.

Softly walking in, you see the small collection of beers that hadn’t taken Jay’s edge off strewn around him. The dark circles you had seen develop over the past weeks looked so much darker now. Tears filled your eyes at the realization that he was right, you were letting your extra feelings get in the way of what matters. Your friendship.

“It’s not Will, Jay,” you say.

Jay quickly twists from his lounging position to see you. It’s like he couldn’t stand up fast enough as he rushes towards you, pulling you into a tight hug. Gently, you wrap your arms around him in a friendly way, holding him close to you.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N).” you hear him mumble.

“Enough of that, I’m home now.”

He pulls away just a touch, your faces proximity making your cheeks light up like red bulbs from Christmas lights. For a moment, you wish that he take that one step forwards. That his lips dance with yours when danger isn’t looming. But your wishes are futile as he takes more steps away from you.

“I’ll get you a beer,” he says as he backs away more, clearing up all the empty beer bottles before disappearing into the kitchen.

You only nod before plopping yourself on the end of the couch you claimed as yours. Soon enough, Jay returned with two beer bottles, sitting on his end of the couch while tossing a blanket over to you. You take both gratefully, sipping your beer while curling up into the soft material.

Two beers turned into twenty, giving both of you a slight buzz. The Hawks game had changed to Brooklyn Nine Nine. The space between you and Jay had shrunk as you cuddled together on the couch peacefully. Your tipsy laughter fills the apartment, contrasting the blue light from the TV with warmth.

Your soft whine when the show switches from the cop comedy to Seinfeld only makes Jay laugh more. You smack his chest playfully, quickly sitting up to meet his face.

“How dare you giggle at my misery. Halstead,”

“Oh whatever, stupid, it was cute and I’m allowed,” he replies with a smirk.

“Oh, so I’m stupid then cute?”

“Will you shut up so we can watch the show?”

“Make me.”

You will never regret saying those two words.

In a blur, Jay snatches your hips and pulls you onto his lap. The distance between you two closed as he leans up and captures your lips with his. Shocked, you gasp but quickly return the kiss, your hand working their way from his chest to his face.

His hands somehow find their way under your shirt, on your lower back, pulling you closer into his chest. Working your hands away from his head, you tug at the collar of his shirt from behind his neck.

Another blur and Jay is standing with you in his arms before disappearing into his room with you.

-~-

The bright light streaming in from Jay’s windows pierces your brain, making you groan slightly from the mild hangover you had...again.

But my were you glad you were.

As soon as you tried to slip out of bed to get some aspirin, two strong arms pulled you closer into a chest. Turning around, you see Jay half asleep with a goofy smile on his face. A sense of relief flooded over you, he remembered the night before. And he didn’t seem to regret it either.

“You gotta let me go, lover boy,” you mumble as you run a hand through his messy hair.

“Nooo,” he whines, puling you even tighter to him causing you to giggle.

“We are gonna be late and Voight will be pissed,”

“God, fine, but you owe me when we get home,”

He reluctantly releases you into the cold air of the apartment. With ease, you steal his shirt laid on the floor and slip it over your naked self. Looking behind you, you catch a glimpse of him getting out of bed. Memories of the night before flooded your mind, making you bite your lip and a blush to spread across your face.

“Can I help you?” he asks while slipping on a pair of sweatpants, a tired smirk on on his face.

“Hmm, maybe when we get home.” you say with a wink before walking out of the room.

-~-

A couple of months later and both of you still have a jump in your step walking into work. The squad originally thought it was because you had finally gone home to Jay. But when your giddiness hadn’t died down over the weeks, bets were quickly placed.

Sitting at your desk, you take a sip of coffee and begin to fill out paperwork on your laptop. From across the room, you could feel Halstead’s eyes on you. Subtly looking over at him, you see his eyes on the hickey forming on your neck just below your jaw. With a smirk, you tuck your hair out of the way, putting the bruise on full display. You watch as Jay’s bottom lip gets tucked beneath his teeth and you send a soft wink his way.

Just in time, you look away to see Voight rushing downstairs, armed in tactical gear.

“We’ve got a hostage situation at Bleeker Street Bank. All of Intelligence needs to be there, this seems to link back to our case against Diaz,” Voight quickly says to the squad.

Jumping out of your seat, you rush to the locker room and quickly suit up. Walking out with your gun case, you hear Voight assign you and Halstead on the opposing roof as snipers. With a nod, you both rush out to his beast of a truck.

The entire ride there, he kept a gentle hand on your thigh but you could tell he was on edge. You both hated when the other had to go into a highly dangerous situation, but it was part of your job. As he parks, you quickly lay your hand on his cheek and turn his face towards you. Gently, you lay a quick but deep kiss on his lips. Once he pulls away, his eyebrow shoots up and smirk appears on his face.

“What was that for?”

“To get you to calm down,”

You smirk and get out, grabbing your gun case from the back and making your way up to the roof of the opposing building. Once you’re stationed, you quickly set up the gun and aim the scope at the open window. You have a clear view of the hostages in the room but no sign of the offender.

“You got eyes on the offender?” you ask Jay, not moving from your spot.

No response.

“Jay?”

Suddenly, you feel a blade against your throat, making you tense up but your hands refuse to move from your gun.

“Come on, pretty girl. You and your friend are gonna pay for what you did to Diaz.”

Gripping tightly onto your gun, you snap your head back, hitting your captor in the crotch with your head. He stumbles back, but not without his blade cutting your neck a bit. Gritting your teeth through the pain, you use both hands to hit your offender in the face with your heavy rifle. Quickly, he flies to the ground, unconscious from the hit.

That’s when you hear the click of another gun, most likely aimed at you.

Slowly, you turn your head to see another guy with a gun in hand. This time, it wasn’t aimed at you. It was aimed towards Jay’s head as he held him a death grip.

“Let him go...” you growl.

“Nuh - uh, sweet heart. You and your friend are coming with us. Drop the rifle.”

Quickly, you let go, the clatter of the powerful gun making the man in front of you relax a bit.

“He had nothing to do with this,” you reply, raising one hand and slowly moving your other that was concealed from him towards your back where your pistol lay.

“He was an accomplice, got Quentin into the spot where you needed to shoot. So nah, he’s coming with us.”

Jay’s eyes widen at the sight of your hand gripping tightly onto your gun before you whip it out, aiming it at the additional captor. At the same time, the gruff looking man moves his aim away from Jay and towards you. Jay desperately tries to break the man’s hold on him before it’s too late.

“I said let him go!” you yell, your anger increasing at the situation.

“Move one more step and I’ll shoot!” he replies.

“Go ahead, because you can bet your ass I won’t miss!”

The tip of your gun is aimed directly at his head and you take a sharp inhale as your finger moves to the trigger.

“Drop him!” you yell again.

“Put the gun down!”

Exhale and shoot.

But more then one gun goes off at the same time. Adrenaline runs through your veins like a mustang as you watch the guy drop dead beside an unharmed Jay.

“Told you I don’t miss,” you say as you shakily lower your pistol. Wait, why were you shaking?

Looking down, you see blood pooling on the white shirt underneath your bullet proof vest. He’d gotten you right below the ribs, right where your body was exposed from the vest when you had your arms up.

“(Y/N)!” Jay yells as he rushes over to you.

Blood pours through the shirt as you drop your gun, applying pressure to the wound as the metallic liquid pours through your fingers like water. The amount of blood you were losing and how fast it was pouring out makes your legs weak. Too weak, as they collapse under you, your body hitting the gravel roof as everything blurs.

“This is Jay Halstead, officer down! We need paramedics on the roof of the north building immediately!”

“C’mon, baby, you can’t leave me now.” Jay’s voice echoes in your head.

His hands are over yours as he helps keep pressure on the wound. You simply smile through the pain, moving one bloodied hand from underneath his and laying it on top of the pile.

“I love you,” you say, giving his hand a gentle squeeze as your eyelids get too heavy to hold open.

- Jay’s POV -

“(Y/N)?” I ask shakily, tears flooding my eyes in a faster pace then before. When she doesn’t answer, it’s like a punch to the gut over and over.

“(Y/N), stay with me! Wake up, baby, please!”

I push harder on her wound as her body begins to go limp. Paramedics arrive, bracing her and carrying her into the ambulance as I follow close behind. Both of us ride in the back of the ambo as it races to Med. Paramedics work around me as I hold onto her hand with both of my mine, tears breaking up the blood stained on my face.

As they race her into the ED, I see Rhodes eyes widen at who his next trauma patient was before quickly getting to work. She disappears into the ED as Will races out and towards me. All I can seem to do is sit against the tail end of the ambo, staring off into space.

“Jay, man, what happened? Are you hurt?” Will asks.

“I never got to tell her I love her back.”

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#jay halstead #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead imagine #connor rhodes #connor rhodes x reader #conner rhodes imagine #one chicago #chicago pd #chicago med #reader insert #(y/n)

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1000roughdrafts · 4 years ago

Text

Criminal

DeanxReader request from @rileynicole1967 based on the song Criminal by Britney Spears

A/N: I watched the music video to get an idea for how to go about this, so this fic is similar to that story line :) AND I HAVE A COMPUTER NOW, so I can finally post and write! <3

Warnings: mention of spousal abuse in the beginning, lots of fluff, eludes to sex, some swearing, violence, somewhat of an OOC Dean at the end, you’ll see why

Word Count:2.2k

Something people commonly say about a reason someone might stay with their abusers is that after the bad, the abuser will buy them flowers and jam them into a vase as empty as their apologies. But it's not always flowers. It's surprising them with lunch at their job, or taking them to dinner on a night they least expect, or they clean the house because they just know they've been working extra hard lately.

Y/N hid the bruises well under long sleeve shirts, hooded jackets, and she always wore pants. If eyes really are windows to the soul, how does one hide those kinds of injuries? Luckily these are more difficult to spot than marks on the skin, but sometimes someone will pop up who can read one's eyes like a book they've flipped through so many times the ink is smudged on the edges.

Y/N thanked her lucky stars that both happened in one night. Flowers came in the form of a trip to the bar she initially met Damian in, the man she spent six miserable yet wonderful years of her life with, and the latter came in the form of Dean Winchester.

In the back corner of the bar, at a table with a fake candle, she sat cradling a drink in her hands. Strings of lights hung on the walls and ceilings above five pool tables, four of which were occupied by loud, though respectful, groups of people. Damian droned on about something regarding work, a story he'd told about five times already, but she hadn't the spoons to bring that up.

She kept herself entertained by watching and listening to the people around her, noticing right away as two men walked through the door. The first man's eyes shot straight to the bar, his feet following suit. That's a man with a purpose, she thought. The other let his eyes scan the entire building along with the people in it before he'd even set foot inside. When his eyes ping ponged back to center, they landed on Y/N's, and in an instant, they read her story.

The man smiled, following the tall one to the bar. They ordered and sat to talk for a while, the man's eyes floating from the pool tables to the man in front of him and on occasion, her. She couldn't be sure what Damian was saying, but she was certain about the sneaky glances she shared with the mysterious man in the leather jacket.

"Dean," she heard the other say in an attempt to gain his attention. Dean, she thought, how fitting.

"Are you listening?" Damian hissed, waving a hand so close to her face she thought he might hit her.

Her eyes darted and narrowed at him, body jerking back. "Of course I am," she glared.

Dean's eyes burned like lasers into her until she returned the glance, his brows turned down in worry.

"Bullshit," Damian scoffed. His voice raised, "what did I just say then?"

She looked back to him, "something about work," she said and sighed.

He scooted the chair back, the metal scraping against the floor in a shriek. His shoulder tensed as he mildly shouted, "you know, I was fucking right about you. You have absolutely no respect whatsoever, do you? I oughta teach you a fucking lesson."

Dean, overhearing the conversation, shook his head and gulped down the last of his beer. He let the glass slam against the table on it's way down and when that wasn't enough to get that asshole to step back, he walked over to the vacant pool table, dramatically clearing his throat. He looked overa t her table, and then at the groups around him.

In a tone of authority he attracted the attention of the nearby groups, asking for one brave enough to take him in a bet. Sneaking a glance at her table, he hid his gaze by scratching his jaw as his head turned.

Damian distractedly looked over at the table, making eye contact with Dean before scoffing. Dean nodded at him with a smile, but Damian turned his attention towards Y/N. He relaxed his upper body, leaning his elbows on the table. Shaking his head, he muttered under his breath, "what a tool."

She masked her chuckle in a scoff, uttering a soft, "yeah."

He began talking about something unrelated, as if the last five minutes simply vanished into thin air, but she was just grateful the heat of his words were taken off of her. She looked over at the pool table, Dean's eyes already on her. His eyebrow raised in a question, and she flashed a quick, small smile in response.

He nodded, slipping the pool stick between his fingers to line up a shot. His eyes remained on hers as he bent down, aiming and missing. The group bellowed a laugh, and Dean's opponent lined up to make quite a few shots, ending the game with a sunken 8-ball. The men cheered, gaining the attention of Dean's main goal for an opponent, Damian.

"Ah, better luck next time," one of the men said to Dean through laughter, patting him on the back.

"Guess so," Dean smiled, looking at his feet.

Damian chuckled smugly, leaning forward to pull his wallet from his pocket. Y/N looked him over as he counted the wad. Stuffing the wallet back into his pocket, he gulped some of his beer, eyebrows hopping as he told her to "watch this", and set the drink down. She jumped a bit, gripping onto his wrist to pull him back into the chair.

She knew a hustler when she saw one. Damian didn’t like to be wrong, and he certainly didn’t like to lose. He ripped his arm away and leaned down.

His pitch was high and voice soft, as if he was talking to a toddler, “this is easy money, baby. Did you not see that guy just get his ass kicked?” he laughed again, licking his lips before looking over at Dean. Looking back at Y/N he spoke even quieter, winking, “drinks are on him tonight.”

“But,” she protested, but he was already halfway to Dean who stood chalking the tip of his pool stick.

“You up for a game?” he asked, "500."

“Oh, I don’t know,” Dean said, patting his wallet. “I just lost a good chunk of change, I-”

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes, resting her chin in her hand to watch the game.

“Tell you what,” Damian said, a tight, smug grin on his face, “you win, it’s double,” he shrugged, “I win, it’s just 300.”

Dean looked up at the ceiling for a split second, tilting his head while he contemplated the offer. His lips swished from side to side and then he smiled, “deal,” he said, holding out his hand.

By the time solids were wiped out and the 8 ball was left, Dean smiled at Y/N when Damian's back turned, slipping the pool stick between his fingers to line up a shot.

Eyes moving to Damian, he grinned, “8 ball, corner pocket,” then glanced over at Y/N. Damian just stood with his arms crossed. Dean kept his eyes on her as he bent down to aim and sunk the 8 ball.

He stood slowly, barely concealing his smile. Y/N felt a smile creep onto her face as well, dropping it when Damian threw the pool stick onto the table in a tantrum.

“This is bullshit,” he grunted, flipping around and marching over to Y/N. Stunned, Dean froze until Damian gripped her wrist, digging his nails into her skin as he yanked her so hard she nearly tripped over her own steps.

“Let’s get out of here,” he grumbled, taking his anger out on her wrist as he tugged.

“Hey!” Dean shouts, waving a hand as he shuffled sideways to get out from behind the pool table, “wait!”

Damian’s grip felt like a growing fire the more she tried to wriggle free. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Dean running up at them just as Damian whirled around.

He yanked her into him. "Stop fighting me,” he said through his teeth, bearing down on each word.

She loosened up, letting him keep his firm grip on her arm, but she was knocked back by Dean shoving Damian. He stood between them. Only surprised by the interaction, he charged at Dean, which only served as more of a pack to the punch Dean threw at him. He was knocked back with another punch, landing on the floor.

Dean shook out his fist, taking a few breaths before turning to face her. With his hand resting on her shoulder, he bowed his head to look into her eyes, “you okay?”

Shocked, she just nodded, her mouth agape as she looked at Damian. She looked back at Dean with next to no expression before running over and falling at Damian’s side.

Dean felt his insides squirm and weaken, like he’d just reached the end of a rollercoaster. He was sickened by the thought of how he treated her, and for her to just run to his side hurt him. But she surprised him when she reached into Damian’s pocket for his wallet, ripping out the 600 in bills before throwing the wallet onto his back. Dean chuckled a bit, but stowed it when she turned around to jog back to him.

"I believe he owes you this,” she shrugged, handing it over.

He laughed, looking down as he grabbed it. Stuffing it into his back pocket, he looked up at her, head tilted. “Dean,” he smiled, holding his hand out.

“Y/N,” she said, shaking his hand.

Dean rolled over, wrapping his arm around Y/N in the bed of his motel room. She flinched a bit, but hummed when she came to her senses. Smiling, she rotated to face him, tracing the outline of his tattoo with her fingers.

"Nice tat," she cooed, and he couldn't quite tell if she was being sarcastic or not.

"Thanks," he said, banking on sarcasm being the safest bet, "it's to keep me from being possessed by demons," he said with a lift of his eyebrows.

Her eyes bounced between his before she busted out in a laugh, "right," she played along. Her attention shifted, "and the gun is for?"

Confused, he glanced over to the nightstand, gun placed next to the clock.

He chuckled, "you don't want to know."

She pulled her head back a bit, but half of her lips turned into a smile, "mysterious," she laughed. "What are you, a drifter with a gun collection?"

"Something like that," he smiled, dipping his head to her neck, pecking small, soft kisses.

She'd never felt like she was the focus of another's attention until her time with Dean, and perhaps that was dangerous, but in the moment it was everything to her. He kissed her like he'd been kissing her for years, like he knew just how to get her going. She didn't want the night to come to an end, but with the sun bleeding through the curtains of his motel room, she knew she'd have to say goodbye soon.

"Are you a criminal?" she blurted out. In a laugh, she added, "I just can't take the suspense anymore."

He laughed, "in some states," with a small nod before rolling over to sit at the edge of the bed.

It was hard to keep up with him, to tell when he was being serious and when he was being sarcastic. She just smiled, sitting up to gather her clothes.

When dressed, she found a pen. Reaching for his arm, she rolled up the sleeve to his flannel, smiling before writing her name and phone number on his forearm.

"When you're in town next, or not too far away, call me."

---

Dean had never done this for anyone before, but something with this connection was different. It was like she saw him for what he really is under everything on the outside. They'd met up at least fifteen times since the first night, and he had yet to figure out what exactly drew him to her.

She knew exactly what she liked about him, though. The bad boy, criminal type that treated her like she should be treated, even if they were just hooking up. The kind with a soft side that bled from him in moments he least expected it to, moments where he was really trying to show just how ‘bad’ of a guy he is.

"Let me come with you," she said in a rushed breath, gripping onto his arm before he could turn for the car, "whatever you do, I want to join. I don't have a life here," she relaxed her arms, letting her hand fall from his and back to her side. "Not anymore, at least," she said, softly shaking her head.

"Y/N, it's not safe," he said softly. Taking her with him meant confessing to all the lies he's told her, unraveling the truth about what he does; saving people, hunting things, the family business. He rolled his eyes at himself.

She gripped onto his arm again, "I'm serious, Dean," she said firmly, her eyes piercing into his, "please."

Dean glanced at Sam, who gave him a look she could only translate to meaning ‘no’, but then it softened, and he looked at her. Dean just nodded, opening the door for her. Dean knew that she would learn soon enough why tagging along was a bad idea, and she’d leave when she knew what was good for her. He’d learn to never let anyone in the way he let her in, but until then he’d enjoy the company of anyone other than Sam. Y/N was just excited for a new adventure, whatever that may come with. Her mama would be disappointed, but all reason aside, she just loved the guy.

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doorsclosingslowly · 3 years ago

Text

This Is the Time of Our Great Undoing

“Do you think Kaz could fuck someone in a full-body bondage suit?” Jesper whispers, more to distract Inej from what’s on the screen than anything else, but still—the idea won’t leave Kaz alone.

5.8k | modern AU | Kaz[/&]Jesper, part of a polycule

content note: despite the premise this is about cuddling, gambling addiction and existing during climate change

It starts the way most things used to start: with all of them piled onto ancient couches on the fifth floor of an otherwise empty building on the edge of Amsterdam, also called the Slat. These days, it’s harder and harder to get everyone together. Nina and Matthias are both in Rotterdam now, doing associate degrees that Kaz doesn’t care about. Wylan’s got room and board and a plan for the future and a social worker, and she already disapproves of Jesper as a bad influence so it’s not worth it, generally, for Wylan to come back to his old squat and hang out with the whole gang of ex- and current reprobates.

And Inej—fuck, Kaz wishes she was just a little less righteous, less concerned with how the world’s going to shit. She’s faced off against more cops now than he has, probably. Water cannons and charging horses and riot shields. She knows criminals all over the country, Europe, probably the world—but they’re the kind of criminals with morals and worthless targets, with bandanas and badly sewn patches, who will talk about Federici and sea levels and the Invisible Committee and use value if you don’t leave quickly enough. The kind that live on trees, as Inej’s going to do in a few days. The kind that don’t make any money. The kind that have even less of a chance of making it out of a job alive and free than Kaz does—and with the enemies she’s talking about, politicians, banks, Shell, he doesn’t even know if he’ll be able to extort her out of jail next time.

For now, though, they’re all together in the big room, watching some ancient movie on the massive 8k screen with mood lighting, etc, the works, that’s in the Slat courtesy of some MediaMarkt manager desperate enough to save her marriage to bribe Kaz into silence, but not so desperate she wouldn’t fuck two other women in the breakroom.

It’s impossible to know whose fault it is that they’re currently watching Pulp Fiction.

Kaz is inclined to blame Jesper, because most things are his fault in some way or another, and he’s supplying the login data for an old uni flatmate’s streaming accounts, which is where they found that film, front and centre, paid to rent until tomorrow. Who even pays for films? If that’s the calibre of people they send to university these days, it’s no wonder the planet’s going to the dogs. Jesper, though, swears he wanted to watch some goofy horror flick, so he’s splitting the blame with Nina and Matthias: Matthias, for growing up in a cult and having never heard of what’s apparently a film classic and mentioning that to Nina, who of course cooed over her boyfriend and insisted on it, even though actually none of them have watched it before either so it’s not like it’s an important cinematic milestone. Or just not b horror, crime, some weird arthouse thing with complicated morality… It’s weird and has crime but there is nothing to figure out, so Kaz is bored. It’s Inej’s fault, because instead of vetoing it she said yes, just because she has a heart-shaped soft spot for Nina. Wylan could have done his oh I’m still an innocent barely-two-years not a minor this looks bloody thing, and Kaz might not even have mocked him this time if he'd insisted on Jesper’s pick instead just so he could hide in Jesper’s arms for the most minor decapitations.

Jesper’s been talking through the whole film. Kaz got used to that a long time ago: the landing and failing of small non-sequitur jokes like rain against the window, whispered to Wylan who’s cuddled into his side on the left, or to Inej who’s burrowing under Jesper’s outstretched right arm. Sometimes Jesper thinks a quip will land better with Nina, so he shouts it over to the futon where she and Matthias are always just shy of engaging in heavy petting, and the really mean and bleak jokes he saves for when he’s made eye contact with Kaz.

Now, though: in this scene Mr Motorcycle and the gang boss are captured in a pawnshop and dragged into the basement, and Gang Boss gets raped. Inej’s hand is white-knuckled on Jesper’s arm, and Jesper’s talking non-stop. He’s talking about the flooding, and asking whether Inej thinks Doggerland will happen again but here, soon, you can never know when the scientists are so wrong about the speed of climate change, and apparently it all flooded in a day because something broke off Norway, and then he abruptly pivots to some demo where he bashed in a shop window and got new shoes, and then if she’s got dates for more street fights because then he’s in but please, don’t trick me into another book club, I don’t care about why the cops are bad I already know I just want to hit them—not topics Kaz would have chosen, exactly, but he’s rooted in his red leather armchair off to the side, not even able to hold her for comfort, not like Jes does now, and why didn’t they think to look up the content beforehand, why did they assume it was tame just because it’s an old film—and then, long after it’s over, Jesper idly asks, “Do you think Kaz could fuck someone in a full-body bondage suit?”

Wylan groans. Kaz wishes a sound existed that could express his own current emotion.

“You saw the guy, right?” Jesper turns over to Wylan, while still stroking Inej’s hair. “There was no skin on him. All leather. And that’s the trigger, so—might solve all our problems. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before!”

“I don’t see a huge difference,” Nina snipes. “Kaz is already in all-black, with gloves. Though I guess, that hood would hide his atrocious haircut…”

“Stop being so mean to Kaz, Jesper,” Matthias mumbles. “Although he does deserve it.”

Kaz downs his entire glass of vodka. When he tops his drink up for the second time—he exed the first refill right in the kitchen—he brings the bottle and some maracuja juice over and refills Jesper’s, too, because Jesper’s been anxiously glancing over at him, every moment he thinks Kaz has turned his head away, since he shot his stupid mouth off and actually, it’s—Kaz isn’t thinking about it now but it just might—maybe it could work—well, he fills up the glass to stop Jesper from worrying himself into yet another mental crisis and also so he can bend over Jesper’s ear and whisper lovingly, “I’m going to make the leather for the suit out of your skin.”

“We should look for an Ed Gein film next!” Jesper laughs, much more brightly than the joke warrants, and Kaz refuses to interpret the look on his face.

By the time Kaz gets back to the Slat, on a day roughly three months later, it’s long past two in the morning. He’s in a foul mood: of course Haskell won’t even reimburse him for the taxi he had to take because he missed the last metro. Of course he just told Kaz to take a night bus. Haskell won’t even apologize for the last minute details he wants included in his casino’s tax returns. The old man’s not even mentally capable of understanding the extra work he caused. Yes, Kaz is good at filing taxes creatively, exactly tailored for the business to pay nothing whatsoever and meticulous enough to never arouse any suspicion, but that takes work. Things have to balance. Haskell thinks Kaz just has to press a button, and that he’s paying Kaz so he doesn’t have to press the button himself, and that it’s only worth it because he doesn’t want to sully his mind with ‘the Spreadsheet Program’. Which is also why he’s loaning Kaz out to a friend of his, which he just remembered to mention today, for that guy’s mattress store slash money laundering business, so that’s even more work for nowhere near enough money.

Sometimes, Kaz amuses himself with the idea of sneaking in small ‘mistakes’. Enough for even the stupidest tax official to unravel the whole sordid scheme and land Haskell in prison for tax fraud, whereupon he’ll also be discovered to be involved with drug smuggling, blackmail, murder, … none of which will ever trace back to Kaz. But the one time he was livid enough to try, nothing happened. He’ll never manage to plunge the true depths of stupidity of an average bureaucrat, apparently, and is thus doomed to failure.

And anyway, it’s good regular money for little work. Usually. He can’t really complain. Especially not to his friends, because three are going legit, Inej will just rant about the uselessness of defrauding the Belastingdienst for a few measly million euros a year when the world’s being set on fire every day, and Jesper’ll tell him to quit, again, because they live in a squat after all. It’s not like they’re paying rent. Jesper’s never heard of forethought, or gratitude. He doesn’t know how many of his bills Kaz has paid off.

Kaz’s leg aches after the climb to the third story. Two more to go. As usual, right at this point he remembers the joke Jesper made eight months ago about fooling someone into installing a stair lift, and as usual, he dismisses it in disgust after two more steps. Stomps harder on the next flight of stairs, with grim satisfaction at the shooting pains in his knee. He doesn’t need help. He doesn’t need to move to a house with a working lift, and he doesn’t need a stair lift, either. Fuck you, Jesper. I’m the actual functional adult with a job in this household. I don’t need a stair lift.

That’s what he would throw at Jesper’s head, but it’s nearly three o’clock, and Jesper’s probably out. Over at Wylan’s, if he knows what’s good for him, but given how evasive he’s been all week, how manic… Inej’s still camping high up in some forest to save the frogs or something, but no news there is supposed to be good news. If the cops had chucked her off a tree house, it would have been on tv. About everything else, he can worry after he’s slept.

He doesn’t bother with the lights in his room. The streetlight coming in through his open curtains is more than enough, and anyway, he found the empty tenement he turned into the Slat five years ago, fully moved down here three years ago when he met Jesper, and he knows every single thing in his room by heart. The antique dresser he made Jesper and Matthias carry up with the threat of cutting off a finger for every scratch it received is next to the door, the place where he leaves his gloves and wallet and phone and cane. The coat rack beside it, where the hangers for his suit are, then the hamper, and at the foot of his bed the long black linen nightgown that Jesper’s never, ever allowed to see, and—

There’s a black shape on top of his bedcovers, Kaz realizes when he’s pulled on his nightgown.

Kaz takes his cane back. He hasn’t made any new enemies recently as far as he’s aware—none who know his name—but he was careless, brutal, desperate when he was a lone kid getting by on the streets, and those victims had gangs, families, business partners. Just because no-one’s ever traced little Kazzie the bastard rabid dog back to the Slat-that-wasn’t-then doesn’t mean a thing. The fact that the friends he started collecting press-ganged him into doing more behind-the-scenes embezzlement and fewer turf wars because ‘they’re watching us, they have all our faces and fingers and DNA on file and cameras everywhere and did you hear about that informer having kids with the activist he spied on?’ or the more pragmatic, ‘If you don’t stop fucking up your leg on purpose I’m going to send you to a kink party you fucking masochist’…

None of it means safety, not really, and Kaz is glad he’s alone now. They’ve all moved on, and even Jes… well, if he’d been here tonight then the whole squat would be trashed because Jesper doesn’t come quietly. And now, if he comes back to find Kaz gone or his throat slit… Jesper’s going to fucking collapse. He’s been one phone call away from going hysteric all week. Who knows, though—he has Wylan now, and maybe it’ll be the push he needed, the path none of them could ever find, to get his life back on a solid track.

All of that is presupposing that Kaz loses, of course.

And he does not intend to.

The weird black ninja on Kaz’ bed hasn’t reacted yet. They’re curled into a foetal position and they’re snuffling, quietly, because they’re asleep.

Not even assassins dressed up as b movie henchmen expect the toll taken by Per Haskell’s technical naïveté and utter disrespect for Kaz’ work-life balance, apparently. He got back home so late he missed his own murder. Well, then. Kaz hasn’t tortured anyone in two years and he may be out of practice, but the films he’s been forced to watch in the meantime have, if anything, made him more creative. He’ll teach them not to underestimate the brutality of Kaz Brekker, even when he’s moved up a few rungs in the ladder of Amsterdam’s underworld and landed a desk job.

He’ll—but Kaz hasn’t had to stalk silently towards his prey in two years, either. He’s underestimated the extent to which his lame leg’s gotten worse.

Also, someone’s pulled a box out from under his bed.

Kaz stumbles, and in the split-second before he catches himself on the edge of the mattress he wonders—will they have a gun? I can still bash them in the head before they fire, I haven’t gone that soft—and then the would-be assassin stretches out their lanky body as they wake up.

With their arms raised over their head, Kaz can see the bright white light of the street lanterns outside reflect off the gleaming black PVC fabric they’re wearing. Sleek and skin-tight, no ornamentation except a few steel buttons glinting at the crotch, and a full-cover leather hood over their face adorned with one-euro-sized rivets at the jaw, the forehead, the bridge of the nose, the large buckle around the neck. More buckles, at the back of the head and hanging off the right side at eye-height. The open silver zipper at the mouth reflects the streetlight, too, as does the padlock that hangs off it.

Oh no. Kaz knows that mask. Not even shoving it all the way back to the furthest corner under his bed allowed him to forget the way it looks.

Oh no.

Jesper yawns loudly. “Morning, boss. Evening. One of those. I thought you were finishing work early?”

“Haskell had some last-minute revisions to his tax returns.” Kaz sighs. “Don’t cook tomorrow. I’ll be out late for the whole next week—don’t expect me before three am. New client. I need to create a whole year’s documentations from scratch.”

“Just fuck him over, boss. He doesn’t appreciate you, and you don’t need the money. We live in a fucking squat.”

Sweet, financially illiterate nuisance Jesper, who probably doesn’t even know what that awful mistake he’s dressed in right now cost. The thing he’s dressed in. Which was hidden under Kaz’ bed. In Kaz’ room. Which they are inside right now. “You broke into my room,” Kaz rasps. “Again.”

“You know, Kaz,” Jesper replies with poorly feigned innocence, ”this thing is a little big for you. Fits me pretty well, though.”

“I told you I don’t keep cash under my bed. I told you that, the last time you tried to steal from me to pay off your gambling debts. I like my room organized as it is, and so I don’t keep any money here. Not under the bed, not in the wardrobe. And you won’t find any of my actual caches, because I’m smarter than you.”

“You’ve lied to me before.”

“You’ve stolen from me before. Remember last year? Remember you made Inej cry? I though you were clean. I thought you promised Wylan, when you asked him out, that you were done gambling. Maybe we all had too much trust in you.”

Jesper pulls his PVC-clad shoulders up to his en-leathered ears: a ridiculous sight, and Kaz doesn’t know what’s worse. That a bondage sex slave could actually look this dejected and humiliated and alone, or that Jesper does. He’s almost ready to call off the assault. It took a while to figure out, but as usual Inej was probably right, because she’s been researching and discussing the mental health industrial complex in general, and the traumatizing nature of modern life, with her comrades. Even though Kaz is neither the kind of person to touch people with kid gloves, and nor does he like thinking of Jesper as someone who needs that kind of handling—when Jesper’s in a shame spiral this deep then any criticism will drive him even deeper into the arms of the next casino. So the adrenaline and dopamine can wipe out everything else, or to feed his self-loathing even more by being exactly the person he’s terrified people think he is—Jes couldn’t quite explain it himself during the Intervention, except that everything is too much sometimes, even more too much and faster than usual.

He’s a pitiful creature. Kaz almost has pity. Then, though—

“It’s not working, boss. I know why you’re reminding me I fucking relapsed, again, and tried to steal from my best friend, again, and that I’m going to beg you to lie to Wy, again, but I still haven’t forgotten I’m wearing a bondage suit that you’ve been keeping under your bed for—two months now, is it?”

It’s just one month, actually. The manufacture and shipping took six whole weeks.

Two can play that game. Kaz might be very slightly embarrassed, but Jesper’s relapsed into the combination of addiction, theft and deceit that destroyed his life three years ago, and nearly did so again, two-and-a-half years ago and one year ago. “Careful. I haven’t even yet agreed to lie to Wylan, Jesper. About your problem. That you promised you’d tell him about.”

“Also, I notice it fits me, not Inej. Not Nina. Not Matthias. Not even Haskell, I bet. Me. Almost like it was made for me.”

Kaz ignores his insinuations. The answer’s obvious, anyway: yes, he did take clothes from the main washing pile in Jesper’s room and measured them. Yes, he used the measurements when he ordered a bondage suit. Yes, that’s creepy. Yes, a decent person would have asked. No, he’s not sorry. Jesper knew who Kaz was when he moved in with him. And it’s not like Kaz is the one who’s really at fault here. If Jesper just stopped gambling, he’d never have found out.

“Even attempted theft is illegal, Jesper. Completed robbery is worse. I cover my tracks, but you… you should be careful what you say now. They’re still looking for whoever robbed that jeweller last year.”

“Inej’s gonna cut off your head if you try. It’s like you never read her hoodies. All cats are beautiful, et cetera, Kaz. Thirteen-twelve. Keep up.”

Sometimes, the only thing that keeps Kaz from tossing Jesper out of the Slat is that Inej hates landlords and landlord-adjacents just as much as the pigs. If only he’d known back when he let the drunk penniless fancy uni boy who jumped into a fight to defend Kaz from some thugs—a fight Kaz would have won regardless—if only he’d known, before he let Jesper crash on his floor for a night or two, where all of this would end. “I’ll never mention anything about tonight again if you don’t either. Forget it. It was a bad idea. A failed plan. That’s all.”

“Without even trying it?”

“I will zip your mouth shut,” Kaz rasps. “I’ll lock it. I’ll throw the key into the harbour. Fuck you.”

Jesper, though, somehow got even mouthier when he put the bondage suit on. Less respectful. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. “Come on, Kaz,” he wheedles. “I put it on, right? So I’m fine with it, if you’re worried. Aren’t you curious? If our places had been reversed—well, if you’d found it in my room you’d have murdered me, so we’re not exactly identical, but still. Come on, sit down next to me. This is—PVC right? Good job choosing me. Inej would hate it. So much plastic.”

“It’s less like skin than leather.”

“Not complaining, Kaz. I have some juice with a straw over there to keep me hydrated in case I sweat like a pig, but I haven’t, yet. I can probably camp out in this for a few more hours.” He tries a patented Jesper I’m flirting in an over the top way to make you laugh which is my flirting style for when I’m genuinely worried about the reaction because this way I can pass off exasperation and mockery as the response I intended look, probably with fluttering eyes, but since Kaz can barely make them out through those open zippers and the rest of his face is a complete mystery, it falls flat. It looks ridiculous, though, so it also works, and Jesper has the nerve of complaining about Kaz’ eight-dimensional chess plans. He’s worse. He’s worse, and animated by Jesper’s ridiculous, familiar movements the bondage suit doesn’t look like a pathetic attempt anymore. Not like the desperation of an emotional cripple. It just looks like Jesper, with an extra layer on his skin. Jesper, probably making a duckface, purring, “Don’t you think I’m sexy?”

Kaz looks away. “Are you serious right now?”

“Of course,” Jesper replies instantly, as if there was never any reason to doubt him. As if he doesn’t blame Kaz for doubting, simultaneously. As if Kaz is allowed to try. To fail. To fuck up, risk hurting him. There is a reason why Kaz never even considered someone else for the suit. “Come on, get on the bed.”

“We have to talk with Inej first. And with Wylan.”

“One-track mind,” Jesper replies, and just like that Kaz is ready to murder him again. “We’re not fucking. We’re not doing more than normal, except maybe touch. We don’t even know yet whether this helps you. I’m not risking it. We’ll just try touching, and if you think it’s triggering, we stop. We’ve got all the time in the world to work up to more. Until this city sinks into the ocean and the grid collapses from heat, which might be tomorrow, so. Or the fascists win.”

“You’ve been listening to Inej.”

“I do try to keep up.”

“Well, stop. Or listen more carefully, until the end, when she gets to the doomerism is the opiate of the masses part.”

“Just get on the bed, Kaz.”

Kaz puts his bent good knee onto the mattress and pulls himself over to Jesper. The fabric of his linen smock rubs against his heated skin: not like corpses, not like that, not like Jordie and he won’t even think about him or this will be over but—it just feels like his own familiar coarse age-softened nightgown that Jesper hasn’t even made fun of yet, his thin nightgown that in a second will be one of only two layers between him and Jesper.

He rolls over so he can sit down next to Jesper, at first. Daringly, he leans an arm against his best—well, they’ll figure that out later.

“Okay?” Jesper asks. He has to crane his head a lot to look through the thin eye slits of his bondage mask at Kaz’ face, and even then he’s probably mostly seeing the gleaming teeth of the eyehole zippers. And still he leans forward forty-five degrees and twists his torso and neck so he can look up into Kaz’ face, carefully keeping the arm that’s touching Kaz as motionless as possible, because he’s being careful with Kaz. Kaz has told him a thousand times he hates being coddled. He’s not a poor little abused dog, he’s a vicious murderer who destroyed his leg and his ability to be close to people while he was murdering, that’s all he ever told Jesper. That lie. And yet—even if he’s only fooling himself because this scene is so patently ridiculous, and the psych ward he got sent to once for the crime of rough sleeping while underage would stamp every single thing about what they’re doing as deeply unhealthy, and he can’t see Jesper’s soft concerned expression under the hood… Whatever it is, Kaz feels warm all over. He feels good. Safe.

Jesper can tell, apparently. “Want to touch my chest? Or climb into my lap?”

Kaz moves over, carefully smoothing down his nightgown before he sits down on Jesper, angled so he can lean with his left arm pressed against Jesper’s chest. It’s safer, somehow, than giving him the back, but perhaps someday…

Jesper loosely wraps his arms around Kaz. They’re just there, barely touching, the hands lax on top of Kaz’ right knee. You can leave at any time, they say, I’ll let go as soon as you’re uncomfortable, and Kaz would have known that regardless. Jesper’s never usually this still, unless he’s lost in concentration: and Kaz, who’s seen how gambling can destroy someone’s life, how it is currently destroying someone’s life, would still bet everything he has ever owned that Jesper’s concentrating on every single aspect of Kaz’ body language right now.

It’s not necessary, though. Those hands are gleaming black PVC. They don’t look or feel anything like Kaz’ memories.

He drops his own naked right hand onto Jesper’s gloved one. Joins them. Anchors Jesper. “How much do you owe this time, Jes?”

A beat. Jesper’s face drops down towards Kaz’ lap. Trying to hide his shame, and he’s forgotten that he’s wearing a full bondage mask, that Kaz can barely make out his eyes through the slits of the zippers. If he’s trying to deny everything, Kaz will just beat it out of him. He’s done it before. A year ago, when it was bad, but Jesper promised he got it under control. But Jesper’s promises were never worth much, not for this. If they were, they’d never have met.

“Four grand.”

“To?”

“Tom Geels. One of Big Bol’s old friends—”

“So he put you up to—”

“I was already playing when he walked up to me, Kaz,” Jesper grinds out. Aware that he could save himself from at least a little of Kaz’ disappointment by casting Bollinger as the tempter. Simultaneously aware that Kaz promised to feed Bollinger to a marine propeller last year if he ever took Jesper gambling again. Noble, to try and save Bollinger’s life—or to save Kaz from committing another murder—not that either of them deserves his loyalty. “I’ll pay you back, Kaz. I’ll have the money. Give me—give me half a year, Da’s still sending me—sending me rent money, Christ, he’s—I’ll save it. No, you’ll get it straight as soon as I get it, and in six months, you’re paid back in full. I promise.”

“We’ll figure it out. I have some jobs I could use you on. Nothing big. Intimidation, mostly. Some breaking, some entering. Boring stuff, not even worth mentioning to Wylan I should think.”

“Thank you.” Jesper’s forgotten all his restraint. He’s kissing Kaz’ forehead, or rather kissing the inside of his mask that’s pressed against Kaz’ forehead. He’s wrapped Kaz tightly in his long bondage arms too, painfully twisting Kaz’ shoulder and elbow and wrist because Kaz is still holding onto his hand. It’s that welcome pain, and the texture of the bondage suit that Kaz still isn’t completely used to, that keeps him from breaking Jesper’s nose. Keeps him—he isn’t back in the North Sea. He isn’t with Jordie. He should be, but he isn’t, and even if it comes…

Inej taught him about grounding. None of them trust the system as far as they can throw it, so she didn’t send him to a shrink when they started dating, unlike he feared, but—she said they helped her, those grounding exercises she found on the internet, and so Kaz has been diligently practicing breathing techniques and focusing his awareness on details of the present moment. Five things he can see: well, it’s dark, but the way what little streetlight gets through reflects off the folds of the suit on Jesper’s bowed stomach is quite interesting. His own knees. His hand, still clutching Jesper’s. The cane, on the floor. The floor. Five things he can hear: early morning traffic, Jesper’s breath, Jesper trying not to sob out loud in relief or shame or a mixture of both, the rustling of fabric, the squeaking of fabric. Five things he can feel: The old ache of his leg, always. Jesper’s hand. Jesper’s thighs. The hard buttons at the flap over Jesper’s crotch, digging into his side.

Somehow, Jesper’s noticed his shift in focus. At least he’s stopped crying now. “You know, you could have just asked how big I am if you wanted a suit with a dick pouch,” he teases in a voice that almost manages to sound happy. “I wouldn’t even have been suspicious.”

“Just because you have no boundaries, Jes, doesn’t mean I have to sink down to meet you at your level.”

Jesper takes a big breath. To forestall the whole Who bought this bondage suit argument Kaz elbows him in the stomach, hard. Once Jesper’s done coughing—a wriggling movement against Kaz’ side that he’s never even felt before—he mumbles something else, though. “I texted Da my new number. He called last week. Wanted to know how I was doing,” and oh. That makes sense. That’s what did it. “Apparently I’m graduating in seven months, according to that fake schedule you made me so I could keep my lies straight. He wants to come to the graduation. He asked me whether I have a job lined up.”

“I could hire somebody to fake you a degree,” Kaz offers. This should be Inej’s job. She shouldn’t be off somewhere, saving grasshoppers. She should be here. She’s the one who tried to talk Jesper into coming clean to his father, last year. All Kaz knows, all he has ever done, is to keep digging, and it’s worked for him. So far. “It’s all the rage now I hear. Cheap, too. No-one will find out. Just don’t become a politician in Germany.”

Jesper sighs. The air kisses the back of Kaz’ neck. “I don’t even care anymore. I could have a degree, or not, it all doesn’t matter. Universities are a scam to regulate economic class relations anyway. I don’t know that I can keep lying forever, or get a job, just so I don’t have to tell Da I betrayed him. Because nothing matters anyway. We’re collectively throwing the future down the drain. It’s not like anyone needs another mechanical engineer when we hit four degrees. I don’t know what we need. I just know everything I know is pointless.”

“I’m sure Inej can hook you up, if you want to blow up a coal power plant.”

“But what about you, then? What would you do?”

“I could have you kidnapped,” Kaz says. That’s not what Jesper meant. Kaz refuses to think about what Jesper meant. “Fake your death. Colm will be so relieved when they find you that he won’t even care you failed all your studies so you could become a live-in human blow-up doll.”

“That’ll only keep Da happy for a year at most and you know it.”

“Well, then Colm’s just going to have to get used to it. Get used to you, like we did. Real, annoying, good-for-nothing directionless screw-up Jesper.”

Jesper rubs his leathered cheek against the crown of Kaz’ head. “Fuck you. Thanks.”

Kaz runs his fingers over the squeaky PVC on Jesper’s forearms, steeling himself before he whispers idly against Jesper’s neck, “If Inej’s right about the warming and the sea level over the next decades, it won’t just be refugees from the south we’re letting drown, people it’s easy to lock out. Maybe you’re right about the Doggerland thing, and we all get flooded.” He swallows. The words are high up in his throat, trying to spew out. “Then it won’t just be one stupid child with a stupid family going out boating in the North Sea when there’s a storm coming. Not just that one kid thrown out of a sinking boat nearly drowning and clinging to his brother’s corpse. Your blow-up doll skills will be in high demand if everyone else gets triggered by skin contact too.”

Jesper, miraculously, reveals a talent Kaz didn’t even know he possessed: he shuts up. He ghosts his gloved hands over Kaz’ shoulders, and then he starts carding his fingers through Kaz’ hair. Kaz can feel the static electricity building up, the crackles and the safety, and then he realizes his eyes have drifted shut. He realizes he doesn’t know how long Jesper’s been petting him.

“Take off your hood,” he mumbles.

“Kaz?”

“Take it off. Scuttle over so your head’s on the pillow.”

Jesper obeys, like Kaz always knew he would. He looks up at Kaz with something that might be confusion but might also be—trust and deep joy and more, something Kaz can’t quite admit anymore now he’s in his bed, and Kaz puts his head down on his chest. His legs will still fit, and this way, he has the squeaky PVC right where he needs it. Squeaky, rhythmically rising warm dry plastic under him. The exact opposite of a waterlogged corpse.

“I don’t have time to call you an ambulance when you get into a bondage suit erotic asphyxiation incident, just so you know. I have a full schedule for today, remember. I’ll be at Haskell’s until after midnight. I have to break Bollinger’s thumbs. My alarm is at seven. Turn it off and I’ll send you to Colm in bite-sized pieces,” Kaz rasps, and then, with a movement that no-one would call timid if they wanted to keep their tongue attached, wraps his arms around Jesper. “You’ve kept me awake for two hours, so be a good pillow. If I kick you off the bed while I’m dozing, remember. This is your fault.”

#jesper fahey #kaz brekker #kaz x jesper #dimtraces makes things #shadow and bone #shadow & bone

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