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btswrckd · 4 years ago

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Hunting a Hybrid VI

Black Panther!Hybrid Jungkook x Fem!Reader

Summary: Four years after it’s made illegal to acquire hybrids as pets, you’re approached by the daughter of your former employer to hunt down one that had been gifted to her

Warnings: violence, mentions of past abuse, mentions of blood, slight fluff, angst, poorly written smut

A/N: It’s here! I apologize for taking so long and truthfully, this chapter isn’t as well edited as I wanted it to be, but it’s been so long since I updated and the longer I waited, the more guilty I felt for not getting on my own ass and continue writing. I actually wrote more than this but it’s not polished enough for me to add on. Anyways I hope you guys enjoy!

Oh, and the songs I listened to while writing were Heaven Help Me by RAIGN, Inside of Me by RAIGN, the Eric Lee Gravity Remix of Unsteady by X Ambassadors, and Walk Through the Fire by Zayde Wolf

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The wet smell of dirt invaded your nostrils, making you scrunch up your nose in discomfort. Allergies were a bitch but Sangchul didn’t sympathize with your stuffy nose and pounding headache. A sharp hiss escaped you as your grandfather tightened the blindfold around your head with more force than necessary. The added pressure against your temple made your eye twitch and your fingers curl into tight fists.

“The comfort and ease of having all of your senses is a privilege, not a right. Some people have all of them, some people only have a few and must learn to adapt to the world around them.” Sangchul rasped as he stepped in front of you. “You may have all of them but what happens when some of the most important ones are taken away? Come at me.”

The urge to roll your eyes was great but what was the point when he couldn’t see you do it? Defying Sangchul was not a smart decision and years of punishment for the smallest of things should have taught you to know better. But defying him also gave you a sense of pride knowing that no matter how deep his claws ran, it wasn’t enough to have complete and total control over you.

You huffed and lunged toward his voice but found yourself landing flat on your face. He was quick for an old bastard but he’d also had more training and experience than you did. You stood slowly and listened for the barest hint of where Sangchul may be but so far the only thing that caught your ear was your own heavy breathing. Birds chirped, the wind whipped against the trees, leaves fell to the ground, and somewhere a twig snapped in two.

You whirled around, thrusting your fist into what you hoped was your grandfather’s face but he gripped your wrist tight and used his other hand to land a swift jab to your stomach. It was quick and painful, leaving you to double over and dry heave as you tried to catch your breath. Sangchul was strong despite looking fragile, and that strength was made known every time you trained.

He didn’t give you the time to recover, instead moving to land a heavy kick to your rib cage. You coughed and lifted yourself with one arm while the other wrapped around your torso. The sound of his boot leaving the ground once more gave you the chance to gauge how far he stood from you, but you hadn’t realized how close to a tree he’d cornered you. Your back hit the trunk so hard that it knocked the air from your lungs and Sangchul was shoving his steel toed boot into your windpipe. You gasped for air but he kept you pinned, pressing on your neck until you were sure you’d pass out. One of your hands curled around his ankle, desperate to pry his foot away as your other hand tapped against his calf in surrender so he’d let you go. Neither of which happened.

“You have two free hands, you moron.” Sangchul’s voice was calm as if he weren’t about to choke his granddaughter to death. “You want to live? Then fight.”

Air was becoming minimal and your already obscured vision was beginning to darken. There was always a small part of you that knew your grandfather would some day kill you, but here and now would not be the time. Your nails sunk into the fabric of Sangchul’s pants deep enough to break through to his skin and he hissed as you raked your nails up his calf, slicing and marring the flesh as you went. You weren’t allowed a knife or any kind of weapon when in training so you had to improvise, tearing at Sangchul like a wild animal until he was forced to remove his boot from your neck. You slumped to the ground and gulped in as much air as you could, gasping and coughing until your throat was raw and burning. Prying off the blindfold, you looked up to Sangchul with murderous intent.

“You son of a bitch!” You sobbed, frustration and pent up tears surfacing without your permission. “What the hell is the matter with you?! You were really trying to kill me!”

“I was teaching you, you ungrateful brat!” He roared back, clutching at his injured leg. He lifted the leg of his pants and clenched his jaw at the blood trickling down his calf. “Where is it? Where’s your knife?!”

“I don’t have one,” you panted as tears rolled down your cheeks and you swallowed another sob threatening to wrack your body.

“Bullshit!” Sangchul seethed before limping towards you and crouching down to grab at your already sore throat, forcing you to your feet. “The rules are no weapons during training, Y/N! You expect me to believe this kind of damage was done with just your fucking nails?”

You clawed at his arm, but the lack of strength and breath wasn’t nearly as harmful as the adrenaline filled attack from earlier. You kicked your leg out as a last ditch effort to push him back, landing a surprisingly solid hit to his gut and he stumbled back. You weren’t sure what came over you or what kind of games your own body was playing, but there was enough left in you to tackle him to the ground. Using one knee to pin Sangchul’s bicep to the ground and the other knee to pin his wrist down, you raised your fist high in the air and brought it down across his face three times before he was fighting back.

Sangchul pushed against your frame, rolling atop you and taking hold of your neck once more to keep you in place while he delivered blow after blow to your stomach more so than your face. The metallic taste of blood coating his gums fueled every punch and became the driving force behind the final hit to your cheekbone. He stood over you ruthlessly as you groaned and turned on your side to painfully curl into a ball, blood gathering on the corner of your mouth.

“Your father might not have been as talented as you’ve become at hunting but he was never stupid enough to go against me either. You must get that from your mother.” Sangchul used the back of his hand to wipe away the blood gathered on his own lips and spat globs of it on the ground. “Get up and find your way back to the house or lay out here all night and freeze to death.”

Mud, tears, and blood stuck to the side of your face that now sported a broken cheekbone as you listened to his retreating footsteps. A heavy moan sliced the otherwise quiet air and it took you a moment to realize the sound came from your own mouth. You could already feel the bruises forming on your torso and wondered if he’d broken a couple of ribs. Taking in a sharp breath only made the pain worse and another wail shook the trees, scattering the birds that had witnessed your beating.

You were unaware of how long you stayed on the ground, but it was dark by the time you managed to gather enough resistance to the ache in your bones before carefully standing up. You limped slowly through the desolate woods that only your grandfather could navigate and found yourself at his home almost the next morning. He stood with crossed arms and a cruel smirk on his lips, leaning against the door frame and greeting you casually. He took in your disheveled state, from your torn up pants and shirt to the swollen welt on your cheek.

“Well,” Sangchul chuckled as your body shook with the attempt to keep yourself standing, “I honestly didn’t expect you to make it back. It would take your father days before he recovered from his lessons. Your strength comes from your will to live, Y/N, and your father didn’t have enough of it. Let’s not make yesterday a regular occurrence. I’d hate to have to kill you before you’’ve reached your full potential.”

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“Blood,” Jungkook breathed, dropping his chopsticks to his plate and standing from the couch quickly. His sudden outburst made Seokjin jump in his seat before he was up and trailing closely behind Jungkook.

“Does it smell familiar?” Seokjin questioned. If it was your blood then he wanted to be prepared for how Jungkook may react.

“No,” The panther scrunched his nose up in disgust, “It’s not a lot either, it’s faint. It’s not Y/N’s.”

His senior huffed out a breath of relief, placing his palm against his chest and letting his posture sag a little. The tension in his shoulders was long gone by the time they made it to Taehyung’s apartment, Jungkook stopping at the foot of the door. Seokjin pulled his eyebrows together in confusion before he heard the muffled conversation.

“Holy shit, you should have seen it!” Hoseok was giddly explaining the fight to Taehyung, whose arms were crossed and glare focused solely on you. “She beat the shit out of them! And scared Suho! I mean he pretty much pissed his pants!”

“Hobi,” Yoongi interrupted his friend with a pat on his shoulder, nodding to a decidedly unamused Taehyung and your sheepish face as you bowed your head in apology for getting into another fight. “Maybe spare the details, okay?”

“Oh, right,” Hoseok flushed; he hadn’t meant to get caught up in the excitement but he’d only ever heard stories of your fighting skills and barely caught a glimpse of them when the fight broke out with Xiumin and Kai.

“Are you out of your mind?” Taehyung hissed after Hoseok finally calmed down, bracing his hands on the kitchen table and leaning over to scold you like a parent would a child. “You were only supposed to meet with the detective, not start a brawl with Suho and his men. You said you didn’t need backup so I let you go alone and now you’re in our kitchen covered in someone else’s blood. You know there’s a hybrid upstairs right now who’s probably already caught on to your scent and he’s going to come rushing down here any second to check on you. I don’t need a pissed off panther busting down our front door because you’re too stubborn to let anyone help!”

Yoongi and Hoseok exchanged a surprised glance, neither of them ever hearing Taehyung lecture you as harshly as he had been in that moment. Yoongi whistled low as Hoseok looked to the ground in hopes of avoiding Taehyung’s wrath after expressing how much he admired your skills. Yoongi wasn’t all that surprised to find that you didn’t even bat an eye at your friend; you’ve obviously gone through this argument before.

“Are you done?” You sighed, standing from your seat at the table to head for the sink and run your hands underneath hot water. Scrubbing at the blood staining your knuckles, you hissed at the cuts lining them and cursed at the thought of your hand swelling. “Jungkook isn’t going to come down here. In case you’ve forgotten, he hates me right now so I don’t think you need to worry about that, Tae. It wasn’t like I was looking for Suho, he came to me so what was I supposed to do? Let him and his men beat the hell out of me?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Taehyung argued, “I’m---.”

“It’s not like I’m proud of what happened today,” You interrupted him, shoulders dropping. “It wasn’t exactly fun to use Suho’s trauma against him. You think I don’t remember what I did to him? How twisted I used to be?”

Taehyung opened his mouth to disagree but the beeping of the keypad caught his attention, the door swung open as Seokjin stepped inside with Jungkook behind him. Everyone stilled as the panther came into view, your back still facing him at the kitchen sink.

You could feel Jungkook in the apartment. The pull of his mark was so intense that you were tempted to throw yourself in his arms. You sighed as you felt a headache coming on stronger than usual but addressed Taehyung, “you could have gotten killed that night and I admit, the way I handled it bordered on unhinged. When I hurt Suho, he was just a new hunter looking to make a name for himself and because of what I did...I made him who he is. I’m not proud of it, Taehyung, and running into him today just reminded me of the kind of person I used to be.”

Jungkook’s spine straightened as you finally turned to face him, locking eyes with him as he listened when you said, “I used to be a lot worse than what I am now, Jungkook. You may think Suho is just another idiotic hunter but the truth is that I did that to him. No hunter comes without a story and Suho? I’m his.”

“Y/N,” Seokjin put his hand on the younger man’s shoulder and gave him a comforting squeeze, “now might not be the best time.”

“You marked me, Jungkook,” You continued, stepping away from the sink and towards him, “we’re bonded and that was something you chose for us. You can hate me all you want because let’s be real, I deserve it. But everything I’ve done was to keep myself alive and then when Tae came along...he was my priority.”

Taehyung’s eyes softened when he saw the tears building in your own, threatening to fall with each step you took towards the hybrid. True, when he first met you the friendship was rocky, the ice in your veins making it difficult to gain your trust. He remembered when he finally broke through the wall you’d built and he became the most important person to you. He also remembered the night Suho had made a mistake and you nearly tore his head off for being incompetent.

“And then you,” Your broken whisper to Jungkook made Yoongi’s heart ache at how fragile you seemed compared to a few hours ago, “when you came to me, I knew there was nothing I wanted more than to protect you. So I reined a lot of myself in because I didn’t want to scare you. Last night when I said I’d always be a hunter...it was because I didn’t want to lie to you anymore. Hunting is who I am and yes, I’m scared of what could happen when this is all over. I’m going out of my fucking mind trying to figure out how...who I’ll be if I won’t be a hunter. I’m nothing without it but when you came into my life, being happy was the first thing that came to mind and you were right when you said I didn’t know how to handle it.”

Jungkook hadn’t noticed he’d been crying until you reached out to wipe his tears away, his cheek turning into the palm of your hand and his eyes falling shut. The ache in his chest grew larger the more you spoke, the pain becoming too much until finally, you touched him. Your fingers gliding along his cheek soothed him and the agony in his heart.

You gasped when he pulled you into his chest, arms embracing your frame to his tightly as you buried your face into his shirt. You could feel his hot tears sticking to your skin when he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. His body trembled in your hold much like Suho’s had earlier but this was for an entirely different reason, his gasping breaths flooding you with guilt that you’d made him feel so awful.

“Please stop being mad at me,” You whispered, fingers twisting the fabric of his shirt, “I can’t...be away from you.”

Jungkook could only squeeze you tighter and nod silently. He couldn’t be apart from you either and even though it had only been a day, he felt as though it had been an eternity since he last saw you. His hands slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips to keep you pinned to him. Holding you close felt like he could finally breathe again, his large frame slumping in your arms as his body betrayed him and let everyone in the room know just how exhausted he was.

One of your hands slid up the length of his chest to run your fingers through his long hair while the other wrapped around his broad shoulders. A relieved sigh escaped as you found yourself relaxing in Jungkook’s hold, the tension in your neck finally gone.

“Can I?” Jungkook mumbled into your neck, his lips brushing against the mark and canines tracing along it. The desperate need to freshen his claim clawed at his insides, especially with the faint smell of Suho all over you. Admittedly, he was planning on reclaiming you as it was, pissed at you or not, because he hated the smell of another man on your clothes and skin.

“Not here,” You blushed and tucked your face further into his chest, knowing full well that he could hear the blood rushing to your cheeks.

“Why not?” He nibbled on your skin as if prepping it for the sting of his teeth.

“Because we’re here!” Yoongi interrupted with a gagging noise so convincing that you had to jump back to see if he actually puked all over the floor. His joke, but not really a joke, serving as a reminder that you were not alone in the apartment.

“Dinner?” Seokjin suggested loudly, face flushed and eyes boring into the floor. If anyone in the apartment knew just how intimate marking could get, it was him. He’s married to a hybrid, after all, and the times his wife reclaimed him often led to a night of passion so intense that they would forget they weren’t alone in the house and their daughter was just two doors down.

“God, please!” Taehyung scrambled for his shoes and quickly shoved his feet into them. “I’m starving!”

“You were home all day and you didn’t cook anything to eat?” Hoseok scolded but was just as quick to throw on his own shoes and dash out the door.

“We’ll bring you something back,” Seokjin offered since going out for Jungkook wasn’t an option and figured it would do some good to leave the two of you alone. He shoved Yoongi to the door while the younger struggled against him, reluctant to leave you with Jungkook after your last night alone ended in disaster. “Come on, Yoongi, they’ll be fine.”

“But I—-AGH!” Yoongi yelped as he tripped over his own feet and nearly face planted in his attempt to get away from Seokjin.

When silence filled the apartment, Jungkook went back to laving at your neck with renewed vigor now that there was no one to interrupt. He heard the breathless call of his name but couldn’t really be bothered to fully understand what you were trying to say.

The heat of his palms sliding underneath your shirt left goosebumps on your skin, a shiver running down your spine. His teeth nipped at the sensitive skin of your neck as his hands travelled lower and lower, stopping briefly to squeeze the cheeks of your ass, and cupping the backs of your thighs to lift you onto the kitchen counter. Leaning back on your elbows, you laughed as Jungkook followed and loomed over your entire body.

“As sexy as this is,” You joked and smiled fondly at the twitching of his ears, “the marble of the counter is cold as hell, Kook, so maybe the bedroom…”

Jungkook was hauling you off the counter before you could even finish the sentence, your arms and legs clinging to his body, winding tight as he pressed your back to the wall instead. His eyes lit up that beautiful shade of emerald you came to love, irides slitting in true cat form and his canines elongating. The sharp prick of said canines made you squeak as they pierced your skin, a sound he seemed to take quite a liking to.

“Oh,” You breathed, grinding against his crotch in a desperate search for friction. One hand tangled in his long hair while the other pulled at the button and zipper of his jeans until you were able to snake your hand inside.

Jungkook groaned against your throat at the feel of your fingers wrapping around his length. He pulled away to lean his forehead on your shoulder, fingers gripping your thighs and parting them further to press against you even more. “Tell me, Y/N,” He whispered against your skin, “who is this I smell on you?”

“That answer depends on how pissed off you’ll get,” You laughed sharply at the feel of his claws poking out to grab at the muscle of your thighs possessively. “Judging by your claws, I’d say very.”

He growled out, using one hand to snatch yours from his jeans and pin it to the wall. “It smells like gunpowder.”

Gunpowder?

“Set me down,” You pushed at his chest, rolling your eyes as he grit his teeth and released his grip. With both feet firmly on the ground, you brought a hand up to run through the tangled mess of hair in order to think. “Suho’s guys, maybe?”

“They shot at you?” Jungkook couldn’t stop the growl rumbling from his chest if he tried.

“No, but they must have fired their guns at some point during the day,” You looked at his face and winced at the shadow crossing his features. “Well it’s not like I would have been able to smell it on them. They ambushed me, all I did was fight back.”

“Yes. Against guns.”

“They didn’t have any on them when we fought,” You defended yourself but it really was just a poor excuse for not thinking Suho’s guys would be carrying.

Jungkook sighed heavily and slammed his eyes closed before you could see the green coming forth. “Take a shower, Y/N, get the smell off you, and then we can go to bed.”

A scoff nearly made its way from your throat but he was right. Jungkook was sensitive to gunpowder and any kind of firearms; it stemmed from his less than pleasant encounters with them. You brought your arm up in a mock salute, earning yourself a glare as the words, “Yes, sir!” echoed down the hallway.

“Go,” He bit out and moved away to give you space to walk down the hall. Truthfully, he needed time to gain his bearings after catching a familiar scent. Not the gunpowder, but Suho himself. Suho’s stench had been all over Ye-Jin’s room when he first arrived at the Nam home. Judging by how much the smell lingered, Jungkook could only guess why the hunter spent so much time there. Ye-Jin’s escapades with Suho made Jungkook’s skin crawl, thinking of how hard she’d tried to seduce the panther himself.

When the scent hit his nostrils, the panther in him was coming out full force and he needed to create some distance before he snapped. Now that he’d claimed you, the last thing he wanted was to cause harm by becoming feral.

The sound of running water made his ears and growing bulge twitch. He really needed to get a hold of himself. That thought had no time to be registered before his feet carried him to the bathroom. The handle was cold against his heated skin and he wasn’t at all surprised to find the door unlocked. A small nudge against the wood revealed your scattered clothes along the tiled floor, your scent invading his senses. Little by little, he shed his clothes as quietly as possible in hopes of giving you a small scare.

You really should have been paying more attention to your surroundings. Jungkook was the only one left in the apartment but you still should have been more careful in your decision to leave the door unlocked. The guys could have come back at any time.

“You should be more careful, baby,” Jungkook purred against your ear, hands snaking around to rest against your stomach and pulling your back to his naked chest.

“Oh?” There was no reason to hide your amusement and he knew it. Your intentions were quite clear as you tipped your head back and met his shoulder. “Why is that?”

“Anyone could have walked in here,” He growled low, one hand clasping your hip while the other slid up to palm your breast.

“Anyone did,” You teased, gasping sharply at his wandering hands coupled with the feel of his lips at your neck. Steam enveloped the room and clouded your eyesight, leaving you at Jungkook’s complete mercy as his rough hands groped and ran about your torso.

Water pelted Jungkook’s skin as he came to the realization that bathing with you would be his second favorite activity in a long time. The hand on your hip traveled lower between your legs until the tip of his index finger pressed against the bundle of nerves. The whining and whimpering had his ears flattening against his scalp as he pressed, circled, and worked at your clit ever so slowly. “Soon,” He promised softly, though for you an impending orgasm wasn’t soon enough.

“I will cut your tail off, panther,” You threatened lightly and his chuckle vibrated against your back. He enjoyed tormenting you, that much was obvious, deft fingers gliding lower and his other hand cupping your breast gently. “You’re an ass, Jungkook.”

“Oh yeah?” Jungkook smirked against your wet skin, sinking two fingers knuckle deep into your heat. “No ‘Kook’ this time, baby? That’s not very nice considering where my fingers are.”

“Please,” You groaned, head lolling forward and arm shooting out to press against the shower wall, pushing back against his erection. His tail wound around your thigh to pry your legs open, fingers pumping in and out ever so slowly.

“Please?” He mocked, ears twitching curiously at what may come out of your mouth next. In the short while he’d been living with you and Taehyung, he’d seen enough to know that you were not one to yield. To anything. So to have you begging and pleading for him was a pleasant surprise. “You want something from me, Y/N?”

“No ‘baby’ this time?” You hissed at the prodding of his fingers, deep and steady, and curled your own into a fist against the wall. “That’s not very nice of you, Kook, considering where my hand was earlier.”

“What if Taehyung had come in?” Jungkook hummed in your ear and let his thoughts run much wilder than necessary. What if Taehyung had come in? Or Yoongi?

He wasn’t very fond of that idea given how close you were to them. His hand moved from your hip up to your throat, squeezing gently while you panted and squirmed against him. “Has he ever seen you naked?”

“Not now, Kook.” You groaned because yes, yes Taehyung had seen you naked before. He was the one you lost your virginity to years ago but Jungkook didn’t need to know that. “You really want to talk about Tae of all people right now?”

His thumb pressed against your clit, rubbing in tight circles as your thighs trembled and you whimpered out his name. “No, I’d much rather be inside of you but since the subject was brought up…”

“By you!” You yelped at the small press of his fingers against your throat and the way his fingers pumped faster. Your hips rocked in time to his hand, grinding into his hand and reaching your own hand back to tangle in his hair. “Jungkook, please.”

He smirked against your skin, ears perking up at the mix of pleas and threats spilling from your mouth. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why you were deflecting and though usually he’d be upset by this new information, he was surprised to find it didn’t bother him as much as he’d first thought. His lips moved up the side of your neck, teeth nipping and sucking your skin. “You’re mine, sweetheart, aren’t you?”

Possessiveness was never really a turn on for you, but with Jungkook you found yourself clamping down on his fingers and nodding quickly in agreement. This, this was the panther in him and it was a huge relief to have him becoming more confident and comfortable.

“Say it,” Jungkook hissed, pressing firmly on your clit as you tugged at his hair. “I need to hear you say it, baby.”

“I’m yours,” You moaned loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear. “All yours, Jungkook. Only you.”

Your back was hauled against the shower wall unceremoniously, hands gripping your thighs, parting them as he sank deep inside in one solid thrust. Your fingers dug into his shoulders hard enough to break skin but he didn’t seem to mind. His lips were on yours roughly, muffling the strangled moan leaving your throat.

Jungkook didn’t move, instead savoring the feel of your walls clenching around his cock. The kiss slowed to a languid press of your lips to his, your fingers combing through his shaggy hair and tugging on it to have better access to his neck. He closed his eyes, sighing in pleasure and winding his arms underneath your thighs, pulling himself back before surging forward again and again. The slow roll of his hips against yours had you panting and gasping with each solid thrust. You wound one arm around his shoulders, sinking your nails into his shoulder while the other hand gripped his hair so tight that you were sure he’d be bald by the end of the night.

This wasn’t the same frenzied pace as the previous night, you realized. It was sweeter, softer in the way he moved and peppered your shoulder in kisses. Honestly it probably wasn’t a good idea to take your time since neither of you knew when Taehyung and the rest of the guys would be back. The last thing you needed was any of them walking in to see you and Jungkook going at it in the bathroom of all places.

Seokjin, the maturer of the group, would most likely be the one to herd them all out yet again, but even he would crack some kind of joke about it.

“I missed you,” Jungkook rasped against your mouth, breaking you from all thoughts as his thrusts became quicker and sloppier, one hand snaking between your legs to thumb at your clit once more. “Fuck, I missed you so much.”

You wanted to tease that it hadn’t even been a full day but you knew exactly how he felt. How empty and hollow your chest seemed with the distance and while you had spent most of your day occupied with the detective and Suho’s gang, Jungkook spent his holed up in an unfamiliar apartment with nothing but his own thoughts. Your nails bit into his scalp and he hissed at the feel, teeth coming down to clamp on his mark and tongue lapping at the skin.

“I missed you too, Kook,” You whispered as his canines sank deep into his already prominent claim. You convulsed around him, body shaking and thighs trembling with the intensity of your release. “Fuck!”

Jungkook’s hand moved from between your legs to brace against the wall next to your head, a deep groan of agreement reverberating from his chest. The press of your knees against his rib cage, squeezing him tight, pushed him over the edge and he spilled into you. His mouth found yours in a deep kiss, tongue slipping past your lips as his hands massaged the tops of your thighs in soothing circles.

Three loud bangs against the bathroom door made you tense and pull away from Jungkook but he only shushed you as Taehyung’s deep voice boomed on the other side.

“There better be hot water left, goddamn it!” Taehyung joked before striding back down the hall to the kitchen. He really wouldn’t have even gone to find you if Seokjin hadn’t insisted on it.

“Jungkook didn’t eat much earlier,” Seokjin had said when they returned to the apartment, “and I can bet neither has Y/N. They need something in their system.”

“But they already have each other,” Hoseok had mumbled and earned a nice slap across the back of his head from Yoongi.

Taehyung shook his head before walking back into the kitchen to find Seokjin rummaging through his cabinets to find plates and cups. If anyone had told him a year ago that he’d have his best friend, a hybrid, and three older men that treated him like a kid rather than a hunter in his apartment, Taehyung would have laughed in their face. Still, it was comforting to have someone care for him like a person instead of a killer. His childhood was less than pleasant, his own father acting as if Teahyung were a nuisance and not the son he was responsible for.

“Tae,” Seokjin frowned at the distant look on the younger man’s face, “are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Taheyung shook his head with a chuckle. “I was just thinking.”

Hoseok sat at the dining table with a tilt of his head, waiting to hear if Taehyung would elaborate further but Seokjin simply set a plate down in front of him before moving on to an empty space.

“Then sit,” Seokjin smiled warmly and turned to the abundance of food waiting on the counters.

Yoongi peered down the hallway to the now empty bathroom, watching the swirls of steam seep out from the open door and grimacing at the thought of what happened while they were gone.

“Yoongi,” Seokjin called from the counter as he dug through a bag of food, “they’ll be out here when they’re ready. Come sit down and eat.”

Yoongi opened his mouth to protest when your bedroom door swung open and Jungkook strolled out fully dressed and running a towel through his hair. You weren’t far behind, also dressed in a baggy shirt and sweats, wringing out your hair in a towel.

“Sorry, Tae,” You mumbled as you plopped down on a chair and avoided eye contact with everyone.

“Just as long as there’s hot water left.” Taehyung playfully poked your side before you could scramble away from him.

“No, don’t!” You squealed, actually squealed, and launched yourself onto Jungkook’s lap as Taehyung reached out to tickle your side.

Jungkook was sure he’d never heard anything sweeter than that. The sharp pitch of your voice slicing the air cutely before you were in his lap and clinging to him like a child. There was a grin on your face that no one except Taehyung had seen and Jungkook decided in that moment that he’d do anything to see it again.

“You’re such a baby,” Taehyung teased you, oblivious to the other men’s wide eyed expression, all four of them shocked that you could even smile that big.

You yourself hadn’t even noticed it and Yoongi caught a brief glimpse of the little girl you used to be in that one smile. It shook him to the core to realize how different you’d become and sure, he was used to the woman you were now but to see that little part of you from childhood still existed nearly made him tear up.

Jungkook’s arms were tight around your frame and he buried his face in your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of your shampoo, gripping your waist so hard that he was amazed you could still breathe. The small giggle that floated around the otherwise quiet apartment warmed his chest and he peeked up from your head to watch you poke Taehyung’s leg with your bare foot.

“Gross!” Taehyung wiped away at the invisible dirt on his pants as if you hadn’t just spent an entire hour in the shower. It eased the tension in his shoulders to be able to make you laugh again, something he hadn’t been able to do in the past few months. He watched as you leaned into the crook of Jungkook’s neck and tucked yourself into the hybrids’ arms, a soft smile spreading across his lips. Taehyung often forgot how little of a childhood you actually had and that affection wasn’t something you easily accepted. But seeing you now, curled into the embrace of someone who looked at you with stars in his eyes, Taehyung had to tamp down the sob threatening to escape his mouth. He loved you like a sister and had wanted for so long to be able to escape the wretched life you’d known, but for years he didn’t think a semi-normal life was a possibility, until now. Now the dream of being able to walk the streets without looking over both of your shoulders was slowly but surely becoming a reality.

Seokjin leaned his chin against his palm and wanted to scowl at how happy Jungkook was compared to two hours ago. The grin on the hybrid’s face was enough for Seokjin to forgive the way Jungkook had spent the entire day sulking about the upstairs apartment and mumbling under his breath all the ways the argument could have gone if you hadn’t been so stubborn. Love was a fragile thing and while Seokjin was sure neither you nor Jungkook had fully realized just what was happening between you two, it was quite clear the kind of lengths each of you would go through to keep the other safe. It could be argued, mostly by Yoongi, that the relationship was more lust than anything else but Seokjin knew Yoongi’s obsessive need to protect you stemmed from his knowledge of your upbringing.

“Can we talk about your meeting with Namjoon?” Yoongi raised a brow in your direction. “If I’m not mistaken, it didn’t go entirely as planned but he didn’t shut down the idea either.”

You felt Jungkook tense and press a kiss to the top of your head. “He’s well aware of the risks being taken if he chooses to help us with this, but he’s on board. We’ll set up another time and place to meet soon. Hyungsik’s expecting progress too and he’s agreed to have Suho back off for now. I’m not sure how long that will last or if it even works at all, but our run in today will keep him at bay for at least a week, maybe two.”

“Depends on how fast he’ll recover.” Taehyung shoved a good portion of jjajangmyeon into his mouth and followed it with a long drink of water. “Suho’s never been quick to jump back into an assignment no matter how much he was or wasn’t injured. Despite his reputation, Suho only gets his hands dirty when it comes to showing up Y/N, but even then it’s usually as a last resort. I was surprised to hear how fiercely he was going about this one, then again it could be the reward money that’s keeping him so driven.”

Hoseok huffed from his seat and raked a hand through his hair. “If we can’t steer Suho in a different direction even for a little bit, then this will all be for naught. Two weeks sounds like a long time but not for us, especially with Hyungsik breathing down Y/N’s neck. Taking care of Suho should be the first priority right now.”

“Well, you’re not wrong.” Taehyung nodded his head in agreement and looked to you, watching the gears in your head turn as you became quiet. “Whatever you’re planning against Suho might give Hyungsik a reason to give you some breathing room. Suho’s a good hunter but he’s messy and not exactly shy about how he makes a living. Hyungsik is in a hurry to get Jungkook before Suho can make a public spectacle about all of this. With him out of the picture, it could give us the opportunity to ask Nam for more time to find Jungkook.”

You knew Tae was right. Hyungsik was always quick to hire you for a job because you were quiet and undetectable, something a lot of other hunters hadn’t quite mastered and with the new laws in place, it would be disastrous if the news that Hyungsik was still harboring hybrids became public knowledge. You also knew that Hoseok was nervous about Suho popping up unnecessarily but you looked to him and said, “Suho’s recovery time isn’t something to worry about. Like Tae said, it could take two weeks before Suho shows himself again and maybe even more. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Suho, it’s that he can’t take the chance of not being at full strength when he goes up against me again.”

“Why were you able to bounce back from his men so quickly but it’ll take Suho weeks to come back from almost nothing?” Hoseok wondered with a curious tilt of his head. He didn’t notice the tight grip of Yoongi’s hand on his cup, or the way Taehyung winced at the question. He only noticed the smallest hint of your nostrils flaring before you covered it up with a smirk.

“Endurance training.”

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“Again.” Sangchul’s command was sharp. His fighting skills even more so as he dodged another swipe of your fist.

Blindfolded. Again.

Which meant relying on your ears and nose to detect him. He’d started out the day clean but as training went on, he began to sweat and while the smell was not revolting, it was also not flattering. The sound of his heavy boot alerted you to his movement as you thrust your elbow back and connected with the palm of his hand. Damn. He’d seen it coming and managed to counter your hit.

He pushed your elbow forward, sending you staggering out of reach. He watched as you whipped around quickly and brought your hands up to defend yourself if need be. Slowing his breathing and staying entirely still, he watched the fleeting look of panic in your frown. He didn’t want to admit how much you improved since your last session a few weeks back. The lessons would have continued the next day but there was tension in the air every time you were in the same room as him, the kind of tension that made him uneasy. He wasn’t willing to find out how far that tension would push you, so he made himself scarce far more often than he should.

A hunter with skills such as his should not be scared of a sixteen year old girl. He’d have laughed in someone’s face if that person had told him that his granddaughter would one day unnerve him. The day he left you in the woods after beating the ever loving hell out of you had changed something else in you. Something mischievous, rebellious, and down right evil had swirled in your eyes the moment you stepped out of the trees and into his line of sight. You hated him, he knew that, but he wanted to think that you were reliant enough of him that you wouldn’t use the skills he taught you against him.

Last time he didn’t give you time to recover, so you had expected him to attack you as soon as he let go of your elbow. You grit your teeth when he didn’t take a swing at you as he had before. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, drowning out any kind of noise Sangchul would make. He had to have known you couldn’t hear anything but the deafening sound of your own breathing. What could only have been seconds felt like hours before he finally moved, the soft crunch of boots on dead leaves had you ducking an oncoming punch. As you crouched to the ground, the quick woosh of his other boot kicking up dirt had you placing your palms out towards his kick, blocking his assault. You were on your feet quickly, the heel of your steel toe boot catching on the root of the tree behind you but you held steady and acted as if you were going to fall backwards.

Sangchul lunged forward even further, attempting to grip your shoulders to pin you down, but you gained your footing not a second later and he found himself pressed face first into the rough bark of the tree.

Your forearm was at the back of his neck, only one of his hands wrenched behind his back because there wasn’t a way for you to grab both. Your tiny victory was short lived as he used his free hand to push off the tree and spin around. His wrist rotated out and around to take hold of yours and pull it taught in the air. You cried out in pain after a sickening pop sounded around the woods.

“Clever.” Sangchul admitted with reluctance. “You’ve paid attention. Attempting to get out of my hold will only result in dislocating your shoulder. Which is exactly what needs to happen to get away from me. What will you do, Y/N? Are you willing to pop your own arm out of its socket to escape me or will you---?”

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of finishing his question before you were twisting your body out of his grip, shoulder popping out of place so unnaturally that Sangchul could have thrown up if he weren’t so damn impressed. Dropping to one knee, you panted out of exertion and the scream echoing through the trees.

Sangchul could count on one hand the amount of times he’d had to teach the same lesson to his own son only to have it end in Donghoon crying and cowering in the corner of his room all night. His eyes were comically wide as you stood from the ground with a renewed sense of purpose, your shoulder hanging limp as sweat beaded across your forehead. It was as if the pain was your sole purpose to keep going and the determination to remain unafraid of him propelled you forward.

Your shoulder was hot, your body gradually warming with it before it started to feel like your whole being was on fire. The flames licked the back of your neck and shoulder blade, rendering your arms useless but not your legs as you swung around and landed the most satisfying kick to your grandfather’s jaw. The crunch of his bones and the thud of his body hitting the ground had a grin splitting your lips viciously, a smile cold and cruel that you’d seen him don thousands of times before. You didn’t have to see his face to know the power shift had begun. You could hear it in the way he struggled to breathe.

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Taehyung quirked an amused brow at the way Yoongi burrowed further into the couch like a petulant child when Hoseok was trying to get him to leave.

“Hyung, come on.” Hoseok ran a hand down his face, unwilling to believe that his senior could be so immature. “We’re due to open the bar in an hour and it’s a 30 minute drive from here. We need to leave now.”

“Let’s take a night off,” Yoongi suggested with a fake yawn and stretched himself across the length of Taehyung’s couch. He crossed his feet and brought his arms up behind his head as a makeshift pillow. “One night won’t hurt us.”

“I don’t think Taehyung appreciates you taking over his home without talking to him first.”

“I have extra blankets and pillows.” Taehyung offered up as Hoseok shot him a glare from across the room. “Though if you’re only staying to keep an eye on Y/N, then it would probably be better to camp out in front of her door.”

“That’s not happening.” Jungkook came up beside Taehyung with a stern look on his face. Two weeks ago, he would have cowered at the sight of Yoongi after getting a gun pulled on him, but now Jungkook refused to be scared.

Yoongi’s nostrils flared at being challenged by the younger hybrid and he scowled at Jungkook. “Oh yeah, kid? What makes you think she’ll be as quick as you are to kick me out?”

Hoseok buried his face in his hands, tired and sleep deprived from the long nights at the bar and the long days spent helping his new found friends. “You have a couch at home that you can sleep on, hyung.”

“I like Taehyung’s couch better.”

When Hoseok looked to Taehyung for help getting his friend out of the apartment, Taehyung simply hid a smile behind his hand. He opened his mouth to argue with Yoongi once more when you came down the hallway, footsteps so light against the carpeted floor that nobody would notice you if you hadn’t said anything.

“Go home, Yoongi.” You slapped at his feet before plopping down on the couch and tucking your feet underneath your thighs. “If Tae wanted you to invade his space then he would have said so.”

“He offered me extra pillows and blankets,” Yoongi sat up to face you, “I’d say that counts as an invitation.”

Jungkook had made his way to you at some point and scooped you up to take your spot on the couch, sitting you in his lap. The fresh smell of vanilla and lilac intoxicated him enough to press his face into the crook of your neck.

Yoongi frowned in mock disgust and scoffed at the way Jungkook shot him a sly smirk. “The idea of sleeping outside Y/N’s room is tempting, but I think I’d rather sleep inside.”

Jungkook’s growl rumbled from his chest and against your back. You knew Yoongi was only teasing and meant no harm but Jungkook didn’t seem to share your amusement. “Maybe you should sleep in Tae’s room, Yoongs. He’s just as touch starved as you are.”

“I like to cuddle.” Taehyung nodded with the most serious look he could muster, blinking in surprise when a faint blush crept up Yoongi’s cheeks.

You shot Yoongi a teasing smile, “what a coincidence, so does Yoongi. There were some nights he wouldn’t let me pry myself away.”

Heat prickled your bare rib cage as Jungkook’s fingers discreetly slid underneath your oversized shirt, the rough pads of his fingers leaving behind goosebumps. His palm flattened just underneath your breast bone, thumb teasing the hem of your bra, and pushing under the wire to skim across your nipple. You’d never pulled your knees to your chest quicker than in that moment, hoping to keep his hand from being seen roaming around. With the press of your knees, it kept Jungkook’s hand in place so he couldn’t venture further but he was not one to be deterred, instead wiggling his hand free enough to slide completely up and cup your entire breast.

“It’s not like you were complaining,” Yoongi’s voice brought you back to the present. “You showed up every night anyways so you can’t tell me that you didn’t like cuddling up to me just as much.”

Jungkook lightly squeezed your breast, kneading and pinching, all while keeping a face so impassive that you were starting to believe you were imagining things. His head tilted at the small hitch in your breath, ears twitching in delight, and he grinned when Yoongi caught a glimpse of your shirt moving where it should not be.

“You--,” Yoongi began but Seokjin’s voice stopped him.

“I think everyone should call it a night,” Seokjin suggested after catching the dark look in Jungkook’s eyes before Yoongi could call him out. “I also think if you’re going to stay here tonight, Yoongi, then you should be advised that this is also Jungkook’s territory now. Invading it aggressively will only end in less than pleasant results. Tread carefully.”

“Bed time.” Jungkook whispered against your ear, nipping it in the process and standing from the couch so quick that it made you dizzy. He laughed as you clung to him, padding down the hallway to your bedroom while Yoongi, Hoseok, Taehyung, and Seokjin continued on with their conversation.

Taehyung threw his head back with a laugh that nearly shook the apartment. He hadn’t been so amused in such a long time that watching Yoongi scramble after Jungkook only to have the door slammed in his face had Taehyung doubled over in glee. He could hear Yoongi’s shocked sputtering all the way from the living room.

Hoseok didn’t seem to be faring any better, clapping his hands while howling with laughter as well. It took a great deal to rattle Yoongi and Hoseok had only seen it happen a few times in all the years they’d known each other. Now that Jungkook was starting to show more of himself and how comfortable he’d become, Yoongi was left slack jawed a good portion of the time the group spent together.

Seokjin couldn’t hide his chuckle as Yoongi came back down the hallway with a tic in his jaw. He was aware that the amusement and playfulness wouldn’t last long and the reality of the situation would once again crash into everyone like a brick wall. But for tonight, he would enjoy every smile, every laugh, and every teasing glance that passed between everyone because it would be short lived, and there was a high possibility of it all crashing down in flames. The odds against you were great and while you were stronger than most people, you were still human. With Jungkook at your side and bound to you, the hard shell of the woman you’d become was beginning to crack and Seokjin knew that if anything happened to the panther, you would lose yourself in your own head once more.

It was no secret how special of a person you were to Yoongi. It was why he was still sulking around Taehyung’s living room instead of sleeping in his own bed. He was aware that Jungkook would sooner tear off his own arm than hurt you, but Yoongi still worried. The look of defeat after your fight with Jungkook was still fresh in Yoongi’s mind, and the way you fought against Suho earlier was just a taste of what could happen if you lost Jungkook again. There had been rumors about the vicious way you fought and he’d seen it first hand, but the encounter with Suho was on an entirely different level. Something in your eyes was inhuman, the curve of your smile struck a wicked resemblance to the grandfather you loathed, and Yoongi spent the entire time watching your eyes practically light up at the way you scared Suho.

The person you transformed into the second Jungkook was back in your arms was startling. Yoongi didn’t think you could even still be that person, but Jungkook’s presence reeled in the part of you that lashed out against everyone and everything. You were starting to become that same little girl who would move heaven and hell to protect the ones important to you. Growing up, Yoongi had watched you save your mother from the drunken mess that was Donghoon. He’d seen you constantly jump in front of her, taking whatever slap or punch was meant for Iseul, and raising your head high as you hadn’t just been struck by a heavy hand. Time and again, you were scolded by your mother for getting involved, and time and again you would beg Iseul to pack up and leave Donghoon. The arguments often ended in you storming out of the house and stomping across the street to Yoongi’s house where he would clean you up and hold you in his arms until the crying and shaking stopped.

The night your parents died, you were meant to be home. Meant to be helping your mother pack a weekend bag for a trip with that monster. But you’d argued with her before leaving for school that morning, screaming at her that one day Donghoon will do irreparable damage and you would not be there to pick up the pieces. Yoongi could still remember the agony on your face and in your voice when you ran up to the home that had become a crime scene in a few short hours. He remembered the screams, remembered the tears streaming down your face, and the desperate pleas for Iseul. He remembered being angry with his own parents for keeping him away from you when you needed him the most, but also remembered the way his father pulled him close and whispered in his ear that Sangchul was watching him carefully, that if he truly cared about you then he would let your grandfather handle the situation. He knew it was wrong, knew he should have fought harder to get to you, but then Sangchul was at your side and had taken hold of your shoulders with a solid grip. Yoongi wasn’t close enough to know what was being said or what could have caused the light to die in your eyes, yet he was able to watch what could only be explained as a switch being flipped and then you were no longer Y/N. Not the human part anyways.

A large hand clapped Yoongi on the shoulder, shaking him from his walk down memory lane, and he looked over to find Seokjin’s brows pinched together with worry. He shook his head and gave his senior what he hoped was a smile. Seokjin could read Yoongi’s bullshit better than anybody and lately he’s been keeping Yoongi closer than ever, as if your presence would cause him to spiral down like it had when they’d first met in college. Yoongi couldn’t blame Jin for wanting to make sure he was okay, especially not after the frantic reaction he had when Jin called him the night you were injured. In all their years of being friends, Seokjin had never heard that type of fear in Yoongi’s voice or seen the trembling of his bottom lip once he saw the state you were in after leaving his bar.

“It’s late,” Taehyung’s deep voice cut the tension in the air as he watched something pass between Seokjin and Yoongi. “We’re all exhausted and I’m sure none of you are up for the long drive home.”

Hoseok had already settled on the couch once he realized Yoongi would have to be dragged out of the apartment kicking and screaming if Taehyung really wanted him to leave. His eyelids were heavier than he expected them to be and soon his soft snores were drifting around the living room. His sudden slumber left Taehyung scrambling for a pillow and blanket so Hoseok wouldn’t be uncomfortable the rest of the night.

“The offer to share my bed still stands,” Taehyung grinned at Yoongi after settling Hoseok in. The last thing he expected was for Yoongi to stomp down the hall to his room as if he owned the place. He turned to Seokjin and offered to sleep on the floor of his room so Seokjin could have the bed. “I really don’t mind, hyung. I’ve slept in worse conditions.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.” Seokjin’s smile was endearing, a flutter of pride in his heart at being accepted by Taehyung. “Sleeping on the floor won’t be a problem for me.”

Taehyung nodded and led him down the hall where he flung his door open to find Yoongi spread out on his bed. He grumbled underneath his breath and shoved Yoongi to one side, creating space for himself before digging through his closet for the sleeping bag he’d bought years ago. He handed Seokjin an extra pillow and blanket, bidding him goodnight and good luck. “I had to sleep on this floor when I first moved in and I can tell you, it’s the most unpleasant night’s sleep.”

Seokjin bobbed his head and yawned, offering good luck to Taehyung in return. “Y/N’s right, you know. Yoongi likes to cuddle.”

Taehyung was ready to laugh at what he thought was a continuation of the joking from earlier but the arm that was quickly wrapped around his stomach made him squeak. He didn’t mind it and he certainly wasn’t going to object to Yoongi’s heartless facade finally crumbling. There was a deep and raspy chuckle that echoed around the room and he wasn’t sure if it was from Seokjin, or Yoongi.

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

The faint smell of freshly brewed coffee drifting up Taehyung’s nostrils made him believe he was still dreaming, but the constricting hold of someone else’s leg curled around his was enough to startle him. He tried to bolt up and assess his surroundings until his back was squeezed to a solid chest, and it was then he remembered what had happened the night before. He looked at the hand pressed to his chest and trailed his eyes up the owner’s arm and to Yoongi’s sleeping face.

Min Yoongi wasn’t just a cuddler, he was a goddamn boa constrictor with the way he clung to Taehyung with a surprising amount of strength. He wasn’t usually one for physical affection but he hated the feeling of an empty bed after you’d left years ago. To have someone next to him, be it man or woman, he didn’t care. He wanted the warmth of another body, the comfort of knowing the space next to him would be occupied when he awoke. He was well aware of the hesitation that came from Taehyung after the stunt Yoongi had pulled on Jungkook with a gun, which is why it had surprised him that Taehyung would offer his home as a place to sleep despite Yoongi having his own apartment. He liked to think it was because Taehyung was finally starting to accept him the way he accepted Hoseok and Seokjin.

A loud and obnoxious slurping coming from Taehyung’s bedroom doorway had both him and Yoongi groaning at being woken up before they were ready. Yoongi was tempted to throw a pillow at whoever it may be and seeing as how Taehyung fumbled around the bed to grip a loose one, it was clear that Yoongi was not alone in despising the morning sun.

“Well,” Your voice was dripping with amusement, a teasing lilt to it as both men’s eyes shot open to find that you were the one interrupting their sleep. “Don’t you two look cosy. I take it you’ve forgiven Yoongs then, Tae? Or this is a forbidden kind of thing that we’re all supposed to just pretend we don’t notice?”

“Get out!” Taehyung hissed, horror written all over his face as he noticed your phone poised and ready to take a picture. He was sure you already had a dozen or more since you took your sweet ass time waking them up. He would yell at you to delete them but there was a maximum of one photo on your phone, it being of you and your mother when you were still just a toddler. The fact that you were willing to keep a memento of a fonder memory at his and Yoongi’s expense was honestly okay with him.

“Jin made breakfast.” You sauntered away from Taehyung’s room with your coffee mug, loudly announcing to Hoseok that he ‘just had to see this’, and Hoseok chirping ‘no way!’. Setting the mug down on the kitchen table, you heard fumbling, a thud, and then a loud groan before Yoongi came barreling down the hallway with accusatory eyes. “Good morning, Yoongs. How’d you sleep?”

“Don’t try that cutesy act on me, you little brat.” Yoongi glared at you, his eyes roaming your body in search of your phone. “Hand it over.”

“No.”

Yoongi balked at your refusal, lunging after you and finding himself having to chase you across the length of the living room. He came close once or twice though he was sure it was more because you were just giving him a chance rather than he was actually as fast as you. Nearly tripping over the coffee table, he was appalled to see that you’d hidden behind Hoseok, and that Hoseok was full on shielding you from Yoongi’s hands.

At some point, Taehyung had finally emerged from his room and stopped short at the sight of a mischievous grin on your face. He didn’t think you even knew what fun was, but he had to remind himself that there had been a time when you were loved and cared for, and the man currently threatening to strangle Hoseok was one of the people who’d known you before your training. He had to wonder why Jungkook hadn’t stepped in yet when he looked to the kitchen and saw Seokjin setting a plate of eggs and bacon in front of the panther.

The breakfast Seokjin had cooked up looked so mouthwatering that Jungkook didn’t even bother paying attention to you and Yoongi. In fact, it was entertaining to watch Yoongi attempt to keep up with your speed and agility. You moved so fluently and swiftly that Jungkook wondered how it was possible for a mere human to move the way he could in his panther form. When you launched yourself over the coffee table flawlessly and sprinted to him, he didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around your waist as you plopped down in his lap.

Yoongi was panting and two seconds from collapsing to the ground. You’d always been fast and nimble, two traits Yoongi wasn’t exactly envious of given the circumstances you’d gone through to obtain those abilities. He did, however, envy that you weren’t out a single breath while he was close to being dehydrated just from running around the apartment. “I swear to God, little one, if you don’t hand that phone over…”

“I don’t have it.” You smirked at him, accepting a forkful of eggs from Jungkook’s waiting hand. You had your own plate waiting right next to him, but given how long you left them to get cold, you couldn’t imagine they were appetizing. A fact Seokjin also factored in when he heard the commotion, now picking up the plate and shoving it in the microwave to heat up. You’d be surprised if it weren’t for the reminder that he was a parent, and that he must have gone through the same thing a million times with his young daughter.

Taehyung had left the room a few minutes before and was now wandering back in with his toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. Toothpaste was slathered all over his lips as he scrubbed at his teeth, not wanting to miss what else may occur in the battle between his best friend and Yoongi. He caught Yoongi’s eye and sent him a teasing wink, watching as Yoongi’s face flushed a bright red before he was sitting at the table to eat breakfast.

Seokjin stood at the stove, munching on a strip of bacon and watching the scene unfold before his very eyes. The stark difference in your attitude and demeanor in the last few hours compared to the last few weeks since he’d known you left Seokjin baffled. The obvious flirting between Taehyung and Yoongi, who seemed to longer detest each other, caught him off guard. When he’d joked about Yoongi being clingy the night before, he did not expect to have seen Taehyung so comfortable in Yoongi’s arms. Seokjin didn’t want this to end, he realized. He wanted this every day and to introduce this new part of his life to his wife and daughter, to have his two worlds collide without the threatening weight of Hyungsik on his shoulders.

Hoseok set his empty plate in the sink, frowning as he turned to the table and brought up the crushing subject of the problem at hand. “I woke up to some disturbing texts this morning.”

You stilled in Jungkook’s arms, eyes flicking to Hoseok’s approaching figure.

“A hunter, Lee Dongwook, stopped by the bar last night because he had some information that he thought we’d find interesting.” Hoseok sighed and hung his head in frustration. “Some detectives were snooping around some local dive bars, said they were asking questions about previously known hybrid collectors. They wouldn’t tell anyone why but Dongwook was sure it had to do with some hybrids that had been found dead and their bodies dumped.”

“Meaning?” Yoongi wanted to shake Hoseok by the shoulders and hope that whatever he was hesitating to say would spill out.

“It was the way their bodies were dumped.” Hoseok explained, his eyes boring into the side of your face. “No identification, no missing persons reports, no trace of the hybrid even existing. And the places they’d been dumped were void of any kind of evidence as to who could have done it.”

Yoongi’s gaze flickered to yours, which never seemed to leave the table. Bile gathered in his throat as he watched a sense of recognition flash in your eyes. “Get to the point, Hobi.”

“There’s only one hunter known to pull off a job like that.” Hoseok tugged his bottom lip between his teeth, biting down so hard that he tasted blood. “Only one hunter that’s known to move like a ghost, blending and moving with the shadows.”

“You didn’t.” Yoongi whispered over the silence that befell the apartment. “Little one, tell me you didn’t.”

“Not for a long time, Yoongi.” You stood from Jungkook and distanced yourself quickly. “Back when I first started hunting, it was easier to do a body dump than it was to actually catch a hybrid. At sixteen, nobody believed a girl like me could get the job done, so they saddled me with getting rid of the bodies.”

“God,” Yoongi breathed and stood up from the table, one hand propped on his hip while the other came up to cover his mouth lest the vomit stuck in his throat come spewing out. “What even…? How…?” He didn’t know what he was trying to ask, or why he was asking at all. He understood what you did as a hunter but he was under the impression that all you did was hunt. Somewhere down the line, he’d pushed the knowledge of your killings to the back of his mind and locked it away.

“I was a kid.” You inhaled deeply and looked to the ground, not sure you could bear the look in Yoongi’s eyes, or Jungkook’s for that matter. “Nobody would have suspected a kid, let alone question them for murder. Sangchul taught me how to get rid of evidence and set me out into the world of hunters and before I knew it... I was that ghost. I was that thing that could move in the shadows, Yoongi. My reputation started with those jobs.” Teahyung winced at the change of tone in your voice. To him, it wasn’t a surprise to hear about the beginnings of your hunting days. You’d told him all about it when you’d first met in hopes it would scare him away. But no. There was no scaring him away from you.

“Are you trying to justify your shit by saying you were only sixteen?!” Yoongi’s voice boomed around the apartment and Hoseok had put a comforting hand to Jungkook’s shoulder. “All of it should be forgiven and forgotten because you were just a kid?! The world doesn’t fucking work that way, Y/N! Of course, those hybrids would never know because they won’t be getting the chance because of you! You destroyed them, you got rid of them, and didn’t turn back because it wasn’t your fucking problem anymore, was it?! Can you even tell me their names?!”

“Yoongi!” Seokjin tried to step in, watching the darkness swirl in your eyes as your gaze shot to Yoongi.

“Seo-yun, Seung, Hyunwoo, Juwon,” You listed off name after name, your hands curling into fists at the memories each name brought up. The things you had done, the lives you had taken, and the slow, agonizing pain in your chest with each hybrid. “Changmin, Geon, Seokhoon.”

“Y/N, stop.” Taehyung pleaded, standing from the table and moving across the room but you stepped back. His heart cracked at the way you rejected him.

“Jeni, Areum, Bona,” You continued, chest heaving with anger as more names came spilling out. “Haneul, Nabi, Hwayoung. And so many more. Yes, I did that to them. Yes, I made them untraceable. But I was never the kind of ruthless that my grandfather wanted me to be. They died, Yoongi, but they weren’t tortured, at least not by me. To say their deaths were peaceful would be selfish, but they certainly weren’t painful either.”

“You killed them, Y/N.” Yoongi raked a hand through his hair, bewilderment and disbelief etched all over his face. “You ended their lives and you mean to tell me that you did it peacefully? Is there anything even remotely peaceful about being murdered?”

Your jaw clenched at his question. “What would you know about murder, Yoongi? You think because you happened to catch a glimpse of the damage my mother’s death caused that you’re an expert in the repercussions of it?”

“Don’t do that.” Yoongi hissed through clenched teeth. “Don’t try to justify your actions with your past trauma like you were the only one who lost something that day.”

Taehyung’s eyes darted to you as you took in a sharp breath. To say he was nervous would be an understatement. He was downright terrified of the look in your eye. There had been but two times in the past years that Teahyung had called you out on your bullshit and excuses, and both times had ended in disaster.

“Iseul was important to me too.” Yoongi continued and watched as tears welled in your eyes at the sound of your own mother’s name. He could only guess that you hadn’t said her name out loud since the day she died, and hearing it now made you falter. “She wasn’t just your mother. She was the woman who made sure you were safe at all costs, made sure I was safe at all costs because you needed me. I needed you. We needed each other. She asked me to take care of you, asked me to love you the way you deserved to be because she knew that one day, your father would take her away from you. Iseul always knew that she wouldn’t live long enough to watch you grow all the way up, so she made me promise that I would always look after you no matter what. When she died, my heart felt like it was shattered into a million pieces, and then you were gone too.”

Seokjin’s shoulders stiffened. He had never heard the full story of why Yoongi was so closed off and unwilling to make friends with anyone in college. Here and now may not have been the most ideal, but it was time everything came to light.

Yoongi’s hands shook as everything from that time came rushing back to him. The sleepless nights, the loss of appetite, the depression. All of it after you left town and not once since his reunion with you was he given the chance to let you know just how messed up he’d become.

“You were gone,” Yoongi continued, “and I couldn’t find you. It was like you fell off the face of the Earth. Do you know how helpless I felt? How desperate I became? For years I went out of my fucking mind because I didn’t know if you were alive or dead. I may not have had the same experiences as you after that day, but you can damn well bet that I was suffering too. Losing you and Iseul fucked me up just as bad, but I didn’t go off and become a murderer.”

“No. How could you?” You gasped through the tears threatening to fall from your eyes. The look on his face after learning the truth of who you’d really become reminded you of the time your mother had first looked at you the same way. Like you were the devil. “You weren’t born to the same monster that I was, Yoongi. You weren’t meant to be what I am. I know what you were going through. Every chance I had to get away from Sangchul, I went to find you. You were so broken that I couldn’t show my face knowing I’d have to leave again. When we got older, and Sangchul was dead, I kept my distance and you know why? Because you were finally happy again, and I thought if I showed up that I would only disrupt the new life you built. Look at you, Yoongs, you can barely look me in the eye knowing what you do now.”

Jungkook fought hard to resist his urge to spring up from his chair and hold you. He had admonished your decision to keep hunting, but that didn’t mean he didn’t fully understand what the life of a hunter meant. Yoongi’s bar was open to anyone and everyone, and although 90% of those people were hunters, he had never been fully immersed in their world. It wasn’t easy for Jungkook to forgive you and it certainly wasn’t easy to see it from your perspective, but surviving was your instinct just as it was his. Sometimes surviving meant doing things one would never be proud of and he understood that better than Yoongi did.

“The only reason I can’t look you in the eye is because I’m not sure who I’ll see when I do.” Yoongi blinked away his own tears, his chest aching with the newfound knowledge that you’d always been looking over him. “You have this mask that you put up whenever you start to shut down or need to keep someone at bay. That mask looks so much like Sangchul’s and Donghoon’s that I don’t even see Iseul in you anymore, Y/N.”

“That’s because she’s none of those people,” Taehyung had finally inched himself across the room enough to stand at your side without touching you. “Y/N is herself. Those people may have shaped her but over time, she created her own mould. Yoongi, you only want to see the little girl you took care of and no matter how many times you thought you could handle who she was, it wasn’t real for you. This, here and now, this is the reality we’ve lived and become accustomed to. You’re not ready for it. I don’t think anyone but me, Jungkook, and Y/N are, and yet here we all stand willing to take risks bigger than any of us had expected. I’m not saying you need to open your eyes and take in the cruelty of our world if you want to help, but that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“When was your last clean up job?” Seokjin didn’t want to ask. In fact, he was content with staying the hell out of the argument entirely, but someone had to shift the conversation back to where it began.

“6 years ago,” your answer was immediate, giving Yoongi a little bit of relief that these last few bodies were not actually your work. “After I got my first tracking job, I never took on another clean up again.”

Hoseok perked up as if suddenly realizing something important. He dug his phone from his pocket to scroll through the text messages.”Dongwook said the other hunters didn’t give up your name to the detectives, but he heard chatter that maybe you’d started taking on clean up duty again.”

“How did he know to text you?” Yoongi asked him, almost glaring at Hoseok’s sheepish face. “Hobi?”

Hoseok scratched at his head nervously. “Dongwook was in the bar the night Xiumin and Kai attacked Y/N. He saw us take her to the back and figured we had dealt with her a different way but then he saw her leave and pieced it all together.”

“We’re really that transparent.” Yoongi sighed heavily, massaging the tension building at the nape of his neck. “If Dongwook figured it out then there’s no doubt that other hunters have as well.”

“Well yes, but who would really try and use it against us?” Hoseok shot a knowing look in your direction. “To them, the fact that we let Y/N go so easily that night just means we’re important to her. Nobody’s ever bothered to try and hurt Taehyung because they know what will happen if they do. In a way, the bar and us are under her protection.”

“Then who’s dumping the bodies? And who would be stupid enough to try and pin it on Y/N?”

“I’m still here.” You reminded them, tired of hearing them speak about you as if you weren’t present. Looking at everyone around the room, your eyes softened on Jungkook in apology. “I have to contact Namjoon today, before things get more out of hand. I’ll be gone for most of the day and maybe even tomorrow.”

Jungkook wanted to argue, wanted to lock you in the apartment even if he had to tie you up to do so, but he couldn’t do any of that. He could definitely try, and he didn’t think anyone else would object to it. Still, he couldn’t keep you from your nature or from your desperate need to keep him alive and well. Two days would be too long and that was just the minimum amount of time you’d estimated your absence. “Will Taehyung or Seokjin hyung be going with you?”

No, you said at the same time Taehyung said “yes”. You spun around to face him, lips pulled into a thin line. “You’re not going, Tae. I need you here with Jungkook.”

“Jungkook’s a full shifter,” Taehyung argued, “if anyone needs protection, it’s whoever is dumb enough to storm this apartment. Plus, Hoseok, Seokjin, and Yoongi can stay here with him, right Jungkook?”

“I’d feel better if Taehyung went with you.” Jungkook nodded at Taehyung in agreement. “It won’t be safe by yourself, and I’d rather not have a repeat of the night I had to stitch you up.”

You rolled your neck in irritation. Suddenly everyone thought arguing with you was a good idea and nothing pissed you off more than when Taehyung refused to see reason. You didn’t know what would happen when you met Namjoon and you didn’t want Taehyung in the middle of it. After spilling the secret of your grandfather’s death, you were sure Namjoon had something planned in order to bring you to justice. He wouldn’t be a good cop if he didn’t have a larger perspective.

Without a word, you were storming to your room, changing from the baggy sweats and shirt to a pair of black tactical pants, a tank top, and a long sleeved thermal top over it. You pulled your hair into a low ponytail with a heavy sigh. “It isn’t safe to take Taehyung with me,” you called over your shoulder.

Jungkook wasn’t at all surprised that you’d sensed him in the room even if he hadn’t made any noise. He came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your stomach to pull your back flush against his chest. “I don’t even want you to go in the first place. If you don’t want Taehyung to go with you, then you’ll just have to stay here.”

You turned in his arms, resting your palms against the hard planes of his chest and sliding them up until your fingers were fiddling with the leather band around his neck. An ominous feeling came over you as you tapped on the tracking chip embedded in the charm adorning it. Something was going to go wrong, you could feel it, but voicing this to Jungkook would only further prove that whatever you have planned was not a good idea.

“The longer I wait to set the rest of the plan in motion, the riskier it gets for you,” you stood on the tips of your toes, fingers sliding into his long hair, and pulling his mouth down to yours. It wasn’t a goodbye kiss, but it wasn’t an I’ll-see-you-soon kiss. You could tell Jungkook knew this with the way he secured your waist with one arm and his other hand tangled in your hair, tugging at the elastic band.

He pulled you hard against him, deepening the kiss and nipping at your bottom lip until he was able to slide his tongue through your parted lips. He felt your nails dig into his scalp gently and he groaned against your mouth, savoring the taste of coffee on your tongue. He didn’t want to let you go, but the push of your hand against his chest forced him to release his grip.

You pulled back to touch your forehead to his, both of you breathing heavily. You didn’t open your eyes to see his, it hurt enough that you were leaving, you didn’t need the image of his pleading brown eyes to be the last thing you’d seen before taking off. “I’ll be back, I promise.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” He whispered against your swollen lips. His hands fell to your waist where he bunched up the fabric of your shirt, his grip becoming too tight. “I thought you were a better liar than this.”

“I can’t lie to you no matter how hard I try.” You pressed a softer kiss to his mouth this time, bracing your palms against his chest and pushing away from him. Without giving him one last look, you were stalking out of the room. Your chest constricted with the ragged breath he puffed out to keep himself from crying.

#hunting a hybrid fic #jeon jungkook smut #bts hybrid au #bts smut #jeon jungkook imagine #bts imagine #bts fanfic

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writersrealmbts · 4 years ago

Text

If You Have Half a Brain

Description: Part of the summer #btswritingbingo, hosted by @bangtanwritingbingo! For the Pina Coladas prompt. You’ve been a bit down on your luck, until one of your customers, who is definitely drunk, strikes up a conversation with you and offers you a job.

Warnings: Mentions of death, drunken antics (mild), mild language, mentions of blood/injuries (very briefly)

Posted: 06/04/2021

Tags: Hoseok x reader, business au,

Slice of Life/Angst/moments of fluff: 11,698 words

A/N: I think it’s been over a month since I posted a story, so here’s over 10k words. Enjoy! Thanks to @kerikaaria for beta reading this

“Sir, you ordered a virgin.”

“Whoa, no! I didn’t even know that this was that kind of place, I mean, kudos on the confidence and I mean that in the best way because you shouldn’t be ashamed—“

“Your drink,” you interrupted, rolling your eyes. “It’s non-alcoholic. You ordered a virgin drink.”

“What? No I didn’t, I ordered a pina colada!”

“No, our menu doesn’t offer pina coladas. What you ordered was our Niño colada, which is from our non-alcoholic menu. I apologize for any inconvenience, but if this is you with a little bit of alcohol, then I think you should stick to sobriety.”

He stared at you, slack-jawed and blinking. “Why don’t you have pina coladas?”

You sighed. “We don’t stock rum.”

He made a choked sound. “The…rum…is gone?”

“Yes. The rum is gone.” You had a sinking feeling that you knew exactly what he was going to say.

“Why is the rum always gone?!” He exclaimed, flopping onto the table.

“From your behavior, I’m going to assume you’ve consumed every last drop of it, Captain Sparrow,” You replied dryly. Well, your boss was right. You were not cut out for this job. “Now, if you’re not going to order something else, I’m going to go turn in my apron and start job hunting again.”

“Wait! Wait! Do you like piña coladas?” He asked, catching the pocket of your apron.

“I swear to God, if the next words out of your mouth are anything along the lines of ‘and getting caught in the rain’ I will murder you without regret.”

His teeth clicked shut. His eyes darted over your face. “But do you?”

You took a deep breath. “I can’t stand coconut.”

“You…don’t like…coconut?” He looked horrified. “Then…coconut chicken?”

“Ew.”

“Coconut ice cream?”

“Waste of sugar and time, a lot like this conversation. I don’t like coconut. I hate it when people cook in coconut oil because saying it’s tasteless is Bull.” You crossed your arms. “New drink or what?”

He stared at you for a while, then smiled softly. “You’re too good for this job, anyway. You should work for me.”

“Excuse me?”

“Come work for me.”

“Repeating that doesn’t tell me what you’re saying.”

“I own a company. I need someone who can deal with trash like me and keep them away from me. You do not have to be polite to the trash either.” He leaned his chin on a propped-up fist. “Your job would quite honestly be saying what was on your mind and telling me and anyone else off.” He looked and sounded surprisingly sober compared to before.

“Please tell me you didn’t use piña coladas to test a potential hire.”

He grinned. “Not intentionally.”

I folded your arms, trying to gauge whether or not he was being serious. “You’re not saying this because you’re drunk, are you?”

“I’m not drunk!” He argued, eyes wide. “I’ve only had one glass of wine!”

You cringed. “At least tell me it was a large one.”

“N-not particularly.”

“Oh dude, either your acting is pretty on point, or you’re a serious lightweight and should stick to the non-alcoholic menu.” You shook your head.

His already flushed cheeks turned more red. “Wha—“ he huffed. “Do you want the job or not?”

You considered it, a little surprised you were even considering it, and shrugged. “Not sure I believe you still.”

He huffed and fumbled to pull out his wallet, fumbled more, then handed you a business card. “That’s me. Call or show up or anything. My personal cards are like golden tickets.”

You took the card warily.

The side of the cards facing you had a phone number in shimmering gold lettering, and the other side looked like a splash of summer colors—Bold black lettering spelling out his name and the name of the company.

“Hoseok Jung, CEO of HopeWorld Incorporated,” you read aloud, a little…skeptical. “If you are this person, what the heck do you want me for?”

“Honestly…I need someone sensible who won’t just try to stay on my good side. I need someone who will risk their job to threaten anyone that is being ridiculous with murder. I’m bad at that. I need a spiky person cause I’m just…I have things I’m strong on, but there are times when I just need someone to say things like they are. No bull.”

“And based on our interactions here, you think that’s me?”

He nodded. “I only played up the antics a bit.”

“Do you often hire your waitresses?”

He grinned. “No, but I have found most of my best people by chance. One other waiter, but I knew him before.”

“Your best people?”

“You’ve heard of my company?”

“Who hasn’t?”

“Then you’ve heard the names Suga, RM, and V.”

You paused. “Yes.”

“Suga and I met at a club. RM and I met in a museum, and I met V when I was at an animal shelter.” He shrugged. “We had a good rapport. I offered them jobs. My friends over there are also part of my inner circle. It would have been better if you liked piña coladas, but you should still be okay with them.”

You stared over to where his friends were goofing off in the pool. Those idiot men were part of the inner circle of one of the biggest companies ever? The company that….

Two screeched as they went into the water, losing the game of chicken.

“They are part of your brain trust? Is the one even old enough for alcohol?”

“Yeah, he just tends to pick people up when he’s buzzed.”

“So, scandal prone.”

“No, no, I mean physically lift them. Usually just us. He’s not really a social person. Just us.”

“Ah.” You weren’t sure what to make of that.

“Actually—“

“Y/n! I’m not paying you to stand around!”

“With all due respect, sir, I’m done after I finish discussing our menu with this gentleman, Sir.” You called back, then turned to Hoseok. “How much would I be paid?”

“To start...how about $16 an hour?”

You stared at him. “$16 an hour?”

“Plus benefits, we have an excellent benefits program.”

“$16 an hour?” You repeated, a little shocked and numb. Plus benefits, even if you only worked there for a week, you’d be able to cover all of your expenses.

“Alright, okay, fine, $18 an hour—but no more than that until we know if it will work out. Then we can discuss raises. Deal?” He stuck his hand out.

You considered it for a moment, then shook his hand. “Right. Okay. When do I start?”

“Tomorrow, 8 a.m.”

You nodded. “Business dress?”

He shrugged, “If you like. Just dress nicely.”

You nodded. “Fine. Okay. See you then. I have a job to quit.”

He nodded with a smile. “I look forward to working with you.”

———

If you had thought that your means of obtaining this job had been strange, nothing had prepared you for your first day working there.

You had dressed well, wearing your favorite interview outfit because it was the nicest outfit you owned and you would be shopping later today so you knew what you needed to buy.

You entered the sleek looking building, and went to the reception desk. “Hello, I was told to come in today.” You pulled out the business card and showed it to the secretary.

Her eyes widened. “Whoa. You met Mr. Jung?”

“Uhm, yes. Yes I did. And he told me to come in today, at eight.”

“Right, okay, um, let me get you a temporary I.D.so you can get around today, and you’ll have to talk to H.R. later about your permanent one. Take this, and then head up to the top floor, he’ll want you to report straight to his office. At least, that’s what protocol states.”

You nodded, absorbing the information easily. “Top floor, his office, report to HR later for a permanent ID. Return this at the end of the day?”

“Yes, thank you, and good luck on your first day!” She practically sang, going back to her computer.

You slid the ID necklace over your head and went straight for the elevator, hitting the button for the top floor.

The way she spoke was almost like she had never met the CEO, which seemed unlikely to you, but maybe you were just misreading it.

The top floor was as quiet as the rest of the building, and you had a feeling most employees didn’t start until 9. But there was faint music coming from the biggest office—the CEO’s office.

You took a breath to steady yourself and then knocked on the door.

“Come on in, y/n!”

You shook your head slightly and did as told, walking into the office.

Entering the building, you had been pleasantly surprised by the way everything seemed light and airy, with bright splashes of color in appropriate amounts in the appropriate places, making it feel less like an office and more of a...you weren’t sure what it felt like, but it felt nicer than an office.

Entering Hoseok Jung’s office had a similar effect. There were knickknacks, but they weren’t overwhelming, and splashes of color were all throughout the room, but was balanced by a sort of modern elegance of his sleek office furniture and the immense natural lighting.

“Do you like it?”

You considered it all. “It’s not to my taste, but it is well balanced and I can appreciate the aesthetic.”

He grinned. “See, you’re already doing better.”

“The receptionist acts like she’s never seen you before.”

“Oh, well, most people only see J-Hope, one of the senior workers who reports directly to Mr. Jung. That’s how I got into the business to take it over from my father.” He shrugged. “Eventually, they’ll find out that J-Hope is me, but for now, J-Hope is well-liked. My ‘brain trust’ as you called them, will be here in about half an hour, which gives us time. Come on, I’ll show you to your office. Remember, it’s not your job to make friends, it’s your job to call things as you see them.”

You shrugged. “And if that means holding my tongue?”

“Then I trust you to say something later, when you deem the time to be right.”

“You know this is crazy, right?”

He grinned. “I know that you think it’s crazy, but I’m glad you’re telling me.”

You shook your head as you followed him out, noting that he wasn’t wearing a full suit. More like slacks and a shirt that wasn’t a button-up, but also wasn’t a plain t-shirt? Very loose-fitting, possibly a few sizes too big. His slacks weren't even slack, not really. Just grey, loose-fitting pants.

“You don’t dress much like a CEO.”

He chuckled. “I know. Jimin tells me that all the time, trust me, I do when I have to. But J-Hope likes loose clothing.”

You shook your head a bit.

“This will be your office.”

“It’s right next to yours.”

“Well, you are going to be my left-hand person. Left hand office.”

You followed him into the office that was way too good to be true.

“Obviously you can decorate it as you like, outside of the desk. The desk chair you get to choose from a magazine that we use for office supplies. We also ask that you don’t break any walls or windows.”

“I have a balcony,” you breathed.

“Yeah. There’s actually a door out there that connects our balconies, my side is pretty much never locked, but you can lock your side as well.”

“Like in hotels.”

“Yes.”

“So, if I'm your left, who’s your right?”

“Suga. Yoongi. You’ll like him, I think.” He picked up a random sticky note, looking amused. “Last guy didn’t clean out very well, sorry.”

“Shouldn’t a janitor have made it in here since?”

He paused. “Oh. Yes.”

“Which makes me wonder when the last time anything up here has been cleaned.” You ran a finger over the desk, nose wrinkling in disgust at the dust on your fingers.

Hoseok’s eyes widened. “Oh no. Oh no no no.”

“I need to wash my hands,” You said, feeling a little contaminated. “Bathrooms.”

“This way.”

The bathrooms on the top floor were actual bathrooms, as in, one toilet and sink per room instead of the public bathroom style. There were three of them, mostly the same size, but one also had a larger vanity area with drawers under it.

“Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to follow you in, but this bathroom is one that we usually keep locked, so if you want to keep makeup or other things in here, no one uses the third drawer over right now.” He tapped it. “You’ll be getting a key to it later today, so you can put it in later if you need to.”

You nodded, wrinkling your nose at the smell of the soap. “Oh, you’re kidding me. Piña colada soap?”

He chuckled, scratching his neck. “You can also bring in your own soap. Yoongi does. He just hasn’t replaced his yet.”

You shook your head. “Right.”

“If it helps, it’s only that during the summer.”

“What is it in winter? Eggnog?”

He shook his head. “Cinnamon rolls.”

“Are you all trying to psychologically torture yourselves?” You asked, drying your hands. “Piña coladas when you have to work, cinnamon rolls to make yourself hungry….”

Hoseok shrugged.

You sighed. “Alright. Where to now?”

“Morning meeting.” He waved for you to follow him, and led the way down to a conference room. “Jimin and Tae bring coffee and pastries and we go over our agendas and projects. Today that will include introducing you. I do have one thing to ask, and it might be inappropriate so if it is you can just hit me—“

“Or you could just not ask it.”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Right. Yeah.”

You helped straighten the chairs, seeing the frown on his face at how disheveled the room was. “So, what will I be doing today, besides accompanying you to fire the janitor.”

He cringed. “Well, tour the company. Stop by HR. Meet the security team. Talk to the janitorial staff and threaten firing them to improve their work ethic. Then if that doesn’t work, yes, you will be there to help me fire people.”

“Sounds good. I’ll be the bad guy. You keep your J-Hope persona.” You sighed. “Really? No one caught onto you being the CEO with the name J-Hope?”

He just grinned again. “Best disguise is right under your nose.”

“The best disguise is an effective one that actually exists.”

“I’m glad I met you,” He responded with a light laugh.

“I’ve been criticizing you since I arrived.” You actually felt guilty about that, but only slightly. You weren’t about to lose sleep over it.

He just smiled. “You’ve been honest. I…I really missed honesty.”

“Your inner circle aren’t honest?”

“They are…but they’re…it’s different. Sometimes you need to shake things up. I think we all need shaking up.”

You frowned. “Okay. Level with me: what happened?”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“What happened to make you think that things need to be shaken up?”

His face relaxed, eyes seeming to glaze as they shifted to the meeting table. “I…uh, I lost someone I cared about. You know that cruise ship disaster?”

You nodded. “HopeWorld donated a whole lot of money to cover the bills of those injured, and help cover funeral bills for others. Some people wondered if you guys had some sort of stock in the cruise ship or had been involved in the explosion, but you were just being kind. Plus by helping them out financially they could stand up to the cruise company.”

He shrugged, but also nodded. “And I needed a reason to be there. Looking.”

“Girlfriend or boyfriend?”

He choked out a laugh. “Yeah. And my sister and her husband. And my parents. I was supposed to join them at a different port.”

You felt like you’d been sucker-punched. “Oh my God.”

“Didn’t lose all of them. My dad is still in the hospital, Mom is home but she visits him everyday.” He rubbed his neck. “My sister's husband went back to work just a week ago, and he’s not having an easy time of it, but he’s pushing on. My sister hasn’t woken up yet, but we’re still hopeful. I hope she wakes up soon. She’s the other person I always relied on to be honest with me.”

You slowly nodded. “And your…significant other?”

“Idiot died. One of the lifeboats got stuck on release. Climbed out and cut the rope. Snapped back.” He shrugged again.

“Could have been worse,” You murmured, clenching a fist. You knew that description. You gave that description.

“Ok, this is one time when maybe you shouldn’t be honest.” He rubbed his forehead.

“Hey, my step-dad died because he thought he could swallow a golf ball and decided to try when no one was home. My younger brother tail-gated a semi. My father died from a sliver after saving eight school-age children.” You shrugged. “There are all sorts of ways to go out of this world. Doing the right thing…the heroic thing, that counts for a lot in my book. But there is such a thing as stupidly heroic.”

He stared at you wide-eyed. “A…golf ball?”

You shrugged. “I believe I implied that he wasn’t intelligent.”

Hoseok snorted and then started laughing. “I-I’m sorry!”

You smiled. “Good. Your brain trust will be here soon.”

“Did he…did he really…?”

“It was a little more complicated, and there was booze involved, but essentially, yes.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t sound so heartbroken.”

You shrugged. “Life goes on.”

“What does it go on from?” A new voice asked.

You turned to see one of the boys from the pool yesterday.

He looked you up and down, and offered a slight smile and his hand. “Hey. You must be the waitress that Hobi got so excited about hiring yesterday. I’m Taehyung, or, as the media knows me, V.”

You shook his hand. “Y/n. Nice to meet you.”

“Do you like Pina Coladas?” Taehyung asked, setting the box of what you assumed were pastries on the table.

“No.”

He froze a bit. “Really?”

“Really.”

“But...why? Wait...oh no...you don’t like them?” He stared at the box of pastries.

You looked at the box. “Let me guess, non-alcoholic pina colada donuts.”

“We don’t normally get them, I just saw them and I thought it’d be fun….” He looked completely dejected. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. I ate breakfast anyway. I had an omelet, and I have a chocolate muffin in my packed lunch in my office. So, if you would like, I can get that and you can pretend you got it specially for me because I got it from the same shop.”

He gasped. “Their chocolate muffins are amazing.”

“Do you want me to pretend?”

He considered it a moment.

“He doesn’t want everyone to be eating and not you,” Hoseok chuckled. “He’s sweet like that.”

You nodded. “Did the door to my office get locked?”

Hoseok shook his head. “I left it open so that you could get in and out without your keys, and so we could send a janitor in after the meeting. Maybe put your things in our breakroom for now.”

You nodded sharply.

“I’ll get it, if that’s okay with you?” Taehyung said.

You shrugged. “Whatever floats your boat.”

He bounced a bit as he raced out.

“Good job, offering to lie on your first day.” Hoseok looked amused.

“He looked like a kicked puppy. I’m honest, not abusive and heartless. Besides, it’s more to make him feel good. Most people would figure it out, right away.”

Hoseok nodded. “I guess so.”

“It doesn’t breach my not-yet-existing contract to lie, does it?”

He shook his head. “No. It doesn’t.”

Both of you fell quiet as Taehyung came back and slipped the muffin into the box of donuts (carefully).

Then several men arrived at about the same time.

“Hi, y/n! I’m Jimin, and I wasn’t sure what you liked so I got you a chocolate crème frappuccino. Is that okay?”

You nodded, smiling. “Sounds good. Thank you.” You took the cup and studied where they were sitting before taking a seat yourself--at the left hand of Hoseok--when he indicated for you to sit there.

“For the future, what do you normally drink?”

“This,” You answered, smiling. “I try to limit my caffeine intake.”

“Great, I’ll add it to my list and we can discuss alternatives later.” Jimin opened the donut box. “Tae, what have you done?”

“Pina colada donuts,” Tae answered, grinning. “And a muffin for y/n.”

Half of the boys had already grabbed a donut, or were in the process of doing so, but all seemed to freeze a bit.

“Why a muffin for y/n?”

“I don’t like coconut,” You answered, shrugging.

“Wait...at all?” One of them asked, eyes wide.

You sighed. “Nope. That is possible, you know. Just like I’m sure the odds are in my favor that at least one of you doesn’t like seafood. One of you probably doesn’t like coffee, one of you probably doesn’t like tea, and a few of you probably don’t like mint ice-cream.”

They all seemed to be surprised and yet also guilty.

“Well….”

One huffed. “Why did you hire her again? She doesn’t even like pina coladas.”

“Not everyone does,” Hoseok replied easily. “Shall we start our morning download?”

You studied the others as they dug into their donuts, wondering where the odd obsession with pina coladas came from--not for the first time. But they weren’t the only people you’d ever met with the obsession, and you doubted they would be the last.

“Besides, it can’t hurt us to look at things other than pina coladas.”

“Please,” One of them grumbled. “I don’t want to get sick of them.”

“Fine. Then let me ask this,” the huffy one asked. “Y/n, what is your beverage of choice?”

You met his gaze evenly, calculating all of the answers he could expect and all of the answers you could give him. But one stuck out as particularly perturbing for someone like him and a situation like this.

You leaned forward, smiled slightly, and answered, “Water.”

His eyes widened and he spluttered. “Water?”

“Water,” You confirmed cheerfully. “If I have to choose anything, I choose water.”

“Great, you can be the designated driver,” Taehyung joked, amusement sparkling in his eyes.

Huffy sat down, looking like he lost five years off of his life. “No way can we do a water theme….”

“If we could get back to what we’re being paid to be here for, that’d be great,” You said, in a tone that was too sweet to be honest.

Hoseok chuckled a little. “Right. Y/n is here to keep things...possible and practical. Her job is to be bluntly and brutally honest about things. After she gets a feel for this place, I’m sure she’ll feel more comfortable giving us all a piece of her mind. She’ll be shadowing me as J-Hope, and I’m not going to announce her job title for a while.”

“Because you don’t know what to call my job?”

“Pretty much. Anyway, as you guys know, we’re...running a little thin right now, and that’s on me. We’re going to be tightening up the ship, and making sure we’re running properly. Jimin, I need finances from across the company. Tae, I need all of the reports from HR. Jin and Jungkook, I want a list and summary of all of the projects we’re working on right now. Yoongi and Namjoon: keep working on that one project. Anything I need to know right now?”

“We have that event tomorrow, with the food trucks, and we need to decide on the judges.”

“Okay, so, we let everyone who wants to judge put their name on a list, then we’ll draw names from a hat. Jimin’s on the judgement panel as well.”

“I am?”

“You’ll eat anything, the rest of us are too picky. And Jungkook will be filming.” Hoseok made a couple of notes. “I have to talk to our janitorial staff, and y/n will be with me. They haven’t been cleaning up here like they’re supposed to. Y/n’s office was disgusting, and this room was a mess.”

“Uh oh. Firing anyone?”

“He wants to see if talking to them will fix the issue first,” You said dryly. “Which, in my experience, is a waste of time. There’s always someone dragging their feet and I bet if we looked through the HR reports, or even sent me in under cover for a few hours, we’d be able to pinpoint the weak link and remove it from the chain.”

“She’s got a point. I could take her down and tell them she’s doing some work in each department. We’ve done that before, for people who were actually working for one of the departments.” Jimin clicked his pen a couple of times.

Hoseok considered it a moment while he worked on a bite of his donut, then nodded. “Alright. Then we’ll do that. You might need different clothing. If it takes more than a couple of hours, don’t worry about it. If this works, we’ll put you in different departments as though you were experiencing everything. Because I think we need a spy in the HR department as well. Plus anything you find about employee welfare and happiness, that’s always a good thing. We’ll say you’re one of Jimin’s random hires. Get it done.”

Jimin nodded, then checked you over. “They’ll give her a uniform, so we don’t need to worry about her clothing. Maybe just fix your hair so that you look more like ‘random girl’ instead of ‘sophisticated lady’.”

“Did you just call me a lady?”

“Have you seen yourself?” Jimin shrugged.

“Anyway, finish things here, then y/n dress down and we’ll discuss your work later today. You’ll eat lunch with us, Jimin, make sure to mention that.” Hoseok wrote a couple more things down. “I’ll be in my office, reviewing things. I’ll let you know at lunch what the real plan is. We’re gonna change things.”

“Okay,” Huffy said firmly. “That’s that then. Donuts done, coffee drunk, work to do. Off we go. The sooner we work, the sooner we finish, the sooner we can get a drink.”

That seemed to be the signal for everyone to get up and get moving.

You followed Jimin out, letting him lead you to the bathroom. “Sophisticated lady?”

“Make your hair more casual, maybe remove some of your makeup. And lose the jacket.”

You sighed and did as you were told as he disappeared for a moment, returning with a different shirt and a sweater.

“Try these.”

You looked at them, a little concerned.

“They’re clean, trust me. And they’re more casual than what you’re wearing.”

You waved him out of the room again, changing into the new shirt and sweater, a little disturbed at how well they fit. “Where did you get these?” You asked, opening the door again.

“Someone left them behind. Can’t remember when, can’t remember who, just remember they didn’t work here.” He checked his own hair while you switched your hair from a bun to a nice-looking pony-tail. “Can’t even remember why her shirt and sweater were left behind. Think she borrowed one of mine?”

You stared at him. “Did you sleep with this girl?”

He turned back to you with a half-smile. “No. I was drunk, but no. My boyfriend at that time wouldn’t have been too thrilled.”

“Do you have baggage about said boyfriend as your friend does about the significant other that he lost?” You asked, studying the impish man in front of you.

Jimin’s smile died a bit. “Told you about that, did he?”

“More or less. Focused more on the ones that survived rather than the one that died. So, baggage: yes or no?”

Jimin came and stood right in front of you, then moved closer, reaching and closing the bathroom door, locking it.

You clenched a fist, just in case.

“Baggage...yes. Same ship. All of us, the whole board, everyone in there. My boyfriend...we were at the point of breaking up anyway, so I feel guilty about that, because he wouldn’t have been there if I had. Hoseok was going to propose. Namjoon’s childhood friend. Yoongi’s girlfriend was paralyzed, and her brain...she only recognizes her family and she’s...not doing well. Two of Taehyung’s friends. Jungkook’s brother. Seokjin’s whole family, except his nephew. He jokes about drinking, but he really just wants to get to the daycare at a decent time. If he knows he has to stay late, he has a babysitter that brings his nephew here. Hoseok feels a lot of responsibility because he was the one who suggested we have a board retreat and invite family and friends. Seokjin, Taehyung, Namjoon, and Jungkook were all there when it happened. Myself, Yoongi, and Hoseok were delayed because of an emergency on a project we were heading up.”

You nodded slowly. “Got it. So, this company is being run by seven people who have undergone a whole lot of trauma and grief in the past six months. That doesn’t sound at all like a recipe for disaster.” Eight, a little voice whispered, eight if you’re included.

Jimin nodded a bit. “Right. What did you lose in that accident?”

You held his gaze steadily. “The will to please others with false actions and honeyed words.”

Jimin’s head tilted slightly and his eyes narrowed just a bit.

“My older brother worked on that ship, one of the engineers. He’d been filing reports like a good little worker bee about some of the issues they were seeing, but the reports were being ignored. He was threatened, and told to keep quiet if he wanted to keep his job. He told me, I told him to fight, to make sure no one got on that damn ship.”

“But he didn’t,” Jimin whispered, gaze shifting away from you.

“But I gave the people suing that company everything they needed to win their case, especially with HopeWorld providing the financial means for everyone to fight. It was serious neglect on their part, but even I was too pliant to do anything about it. So I’m done. I’m done trying to please others and put up with their crap and if you don’t unlock that door, I’m sorry, but I might punch you.”

He unlocked it. “Right. Sorry.”

“I’ve been dealing with too many thugs from the cruise company. That’s why I was job hunting. That’s why I got that job at the bar. It was a favor that a friend called in from the owner, but they both thought I was a bad fit. I was just desperate. And then Hoseok came in drunk on one glass of wine and complaining about a virgin pina colada.”

“That’s why he wouldn’t stop talking about virgins,” Jimin muttered. “He kept saying something about virgins being confident, and that he wished he was that confident, and that he was joking about not ordering virgins and it was all weird.”

“He should not be allowed to drink.”

“Well, normally he’s a sober and sleepy drunk, so, yesterday was a bit of an outlier. Happiest I’d seen him in a while, though. Especially after he met you.” He was studying you again.

“If you have something to say, then say it. I told you, I’m not waiting around for BS.”

“You’re not like the person he lost, I can tell that right away. But you’re the first person he’s shown...interest in. I guess I’m just curious about what he saw that intrigued him so much.”

“My winning personality and barbed words,” You answered, then grabbed your wallet from your purse and tucked it into your pocket, shoving the purse into the empty drawer that Hoseok had pointed out earlier. “What was the person he lost like?”

“Soft, a little...out-there, artistic, wild dreamer, adventurous, spontaneous,” Jimin listed, then shrugged. “Different.”

You paused to look at Jimin again. “When you said he’s taken an interest in me, did you mean….”

“Possibly romantically. Not definite, but there’s always a few different paths interest in other people can take us, isn’t there. If you’re anything like I’m assuming you are, you’d actually be a good match for him.” Jimin walked out. “Now, come on. We’ve got work to do.”

-----

You were undercover in HopeWorld for a week before you finally were able to return and start moving into your office--having turned in a twenty-page report on your findings while working undercover.

And it was spotlessly clean this time, and there was a computer there. It was even sporting a nice, new plant in the one corner with a card that read it was from all of the other board members.

The winky-face said that Taehyung had been in charge of delivering it and writing the note.

So you set to unpacking the small box of office supplies that you were bringing in.

You were getting a corkboard and a whiteboard later, plus two more chairs so that anyone else in your office could sit down (or you could switch seats through the day if you needed to), and you definitely planned on bringing some more plants here since it got more sunlight than your tiny flat did.

So you unpacked a couple of empty binders, sheafs of paper, a few notebooks, your new pens and pencils, and your pen and pencil holders. You set a photo-frame on your desk. You pulled out a bottle of lotion and put it in one of your desk drawers.

And that’s where you found the photo of Hoseok with the person that had to be his lover.

“Of course,” You murmured, sighing, then you set the photo aside to return to him at your meeting later.

In the past week, you’d gotten a pretty good read on most of the boys, even Yoongi.

But Seokjin was distant, and kept you distant. He didn’t stick around on the days you were in what was technically his department, instead finding an excuse to be elsewhere.

Taehyung and Jimin had both shrugged when you told them that Seokjin was avoiding you.

“Don’t see why he would,” Jimin said, and you knew he was being honest.

It was fine. The boys weren’t your job anyway. Your job was to look at things practically, find problems or potential problems, and present them to people who could fix them. Your job was to question everything so that every eventuality is considered and the best product of the workers' time is produced.

“That’s not a very big box for such a big office.”

You jumped and dropped the stapler, but jumped back so that it wouldn’t staple you on accident (something that had, unfortunately, happened before). “You trying to give me a heart attack?”

Seokjin shrugged, strolling in casually and picking it up. “Not my intention.”

“Then what is your intention?” You asked, wondering what could have brought the illusive man to your office before the morning meeting. According to the others, and your own experiences, he was always just barely on time for the meeting.

He just looked at you carefully. “Can I ask you a question, and get an honest answer?”

“Fire away,” You replied, lifting an eyebrow curiously.

He moved closer so he was looking you in the eye. “Why did you take this job?”

You frowned a bit, stepping back and trying to figure out why he was asking that. But also, how to answer.

“Please answer honestly.”

“Jimin told you about my brother, the cruise ship?”

“Yes. He told all of us, Hoseok too. Hoseok had his suspicions. I don’t think they know that you were on the ship as well.”

You huffed out a laugh and leaned against your desk. “Good. I don’t need any of that nonsense.”

He nodded. “You were answering my question.”

You took a deep breath and then released it, looking at the ceiling. “Desperation. Have to pay the rent. And he seemed...optimistic.” There was something appealing to that optimism. Something familiar and comfortable. Refreshing.

“What did he tell you your job was going to be?”

“Dealing with trash that tried to get near him.”

“What’s on your resume?”

“Nothing to make me qualify for this office. And if you think I’m here because I’m taking advantage of his kindness...I can’t say that you’re wrong, but I’m also just curious about what he intends for me. Don’t think that I enjoy saying that someone is dead weight. They’re people, and they need to make a living somehow, but they need to make that living honestly. THere are people who want jobs, who need jobs, who are actually willing to put in the work.”

“So, going undercover…?”

“It was a solution that would alleviate the feelings of guilt that our boss might have felt if we hadn’t fully investigated and ended up firing someone. Besides, he strikes me as a bit of a neat freak, so I figure the janitorial staff should be top-notch. I did hear a rumor that J-Hope had liberated a cleaning cart and taken it to the top floor, though.”

Jin sighed, shaking his head. “He really hasn’t trusted the cleaning staff since your first day.”

“Lovely. Did he clean this office?”

“Gotta admire his work ethic.”

You shook your head. “So, I’m not the only person who’s almost completely in the dark about what my job actually is, am I?”

“I think he keeps rethinking what he wants for you.”

“And you’ve been avoiding me because…?”

He shrugged a bit. “I haven’t. It’s been a bad week for my nephew. I’ve been in and out of the office all week. Plus I’ve been working with Hobi.”

You both jumped as someone banged on your office door.

Hoseok threw it open with a grin, then halted, surprised. “Oh, hyung.”

“Hey, Hoseok-y. Y/n and I were just talking. I’ll leave you two to discuss y/n’s job. Because I think we’re all confused about it.” Seokjin took one of your paperclips and left.

Hoseok looked after him in confusion. “Did he ask if he could take that paperclip?”

“Um, no, but it’s just a paperclip. You read the report?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Good work on that. Sorry you were thrown into it so soon after starting.”

“You mean my first day.”

He chuckled. “Yeah. Your first day. So, I’ve figured out what your story is going to be.”

“My story?”

“Whenever a higher-up is brought in, they’re presented to the company. There are already rumors about a higher-up being brought into Mr. Jung’s board, and it’s extremely unorthodox for us to not present you within the first two weeks. So, we’ve got a couple days leeway to get you settled into your actual job.”

“I’m pretty sure that was part of my actual job.”

“Right. Anyway, I thought we might tell people that you’re the eyes and ears of Mr. Jung, and that one of your jobs is ensuring that we are at top potential.”

“Ok.”

“Which is basically what we already said, but I want to make it clear that you are in direct communication with HR and all reports go to you at the end of the day. I’m just having trouble coming up with your title.”

“Quality manager?”

He paused. “Ok, you’re really good. How have you not worked in a job like this before?”

“Hard times, big sacrifices. So, if I’m understanding things correctly, you want me to look through the reports on behaviors and such and make sure they’re looked into and that we’re paying attention, but also you want me to check in on projects and make sure we’re asking all the right questions.”

“Exactly. Quality manager is an excellent way of describing that job. But also, your job is to keep people from trying to see Mr. Jung. Mr. Jung has enough on his plate.”

You nodded. “I can do that. Shall we practice? I read through the notes on that memory core device.”

He grinned. “Sounds great. But first, the morning meeting.”

You nodded. “Thank you for cleaning my office, by the way.”

He just smiled back. “I can’t stand messes.”

“I gathered. You’ve got a pretty big one downstairs, though.”

“Yeah, I’m kind of dreading firing people though.”

“Then let me handle it. You can be there as a known authoritative figure and I’ll do the talking.”

“They might get mad at you for spying.”

“Then I trust you to handle their subsequent anger appropriately. I’ll try to keep things professional.”

“Thanks.”

“For?”

“Even offering to do any of this. I wasn’t really ready to take on the boss position. But I can’t sit by while people abuse their place in this company. I have to deal with the messes. My family didn’t build this legacy for me to let it fall apart.” His gaze was darker, but held determination to continue forward. A sternness to see things through.

The side of J-Hope that was the CEO of HopeWorld.

“I think once you get over the first trials you’ll be just fine.”

He looked at you in surprise. “You think?”

“I believe,” you amended. “I believe you are capable of being a great leader. I believe even though you are generous and compassionate, you will be able to handle the harder parts of this job for the good of the many employees who are doing their jobs to the best of their ability. Because that’s what it means when people are fired. The waste they accumulate is returned to the company and those that are still with it can benefit, or others who need the job take it and actually accomplish it. You’re improving efficiency, which makes the company prosper so you can do more for your employees.”

He slowly nodded. “That makes sense.”

You nodded. “Look at me: I could actually afford a new work outfit.”

He grinned, looking you over. “And it’s a great outfit.”

Okay. You hadn’t expected that.

“Are you implying something inappropriate?”

“Never. I just think it’s a very appropriate look and that it is very good at accentuating your good looks. You’re very good at shopping.”

You weren’t. Not really. Taehyung and Jimin had tagged along and helped you shop because you weren’t sure what would be best for the job and position. You had picked the items out, but Jimin and Taehyung had helped you style them together and decide on them.

“Sounds inappropriate to me.”

He chuckled. “Can’t you just take the compliment? It’s early.”

“If you compliment me, people might think that you’re showing favoritism.”

“Let them,” He answered easily, shrugging and holding the door open for you.

“Are you drunk again? I told you, you really shouldn’t drink.” You folded your arms.

He just laughed. “In. We’re late.”

“If we are, it’s your fault,” You replied, walking in and waving to the other men.

“Yes, of course. I wouldn’t dream of blaming you. Morning, everyone.” Hoseok took his seat. “What’s the day look like?”

“Same as yesterday, except whatever you and y/n are up to. My project is almost ready to present, Seokjin’s coming to help me today.”

“I do have my nephew today, he’s having a bad day,” Seokjin said quietly, making notes.

“That’s fine,” Hoseok said firmly, Namjoon merely nodding. “People like seeing him, and we’ve always said that kids are welcome as long as they don’t disturb others.”

“And he can come to my office anytime,” Taehyung said with a fond grin.

Seokjin nodded. “I have a meeting with my division just before lunch?”

Taehyung grinned. “We can color!”

Jimin rolled his eyes. “Work, Taehyung. He can color, you can design.”

“Right. Right. That.”

“I need Yoongi-hyung’s help on the memory-core project.”

Hoseok looked mildly intrigued, glancing at you.

“I can head down after I check on my project. Might be an hour or so.” Yoongi checked his watch.

Hoseok nodded. “And we’ll be there in about two hours so that Y/n can look things over as my second set of eyes.”

Jungkook looked like a deer caught in the headlights. “O-oh, o-o-okay.”

The others looked mildly surprised, but quickly moved on.

“I’ll be on phone meetings to organize that event most of the morning. Our employees really enjoyed the food truck war, and it’s summer, so I think it’s best to try and have enjoyable events as frequently as possible during the weeks we can’t give them 3-day weekends.” Jimin twirled his pen as he spoke, looking over something on his planner.

“I’ll leave it in your hands, just don’t go over budget.” Hoseok jotted a few things down. “Okay. Y/n and I have to deal with some unsatisfactory employees, then we’ll be down to see how things are going with the memory core. Not sure about our afternoon, but I might leave that for her to settle in. How does that sound to you?”

“If ‘settle in’ means looking over reports, then that sounds fine.”

He nodded, flipping his book closed. “Alright. Then off we go.”

You got up and followed him out, and into the elevator.

“It’ll be best to go to them since it would draw a lot of attention to bring them up. We need the head of janitorial service with us as well, and I want to apprise her of what’s going to happen before we do it. You were smart to record the conversation, I’ll present that to Chiseul.”

Chiseul had been in charge of sanitation at the company for eight years, she was kind, but firm and had no patience for slacking. When you’d worked under her, even for a day, you could tell she expected the best. She had put who she thought were her best people in charge of cleaning the top floor, but instead they had been doing very basic cleaning and actually stealing from the company.

Her reaction to finding out was silent fury. “Are you sure you don’t want me to fire them?”

“We believe that it’s best for us to handle it, that way others will know that they can’t pull anything. I’m sorry we deceived you,” You said respectfully, because you did respect her. You’d put in your report that she should get a raise.

Hoseok nodded. “We will be implementing a system to keep people accountable soon.”

She accepted that with a sharp nod and then went to call those who would be fired into her office.

Hoseok groaned as soon as the elevator doors closed. “That could have gone better.”

------

You held the ice to your face and shrugged. “Could have gone worse. Security stepped in at the appropriate time. And I didn’t fight back, which means I can’t be charged with assault should they try anything like that. There were also multiple witnesses.”

“But you got hurt,” He argued, rubbing his face. “You got hurt.”

“So, I’ll have a black eye. I walk to work, so it’s not like I’ll be driving while mildly impaired. We got ice on it pretty quickly, and I don’t think it will end up being too bad of a black eye.”

“You got hurt,” He whispered.

“And I’m fine. Hoseok, we’re on our way to look over a major project in your company. Pull yourself together.” You reached over and straightened his collar. “It’s a bruise, not a fatal wound.”

He caught your wrist, holding you in place so he could move the ice pack with his other hand and see, the whole time his expression holding worry and what might have been nausea. “Why would they attack you? I was there too. Why would they only attack you?”

He wasn’t asking. He wasn’t listening.

“Betrayal,” You answered anyway, sighing a little and forcing the ice-pack back to your face.

“Uh, you two coming out of there or do you need another moment?” Yoongi asked, an eyebrow raised as he looked between you, not seeming to care that he’d startled both of you since you’d been too busy looking at one another to realize the elevator was open. But his gaze stuck on the ice pack. “Shit, they hit you?”

“Don’t you start too,” You groaned, exiting the elevator.

Hoseok stopped you, pulling you back so he could look at your eye again. “Hyung, look at her eye.”

Yoongi frowned a bit more, but complied. His eyes widened a bit. “Uh…infirmary.”

“Thought so.” Hoseok pulled you back into the elevator.

“Oh, come on,” You groaned.

Yoongi just shushed you. “Your eye looks bloody.”

“Oh.” Well, that was special. It didn’t especially hurt, but that might be because you were numbing the area.

But Hoseok ended up taking you to the hospital for evaluation.

As the two of you walked out of the hospital, you sighed for the fortieth time. “Told you I was fine.”

“That’s not what he said.”

“He said that I should be fine and to come back in if my eye gets worse or I start having other issues. It was probably her ring that got me.” You glanced at your watch. “Man, I’m not going to experience a regular workday, am I?”

His head dropped. “Sorry.”

“Not your fault. I’d probably get bored if it got too quiet. And feeling sorry doesn’t do any good. You didn’t hurt me, so you’re wasting energy by being sorry.”

“I know, but I got you into this job—“

“Are you thirsty?” You asked, stopping.

“What?”

“Are you thirsty?” You asked slowly.

“Um, I guess?”

You nodded and pulled him into the restaurant, dragging him to the bar.

“I don’t think you should have alcohol—“

“Hi, can I get a water with lemon and a Piña colada?” You asked the bartender, ignoring Hoseok. You had no intention of drinking, but Hoseok was so tense it was making you tense.

He stared at the piña colada. “What?”

“Drink. You’re driving me crazy. You need to relax and I doubt you’re going to do it on your own. I’ll make sure you don’t end up in a back alley.” You patted his hand.

“So…if you could drink, what would it be?” He asked.

“Probably a gimlet, with extra lime. But like I said, my preferred drink is water. I like to keep my head clear. There’s less golf-ball swallowing.”

He snorted and choked on his second sip of his drink.

You patted his back as he tried to recover from choking, and he was laughing in between coughing which wasn’t helping at all.

The bartender was looking concerned.

“His wife left him for his sister and his brother in law confessed his love to him, it’s a royal mess,” you told him, rolling your eyes.

Hoseok died a little more. “Stop,” He gasped, finally just laughing.

“It’s not my fault he thinks your butt is cute.”

He collapsed off of the stool, thudding to the ground and laughing harder.

“Man, two sips and you’re already drunk. You better not ask me if I like that nastiness again.”

He got up with your help, starting to calm down. “I won’t ask that.”

“Good. But seriously, I’m cutting you off. You’re too much of a lightweight.” You settled the bill with some extra for the bartender, then guided him toward the door.

But both of you stopped at the door.

“It’s raining?” Hoseok asked, still a little breathless.

“It would appear so.” You looked up at the sky.

“Do you like getting caught in the rain?” He asked quietly, holding out his hand.

You laughed softly, taking his hand. “I actually really do.”

“Really?” He smiled as he laced his fingers with yours.

“Really,” You confirmed, looking out at the rain with a little excitement.

“You might ruin your clothing.”

“Clothing washes, as do I.” You tugged and pulled him out into the rain, giggling as the rain started soaking into you.

He laughed as well, looking less comfortable in the rain, but like he was willing to let you lead him through it.

No.

Like he would follow you into anything.

“Why did you offer me the job?” You asked.

He met your gaze with surprise.

“Why me?”

He smiled at you, stepping closer so he could be heard. “I couldn’t say goodbye.”

You tilted your head.

“I couldn’t say goodbye to you, not at that time, and I don’t know why, but I’m trying to figure it out.”

You could work with that.

Hoseok touched your cheek, then moved in.

You knew your eyes were a little wide.

He gave a slight smile and then leaned in to kiss you.

You allowed it, and you didn’t regret it as his lips met yours. It was…new. Different. Right.

Except for one tiny detail.

You pushed him away gently. “Okay. But you need a new go-to drink because I forgot to mention I’m actually allergic to coconut, so, I’m gonna take some allergy meds now.”

His eyes widened. “I like mimosas and daiquiri.”

You nodded, swallowing an allergy pill. “Great. We won’t kill me, then.”

“How allergic are you?”

You shrugged. “I should be fine now.”

“Okay.”

“So, if you want to kiss me, we can do that again.”

He met your gaze, smiling. “That sounds like a bad idea.”

You rolled your eyes, then pulled him in. “Kiss me.”

He grinned. “Man, I love your honesty.”

And in the rain, you kissed your piña colada man, ignoring what might happen in your future.

“Might not be a permanent job, my judgement might be clouded. I might show favoritism.”

“Then call me a consultant pending permanent employment and depending where this takes us we’ll…let the others decide my fate.”

“Works for me. Let me walk you home. Where do you live?”

You gestured vaguely. “That way. About fifteen minutes from your building. Work. Place.”

“When you said you were a virgin—”

“I never said I was a—walk. We’re getting soaked standing here like idiots and I hear thunder.” You started walking, keeping hold of his hand. “That or I start reevaluating what parts you really need.”

He laughed. “You know what’s funny?”

“No.”

“When you’re actually being honest, your hands relax, and when you’re bluffing, they get all tense.”

Huh.

“What is your biggest concern with the memory core?”

You considered it for a moment. “It could just be a matter of wording.”

“That’s still important.”

“The proposal suggests imprinting all of the memories of the player onto the memory core so that full immersion is more stimulating.”

“Right.”

“But it’s wording makes it sound like the game is replacing their memories. Imagine someone overwrites the data: what happens when the player tries to re-immerse themselves?”

He was quiet for a while. “That…could be….”

“Disastrous. This machine is supposed to work with your brain, but corrupted files could shut the brain down or damage it. It is incredibly dangerous if I’m understanding it correctly.”

“It could hurt people. We have to tick every box. And come up with fail safes.”

“To me, it’s not worth the risk. But that’s why I wanted to talk to them, to make sure I was understanding things.” You gestured to a building. “This is me.”

He nodded, only following when you tugged on his hand. “Are you sure you want me—”

“We’re soaked and the wind is picking up, and—” lightning flashed through the sky, “the storm is getting worse. We’ll call you a cab or something.”

“Right. Inside. Good idea.”

You ditched your shoes the moment you got in, rushing to the bathroom to grab towels so the two of you didn’t drip all over everything. “It’s a bit hot in here, sorry, my AC broke.”

“Just means we’re not going to get chilled,” He answered, taking the towel and looking around. “It’s nice.”

You glanced around as well. You’d opted for minimalism since that was the only way to make the place not feel claustrophobic. “It does the job.”

“So, you’re allergic to coconut?”

“Mostly the consumption, but I do have mild reactions externally as well.”

“How’d you find out?”

“Coconut hair treatment with my friend when I was fifteen. They had to cut my hair off because my scalp blistered and broke out and it was…traumatizing. But that was because it was coconut oil right against my skin for over an hour, undiluted. My daily allergy meds help if I happen to use, I don’t know, soap with coconut in it.” You put the kettle on the stove since you were feeling kind of chilled. “Tea?”

“Sure.” He started examining the photos on your wall (all three of them). “So, if I hadn’t been the last straw for that job, where do you think you’d be right now?”

“Dumping a scotch-neat on my boss’s head, if not down his pants, after quitting and looking for a job with less drunk people. My boss was drunk, my coworkers were drunk, everyone was drunk, except me. Do you know how surreal that feels?”

“And yet you accepted a job from me, someone who was drunk?”

“So you admit it,” You pointed out.

He rubbed his neck. “I usually only drink in the evenings, it generally makes me sleepy.”

“You had caffeine with your alcohol, then.”

“Accidentally.”

“That would explain the whole ‘why is the rum always gone’ debacle.”

He was very red looking in profile, but that could have been the lighting. “Yeah. I was embarrassed as I did it and yet I didn’t stop. Stupid.”

“If I hadn’t been having a terrible night, I probably would have enjoyed the reference, honestly. But, as you put it, you were the last straw. I would probably be applying to fast food right about now if it hadn’t been you.” You watched him studying your photos far longer than they were worth studying. “Are my photos that interesting?”

“These three were the ones you consciously decided to display, which means they mean something to you.”

You thought about that for a moment, thinking about all of the photos of families that the people you’d worked under while spying had shown you. Always the kids, always the wife, always the beloved pet.

But Hoseok had no photos in his office.

“You don’t keep any photos visible in your office, and office photos are, arguably, the ones that provide the most insight into people,” You countered, sitting on the floor with the tray of tea on the coffee table.

He joined you on the floor. “It’s a precaution. I keep the photos in J-Hope’s desk, the locked drawer. I’m surprised you noticed, though.”

“I wouldn’t have, but people kept shoving their photos in my face and if they weren’t, then I was redirecting their attention to their photos so I would get away with my snooping. People like to talk about themselves.”

He was watching you, a soft smile on his face. “You really are something else.”

You shrugged. “Don’t know what to tell you there.”

“We could hide it, you know. Us, whatever we are?”

“Professional flirtation,” You guessed, holding the mug and surprised at how cold your fingers had been. “Workday dalliance?”

“Wow, um, anyway, we could just not tell anyone about us.”

“9 to 5 lovers,” You quipped, trying to come up with more.

“Are you purposefully ignoring me?”

“Ye-es,” You dragged out, trying to think of another thing to call it.

“You don’t think we could?”

“I think the boys would figure it out before the morning meeting ended.”

“Oh, right, I didn’t mean from the boys.”

“Oh, ok, please continue.” You leaned on your hand and watched him.

“We stay away from anything unprofessional at work, with the exception of in private, and we make sure no one catches on. Then, when I officially take my position...we reevaluate where we are and adjust accordingly.”

“Officially take your position?”

“Technically, I’m not yet the CEO, my father is, but I’ve been acting CEO for about three years.”

He didn’t add that they had been the most prosperous three years of the company’s history, but maybe he was trying to stay humble.

“So, once he’s better and we finish a few things, he’ll hand over things to me officially. In front of the company.”

“Revealing that J-Hope is actually his son and everyone’s boss.”

He nodded. “Which would also be revealing that you have been working for me.”

“All of which could be potentially disastrous.”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “I bet you’d say I should have been open about it the whole time.”

“Not at all. I think this was the best course of action. Everyone respects J-Hope, they like him. They like his work ethic, they like how he listens, and they like how he cares. They like how bright and cheerful he is. They don’t know if they can trust their CEO, but they know that the board has been taking care of them and the CEO has been allowing it. They’re curious, and a little apprehensive.” You remembered all of the conversations you’d had over the week.

But one stuck out to you.

You’d been getting coffee with one of the employees in the marketing department, discussing the company and it’s leadership.

“I don’t know about the CEO. Or, well,” She flustered for a second. “I don’t know why he feels the need to hide from us. His father never did, but maybe there’s a plan. Every now and then, they have someone who sort of...scopes things out. They had me in project development for a couple of weeks so that I could tell them what I thought of the person that was testing the projects. That person was Mr. Jeon.”

You’d tilted your head, confused.

“Jeon Jungkook, he’s one of the board members, the youngest board member. He’s really good at catching on, which makes him a prime test subject for things that are about to be released. We can’t bring people in, not often, because information tends to get leaked. He’s been a godsend to the company. Mr. Jung found him, too, he’s found just about every top employee, and all of the board members--except J-Hope. He worked his way up through the company, and then impressed Mr. Jung Sr. and was given a job on the board. He looks after employee welfare and we’ve had an amazing increase in our benefits program ever since. It’s a shame Mr. Jung Jr. didn’t start out like J-Hope.”

“What’s that look for?”

You jumped a bit, refocusing on him. “All of the things that J-Hope has done are your accomplishments. You’ve improved the benefits program, upgraded the retirement package, made sure that everyone has received pay increases, and you worked your way up through the company. Your intellect lies in people, and your devotion to your job as their employer has inspired loyalty to you. I’m not saying you should go out tomorrow and reveal that you’re Mr. Jung Jr.”

“Do they really call me that?” He cringed.

“But you shouldn’t fear...telling them who you are. Yes, it could cause problems, but only momentarily. Until then, you want me to help you deal with trash and question everything so that the ship is running tightly when the official transfer happens. Right?” You asked, sitting up straight. “That way if anything happens with stocks, or the market, the company is running smoothly and will stay afloat.”

“You have a business degree, don’t you?”

“I never graduated,” You corrected easily. “But I did study some business, yes. This is what you want from me, correct?”

“Yes. I need you to tell me to suck it up when I hesitate.”

“Okay. Did you read my report on the other departments?”

He nodded slowly.

“Then I suggest you decide what should be done to those employees, and what you’re actually willing to do. Because I outlined my suggestions for each of them, but ultimately, it is up to you. You want to run a tight ship, you need to get rid of excess crew, which sounds terrible, but it’s true. If they’re not doing their job, they have no reason to be on deck. And some of them were on the wrong decks.”

He nodded. “I’ll review it once more, but we’ll probably go with your suggested actions.”

“Okay. Glad we understand each other.” You grabbed your phone, checking it. “Taehyung wants to know if I’m alive, and if I’m alive, is Hoseok alive as well.”

“Crap,” He went into his pocket. “Oh. They just wanted to go drinking. Taehyung is our usual designated driver. He’s not a big drinker like Jungkook and Jimin. I’m going to ask him to swing by and pick me up. If that’s okay.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t know how you felt about where you lived. You’re kind of hard to read.”

“I live here, I pay the rent, it’s small, but it’s mine. Or were you referring more to a bunch of men knowing where I, a single woman, lived?”

“The latter.”

“Ah, sweet of you to be concerned, but Jimin’s already seen my place.”

“He has?” Hoseok frowned.

“He dropped me off after we went shopping. None of the stores had bathrooms. Nature called.” You shrugged.

“I don’t like that,” Hoseok muttered, obviously more to himself.

“You don’t like that he had to use the bathroom? Or that we went shopping together? Because, technically, he was the only board member I was allowed to be seen with as one of his employment experiments.” You pointed out, waiting for him to pull himself together and continue texting Taehyung. “Also, you might want to text him before it’s too late.”

“That he saw your house.”

“Interesting. Text Taehyung,” You instructed carefully. “Before you have to pay for a cab.”

He did, but he was frowning the whole time.

You rolled your eyes. “Jimin was here for all of five minutes. I doubt he could even tell you what color the walls in the bathroom are.”

“Color,” He muttered, getting up and heading to the small hall.

“Um….”

“Purple. Walls are purple. Take that.”

“Oh my god, there is no way you’re even buzzed, why are you acting weird?”

“Purple. Blue. White. Three pictures.”

You rolled your eyes, and shook your head. “Weirdo. I mean, I knew that, only weird people like pina coladas--”

He caught you and kissed you again. “Don’t let Jimin in. He’s a minx. He’s a fox. That magic trickster fox that seduces you. A succubus.”

“Incubus,” you corrected. “Which is a sort of demon. Magical fox thing is a kitsune. You’re mixing your mythologies.”

“You’re so smart,” He said, but he said it in a sort of happy, sighing way while looking at you so softly and gently and adoringly….

You believed him.

He touched your cheek, then quickly pulled his hands away. “Alright. How about a rule?”

“Depends on the rule,” You replied.

“You have good judgement, and self control,” His gaze shifted to your eye, and his fingers brushed the edge of the bruising with a feather-light touch, “So, I want there to be a rule that at work, any...personal things between us are initiated by you. Which means you can shut me down at any time, anyway you feel necessary.”

“You mean, like asking you about your ex?”

“Ouch,” He muttered, looking down. “Yeah. Sure. What do you want to know?”

“Am I replacing your ex?”

He shook his head. “Not even remotely.”

“I’m in their office.”

He looked up, then shook his head. “No, you’re in my mom’s old office. Yesuel never worked at HopeWorld. Too much of a free-spirit.”

“But you loved them all the same.”

“I did. I thought I did. Love is...tricky.”

“Are you ready for another significant other?” You asked.

He met your gaze, holding it. “Do you like getting lost in the rain?”

You smiled. “You know I do.”

“Then you know I am,” He replied easily, fingers resting under your chin. “Are you going to be okay, with your eye like that? They did say it could get worse, and if it does….”

“Are you asking if you can stay? Because you’d have to borrow clothing, or live in a blanket until your clothing is dry. I don’t have much that would fit you.”

“I’m worried about you. I’ll stay on the couch.” He touched a strand of your still-damp hair. “Eye injuries are dangerous.”

“Didn’t you already tell Taehyung to come pick you up?”

He shook his head. “I was just going to walk down to work and get my car and pretend that Taehyung picked me up.”

You hit him lightly. “And if you got struck by lightning?”

“My company would be in good hands,” He answered, shrugging slightly. “But I would miss out on a few things. But you can get hit by lightning and live.”

“Not well,” You argued, frowning.

He gently ran a thumb over your eyebrow, as though to ease away your frown. “Besides, I was already struck by you. I don’t think anything could knock me off my feet like that, I don’t think anything ever has. You’re new and unique. And I want to know everything I can about you. Even if you don’t like pina coladas. Even if you are a virgin.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re addicted to it,” He replied easily, smirking at you.

And yes.

You were.

It was crazy, but you were completely addicted to the banter with him, the way he smiled while you were grumbling, the way he asked what you thought of things and actually listened. You liked his gentleness and compassion.

He brought hope back to your world.

“I agree to your rule,” You whispered.

Hoseok grinned and kissed you.

Your future was going to be crazy...but maybe the consistency of his smile was enough to get you through.

#btswritingbingo #hoseok x reader #jung hoseok x reader #jhope x reader #reader x jhope #reader x bts #bts fic #jung hoseok #jhope #jimin #taehyung #seokjin #yoongi #namjoon #business au #ceo!hoseok #ceo!jhope #one-shot

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i-make-questionable-choices · 4 years ago

Text

When the Hurt Comes, So Does the Happiness.

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: Torture, SPN level gore, mentions of rape/non-con, mentions of forced bestiality(nothing graphic), angst.

Summary: When Alastair disappeared after Anna’s death, he took you with him, holding you simply to torture the Winchesters. With the knowledge that angels are tracking him down, he sets out to hurt you as much as he can.

A/N: This kinda replaces the end of 04x15. Also my first work so please please please let me know how I did or anything else. Feedback is golden!

When Dean came back to life after 40 years in the pit, he had had trouble believing he was, in fact, alive. Paranoia followed him from hell, and it took a while for him to realize that his resurrection was not some cruel joke. It had taken some time, but slowly, he had accepted that this was real. That you were real.

But now you were gone. Plucked from his grasp like a child plucks a flower from the earth. It made Dean wonder if he ever left Hell.

—

Alastair hummed softly, relishing in the cries of his latest victim. It had been surprisingly easy to take his best student little pet away from him, and, though he was no where near either of the Winchesters, the knowledge that they would be driving themselves into the ground looking for you almost had him singing.

He hadn’t felt such exhilaration during a torture session as he was feeling since the righteous man had fallen onto his rack. And while he couldn’t use some of his preferred techniques, considering he wanted you alive, the knowledge that Dean was suffering at your mere absence was delicious.

Carefully selecting a pair cuticle nippers from his cart of tools, he turned with a flourish, grin falling as he realized you were unconscious. You were no fun unconscious, after all, he liked your screams.

With an aggrieved sigh, he dropped the nippers back on the table and, begrudgingly, snatched up a heavy leather collar. He sulked over to the rack where you lay unconscious and cinched it around your neck, far too tight for it to be comfortable, then stormed out of the room

—

When you flickered back into consciousness, all you could do was try and breath.

The still air chilled your bare skin, raising goosebumps along the paled flesh. The leather around your neck, though suffocatingly tight, was eerily comforting, and though it confused you, you lent into it. You needed all the comfort could could get.

Despite the freezing air and the chills that ran along your skin, the outside of your left thigh burned with a vengeance. Tears welled in your eyes as you recalled the moments before you fell unconscious.

The pain from the brand had cast all other thoughts from your mind when Alastair had seared what he called a ‘permanent reminder’ of himself into your skin.

It was all too much, the cold, the pain, your hunger, and the confusing comfort of the collar. You didn’t see it coming, but you barely had seconds before you passed out once more.

—

Alastair waking you up by pouring water on you wasn’t unusual, as a matter of fact, it seemed to be his preferred method. But each and every time the water had been icy.

This time, it was boiling.

You screamed as it awoke you, drowning out Alastair’s cruel laugh as you gasped and sobbed. Your body spasming against its restraints, desperately trying to evade the pain.

“Good morning, pet,” the sickly sweet tone of his voice sent shivers up your spine, “did you enjoy your bath?”

A slight pull choked you for a moment as Alastair undid the buckle before the collar disappeared.

“You fell asleep on me last night, quiet rude don’t you think?” He grinned as tears streamed down your face, tinting pink as they washed away bits of dried blood. “No matter, we have plenty of time for just us today!”

A flash a metal caught in the cold light as Alastair brandished the cuticle nippers once more.

Slowly, delicately, he lowered them to your face, tracing your features just as Dean used to in the wee hours of the morning. If Alastair knew this, he would rejoice knowing that the seat gesture was now ruined by his doing.

He reached your lips, then without warning, split your upper lip in half.

Your wail was music to his ears, the fading sound leaving him yearning for more. He forced you to count threatening you with harsh punishment should you refuse.

By the time they got to one-hundred, your body was shaking with sobs, voice cracking. To add insult to injury, your stomach, having gone four days now with out food, rumbled and groaned.

Humiliation flooded through you, your cheeks burning.

Through tears you spared a glance at your torturer, furrowed brow widened as you perceived the look of sadistic joy upon his face.

“Pet!” He cried, the same way a mother or parental figure does when you do something unexpected. "You should have told me you were so hungry!”

He released the nippers, letting them clatter to the ground.

“I wasn’t going to feed you just yet but I suppose we could switch things around a bit…” The strap across your forehead prevented you from turning your head completely, but your heart dropped into your stomach when you saw the contraption Alastair selected; a long tube, open on one end with a funnel connected to the other.

In a desperate attempt at self preservation, you clamped your lips tight, ignoring the burning pain that spread across your face at the pressure on your cut lip. Alastair snorted, the corners of his smirk curling up further.

“Very well then, if you insist on being difficult…”

You cried out as he shoved the tube up your nose. It wasn’t a large tube, but good god was it to big for such a small space. You could feel it scraping away at the inside of your nose, could feel the blood trickle down to your mouth.

There was barely a warning before it entered your throat; a slight tickle at the top of your mouth, perhaps.

You coughed and gagged as he slipped it down you throat further, eyes leaking tears like a faucet.

Finally, after what felt like ages, the tube stopped moving. Sniffling, you sobbed, not bothering to muffle the sounds of crying.

“Bonne appétit, kitten.”

You couldn’t see what he poured into the funnel, part of you didn’t want to anyways. Your muscles tensed in anticipation, waiting for whatever pain you would feel next. You did not expect to feel a tickle in your chest before your body spasmed into a coughing fit.

“Whoopsie!”

Alastair’s voice sent shivers up your spine. “Wrong way. I’m so sorry, kitten, how careless of me.”

Pulling it back out was just as bad as him pushing it in, it was unnatural and you so longed to claw at your neck.

It took him a moment to actually get the tube into your esophagus, but with a sharp jab and a feel around your neck, he was pretty sure it was in the right place now.

He was halfway through, ignoring your gags in an effort to repeal the foreign device, when his head shot up, eyes gazing towards the door, before a smirk adorned his mug.

“Well, pet, it seems that we have a guest,” he reached for the collar, tightening it more than he ever had before. “You’ll be a good girl while I go and greet them, won’t you?”

With a slight bow, he disappeared from your vision, exiting somewhere behind you and slamming a door you couldn’t see. The only sounds now audible were your gags as your body fought to expel the tube from its system.

Tilted onto your back, it was excruciatingly hard for you to vomit up the tube and you needed up spewing several mouthfuls of bile onto yourself before you could spit it out.

With Alastair gone, you began to process your situation.

Naked, shorn, and weak, covered in cuts and burns and bruises, sticky with blood and bile and the filth of the dogs Alistair had set on you. Helpless. Alone. Collared, branded, and chained like an animal. For the first time in these two weeks, it hit you just how pathetic you were was.

It was the straw that broke the camels back. The loneliness. The time to think. With a shuddering gasp, you descended into tears

—

Dean sprinted through the halls of the warehouse. Slamming his hands into every door, yelling out your name. The desperation raw in his voice.

He reached the end of the hall and tried the door; locked.

At first, he backed up, trying with all his might to kick it down, and then to bodyslam it open. When his body couldn’t take it anymore, he grabbed his gun.

Aiming it at the glass square in the door, he fired several times until he had a hole large enough to reach through.

Shards of glass still clinging to the door frame pierced his jacket at sliced his skin, he didn’t care, he had to check everywhere.

It was an awkward angle, and Dean could barely reach it, but he managed to twist the knob on the inside until the door swung open; revealing the carnage inside.

—

It took the Dean a moment to register that the form on the table was indeed the women he was looking for. No longer did you sport your gorgeous H/C locks, the hair barely dotting your shaved scalp as it began growing back. Your skin was so stained and burned and bruised it didn’t look human.

Hesitantly, as if approaching a frightened rabbit, Dean paced forwards.

“Y/N?” His voice as hesitant as his steps.

Your eyes flew open, fearful as a rabbit chased by dogs. The relief that flooded them as soon as you realized who it was was immediate.

“de-an?” Your voice choppy and hoarse.

“Hey there, sweetheart.” Dean struggled to blink back tears.

“s-sammy?”

“He’s okay, I’m gonna get you outta here, okay sweetheart?”  You hummed, eyes half closed as your head lolled to the side, a couple tears cutting through the grime on your cheeks and nose.

Silence hung between them as Dean fiddled with straps around your wrists, slick blood and bile. The straps had been locked so tightly that they had rubbed the skin raw and left it paled as blood smuggled to fill back in.

As the moved to your ankles he grimaced, noticing the sticky white mess that dripped down your inner thighs.

You didn’t make a sound as he adjusted your prone figure to sit forwards, letting you lean against his shoulder as he fiddled with the too tight buckle around your neck. He didn’t care about the vomit that dribbled down your chin, staining his shirt, nor did he care about the blood that seeped into his clothes.

His only focus was you.

The collar fell away from your neck leaving behind rubs and bruised skin. Dean had expected the removal of the collar to calm you, not for your breathing to speed up ten-fold, nor to be able to feel your heart pound against his chest.

“no.” It was barely a whisper, a hint of a word, but Dean stilled, pulling back as he gripped your shaking shoulders. His mind was scrambling for answers, what had Alastair done to you? Why were you wearing t-

Oh.

He pulled you tight against his chest once more, murmuring reassurances in your ear as he hid his own tears from view.

His rage burned as he recalled his time apprenticing under Alastair; the time that monster had shown him one of his more ‘refined’ techniques.

Conditioning.

Training the victims mind into associating the removal of a collar or chains or the opening of their cage with extreme pain. It was a technique so ruthless that Dean had never been able to bring himself to do it.

Not even at his worst.

It took Dean a moment, but, as he desperately tried to banish those horrid memories from his mind, he shrugged off his jacket. Gently as he could, he draped the fabric over your shoulders and carefully guided each arm through the sleeves.

It was a bit too big, your fingers still hiding in the sleeves, but it gave you a shred of modesty and you clutched at him tighter.

When his arm wormed its way under your knees, you stifled your whimper as best you could but you could not conceal the tiniest of squeaks that escaped your cracked lips.

Deans eyes filled with pity, mouth parting to apologize but you beat him to it.

“P-please, just get me out of here.”

He hesitated a moment then steeled himself and nodded, his other arm supporting your lower back.

“Sorry about this sweetheart.”

You gasped softly as some of your injuries rubbed against his shirt and fresh tears sprang in your eyes. As he lifted you closer to his chest, you brought your trembling arms up around his neck, leaning your chin over his shoulder.

The beat of his steps both jarred your injuries and provided comforting sounds, lulling you into a more restful state. You would have fallen asleep had Dean not stepped outside moments later.

The air was crisp, slight breezing chilling you to the bone. Shivering, you burrowed deeper into Deans arms and he tightened his hold on you. As he carried you away from the hellhole in which you had been trapped, the sky came into view. And with the sky, came the stars.

They twinkled, blurring in you teary eyes and you took in a long, deep breath of fresh air.

You couldn’t help yourself; sobs wracked your body as it truly set in that you were finally free. Free from Alastair and his pain. Free from his torture. Free.

Dean didn’t say a word. He knew exactly the emotions that were coursing through you. When he had first come back, he had been hesitant and as wary as a rabbit. Not daring for ages to believe that his resurrection was not some cruel joke.

As he reached the Impala. He had to shift his hold on you to reach the passengers side handle and even then he had difficulty opening the door, but he managed. Not daring to set you down and the unforgivingly cold concrete.

Slowly ducking his head, he lowered you onto your back onto the cool leather seat of the Impala. He made to pull away but your arms tightened around his neck, terrified of losing him.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay sweetheart, I’m just gonna grab you a blanket, okay? I’m not going anywhere, okay?” He took time to check that everything he did was okay with you, letting you know everything so as not to leave you dreading something he would do, even if he knew he wasn’t going to hurt you. Gently he took ahold of your forearms, clutching them between fingertips, and lowered them to your chest. Pulling away quickly, he opened the door to the backseat, reaching up onto the rear dash to grab one of the thick blankets they kept there. He shut the door as quietly as he could, but that didn’t stop you from reflexively tensing at the abrupt noise. Though Dean noticed, he said nothing, it wouldn’t help you right now anyways.

Carefully, he worked the blanket underneath you, then laid you back down on the leather, wrapping you up nice and tight. He ducked back, about to shut the door when the rustling of feathers sounded behind him, alarming the both of you.

Quiet as a cat, in all his trench-coated glory, was Castiel. His eye were stoic and matched Deans fiery gaze.

“What do you want now?” Dean snarled, turning completely and shielding you from the angels view.

For a moment, Castiel was silent, eyes dropping to stare at the road beneath him before he returned his gaze to Dean, stepping forwards.

“This hasn’t been easy for you.”

“Yeah no shit! What the hell do you want?”

“I’m here to help.” He nodded at you.

“Why the fuck would you do that. You’ve done nothing for us since you pulled me outta hell!” Deans voice was low and angry, yet cautiously quiet.

Behind him, you shivered as the night air crept in through the open door.

Castiel said nothing, lifting his chin to regard Dean. The look he sported was not judgmental, but perhaps slightly inquisitive. And not the type of inquisitivity that came alongside confusion, no he knew everything he wanted and needed to, but instead a type of inquisitivity that prompted Dean to stop and think.

For a few tense moments, only the stars dared to move, it seemed even the air around the angel and the hunter stilled. Then, slowly, cautiously, Dean stepped back.

“Fine, but hurry the hell up!”

Periwinkle eyes softened, a look of compassion that one might expect when they thought of an angel, and he leant over you.

At first you shrunk away, not willing to be near anyone other than Dean, but you had to trust Dean, trust that he wouldn’t let anyone he didn’t mildly trust near you.

Eyes glowing blue, Castiel pressed but two fingers to your forehead. The tenseness in your shoulders seemed to relax and the frown upon your lips softened. A wave of warmth, like a loving hug, washed through you, chasing away the pain Though the bloodstains and other substances soiling your skin remained, the physical damage was slowly washed away.

He stepped back, allowing Dean to approach you and examine his work. Though Dean still had his back to him, Castiel gave one last thoughtful comment.

“We’re not all so stuck-up, if you give us a chance.”

Dean had barely started to turn before Castiels wings rustled once more and he disappeared into nothingness.

He stared long and hard at the spot where the angel had once stood, the let his gaze wander upwards. Overhead, a patch of cloud was slowly pushed across the sky, and the moon glowed brightly. She smiled down at the hunter as he gazed at her in return.

Dean lowered his gaze.

He stood there for only a moment longer then turned, shutting the passengers door behind him and walking across the front of the car. He pulled the door open and plopped down in the drivers seat, exhausted.

He hadn’t expected it, but a soft smile graced his features as you scooted closer to him, wresting your head against his thigh.

Starting the car he pulled out from the curb, placing one hand on your head. You murmured then nuzzled into the touch.’

It would take weeks, maybe even months, but, as he sped away from Alastair’s hellhole Dean knew you would be okay.

Both of you, would be okay.

#dean winchester #deanwinchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester angst #dean winchester whump #dean winchester one shot #supernatural one shot #spn one shot #supernatural angst #supernatural whump #supernatural x reader #supernatural x you #alastair #castiel #SamWinchester #I Make Questionable Choices #Questionable-Choices writing

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slyttherins · 4 years ago

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A Jily wedding | Wolfstar

Summary: Slices of life leading up to Jily’s wedding

Pairing: Sirius Black x Remus Lupin / James Potter x Lily Evans

Word count: 2589

James, Sirius and Peter sat at a table at the Leaky Cauldron, drinking beers and celebrating James' last days as an unmarried man.

''I can't believe you're getting married. Married!''

James rolled his eyes and finished the last of his beer. ''Shut up, Pads.''

''I mean, who would've thought you'd end up marrying Evans. All those years of trying and failing to get her on a date finally gave something.''

On the other side of the table, Peter snickered, remembering how desperate James had always been for her during their years at Hogwarts. Someone will without a fail mention it during their speech at the wedding. There were so many good stories about James Potter's grand flirting techniques - and failures -, it would be a shame to not share some with their guests.

''Moony, where are our beers?'' James called out to him.

''Coming!'' he replied from the bar, only now receiving the tall glasses. ''You're getting the next round,'' he told Peter when he sat down.

Sirius wrapped an arm around his shoulders and toasted to James - again.

''I don't get it. How can you be so calm about this? You're getting fucking married in twelve days, Prongs!''

The closer they were to their wedding day, the less nervous James was - unlike Lily who was a nervous wreck, planning everything with his mother. Sometimes, she'd ask his opinion on things like cake toppers or flowers, but James always told her the same thing: I don't care, do what you please. To some, it could pass like he was behaving like an ass, but he truly didn't care whether there were white or blue or yellow flowers on the table-centers. To him, all that mattered was that his beautiful fiancé would become his wife at the end of the ceremony. That Lily Evans would become Lily Potter. The rest...was just confetti.

''Is Petunia coming?''

Remus Lupin knew nothing about weddings, but, unlike the other marauders, he was helpful. He had come to the Potters' to help Lily with some last minute preparations like the final seating chart and making sure everything was in order for next week - and she couldn't be more thankful.

Lily looked down. ''No. She...she isn't,'' she replied, feeling her eyes welled with tears.

Remus pursed his lips into a thin line, now regretting asking. ''I'm sorry.''

''She made her choice a long time ago. I don't know why I ever thought for a second that she'd send a positive RSVP...''

''She's your sister. You're allowed to be upset.''

''I thought she could make an exception for one day, for my big day, and put her hatred against the wizarding world aside, but I guess not.''

Family was a difficult subject for Lily Evans. Mainly her relationship with her sister, Petunia. They used to be very close, but her witch abilities put a strain between and their relationship had kept deteriorating until they became completely distant.

Two years ago, Lily - alongside James - had attended Petunia and Vernon's wedding. Although they hadn't talked the whole night, Lily saw this as a step into rekindling their relationship, but Petunia had proven wrong when she didn't return the favor and checked the RSVP as 'no' for Lily's wedding.

''My parents cannot make it to my wedding either. It's so sad to think that on my big day I won't have any family there to see me walk down the aisle. I don't even have someone to give me away to James-'' She pushed her face in her hands, more upset than she let on.

Remus' heart broke at the sight of a crying Lily, five days before her wedding. She didn't deserve this. She deserved a beautiful wedding with all of her loved ones in the attendance. A wedding filled with love and happiness.

He squeezed her forearm. ''You have me. I can be your family for one day.''

At Hogwarts, she and Remus had become best friends - much to James' jealousy. Their friendship wasn't to the marauders' level, but they were very close - thanks to being both prefects, and studying and potion partners.

If James were there, he'd add that they were both bookworms too.

Lily raised her head, the couple tears she had let slip now visible. ''You'd do that?''

Remus nodded. Yeah, he'd do that.

This morning, a letter had arrived from Madam Malkin announcing that their robes were finished being crafted and that the boys could come in and try them on in the afternoon.

The accent color of the wedding was a rich purple-y red color which somehow suited everyone. When Madam Malkin revealed the robes to the marauders, they were pleasantly surprised and excited to try them on.

Everyone's robes were different while being cohesive, just like their personalities. The base of the outfit was simple: white shirt and black trousers - except for Peter who was the ring bearer. James, as the groom, had a cloak, a vest - matching with his best man - and a bow tie. Instead of a bow tie, Sirius and Remus had matching ties. Remus also had suspenders instead of a vest because Lily prefered that for him - and, according to Sirius, he looked fine.

''How do I look?'' James asked, standing in front of the floor length mirror and perfecting the cloak over his shoulders.

''It looks nice. But, won't you get hot in this?'' Peter replied, slouched in one of the chairs, munching on some snacks and leaving crumbs on his nice dress shirt.

''Probably. I'm only wearing the cloak for the ceremony, though. Padfoot? Moony, what do you thi-'' James turned around and groaned, seeing the two kissing in the corner. ''Bloody hell, can you two not suck faces for ten minutes?''

At James' voice, Remus pulled away and looked down, sheepish. ''Sorry.'' His lips were slightly red and a piece of his hair was sticking up at the back.

Sirius, on the other hand, was unbothered and still staring at Remus as if he was some bone to munch on. ''If Evans hadn't put Moony in bloody suspenders and fit trousers, it wouldn't be an issue,'' he defended, taking a seat beside Peter. ''Have you seen his ass-''

''I don't want to hear it!'' James interrupted before Sirius could finish, raising his hands to cover his ears like a child.

Madam Malkin appeared in the fitting area. ''Everything alright here? I heard screaming.''

''All good, Madam Malkin,'' Remus replied politely with a small smile, hoping she hadn't noticed his burning cheeks.

Sirius looked smug and Peter was snickering in his seat, amused by the situation.

''If one of you tears or stain anything before the wedding, you'll be paying for the repairs,'' James warned them - Peter included.

One week before the wedding, James did the unthinkable and walked in on Lily trying on her dress. It wasn't intentional - he didn't even know she was home -, but Mrs. Potter had shooed him out of the room quickly, screaming that it was bad luck to see the bride in her dress before the wedding.

''I didn't even see the dress!'' he promised from the other side of the door. ''But, just so you know, I'd still marry you if you were wearing a pillow case.''

Lily had laughed. She was going to marry that idiot. ''And you better have a dress robes when I see you at the altar, Potter.''

''So...who's next?''

''Next what?'' Remus asked, confused.

''Who's the next marauder to tie the knot?''

''Well, Peter. But I suggest you take a seat because that's not happening for a long time. Have you seen him flirt with Dorcas? He can't even pick up that she isn't interested in boys!''

They both bursted laughing.

''It must be you, then.''

Remus choked on his tea, almost spittering it all on himself. ''You know Sirius and I can't get married, Evans.''

''Not now, obviously.''

''Even if we could, marriage isn't Sirius and I's deal. We love each other very much, but have no intention on getting married - ever.''

Although it could sound nice to call Sirius his husband, Sirius' view on marriage had been heavily tainted because of his family and blood purity obsession. In the Noble House of Black, you didn't marry out of love, but to keep the bloodline pure. Toujour pur.

A few years ago, his parents had even tried to force him into marrying his cousin, Narcissa. Sirius had found it morally disgusting and was very thankful when Narcissa married Lucius Malfoy.

''He might changed his mind for you.''

''How was your afternoon with Lily? Has she gone all bridezilla yet?'' Sirius asked when he heard the door of his and Remus' shared flat open and close.

Remus chuckled as he removed his boots. ''Surprisingly, no. She'd have all the reasons to, though. She received some last minute RSVPs and has nowhere to place them on the seating chart, the florists got the wrong colors for the arrangements and the Ceremony Official mixed up his dates and Lily and James' date isn't available anymore,'' he explained. ''If I were her, I'd be crying on the floor - but don't tell her that.''

Sirius laughed and went around the counter to greet Remus properly, abandoning the sandwich he was making himself. ''Your secret's safe with me, love.'' He kissed Remus who scrunched his nose, smelling a mix of exhaust and leather on his boyfriend.

''You've taken out the motorcycle?''

''Yeah. I went on a ride with Prongs. We came up with a genius idea to drive him to the altar on my motorcycle, but there's very small chances Lily will let us.''

''With reason.''

Much like Remus, Lily wasn't a fan of that motorcycle. Motorcycles itself were dangerous and had a high risk of fatalities, but Sirius' was huge and fast and could fly, which made it ten times more dangerous. Plus, James and Sirius were very reckless on that motorcycle and had once been chased by muggle authorities.

The ceremony went on smoothly - if you don't count Peter almost dropping the rings. James had shed a few tears when he saw Lily in her white dress and Lily didn't forget her vows, which she had been nervous about. Her memory wasn't the best under stress.

After saying 'I do', everyone had moved to the magically enlarged ball room for the reception. As expected, the place was beautiful. Rich purple-y red and white flower arrangements, chic drapes, floating lights and a massive cake.

Like expected, Sirius had filled his best man speech with embarrassing anecdotes of the couple - mainly on James' end. He did tease a bit Lily too - otherwise it wouldn't have been fair -, but he was harder on James, as expected. The guests had laughed and James was embarrassed, which was all Sirius wanted.

''You just wait for payback on your wedding day, Padfoot,'' James threatened as they shared a shoulder hug.

Lily might not have gone all bridezilla on her wedding planning, but she insisted on handing her guests a list of rules for the night. There weren't too many and they were simple and basic. No pranks. No gorging yourselves at the buffet table. No exhibitionism. No drunken speeches. No getting so wasted you can't walk. No white for the women attending.

Some were specifically hinted toward one or more people, but she figured that all their guests could use those rules.

Lily had joined Remus at a table as the guests danced to rest her sore feet. She had charmed her shoes before putting them on so they wouldn't hurt her feet from wearing them all night, but the charm must've worn out by now.

''Mrs. Potter,'' Remus greeted, nodding his head.

The redhead chuckled and took a sip of her champagne. ''That's me.''

''You look beautiful, Lily. Radiant.''

''I can't believe I'm married, Remus. Married! This is insane.'' She smiled and took another sip.

A few feet from them, Sirius' shirt was halfway unbuttoned and his tie was undone as he danced with James, a drink in his left hand. His hair was pulled into a messy half-up, too hot to let them down fully, and Remus watched with discouragement and endearment. They looked ridiculous.

''Seeing this makes me regret what I just willingly signed up for.''

Remus laughed. ''Worry not, we're in this together.''

''They look like idiots.''

They laughed and James held on to Sirius who's drink tilted and almost made a mess. Sirius brought it up to his lips and kept on dancing with his best friend.

''You think Sirius will make it till the end of the night? How many drinks has he had?''

At this moment, Sirius tripped on his own foot, making him vacillate and almost falling. More than he should've.

''I'll handle him,'' Remus assured.

When Remus decided it was enough, he pried Sirius from the room and led him to one of the couches in a secluded part of the ball room to - hopefully - sober up before going home.

Lily had offered them a sobering potion, but Remus had declined it, knowing Sirius would be annoyed and want to drink more after - which he really shouldn't if he doesn't want to get alcohol poisoning. It wasn't his first time dealing with a drunk Sirius - and he didn't really mind. He was easy enough to manage.

Sirius' head rested against the high armrest of the couch, sprawled like his bones had been replaced with jelly. Drunk and dazed, he reached out for his boyfriend and dragged him down with him, making Remus squeal in surprise.

Sirius took hold of his hand and brought it to his face and leaned into it as Remus sat on his lap.

''Where's your tie?'' Remus asked, not seeing the silky strip around his neck.

Sirius looked down and shrugged, only now noticing that it was in fact not there anymore. He shrugged, not caring much about the lost tie. It's not like he had planned to wear it again.

''You're very drunk.''

''And you're very pretty.'' Sirius wrapped his arms around Remus' neck and started kissing his jaw lovingly and drunkenly. ''I love you, Moony.''

In his last stage of drunkenness, Sirius Black was a needy and affectionate drunk - before blacking out, that is. Once he was past the goofing with James stage, he was the neediest person, wanting nothing else than to hug, cuddle and kiss everybody he knew - especially Remus.

He'd look around the room, searching for Remus just so he could wrap his arms around him and kiss his face and flirt with him. To love and be loved in return. It was all a drunk Sirius wanted - needed.

Remus tried to resist Sirius' kissing and pulled away, insisting on keeping his promise to Lily and following her wedding rules. He looked down at the raven haired wizard, seeing clearly how much of a mess he looked with pieces of hair were falling into his heavy eyes, a soft smile across his lips and the smooth skin of his chest on display from his half buttoned shirt.

''Shall we go home?'' Remus took a piece of Sirius' hair and twirled it around his fingers.

Sirius shook his head in protest, feeling the effects of alcohol dissipate a little. ''Wanna stay a little more,'' he said...only to change his mind less than a minute later, which made Remus laugh.

''Let's go say goodbye to the newlyweds, first.'' Remus helped him get up from the couch and walked back to the party area.

#wolfstar #wolfstar fic #jily #jily fic #sirius black #remus lupin x sirius black #Remus Lupin #james potter #lily evans #harry potter fic #marauders era #wedding fic

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dweetwise · 4 years ago

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300 followers gift fic: beach episode

instead of taking a writing break i finally finished the crackfic i promised for 300 followers! it’s a little weird and i,, kind of make fun of frank a little too much but i hope you enjoy the silliness nonetheless!

characters: david, dwight, steve, ace, quentin, frank, julie, susie, joey ship: david x dwight warnings: mild violence, mention of blood word count: 6950 (hELP)

David feels his feet hit the ground as he’s teleported into a trial, the fog of the Entity slowly clearing from his mind. He opens his eyes—

—and promptly has to close them right after because bloody hell it's bright!

“Woah! Look at this!” an awestruck voice exclaims from somewhere nearby, and David thinks it's Steve, finally managing to squint his eyes open enough to try to make out their surroundings.

As soon as he does so, he immediately decides he's hallucinating.

He's on a sunny beach. There's waves slowly rolling onto the fine white sand and the sun is shining bright, high up in the clear blue sky.

The only thing that stops David from being sure that he's dreaming is Steve smacking him on the shoulder and uttering an excited “Dude, are you seeing this?” because if he was dreaming he sure as hell wouldn't be here with Steve.

“Where are we?" a voice that sounds much more fitting for his dream pipes up from behind him, and David turns to find Dwight making his way over. "Did—did we escape…?” their leader's tired eyes are wide with hope, and he rubs his arms nervously and—

Holy shit, he's shirtless.

Steve is shrugging and replying something to Dwight, but David's brain can't comprehend anything that isn't Dwight and his surprisingly well-defined, freckled shoulders and the adorable chub around his waist and fuck, David bets his skin feels so soft—

“What do you think, David?” Dwight asks, and David forces himself to tear his gaze away from Dwight’s torso to his face. But then he has those big, brown eyes looking up at him and searching for guidance, like David is even half of the leader Dwight is.

“Don’t seem like a trial,” David manages to get out through the mess of thoughts that is his feelings for the man. “Should look around—you stay close to me, eh?” he urges their leader, despite knowing full well Dwight is more than enough capable of looking after himself.

He takes some comfort in the fact that despite Dwight being aware of that too, the man responds with a nod and a small, if a little shaky, smile.

“Come on guys, hurry up!” Steve calls from a short distance away, reminding David that they’re not, in fact, alone. They follow the excited teen, walking along the shoreline.

As Steve prattles on about how warm it is and pesters them about whether or not they know how to swim, David tries and fails to focus on their predicament and not let his eyes wander.

He notices Dwight is wearing red board shorts with a pizza slice pattern, and tries not to smile. He wonders if it’s something he owned in the real world, or that the Entity made up just for this occasion. Either way, they’re way cuter than they have any right of being.

“Dude, I like the shorts!” Steve’s voice finally gets through to David, probably because he’s looking a little too intently at Dwight’s neither regions, but then he thankfully turns to give David the same treatment. “Yours are… uh, kinda neat too!”

And for the first time David actually takes a look at his own outfit. He hadn’t even realized he was also in swimwear, so used to going shirtless trial after trial. But sure enough, the Entity has put him in dark blue swim shorts, and he snorts upon spotting the cartoony beer pint pattern. He sure as hell has never owned a pair that looks like this, so apparently the Entity is enjoying playing dress-up with them.

“I think yours are cool too,” Dwight returns the compliment and David goes back to glaring at Steve, who grins and shows off his (really fucking ugly, in David’s opinion) striped shorts with pictures of ice cream cones.

Steve, thankfully, doesn’t have time for what would no doubt be an obnoxious reply, the sounds of an argument drifting over to the trio.

“—you should let me do it! I have Plunderers!” David recognizes Ace’s annoying voice before he spots the man, standing over what looks to be someone searching a chest.

“And I have Pharmacy, so shut it,” Quentin’s messy mop of hair appears over the chest when he offers a half-hearted glare at the gambler.

“Nobody wants a dusty old med-kit!” Ace huffs, hands on his hips. “Who knows what else we could find?”

“Too late,” Quentin snarks and finally rips the lock off, Ace sighing in defeat as he opens the chest. “What the… what’s all this?”

“Oi, what’s going on?” David walks up to the duo. “Did’ya find somethin’?”

“Hey, buddy—” Ace greets before David shoves his way past the man, peering into the chest that has Quentin so confused, coming face to face with…

“Beach equipment?” Quentin summarizes, lifting a water gun and a towel from the chest.

“Cool!” Steve has joined them and, predictably, gets excited, grabbing the toy immediately.

“Have you two seen anyone else?” Dwight asks Quentin and Ace, trailing after Steve to join them.

“Nope!” Ace chirps, grabbing a pair of sunglasses and a beach towel from the box. “Looks like it’s just us, unless the rest are… I don’t know, out at sea?”

“Half expected to run into a killer,” Quentin muses. “Guess we got lucky it’s just the five of us instead.”

“Shame it's just dudes. I bet the girls would've—uh,” Steve says, before seeming to realize how desperate he sounds. “Really enjoyed it too…?” he finishes with a sheepish smile.

“Uh-huh,” Quentin deadpans. “I'm sure that's the reason.”

“It's a tragedy the new guy isn't here," Ace sighs wistfully. “I’d pay good money to see him shirtless.”

David rolls his eyes while Dwight, embarrassed, chokes on nothing.

“Y-you shouldn't talk about Felix like that,” their leader stammers, completely oblivious to how David was ogling him earlier.

“Just saying what half of the camp is thinking,” Ace shrugs.

“I wonder if Jane's coming?” Steve seems to realize, glancing around as if expecting more people to pop up out of thin air.

“You're both disgusting,” Quentin snorts, starting to walk away from the group. “I'm going for a swim."

“But we don't know if it's safe!” Dwight calls after him.

"I mean… if I drown in Entity goo, don't come after me," Quentin merely responds, putting on some swimming goggles and making his way to the shoreline.

“I wonder why Quentin’s in a speedo and the rest of us have trunks?” Steve thinks out loud, and sure enough, David realizes he’s right, noticing Quentin’s swimwear when he swan dives into the ocean.

“Didn’t he use to do competitive swimming?” Dwight points out, because of course he would, because nobody knows any of them quite as well as Dwight, because he’s an amazing leader and friend and—

David’s train of thought comes to a halt when he glances around and notices what has to be a crime against fashion.

“I’d rather a speedo than whatever the fock tha’ is,” David snorts, gesturing to where Ace is laying his beach towel, wearing a pair of hot pink swimming trunks with a banana pattern, along with a trashy, bright yellow aloha shirt. Apparently he’s gotten so used to the man’s questionable style that he didn’t even notice the travesty until now.

“Aww, come on David!” Ace grins, taking his jab in stride. “I know you really wanted some pink shorts too.”

“It’s kinda funny that the Entity gave us shorts with our favorite food!” Steve grins while rummaging through the supplies in the chest. “I love ice cream, Dwight obviously likes pizza, and David beer, and Ace—”

“Cock,” David finishes the sentence, eyeing the banana shorts suspiciously, while Ace bursts out laughing, Steve’s eyes fly wide open and Dwight sputters something unintelligible.

“David!” Dwight finally manages to scold him, face red from embarrassment. “You can’t just say stuff like that—”

“Yeah yeah, sorry luv,” David grins apologetically, immediately cursing himself for letting the pet name slip. “’M goin’ for a swim too,” he decides, making his way to the water to try to get his thoughts in order.

David’s never been much of a beach person, not having enough patience to sunbathe and not a huge fan of swimming, either. But he can’t deny the warmth from the sun, even if fake, feels nice, and the soft sand under his feet is pleasant. When was the last time he even walked barefoot?

His toes touch the water and that’s where the pleasantness ends because goddamn, it’s cold! David can’t remember the last time he felt an actual chill, as the Entity seems determined to make sure they’re never too hot or too cold, even the snowy grounds of Ormond feeling room temperature.

But now, David has to grit his teeth as cold shoots through his system just from dipping his toes in. He glances at Quentin, still swimming around without a care in the world, and can’t imagine how the hell the teen managed to dive right in without going into shock.

David glances over his shoulder, wanting to see if someone’s looking at him freaking out over the water like a scared kitten. Steve is still engrossed in pulling out all the contents of the crate, before he hands a bottle of something to Dwight, who squirts some into his hand and starts—lord have mercy—lathering himself up with the sunscreen.

And David is helpless to do anything but stare, seeing Dwight work the creamy substance into his equally creamy skin, starting with his arms and then working it into his chest. He runs his hands down his torso, covering himself self-consciously when the softness around his belly jiggles slightly with the movement, and god what David wouldn’t give to be able to do that for him. He’d work the lotion into the skin nice and slow, taking his time and making sure to murmur how perfect Dwight looks and how good his body feels—

David’s brain does the equivalent of a record screech when his perfect, half-naked angel walks up to Ace, of all people.

“Ace, can you… uh, give me a hand with my back…?” Dwight asks nervously, holding out the bottle of sunscreen, and David thinks he's going to burst a vein from how much his blood pressure rises upon hearing the request.

Ace sits up on his elbows, before looking over his sunglasses with a smirk like the disgusting pervert he is, and David swears that if he lays a finger on Dwight's bare skin he's fucking throwing fists—

But then Ace's eyes meet his and a trimmed eyebrow raises in acknowledgement, still with that infuriating smirk on his face, and David's anger gives way to mortification because shit, what if Ace knows about his little crush?

To his relief, Ace just ends up sighing.

“Can you ask someone else? I'm kind of busy,” the gambler says, flopping back down to lay on his towel.

“Oh, okay…” Dwight says, looking so disappointed, and David’s breath catches in his throat because this is his chance!

“What the fuck, Ace?” Quentin emerges from the waves beside him before he can do anything. “Not everyone has your complexion. Some of us burn really easily,” Quentin scolds, walking up to the duo and no doubt glaring at the gambler. “Come on, I’ll help you,” he offers to Dwight, who returns a grateful smile.

Quentin starts rubbing the cream onto Dwight’s back, and then has the nerve to ask if Dwight can return the favor, so David grits his teeth and marches into the ocean to cool off so he doesn’t end up pile driving the teen into the sand.

He only manages to get deep enough for the water to reach his junk before he instantly regrets the decision, the cold making things shrivel up unpleasantly. He ends up just ducking his head into the water and wading back to shore, hoping that Dwight the others didn’t see him chickening out for the second time in a row.

The others are still engrossed in their own activities, Steve filling up the water gun in the shallows and Ace looking to doze off in the sun, Quentin and Dwight chatting nearby.

And nobody sees the strange group approaching from the treeline behind them.

“Oi!” David calls, getting the attention of his friends and picking up the pace to get to Dwight in case the strangers mean bad news. “Hope yer not lookin’ fer trouble,” he addresses the new group, causing the others to finally take notice of their company.

“Who’s that?” Quentin asks with a frown, taking in the sight of four people, two girls and two guys, dressed in swimwear and one of the boys even carrying a large swim ring on his shoulder. The group’s animated chatter dies down as they seem to notice their company.

“Oh my god, this is fucking typical!” one of the group, a young woman with blonde hair and a plaid bikini, scoffs in offense.

“What the fuck are you guys doing here!?” a skinny man with very questionable choice of swimwear, pastel purple board shorts with rubber ducks, demands.

“Fuck me, is the Entity pranking us?” the other man sighs, dressed in much more bland swimwear with black and white skulls.

“Aww,” the final member pouts, twiddling with her bright pink braid over her pink and black bikini. “Frank, you didn’t tell us there’d be others!”

David’s brow furrows upon hearing the name; it sounds familiar, but he can’t quite place it. Luckily, Dwight is much more of a quick thinker than he is.

“L-legion?” Dwight squeaks, his eyes going wide in fear, and David is now back to full alert because he’s right, they group is definitely the killers, David just didn’t connect the dots because of how normal the kids look.

“What, you gonna scream? Cry?” the leader, Frank, taunts obnoxiously, strutting to the front of his posse. “How about you guys go fuck yourselves and leave the beach to us, before someone gets hurt?”

Dwight takes a step back while David takes one forward, anger bubbling up because who the fuck does this prick think he is—

“Nice swimmies, Franky,” Quentin suddenly pipes up, making David stop in his tracks. “Did your mommy pick them out for you?”

“Tch—” Frank balks, his face scrunching up in anger even as redness rises up on his cheeks.

“He might have lost a small bet,” the pink-haired girl, David doesn’t recall her name, quips cheerfully in response.

“Shut up, Susie!” Frank hisses at his friend, before turning back to point at Quentin accusingly. “Of course you had to bring this waste of space, too!” he seems to direct the complaint at Dwight.

“S-sorry—” Dwight starts.

“Don’t,” David orders, placing a large hand on Dwight’s shoulder and stepping between their leader and the Legion’s. “This arsehole don’t deserve yer apology."

“Oh yeah?” the bigger guy, David thinks he remembers hearing his name is Joey, steps forward to back up his friend. Unfortunately, he doesn’t intimidate David in the slightest, especially not with only an inflatable beach toy as his weapon. “Maybe you should think twice about picking a fight.”

“Guys…” the blonde girl starts, sounding exasperated.

“Come on Jules, knives or not, we can take them. Easily,” Frank tells her, and David notices both Dwight and Quentin tense next to him, preparing himself to dodge a swing any second now—

“Ahoy, ladies!” Steve suddenly shoves his way to the front of the group, offering the two girls a cheeky grin and cocking his water gun against a hat he doesn’t have. “Would you like to set sail on an ocean of—” he falters, looking around the beach in thought. “…Water?”

There’s a moment of silence following Steve’s interruption, the tension in the air effectively disappearing as everyone stares at Steve with varying levels of amusement and disbelief.

“Um,” the pink-haired girl—Susie—comments, regarding the teen skeptically.

“Aww, he’s even more of a dork outside of trials,” the one named Jules—for Julie, right?—coos patronizingly. “Look at him with his little toy!”

“Thanks! You wanna have a watergun fight?” Steve is either completely oblivious to the jab or takes it in stride.

“I’ll shove that fucking gun so far down your throat—” Frank threatens.

“Kinky!” Quentin comments cheerily.

“Oh you’ll regret that—” Frank snarls.

“Children!” Ace’s yell snaps them out of the ensuing argument, everyone turning to face the man who has apparently finally decided to grace them with his presence.

“Ugh, it just keeps getting better,” Julie snarks sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

“While apparently you guys had a negotiation with the Entity, we have no idea why it decided to put us here,” Ace explains with a friendly smile, ignoring the snide comment. “So why not try to make the most of it? There’s more than enough room for all of us. We’ll stay out of your hair if you do the same,” he says, giving a pointed stare at David and Quentin.

“Okay!” Susie beams.

“What? No it’s not!” Frank argues.

“Why not?” the girl whines. “I don’t wanna waste time fighting. This was supposed to be our day off.”

“So we gonna beat them up or what?” Joey seems to be getting impatient. “If not, I wanna go swimming.”

“Yeah, same,” Julie agrees. “Let’s just leave them be.”

“Fine,” Frank spits, glaring at each of the survivors in turn. “You’d better stay the fuck outta my sight.”

David wants to argue and he can sense Quentin does too, the teen biting his lip to suppress what would no doubt be a snarky comment. The only thing stopping David from picking a fight is Dwight’s hesitant hand on his arm, a wordless plea to not make the situation worse, and Frank would have to push a whole lot harder for David to ever deny Dwight.

“Looks like we have a deal,” Ace smiles, his shoulders sagging just the tiniest bit from relief.

There’s a silent understanding when the killers start making their way to one side of the beach while Ace motions for them to head back to theirs, and the situation looks to be peacefully resolved.

“Hey, you guys should check out the stuff the Entity gave us!” Steve suggests, inviting them right back over, most likely unintentionally, but it still makes Dwight sigh and David can even hear Ace groan in exasperation.

“I give up,” Ace sighs with a wave of his hand, leaving them to fend for themselves for when another fight inevitably breaks out.

David doesn’t really care if the killers grab some of the items meant for them, but it’s the principle of the thing, and his hands ball into fists while the teens rummage through the chest.

Susie eventually pulls out an inflatable pool toy with a unicorn that says ‘princess’.

“Oh my god, look how cute!” she squeals, holding up the toy.

“I bet it's Dweeb's,” Frank smirks smugly.

That's it, he's going down—

“You take that back!” David snarls, stepping forward aggressively.

“David, please!” Dwight protests.

“Yeah, can you guys not?” Julie sighs, rolling her eyes while procuring a pair of sunglasses from the chest.

“No one's impressed by this alpha male bullshit,” Quentin agrees.

“Not my fault this cocksucker can't take a joke—” Franks starts.

“Yer the one who's too much of a pussy to fight!” David accuses. “Let's go, right now!”

“Guys!” Joey yells. “If you really wanna butt heads, how about we play for it instead?” he asks, grabbing a volley ball from the trunk. “Our team versus yours. Winner gets bragging rights.”

“Oh, we're totally in! Right guys?” Steve, predictably, is all over the game.

David frowns. It's been years since he's played beach volley, but how hard can it be? Especially compared to his scrawny opponent; Frank probably hasn't done a day of sports in his life.

“Fine,” he spits.

“Fine,” Frank smirks.

“I'm in,” Quentin offers.

“Come on, Suz," Julie offers.

“You know I suck at sports!” the girl whines, but obediently goes to stand with the group.

Still missing one member for their teams to be even, everyone looks at Dwight.

“M-m-me!?” he squeaks.

Frank looks like he's about to say something, but is interrupted by Joey shoving the net into his arms.

“Come help me set this shit up,” Joey says with a pointed look and Frank rolls his eyes and complies.

Huh. Maybe that Joey guy isn't so terrible.

“Yeah, who else? Ace?” Steve is doing his best to encourage Dwight. “He’d probably throw his back out or something.”

“I heard that!” the gambler calls from his lazing around spot.

“And I'm sure you're better than you realize!” Steve continues, ignoring the comment.

“But I've never played,” Dwight says, still hesitant.

“You'll pick it up in no time,” Quentin encourages. “You don't even have to do much, we'll cover for you.”

“I don't know…”

“Pleeeaaase?” Steve whines and even pouts, clearly pulling out all the stops. “We really wanna play and if you don't we won't have enough players."

Dwight looks at David, and David does his best to give an encouraging smile.

“Come on, mate,” he says. “You’ll have fun, promise.”

That’s a lie, but David just really wants Dwight to be there to witness him kicking Frank's ass.

“Okay,” Dwight finally relents, looking away from David with a sigh.

Steve cheers loudly and soon enough, they’ve joined the Legion who have finished setting up the net and the game can begin.

It turns out the teams are surprisingly even. Steve and Joey are the best players by far, managing difficult serves, covering for the others and even extending to get shots David didn't even think possible.

Quentin and Julie aren't far behind in skill, not having the precision of their respective team captains but still succeeding in keeping the ball in play.

David likes to think he's better than Frank, but neither of them are doing too well, missing shots that should have hit and even causing the ball to fly out of bounds.

Dwight and Susie are the worst by far, with Dwight landing wet noodle passes at best and mostly just trying to stay out of the way. Susie is nearly actively sabotaging her team, squealing and covering her head if it looks like Steve or Quentin are going for a particularly rough hit.

Steve looks to be enjoying himself thoroughly, and David thinks he tones down some of his shots to prolong the game and give the others a chance. Quentin on the other hand is surprisingly competitive, often aiming for Susie's corner which is their opponent's weak link.

David mostly focuses his efforts on aiming at Frank's face, and from the way the teen keeps snarling and glaring at him, it doesn’t go unnoticed.

The Legion eventually turning against each other is kind of funny.

“Jesus, Frank, you suck ass,” Julie complains, watching the ball fly over the line when Frank hits it at a weird angle.

“I mean I’m not surprised that you guys know how to handle balls,” Frank snarks. “Personally, it’s not something I’d be proud of.”

“Then why did you spend three years practicing basketball?” Susie jokes, making her leader fume.

The survivors' camaraderie on the other hand is high, even as the scores are neck-to neck and adrenaline is running high. Steve takes every opportunity to encourage Dwight when he fails, and Quentin commends him when he makes a good play.

It should maybe make David jealous, but he's just happy to see Dwight smile and enjoy himself. He wishes he had the tact of the two to praise him too, feeling way more comfortable with showing off his athletic skill than actually talking to Dwight.

“Shit—” Steve dives into the sand and barely manages to save the ball after a particularly nasty serve from Julie. He doesn't get a clean hit, and the ball swerves a curve to the left instead of to the right where David was prepared to set it up, narrowly missing Quentin's head.

And then Dwight comes out of nowhere, managing to redirect the ball back into play, and David is so fucking excited he nearly misses the hit, but thankfully manages to get it over the net and Susie doesn't even seem to try to stop it.

“Go Dwight!” she cheers.

“Nice work, dude!" Steve whoops, spitting some sand from his mouth.

“I, uh,” Dwight is clearly flustered.

“That's what I'm talkin' about!” David encourages, smacking Dwight on the back and causing him to stumble forward.

"T-thanks,” Dwight smiles nervously.

“You done kissing ass?” Frank snarks, glaring at Susie.

“Yup, now we're gonna kick yours,” Quentin shoots back.

“Come on guys, 18 to 20! We can do this!” Steve encourages, and everyone gets back into position.

Julie serves again, and Quentin catches it. They get the ball over easily, and Joey raises it. Julie is in position to set it up it, and Frank jumps into the air, and David just hopes he misses the shot—

The ball whizzes past Steve and Quentin in front, and it's going way too hard to land within bounds, so that’s a free point for them—

But then David realizes the trajectory it's on, and time seems to slow down to a crawl as it hits Dwight square in the face with a sickening smack.

And David sees red.

When he comes to, he's on top of a struggling Frank and there are arms trying to restrain him from behind. The voices sound faraway and muddled because of the overwhelming sound of blood rushing in his ears. His arms are held back, so he headbutts Frank instead, and feels a sick sense of glee when he hears the crunch and Frank yelping out a curse.

“That’s enough, man! Cut it out!” a voice he doesn't recognize cuts through the haze, and David snarls, elbowing whoever it is in the gut. The restraint against his left hand gives way, and he's about to shrug out of the hold, ready to beat the living shit out of Frank—

And then he takes a bucketful of sea water to the face and it's fucking cold bloody hell—

“Merda—would you behave for two fucking seconds!?” Ace is yelling at them, angry for being disturbed again, a telling empty bucket in his hands.

The shock from the cold is the only thing that makes David resist the urge to redirect his anger in the form of his fist meeting the gambler's face.

“Steve, take David to cool off and punch a palm tree of something,” Ace commands like a frustrated mother. “And you three, make sure Frank doesn't do something stupid… well, stupider. Quentin, you’re helping me clean Dwight’s face.”

At the mention of Dwight, David snaps out of it and anxiously starts looking around to search for the man in question, soon noticing Quentin crouched by him and Susie anxiously fluttering nearby.

Seeing Dwight's bloody face breaks his heart, but luckily their leader seems to only have a nosebleed, even if the blood running down his face looks kind of gruesome. David hopes he didn't break his nose.

His anger threatens to bubble up again; if Frank ruined that pretty face—

“Okay big guy, let's go!” Steve apparently notices his shift in mood and is quick to drag him off.

David half-heartedly tries to protest but Steve isn’t letting up, and David follows him to the treeline just to get him to shut up.

Steve finds some coconuts and David takes the opportunity to punch one as hard as he can, pretending it’s Frank’s face. His knuckles sting and will probably bruise but it’s worth it, the loud crunch as the shell splits open making him smirk smugly.

When they get back to the others, Steve carrying a lapful of coconuts and David flexing his sprained hand but otherwise successfully calmed down, the others seem to be faring better too. Dwight’s face is a lot less bloody and he’s smiling shakily to something Ace says while holding what has to be a cold towel to his nose. The Legion are huddled near their leader, who’s slowly bruising cheek seems to be making him pout. Even if Joey is holding back snickers, Susie is trying to encourage Frank and Julie is patting him on the back in solidarity, proving that despite their bickering, the group does seem to care for each other.

“Hey, Frank,” David suddenly catches Quentin’s voice and sees a smug smile on the teen’s lips from where he’s approaching the killers. “I bet you can't swim.”

“Can too!” the gang’s leader says, predictably taking the bait and his pout immediately replaced by a defiant smirk. “Wanna race?”

When Quentin just clicks his tongue, pretending to be in thought, David knows Frank is in for a humiliation.

“Sure,” Quentin says, not giving anything away.

David eagerly waits for the two to get in position, a little jealous of how readily they get into the cold ocean water with barely a shiver. Steve gives a countdown, and then they’re off, Quentin effortlessly taking the lead and Frank falling further and further behind.

David doesn't feel the slightest bit bad for laughing, eager for the bastard to get any form of payback. Sadly, it doesn't really have the same impact when the rest of the Legion join in to make fun of their leader.

“You go, Franky!” Julie fake cheers between wheezes.

“Nice doggy paddle!” Joey laughs.

“You can still beat him! …If he drowns?” Susie tries to encourage.

After the race, Steve asks David for his help with cracking the coconuts, and even though David really just wants to talk to Dwight he can’t help but puff up his chest and flex a little from the teen obviously seeing him as the strongest of the group.

Later, the sun is already starting to set and David’s knuckles are even more bruised than before. The pain doesn’t bother him and the physical strain of the day has made him mellow out more than usual. When he notices Dwight sitting by himself by the shoreline, he finally gathers the courage to go talk to the man alone.

It looks like a day in the sun has done wonders for the group, lazy chatter and quiet laughter coming from friend and foe alike, scattered around the beach.

The girls have apparently ended up hanging out with Ace, Susie even wearing the gambler’s ugly shirt to protect herself from the now chilly ocean breeze.

“—and the Oktoberfest outfit, with the undercut? Swoon,” Julie says, doing a fake fainting motion into Susie’s lap, and Ace laughs and Susie giggles and bloody hell, are they still talking about Felix?

A bit further away, Steve and Joey are passing the volley ball in good camaraderie. David catches the end of a silly joke from Steve followed by snorting laughter from Joey, and it does kind of make sense that they’d befriend each other.

In the water, Quentin is still swimming while Frank lounges in the swim ring, taunting him. That is, until Quentin flips the ring and laughs, and Frank splutters and flails and hangs onto it like a lifeline.

David finally reaches Dwight, who doesn’t seem to notice him arriving, staring out over the horizon and looking to be deep in thought.

“Hey,” David makes his presence known, and as soon as those gorgeous brown eyes turn to look at him in surprise, the stupid nerves at the pit of David’s stomach resurface.

“Hi,” Dwight says with a small, tired smile. “Has everyone finally calmed down?”

A pang of guilt shoots through David’s chest at the words, recognizing his own part in creating most of the drama of the day. If he’d behaved himself, maybe Dwight wouldn’t have ended up hurt.

“Yeah,” David says, offering an apologetic grin. “Everyone seems ta be gettin’ along. Never thought I’d see the day we’d be hangin’ out with killers.”

“Hmm,” Dwight hums in though, turning back to watch the sunset. “Some of them are not that different from us.”

Seeing Dwight so calm and rational, David feels even worse for his numerous temper tantrums. He just wanted to protect Dwight.

“’M sorry ‘bout yer nose,” David sighs as he sits down next to the man.

“You didn’t do anything,” Dwight reassures. “I was just… wrong place, wrong time.”

“If I didn’t egg the wank—Frank on, it wouldn’t ‘a happened,” David argues, doing his best to swallow his resentment for the teen in question.

“It’s okay,” Dwight says, offering him a genuine smile. “I know you were just trying to stick up for us.”

David wants to come clean, to say everything he did was for Dwight, even if it only made things worse in the end. But no matter how much of a bravado he usually puts on, David knows he’s a real fucking pussy when it comes to emotions.

“Yeah,” he agrees like an utter coward.

“Thank you,” Dwight says anyway, smiling serenely like the absolute angel that he is, ready to forgive all of David’s dumb mistakes.

It suddenly hits him that Dwight always seems way more calm when they’re alone together, a stark contrast to him fidgeting and tripping over his words when they’re in a group and he’s put on the spot. Conversely, David’s confidence seems to fly out of the window as soon as he’s left alone with Dwight, desperately trying to appear casual while his heart does its best to beat out of his chest.

For some reason, Dwight enjoys and maybe even thrives in his company, and David in turn has never met anyone so understanding of his anger issues. He knows they’d be so good for each other—

Fuck it.

“Actually,” David starts, swallowing a lump in his throat but forcing himself to push through the embarrassment. “I didn’t do it fer them. I wanted to protect you.”

Dwight’s cute face twists in confusion, and David tries his best to keep unwavering eye contact despite wanting nothing more than to run away from the situation and his feelings.

“Oh,” Dwight finally says, and David thinks he catches the beginning of a blush before he averts his eyes. “I guess I am kinda weak, haha.”

“The hell ya are,” David argues. Damn, that’s not what he was going for at all, why is he so fucking bad at this— “Yer smart and determined an’ I really admire that about ya. Yer the best leader we could’a asked for, an’ even though ya don’t need protectin’, I just…”

David falters. He was doing so well, even managing to not put his foot in his mouth, but this is it. If he confesses his feelings, there’s no going back.

He looks up and meets Dwight’s eyes, and as soon as he sees the man who stole his heart look up at him with such blatant hope, he knows he has to try.

“I just care about ya,” he settles on.

Dwight swallows and his eyes search David’s face, and David doesn’t even dare breathe—

“Like… like a friend…?” Dwight croaks out, his voice now unsure and shaky, but he’s not looking away.

“Nah,” David says, shaking his head for emphasis. “Never saw ya as just a mate.”

Dwight’s cheeks flare red and he ducks his head, but David catches the dopey little grin before it disappears from his view.

“I—um, wow,” Dwight chuckles, fidgeting with his hands and not quite seeming to know how to react.

“Whaddaya say, luv?” David pushes, resisting the urge to pull the adorable geek into his arms and snog him silly. “Wanna do this?”

Fuck, hopefully he’s not being too forward. Dwight doesn’t seem like the type to have had plenty of relationship experience, but then again neither has David. Usually, he only had to flex a bit after one of his fights and wait for a bird or bloke to stroll up and make it clear they fancied him.

But those were easier times, and now he’s in a strange world within another dimension with a ragtag group of friends and confessing to a man he’s fallen for harder than he ever thought possible.

“Of course I want to do this,” Dwight mutters, sounding almost offended as he finally looks up at him with a smile. “I just never thought you’d go for someone like me.”

“Wha’, someone as perfect as you?” David smirks, nudging Dwight in the ribs with his elbow and causing a cute chuckle to escape the other’s lips. “Don’t sell yourself short, luv; I got high standards.”

“If you say so,” Dwight relents.

Despite Dwight self-consciously covering the cute rolls on his tummy with his arms, his smile is the brightest David has ever seen. They stare into each other’s eyes in silence, David with a dumb grin and Dwight with a bashful smile, and David feels so stupid that he didn’t see it before.

“Gonna give me a kiss?” David’s mouth says without his permission, the filter between his mouth and brain even more flimsy than usual because of the fluttering in his gut.

“I m-mean, my face is pretty busted up," Dwight stutters and turns his face away. “You probably don’t want to—I look even worse than usual, haha.”

“Bollocks,” David scoffs, leaning to nudge his forehead against Dwight’s temple. “Yer the cutest thing I ever seen.”

Dwight glances at him but still looks unsure, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth in a nervous habit.

“We don’t gotta if ya don’t wanna,” David reassures. “But don’t hold back on my behalf—”

And that’s all he has time to say before a surprisingly eager mouth crashes against his own, the rest of his sentence muffled against Dwight’s lips.

Wholeheartedly on board with the sudden turn of events, David’s arms wrap around Dwight as of their own accord while he hurries to reciprocate. Dwight’s lips are chapped but so incredibly warm, and the enthusiasm with which he goes at it is making David’s heart swell—

“Shit,” there’s a pained hiss against his lips when Dwight tilts his head and bumps their noses together.

“Easy, luv,” David murmurs, tilting his head at more of an angle to avoid Dwight’s injury. He gently coaxes the inviting lips right back in and Dwight makes a sound of approval low in his throat.

Every fantasy David has had about this moment can’t compare to the real deal. Granted, his imagination has always been kind of shit, and there was no way he could have pictured just how amazing it is to kiss Dwight and how perfect he feels in David’s arms. He tastes a tinge of blood when he licks into Dwight’s mouth, but it doesn’t bother him in the slightest, if anything it just eggs him on—

A loud wolf whistle carrying over the beach suddenly reminds him that they’re not alone.

Dwight pulls away much faster than David, turning to face their companions with a sheepish grin and a deep flush, while David lazily turns around to glower at the group.

Steve is still whistling from where he’s joined Ace and the girls, not threatened by David in the slightest. Then, to his annoyance, Julie starts clapping sarcastically and Susie hides her giggles into her friend’s shoulder.

“Ugh, finally!” Ace comments, throwing his hands up in mock exasperation, making David redirect his glare to the gambler.

“What,” David barely hears Quentin’s incredulous voice mutter nearby, still swimming with Frank and with Joey now having joined them.

“Uh. Congrats,” Joey offers, giving them an awkward thumbs up.

Frank, predictably, says nothing, only scoffing in disgust. Which, to be honest, is much more polite than David would have reacted if the roles were reversed.

“What are you—when did you—?” Quentin keeps going, looking so confused it makes even David snort out a half-laugh.

“Well, at least someone didn’t figure it out before these two idiots,” Ace sighs melodramatically.

“Seriously, doesn’t take a genius to notice them eye fucking each other all the time,” Steve grins, and holy hell, David really has been living under a rock if even Steve had figured out Dwight’s feelings before him.

He tunes out the others’ teasing as soon as a warm hand gently grabs his.

“Come on,” Dwight encourages with a playful smile. “Let’s go get it over with.”

His mood instantly elevating, David pulls them to their feet and rejoins their friends with his hand still clasped in Dwight’s. There’s some good-natured banter on their expense but that’s to be expected, and even though David half-heartedly threatens to clock Ace in the face for a questionable joke, he feels calmer than he has in years.

Dwight doesn’t leave his side for the entirety of their remaining time on the beach or when they’re teleported back to the campfire. And even if they have to go through the playful teasing and looks of disbelief a second time, David takes it in stride because he has the person he always wanted right by his side.

It takes way too long to get a moment alone from their nosy friends, but eventually, David manages to pull Dwight away from the camp to pick up where they left off at the beach, this time uninterrupted.

When Dwight breaks the kiss only to look up at David, with his bruised nose and some wetness in his eyes, murmuring that this is the best day of his life, David can’t help but agree.

#dbd fanfic #kingfield #dweetwrites #david king #dwight fairfield #dbd #dead by daylight #steve harrington #ace visconti #quentin smith #dbd legion #frank morrison #julie kostenko #dbd susie #dbd joey

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theundercovermarvelfan · 4 years ago

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Whumptober 2020 - Day 29

Whumtober Challenge @whumptober2020

Day 29 I Think I Need A Doctor Intubation | Emergency Room | Reluctant Bedrest

Bruce waited anxiously at the bottom of the ramp to the Quinjet, continuously scanning the area for any signs of movement. They said they were on their way, they said they’d be there in just a few minutes. If it were as bad as they said it was, they were going to need every second they could get…

“Bruce!”

Bruce’s heart leapt up into his throat as the group finally came staggering into view. He scanned them all, automatically looking for injuries. Everyone seemed to have fared surprisingly well. If Steve and Tony hadn’t been supporting Clint -- whose head was hanging on his shoulder as if he couldn’t hold it up -- between them, Bruce might have been able to pretend the mission had gone off without a hitch.

“Hurry, get him up into the jet,” Bruce urged as they approached. Tony and Steve stumbled up the ramp with Natasha behind them, Bruce falling into step beside her. “How is he?”

“There are no significant exterior injuries, but something is obviously very wrong,” Natasha reported breathlessly. “He seems like he’s barely getting enough air.”

Bruce nodded. “Get him up on the cot,” he instructed. Tony and Steve quickly did what they were told, carefully lifted Clint up and laid him out flat on the medical cot that Bruce had already set when he got the message that Clint needed medical attention. “We need to get the Kevlar off him.”

Natasha was already working on undoing the clasps of the vest and just a moment later Steve lifted Clint slightly so that Natasha could pull it off. The movement drew a pained gasp from Clint as he wheezed in labored breaths. Bruce had a pair of medical scissors and quickly cut up the middle of Clint’s shirt in order to get access to his chest. His right side was already purpling with painful bruising. Bruce grabbed his stethoscope from around his neck and put it into his ears, carefully placing the diaphragm onto Clint's chest. Everyone was silent and still as Bruce moved the diaphragm several times, listening carefully.

“He’s likely got broken ribs and a collapsed lung,” Bruce finally said as he straightened up. “Natasha, can you get the chest tube kit?” Natasha was already rushing away before he finished the sentence. Then Bruce turned to Clint, who was deathly pale -- did his skin already have a slight blue tinge to it? -- but his eyes were open and searching. “Clint can you hear me?” Clint eyes drifted over to Bruce, and Bruce took that to as close to an acknowledgement as he was going to get. “You’ve likely got a collapsed lung due to air or fluid in the pleural space. I’m going to place a chest tube to try to relieve the pressure. It’s going to hurt for just a minute, but then hopefully you’ll be able to breathe easier. Okay?”

As he continued to heave in horribly labored breath, Clint managed a very slight nod. That was more than Bruce had been expecting.

“Bruce,” Natasha said, directly Bruce’s attention to the small medical tray she had set up with the supplies he needed.

Not wasting any more time, Bruce pulled on a pair of surgical gloves. He grabbed the scalpel from the tray with one hand, locating the correct spot between Clint’s ribs with the other. Natasaha had moved up to Clint’s head, putting her hands on either side of his head for support. Bruce firmly sliced a three-centimeter incision into Clint’s chest, ignoring the way that Clint’s muscles tightened and spasmed against the pain that he knew he was inflicting. Next he grabbed the Kelly clamp and pushed it into the incision with some force, not acknowledging the choking groan that accompanied the popping feeling of the clamp entering the pleural space.

“Jesus,” Bruce could hear Tony mutter in shock as Bruce pushed his fingers into the wound to make sure there wasn’t anything to get in the way of the chest tube.

Then, Bruce was swiftly inserting the chest tube that was already hooked up to a collection bag. As soon as the tube entered the pleural space, air and blood came gushing out into the bag at the same time that Clint finally gasped in a deep lungful of air so suddenly that his back arched off the table.

“Thank fucking hell,” Natasha sighed as she dipped her head down to place her forehead against Clint’s. Tony and Steve also gave their own sighs of relief.

But Bruce knew they weren’t out of the woods just yet.

Now that Clint was able to more easily heave air into his lungs, a deep, wet hacking cough tore out of his throat. Bruce immediately had the stethoscope back in his ears and the diaphragm back on Clint’s chest, trying to listen through the noise.

“What’s going on?” Steve asked anxiously.

“The lung may have reflated, but there’s still obviously significant damage to his lungs and possibly some other organs around it,” Bruce said tensely. “We’ve bought him some time, but he needs a hospital as soon as possible.”

“There’s a SHIELD base not far away, they’ll have a med center,” Natasha said.

“I’ll pilot,” Steve said, already hurrying up to the cockpit.

“Natasha, I need you to call ahead to the base, tell them to be ready to intubate as soon as we get there,” Bruce said as he listened to Clint cough and wheeze weakly. “He’ll also need a CT scan to figure out exactly what’s going on and then he’ll likely need surgery.”

“Got it,” Natasha said as she hurried after Steve.

“Tony, get me the Ambu bag,” Bruce said.

“The what?” Tony asked blankly.

“The bag valve mask, the balloon looking thing with a mask attached,” Bruce said quickly, pointing. Tony scrambled over and grabbed the device just as the Quinjet was whirring to life. When he came back, Bruce carefully placed the mask part over Clint’s nose and mouth and then motioned for Tony to take the bag portion of it. “Squeeze it at regular intervals. No, too fast, make sure the bag fully deflates and then inflates again. Okay, good, just like that, keep going.”

After his initial coughing and gasping after reinflating his lung, Clint’s breathing had waned again as he struggled to take in precious oxygen. The Ambu bag seemed to help, but Clint was starting to blink tiredly. It could be that the whole situation was finally catching up to him… or it could be his brain not getting enough oxygen.

“I need you to hang in there, Clint,” Bruce pleaded as he grabbed a blood pressure cuff so that he could start taking vitals. He glanced up and for a moment was able to meet Clint’s gaze. “We’ve got you, but I need you to keep fighting until we can get you to the hospital. Okay?”

Bruce wasn’t sure if he imagined it or not, but he could have sworn he saw Clint nod ever so slightly.

Almost twenty minutes later, they finally landed at the SHIELD base, where the med team was thankfully waiting for them. Bruce and Steve rushed the gurney down the ramp, with Tony still working the Ambu bag.

“Dr. Banner, I am Dr. Scorborough,” the lead man said immediately. “What’s the situation?”

The med team took over the gurney, including the Ambu bag and as they trooped into the building Bruce quickly got Dr. Scorborough up to speed with Clint’s current condition.

“I’m going to need you to wait here,” Dr. Scorborough told the other Avengers before they moved deeper into the hospital.

At a glance, Bruce could see the pain felt by the other at having to leave Clint’s side.

“It’s okay, I’ll watch over him,” Bruce assured them quickly before he followed the rest of the team.

They had moved Clint into a private room stocked with what looked like ICU equipment. Doctor’s rushed around Clint, hooking him up to monitors and IVs and taking his vitals. Bruce managed to slip in and move to Clint’s side. Clint’s eyes were still open and darting around anxiously, clearly at least somewhat aware of what was going on. As his gaze landed on Bruce, his gaze finally relaxed somewhat.

“We need to secure his airway,” Dr. Scorborough said. “I need an intubation kit. Run succinylcholine and ketamine into the IV.”

Bruce knew that they were giving Clint both a paralytic and a general anesthetic in an attempt to make this process as easy as possible. But as Dr. Scorborough was already prepping the Laryngoscope because time was of the essence, Bruce also knew that they wouldn't kick in quite quickly enough to spare Clint the discomfort of this procedure.

“It’s okay, Clint,” Bruce said, putting his hand on Clint’s arm and drawing his attention as the staff got ready to intubate. “Try to relax and don’t fight it. It’ll be over before you know it.”

Bruce had to hand it to Dr. Scorborough. He inserted the Laryngoscope into Clint’s mouth quickly and smoothly, carefully threading the tube down Clint's throat and then expertly hooking up the tube to the portable ventilator. The whole thing took less than twenty seconds… but it was still painfully obvious the way Clint’s muscles tensed and spasmed even as he blinked heavily, gently pulled into unconsciousness by the ketamine.

“Okay,” Dr. Scorborough said with a sigh. “He’s under and we’ve secured the airway. We’ll get him to the CT so we can pinpoint exactly what’s wrong before we take him to the OR.” The doctor looked at Bruce. “Thank you for taking such good care of the patient, Dr. Banner. If you'd like to rejoin the others, we can take it from here. We’ll update you as soon as we know anything.”

“Thank you,” Bruce said sincerely.

He stood and watched as the team wheeled Clint away, disappearing through another set of doors. Even after they were gone, for a moment he just stood there and breathed. In his life before becoming the Hulk, Bruce Banner had never once considered becoming a physician of any sort. It wasn’t until his time in India that he started studying practical medicine. While he was hiding there, he felt like he was able to go good and also pay penance if he was able to help impoverished people with medical assistance. He had taken to it more easily than he thought he would.

His time with the Avengers had only furthered Bruce’s medical knowledge. When the Hulk wasn’t needed, Bruce had fallen into the role of field medic. It was never what he imagined he’d want to do with his life and it was never a path he had considered traveling before the Hulk incident.

But as he headed back out to the waiting room where the other Avengers were waiting, knowing that he had helped save Clint’s life that day, it was yet another reminder than he had ended up exactly where he needed to be.

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emarislaughsmaniacally · 4 years ago

Text

Finders Keepers

Warning for blood, gore, dismemberment, references to torture, electrocution, disassociation, and murder.

Helmet tilts his head and stands very still, observing him from a reasonably safe distance away. Derek ignores him and stays sitting on the floor, back pressed tight to the wall as his ribs slowly start to shift and snap.

The most unpleasant part of healing misplaced bones is definitely how his skin rolls and shifts with them.

Plus the pain.

Yeah, that's crap too.

"You gonna be alright?" The voice is mechanical enough that he's tempted to sniff the air again but his eyes catch on the puddle Derek's sitting in.

It's admittedly a lot of blood so he just jerks his head in a sharp nod, barely feeling the fresh gush of blood from his chopped up larynx.

"You got anyone you can call? Friends? Work?"

Derek shakes his head.

“Want me to call the cops?”

He gurgles angrily and shakes his head hard enough to spit up more blood.

“Right.” Helmet relaxes, shifts his torso like he's stretching and then starts checking the bodies scattered about the dingy apartment.

Derek flexes his jaw, eyes glued to where Helmet is systematically rifling through wallets, taking photos of everything inside and pressing phones to a thick tablet-looking thing. It's fast and efficient as hell.

His jaw creaks when it fuses in place, face no longer looking like a dented can. Nerves along the cheekbone start reminding him to press the hanging flap of skin back up to knit together faster.

Finished with the bodies and quickly sticking a few more holes into someone playing possum, Helmet straightens and stares at him again.

He absently thinks it would be unsettling if he bothered to give a shit anymore.

"Change before you leave, you look like a murder victim."

Derek's eyebrows climb up as he pointedly sweeps a glare over the destruction.

"Huh. Yeah okay, maybe don't take clothes from an actual murder victim." The man makes a buzzing noise that Derek interprets as a hum and then there's a sudden crackle of victory.

"This jacket's good, yeah? Uh. Yeah, just snapped his neck. Hope it's dark enough outside no one'll notice your pants." Helmet says conversationally as he strips it off the guy and stuffs an enormous wad of stolen cash into the pockets.

This is probably one of the best rescues Derek's ever had and not just because of the considerate donation of money. Hemet waves, presents the jacket and drapes it near the door, not even trying to approach him. Minutes later, there's a collection of household cleaners that Helmet is liberally mixing and splashing around, concentrating on areas where Derek's been. It's reassuring that the guy doesn't gas them out with the chemicals.

It's all so professional and solicitous that Derek lets himself relax a bit, focuses on his repairing body to make sure it heals properly.

Then again, -he flexes freshly grown fingers- he's got to find the box.

He tries to be discreet, surreptitiously eyeing the chaos for it before he gives up. Helmet probably wouldn't want to leave the box behind either.

Derek makes to speak but the sound is harsh, choked and painful, gristle barely stitched together.

Helmet pauses where he's kicking liquid over cracked linoleum. "Christ, you're a regular Judy Garland."

"Box." Derek shakily mimes out the size of it and swallows down a clump of blood. "Can't leave it."

"Ooh, a box." Helmet shifts debris about, eventually digs out a duffel and crams three laptops inside. "Missing anything else?"

Derek checks to find his wallet is still there before he remembers what happened to his phone and keys.

"Sewer."

"Shitty." There's a loud buzz like maybe he coughed or snorted. “What’d you do to get them this pissed?”

He points to his healing face. “Existed.”

"Riiight. This Wolverine shit is kinda creepy.” His speaker crackles a little more, like it’s having a hard time picking up his voice. “You got anyone who can pick you up?"

Derek closes his eyes at a tangle of crushing emotions and shakes his head.

"Okay." The man's body language seems less aggressive, a little more careful to move. "You got anyone who's lookin for you? Anywhere you can go?"

Derek opens his eyes and stares at his dirty feet and clean toes, thinking about the little town in California and the arguments before he left.

"Not anymore."

Helmet sighs expansively as he wanders deeper into the apartment. "Right. I'll find a place. Just, ah, keep on with that healing thing. You're doin great."

The man is still searching for the box when Derek's spine pops back into place. He can't stop a yelp from the shock of it or the agonized groan when the nerves to his legs link up.

He almost forgot they drilled screws into that bone.

Shit.

Shitshitshitshitshitshit

He pushes against the wall like it's the only thing holding him together, blinding pain burning through like acid until his nerves finish healing.

"Hey." His rescuer is suddenly there and looms a little closer than before. "You gonna be alright?”

Derek takes a ragged breath, eyes him warily, and… decides getting the metal out with help is more productive than not.

He tilts his leg a little to let the heads of the screws in a neat row down his shin catch the light against the dark of his jeans.

"Gotta get ‘em out."

The helmet is silent but Derek can still hear the faintest murmur inside. "Jumpin Jehoshaphat…"

Derek silently agrees and motions to the duffel bag now resting by the door.

"The drill there?"

Hemet's hands start clenching and relaxing at his sides, mechanical voice buzzing with a jerky negative exhale.

"I'll find it too." His fists shake. "We'll have to take em out somewhere else though."

There's a protest building in his chest but it slowly dies, pressed down by the pains in his body as the smaller hurts start closing up.

Derek grunts in acceptance, the bone would be weak and take a little longer to fill in anyway.

They're silent for a moment before the man starts his search again.

"So. What's in the box?" He probably means to distract him with a chat but the box is…

Derek looks at his hand and the clean pink skin on the new growths.

The room wobbles a bit.

"Me."

A stretch of silence.

"Well, okay then." The man flicks a switch on the helmet and Derek realizes the microphone is shut off, which would only make sense if the guy didn't know about Derek’s enhanced senses. He hardly has to strain to hear that there's a series of clicks before another mechanized voice rasps out a greeting.

"O, imma need a room. I've got a witness I need to stick to and I don't wanna spook him." The man's actual voice is raspy, almost gruff, and seems surprisingly young. “So I’d appreciate it if everyone would leave me the hell alone for a while.”

Whatever the response is, the mechanical tone is so strange Derek can't understand it so he just sags against the wall and rests.

Helmet guy is going to let him stick around and he's warning others away.

That's pretty great.

A small part of himself is soothed, comforted even, that this man who ripped through eight men like wet paper, has taken an interest in Derek’s wellbeing.

He slips down the wall a little and just… zones out for a while.

The big hurts have righted themselves so there's just a mild ache in a few spots. If he weren't so tired, Derek would be standing, anxious to leave, but Helmet doesn't seem rushed in the least and that confidence bleeds into him too.

He’s still worried though. "Cops don't investigate shootouts around here?"

"Wow, that's an entire sentence. You must be feeling better." Helmet is somewhere in one of the bedrooms still tossing things around. "People would have to call the cops first but, this is Crime Alley so, you know, they don't."

He feels a burble of puzzlement rise through the haze of fading pain.

"I've never heard of Crime Alley in New York." That's a ridiculous name for a place, but New York was filled with them.

"Yeah? Well, that's because you're in New Jersey. Welcome to Gotham, man.” More creepy laughter. “I'd say this is an unusual way to end up here but I'd be lying. You're lucky they came into my turf, anywhere else in the city and no one might've noticed."

"Your turf?” Derek echoes the term curiously. It gives the impression of a gangster or the mob. It seems reasonable because the guy has pistols strapped to his legs and another pair under his jacket. Also the professionalism reinforces the theory.

There's a pause in the sounds then a heavy scrape over carpet.

"It's just a little slice of this shit hole, but it's mine." There's more rustling, then a familiar clatter, like beads.

Derek registers the sound and waits. Hears the scrape of the lid.

"You." More sounds, louder and faster than before. "Hoo boy, can you take some damage."

Derek doesn't respond until Helmet stomps back into the kitchen, stained orange shoe box tucked under one arm, drill clenched in the other.

"Still hurts."

"I bet it does." He shakes the box enough to rattle. "There's more teeth in here than can fit in one mouth."

The atmosphere is tense now and Derek wishes the room didn't smell like death so he could better gauge Hemet's mood.

“I’ve been here a few days.” He shrugs minutely. “Electricity doesn’t really stop the healing, just makes it really slow.”

“So all of this... is from you.”

"Probably." He says, hoping that's the end of it, doesn’t feel like he’s calm enough to talk about the various bits of him in the box.

The man taps with the drill, a muffled beat against his leg like he's thinking it over.

“Police won’t like any of this.”

Derek shakes his head.

“You don’t have a place to crash here.”

Another shake.

“You got money though. You could get a hotel room, get a ticket out tomorrow.”

Derek lowers his eyes to Helmet’s shoes.

“I can do that.” He agrees quietly.

“You don’t want to though. Why?”

He lets his eyes flick back to the batteries. “Doesn’t matter where I go. They always find me.” He stares at a red terminal, almost feeling the current again. “Them or something like them.”

"Right. You're staying with me until you got somewhere to go and we know these fucks won’t come for you again. In the meantime, I need to replace my accountant. Thanks for volunteering."

"Am I being kidnapped again?" It comes out sardonically enough that the guy laughs.

“This sort of thing happen a…” Derek’s already nodding in response. Looks over at the car batteries before his eyes skitter away.

"Okay. Sure. No one lookin out for you means you're mine for now." He pauses at Derek's shudder. "Just for now, understand?” He waits for Derek to nod before he goes on. “My territory reaches down to the docks North East of here. Don't go outside of it. Anyone gives you shit, tell ‘em Red Hood's watching you. Not watching out, just ‘watching’. You see any more’a this crew and you let me know, they ain’t leaving this city with a heartbeat.”

Derek barely stops himself from looking away, from tilting his head to expose his throat.

He nods instead. A little more secure that this beast of a human has offered protection.

"Do I call you Boss now?" He means it as a joke but says it quieter than intended.

"You workin for me? Got a head for numbers?"

Derek nods again. “Bachelor’s degree says so.” Even the mob appreciates degrees, right?

"Oh yeah? Bonus. Then sure. Now get the jacket and find some shoes. We gotta go, someone's gonna come looking for these guys eventually." Red Hood snags a few more bags and goes to drop them at the door.

It takes him a minute to get his bearings, he’s pretty sure he’s got some sort of repressed emotional response that Derek’s just gonna… yeah, he’s just going to leave it alone and maybe never think about it again.

The puddle he’s sitting in is dark and tacky enough now that he isn’t afraid of slipping but it’s still unpleasantly damp along his back and the seat of his pants. Makes a sticky slurp as he stands and he tunes his hearing to Red Hood’s heartbeat instead.

“Ready?” The speaker suddenly sounds like the intro to some techno song and he inanely wonders if the guy sings in the helmet. Derek smiles a bit at the thought because the guy is taller than he expected and stacked like a tank. He probably would sing.

“Yeah. Found my own boots too.” He says for absolutely no reason. It feels momentous though that he didn’t lose all of his belongings.

“That’s great man. Never know what kinda fungus strangers got.” Red Hood hefts a few bags and hands over another. “I’m gonna drop you off first and bring back some Chinese. You like egg rolls?”

Derek gives another barely-there smile and very firmly doesn’t think of his blood soaked clothes or who’s got the bag with the box.

He wonders instead if Red Hood will judge him for the mountain of food he’s about to order.

#derek hale #red hood #Jason Todd #teen wolf #whump

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jimlingss · 6 years ago

Text

The President’s Son [1]

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

➜ Words: 3k

➜ Genres: 100% Fluff, Slice of Life, Bodyguard!AU

➜ Summary: Kim Taehyung is the President’s son, mischievous and playful, and infamous for being a troublemaker. When everyone’s given up, they call for you to be his personal guard. There’s no other choice when your dad’s assigned you to it and surprisingly Taehyung doesn’t mind either. Maybe because you happened to grow up with that brat.

➜ Warnings: Slowburn.....

➜ Notes: Who’s ready for 20 chapters of slow burn?

He can’t go any harder. He can’t go any faster. “Sir! Sir! Stop, please! Stop right there! Stop!” It’s a sight to behold — a blonde college student pedalling hard on a bike with all his mustered strength while a horde of suited men are hot on his tail, sprinting fifteen miles per hour and shouting at the top of their lungs in desperation. He’s made them look like the idiots that they are. People turn around to stare, morning interrupted by the ruckus. Yet he is undeterred, zipping through the crowd, ignoring the eyes of his fellow peers and as he cuts through campus. A black sleek vehicle on the road has its wheels screeching on the asphalt, trying to keep the boy on the bike in their line of sight. They continue to chase him, screaming out his name. It’s dangerous. He knows it. But their hysterics make him laugh. He feels free like this, running away, thighs burning as he pedals. The wind caresses through the strands of his crazy hair, causing his oversized shirt and grey sweatpants to flutter. His clothing is baggy, bed head's a mess, the scruff all over his chin never once giving hints that he’s the wealthy son of a world leader. He doesn’t have brand name clothing, a polished appearance, shiny cars or luxurious watches to his name. Just a bike and himself. And that’s enough for Taehyung. “Sir, sir! Stop! Please!” Now only if he had less surrounding bodyguards, or at least less suffocating ones that don’t make him want to hurl himself out the window just to get a nice view of the blue sky. Then everything would be perfect.

At the exact same time and half-across the capital, the plane touches against the tarmac. The aircraft eventually slows on the runway, engines whirring, white noise loud but inviting as people begin to stir awake, happy to have finally landed and eager to get off. The two pilots wave to you happily as you leave, head stewardess glaring for some reason from the corner of her eye unbeknownst to you, and with your luggage, you cut through visitation and immigration booths. Stopping at only one spot, the person behind the counter looks at your passport and simply says “welcome home” before you’re cutting through the baggage claims, straight out the airport doors. There’s nothing else you need. Just your one suitcase and you. “Where are we off to this afternoon?” The female taxi driver turns around from her waist, flashing the brightest of smiles despite somehow looking fatigued. You read out the address and she hums, pulling away from the curb. “Are you visiting?” “No...this was actually my hometown.” You look out the window, feeling an odd sense of déjà vu from suddenly being propelled back to a place that is so familiar and yet foreign to you. “I think I’m staying here for a while.” “Oh, that’s nice. I hope you don’t mind me asking so many questions. I just really like hearing people’s stories.” She glances in the rear view mirror and you welcome her friendliness. For a long time, you’ve forgotten that this is your home. “Did you miss it?” “Sort of.” A lot has changed in nine years. The buildings are different, old ones demolished, new ones built that are sleeker, taller and reaching the height of the sky. But at the same time, it’s still small. Maybe it’s because the skeleton of the city, the foundation, hasn’t altered. Or perhaps because you were shorter and tinier back then and the city seemed so large, scary even. Though now there are billboards plastered everywhere, advertising products you aren’t familiar with, music leaking out from bustling shops and restaurants, and people you don’t recognize walking around and that you would never come to recognize. Colour seems to explode all around you, the city alive, streets breathing. “—should really find another job. I mean driving a taxi isn’t terrible, but it’s not what I want to do forever. I have a degree in Human Resource Management. Honours actually. Wonder if I can do anything with that though.” The taxi driver taps her fingers against the wheel. “The economy’s bad these days.” “Oh, can I actually get off here?” You unknowingly interrupt her life story, peering out the window. You remember the avenue well — a hot dog food truck on the corner next to the department store, a toy store still standing tall; it’s one that you used to go to on your birthday to pick out your own gift. There’s also new cafes that have opened up, business buildings that make it foreign. There really isn’t a reason for you to get out now, but for nostalgia sakes and ...your intuition that tells you should get out here. “Sure thing.” She signals to switch lanes, looking over her shoulder and smoothly parking into an empty spot a few meters away. “That’ll be twenty two dollars.” Once you pass her the correct amount of bills, she smiles. “Have a good day and good luck.” “Thank you. Good luck on finding a new job too.” The woman thanks you and with your suitcase by your side, you shut the taxi door, looking around at the metropolis, listening to the sounds of the concrete jungle, engines of buses whirring, honks of cars in the distance… Everything is almost unrecognizable. The suitcase drags behind you as you walk down the street. It’ll take longer on foot, but you enjoy the surroundings, taking it all in. Your life has always been face-paced. It’s nice to slow things down. But you don’t notice the bike zipping towards you. The blonde man just a year younger than you are, pedalling hard and looking over his shoulder, having lost the sleek vehicle for now. Though what is noticeable and what catches your eye is the soft baby blue colour of his bike. He comes closer to you. One more glance is taken. The boy’s ready to zip across the street. But he’s far too preoccupied to pay any attention to another car speeding down the road, the screech of their wheels, the driver who is distracted. He simply pedals off the curb, going onto the road. “Look out!” On instinct, you grab his arm, right at his elbow and you pull him towards you. With a huge tug, his body collides against yours, but you catch him in your arms, shouldering his weight and holding him up so he doesn’t fall. His bike drops over to the ground in a crash. The speeding car zooms past, fast enough that the wind whips your hair, honk deafening to your eardrums. You let go of the boy and he’s shocked, knees weak. His legs almost buckle and people around have slowed down to watch the commotion. “You should be more careful. Are you alright?” Leaning down, your eyes meet his. “Uh….I-….uh….” Taehyung is starstruck. In the meanwhile, your eyes flicker upwards. “License plate zero two nine five seven five…” You immediately dig into your pocket, dialling the number without even looking. “Hi, I’d like to report a reckless driver going southbound on Imlings Avenue and ninth street. Yes. They were speeding. I think they were going at least twenty over the limit. Yes. No. Well, they almost hit a cyclist, but kept on driving.” You tell them the colour and model of the car before taking your phone off your ear for a second, staring directly at Taehyung again. “Do you need an ambulance, kid?” “I’m f-fine,” he chokes out, stuck gazing at you. There’s something familiar about you that he can’t quite put his finger on. “He’s good. Yes. Thank you.” You just saved his life — you’re a hero. Yet, you act completely nonchalant about it, indifferent to the bystanders staring. He’s baffled. The way you pulled him in like he weighed nothing. The way you take care of business without batting a single eyelash. Taehyung is in love. He’s never met someone so sexy before. “Hello? Kid, are you alright?” You’ve hung up, now waving your hand in front of his face, making him crash down to reality. “Uh...what?” “The police will be on the lookout. Someone might come here soon to check up on things, so you should stick around. I can be your witness.” “I...um...need to actually get going. It’s….ur-urgent….” He remembers why he was here in the first place and while Taehyung’s eyes are still glued onto your face, unable to be torn off, he hitches a thumb over his shoulder. But running away doesn’t seem so pressing anymore. “Oh, well….you can always go to the station later then. I think the CCTV over there might have caught it all but if you need me to fill out a report. Here.” You dig into the front pocket of your suitcase, ripping some paper from a traveling pamphlet that was given to you. Grabbing a pen from your jacket pocket, you bite the cap off to scribble down your name and number. Taehyung’s busy ogling at your mouth and the way you coolly uncapped the pen. “Here. Just call this number if you need. You should also be wearing a helmet — it’s a law and you can get into trouble without it. Stay safe and be careful.” “Uh-huh.” His eyes fall down to the paper, taking it while swallowing hard. It’s an out-of-body experience for him. He almost died. But he’s never felt more alive than now. The thing is though, he’s not an adrenaline junkie. Not in the least bit. His blood runs hot for another reason….. Taehyung snaps out of when he reads the name you’ve scribbled next to your number. Then he reads it twice, double checking that his eyes aren’t deceiving him. And they aren’t. “Y/N….?” His head whips upwards, but by then, you’re pulling your luggage, wheels rolling on the sidewalk and over the ridges. Taehyung watches as your backside gets smaller and he barely remembers to pull up his bike again. On the other hand, you’re less awe-struck than he is. You’re just glad you were there at the right time, the right place, able to save a homeless man from meeting his demise. // It feels out of place, awkward for you to march up to the resident of the head of state like this, lugging your backpack and suitcase with you. You look more like a student who took a gap year to travel across the country than someone who’s supposed to be here. You would’ve dropped off your belongings first, rented a place like the responsible adult that you are, but he told you to come here before doing anything else. At the news of you arriving back home, he’s urgently seeking you out and you wonder what could be so important — it could never be because he actually misses you. Such a thing is impossible. “Hi, are you looking for the tour of the Blue House? Unfortunately, the group just left five minutes ago and this is our last one for today.” “No, I...uh...actually...” You dig into your jeans back pocket for the lanyard. It’s old, but still visible and you flash the security badge. “I’m looking for the head of the secret service. Is he around?” The room that you’re brought into is spacious and luxurious, golden furnishings that remind you of being inside a castle. The windows are large, looking to a garden, but here at the back of the house, it’s secluded. Your suitcase has been taken and you’ve been searched before stepping in here. You muse that he’s taken quite the promotion since you’ve last seen him. He seems to have some kind of status or importance. After a moment of gandering, the double doors open. You stand, coming face to face with an old man standing tall and proud. “How was the flight?” The doors close behind him. “It was good. Are you off work?” “I’m always working.” His hands are behind his back, putting a meter distance away from you. It’s been years, but there’s never a hug spared, not even a smile or polite handshake that would be offered in greeting a stranger. No one would know that he’s your family, that this old man’s your father. “There’s a reason you wanted me to come here right away.” “Yes. Take a seat.” …. Taehyung tracks mud into the house. He’s about to hear an earful from someone, maybe his dad or his stepmom, but he doesn’t want to hear it and he won’t wait around to be caught for that to happen. He walks quickly despite feeling eyes pinned to the back of his head. It’s suffocating here, though no one dares to say anything about his troublemaking antics. The boy has his hands in his pockets, strolling down the hallway towards the kitchen to raid some free food. But as he turns the corner, someone comes towards him from the other end of the corridor. The tables have turned. Now he’s the one who notices you first. “Y/N?” He knew he’d see you again. But maybe not so soon. “Oh, you.” Your feet halt and you look at him with a frown. “What are you doing here? Are you allowed to be here?” “I should be asking you that.” He laughs, wholly relaxed unlike earlier. You don’t know how he got here...until the realization dawns on you. He’s the person that your father talked about, the reason why he wanted to see you in the first place. This homeless man isn’t homeless at all. And as you look into his eyes, the way they’re a warm brown shade reminding you of dark caramel, childlike and mischievous, you realize truly nothing has altered in the course of nine years. He’s taller, shoulders broad, face lost its baby fat and more sculpted. He’s less like an aggravating rascal, but the rest is the same. It’s Kim Taehyung. “You remember, right?” He comes closer, taking a slick step towards you, leaning down to connect his eyes with yours at the same height. He’s flirtatious — that’s different and foreign. “Pardon me, I’m sorry, remember what?” The man with the blonde strands flopping over his eyes blinks and his strong brows furrow in concern. “You...don’t remember?” “Did we know each other?” He scoffs, leaning back onto one foot and crossing his arms. “Did we know each other,” he mimics in a mocking tone. But when you give no response, his lips fall into a straight line, gaze morphing into something grievous and serious. “You can’t recall?” “I’m sorry….” You shake your head. “Is there something I should know, Mr. Kim?” “Mr. Kim?” he murmurs in exasperation and steps forward again as if to corner you. Taehyung refuses to give up. He insists on jogging your memory again. “We used to dig holes in the ground to get to the other side of the world and I flung dirt at you, remember? I glued your seat and stuck tape in your hair and put salt in your water and replaced your whip cream with dad’s shaving cream. And you never cried once. Remember, dumbo?” The name makes a muscle in your cheek twitch. Taehyung wears the biggest shit eating grin, smile spread into his cheeks, not letting it go. Your expression remains impassive as the memories come back. But they were always here. The moment your dad said his name aloud, you already knew. And you’re wholly unimpressed. Without thinking twice, you walk forward, not allowing him to block your way. Your shoulder shoves against his, but your strength isn’t calculated and he’s pushed to the other side of the hallway, caught off guard. He smacks against the wall, wheezing as the lungs get knocked out of his body. You mumble an apology, lingering for a second. Trying to play dumb didn’t work. Maybe someone out there could actually get away with not being able to recall their memories, but for you it unfortunately doesn't work like that. It’s not like you’re traumatized or damaged over the memories. Just slightly annoyed. He’s always been that little fruit fly buzzing around your head near your ear that you couldn’t get rid of. “I remember.” Taehyung bullied you.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, dumbo, are you listening?” You turn your head with dead eyes. The seven year old has rounded cheeks pinched red, cute eyes and a playful smile. But he’s not a cherub. He’s a demon in disguise. “You’re annoying.” “Well you’re ugly,” he bites back with his tongue sticking out. You walk away but he follows after you diligently like a dog — too bad he’s not as cute. You would’ve preferred a dog. “Where do you think you’re going, huh, dumbo? I’m talking to you! You’re no fun. You’re boring. Boring. Booooring. Boooooooooring.” At eight, you’re taller than he is. But unlike what your dad’s taught you, Taehyung has no regards for age at all. He’s not respectful. He doesn’t stay quiet. He’s not well-mannered. He’s a troublemaker. What others have called ‘a punk’. You continue, only to be forced to a stop, colliding with an invisible barrier. Your face is pushed up against the transparent surface and from being caught off guard, the force is enough to topple you off your feet. You fall onto your butt. The floorboards welcome your small body. Taehyung laughs his head off. “I can’t believe you actually fell for it!” He’s chortling, snickering, in absolute hysterics. You give up, laying on the ground with your arms to your side, staring at the ceiling lifelessly before your eyes flicker to him, watching him have his fun. The doorway remains stretched with plastic wrap.

#bts fanfic #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fluff #bts scenario #bts fluff #AW HERE WE GO AGAIN #another slice of life #something low conflict and easy to read #KIM TAEHYUNG WHO'S A FUCKING TROUBLEMAKER #AND OC WHO'S EMOTIONALLY STUNTEEEEEDDD

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jackbabewang · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 2 — Bad habits

Word count ‧ 3,730

Chapter summary ‧ You must be out of your mind to think that he actually cared.

Masterlist

You finally got your eyes to cooperate to stay open and looked up to see a silhouette of a man in very close proximity with you. Your heart leaped to your throat, suddenly remembered that you were in Yoonoh’s room.

“Jung… Yoonoh,” you said his name in a faltering and trembling voice. You dared not to move and stared dumbly at him. The touch of his hand on your bare skin sent streaks of fire racing up and down your body.

He seemed to hear your voice then his movements came to a complete stop. You felt his breath warm on your neck, heard his heavy breathing in your ear.

“Keep going, or not?” he asked, his voice deeper than before, huskier, and filled with unspoken desire.

Your nervous system shut down, but quickly came to life in a rush of heat. Your knees trembled and your stomach clenched. Your breath was uneven when your lips parted as if to say something, but nothing came out. It was intense and then suddenly he pulled back and lifted the blanket and made his way to the bathroom in the darkness.

You had no idea what time it was when you woke up last night, but it was an absolute certainty that your eyes were wide smack open till the next morning. And after Yoonoh went into the bathroom, he had been out of his room since. Where did he go?

You dilly-dallied, slipped out of bed, padded to the bathroom and damn—your head was swimming with dizziness along with pounding from the two or three hours of sleep. You stood before the mirror, you could see the stark evidence of the episode from the night before—that your pyjamas looked a bit crumpled. You had no idea how you were going to face him any later.

It was still early in the morning, not quite seven, your parents had not gotten up yet. All your clothes were in that room and you were afraid that you could not get in there at the moment. You remembered you had clothes hung outside that you washed yesterday and so you went downstairs to get a fresh set of clothes.

Chop, chop, chop. Slice, slice, slice. The sound of the knife cutting through and landing against the wooden board drew you into the doorway, onto the threshold of the kitchen. Assuming your mother had woken up rather early. You opened your mouth—to call out “mom”—but the word was suddenly stuck in your throat as soon as you came eyeball-to-eyeball with the last person you wanted to see just then. You jolted with the shock and spun on your heels preparing to sprint away.

“Come here.”

The second after you whirled, Yoonoh called out to you faintly. Did he not feel awkward at all?

Right, it was him who took advantage of you, how could he possibly feel awkward about it.

Reluctantly you turned back around, somehow keeping your face perfectly calm. “My! You’re up early today.”

He brought some thinly sliced spring onion into a small bowl, without any expression on his face he echoed, “When was I never earlier than you?”

Pfft! Only very slight bit, what’s there to be hoity-toity about?

“Wash your hands.” He commanded.

“What for?”

He did not answer but turned around to continue what he had been doing without giving a damn on you. On instinct you rolled your eyes and padded to the sink. You ran the water and held your hands under the stream, rubbing palm to palm as an indication whatsoever before turning off the faucet. Yoonoh swiveled his head rather abruptly and stared at your hands, “Wash with soap.”

It’s not like you’re a kid anymore, so what’s with the soap? Killing bacteria? You grumbled internally but not wanting to waste time and energy bickering over petty things so you had it his way and washed your hands once again with an antibacterial soap.

As you dried your hands with soft strokes of the towel, Yoonoh pointed to one, two, three and four eggs in the basket then said, “Peel the eggs.”

After all that fuss made about hygiene, was it his germophobia acting up then? Only just peeling eggs and you thought he wanted you to knead a dough instead.

You obliged without uttering a syllable and with every murky shell that peeled off you felt your cheeks grew warmer.

That… bared in its all glory… last night you shared a bed with someone as equally au naturel, and…

Stop, stop!

You became even more flushed than a minute ago, with bright red spots appearing on your cheeks. Yet Yoonoh noticed every detail with his sharpness as Hawkeye’s, giving no quarter that he pointed out, “What’s with your face matching the colour of pig’s blood early in the morning?”

He could’ve gone further exaggerating the metaphoricity; it would not hurt any less either way.

Noticing your silence, he seasoned his remark with malice, “Or, you’re shy about what happened last night?”

“Hmph,” he smirked, without another word he spun around and poured a little olive oil in the pan.

Pervert.

You did not want him to see your face, your embarrassed reaction to his comment so you could only turn your back to him as well and not pick an argument with him.

After breakfast, your parents had to catch the return flight back to Ulsan and so Yoonoh drove them to the airport. In wishing you goodbye, your mother held onto your hands, and over and over she was only concerned about Yoonoh that you might not take good care of him, leaving him to starve or freeze or wither up at leisure.

You were certain the woman standing before you was, indeed, not your biological mother.

Until your parents had settled in at the boarding gate then you returned home. As Yoonoh drove past a grocery store, you suddenly remembered that you were out of toothpaste so you made him stopped by.

Afraid that he might get impatient with waiting, you headed straight to the sales assistant for the placement of the product, impulsively grabbing a box of toothpaste and checked out at the counter.

Right after you walked out through the automatic doors labeled “Exit Only” you saw an oh-so-slim sylph sashaying towards the direction of Yoonoh’s car. The man got down, apparently completely clueless what he said to her that the very next moment she was in the passenger seat.

A message came in, signaled by the slight vibration of the device in your hand, from Yoonoh: Something came up, had to leave first. Get yourself a ride home.

He drove away and you watched until his car was out of sight. Gingerly you moved your thumbs over the screen, typing out a reply: Ok.

In the center of your palm laid a dull silver coin of 500won of the amount of change. It was cool and, weirdly, heavy.

Five years ago, 500won would have taken you through the main areas of downtown of Seoul. But now, 500won worth nothing to what seemed to be the cheapest transportation in the entire world.

During your summer break from middle school, you and your little companions would walk miles to travel around the city and returned on foot evening just to reserve that 500won for snacks. The distance of those journeys was never concerned, surprisingly you did not feel tired at all be it three hours, or that was because you were snacking along the way.

But, as you grew older, and supposed to be tougher, thirty minutes of walking already had you feeling tired and panting, the soles of your feet hurt.

It took you a little over an hour to walk back home from the airport. When you finally reached the front door and opened it, you could have just sit in the foyer and would not move a finger for hours on end. The fact that you made it into the house with persistence was enough to say that you were absolutely soiled.

A wave of utter exhaustion overtook you, and eventually you felt sleepy so you took a quick shower and went to bed. Till five thirty in the evening, you woke up. For so long you slept it was the reason that you had not sleep a wink last night.

You got up and filled yourself a glass of water. You gently raised your head high enough so you could drink without choking. The water was cool and refreshing and you sipped a few mouthfuls. You had not realized how thirsty you were, then your stomach grumbled, or how hungry. And so you made yourself a bowl of noodles then washed the breakfast dishes.

Yoonoh was not home yet, you had no idea what had he been doing or where was he with Sooyoung, or he might not return even…

Tidying up the living room after, dishwashing, you made your way upstairs again. Had you been sleeping all the afternoon through, you did not feel signs of drowsiness.

Flipping through pages, reading passages randomly, yet you could not commit to reading the book in its entirety, so you pulled out your phone.

Ever since you graduated from college, you had lost contact with many of your friends except for your dear Jennie. And you called her for long, giggly, pointless chats about the minutiae of life, not knowing when or how the conversation led to Yoonoh.

Jennie: Honestly, about your marriage to him, it’s kinda unbelievable, but bound to happen.

Y: What was bound to happen?

Jennie: Even though I don’t know him well, he seemed to be a cold person to me, it’s the truth. I couldn’t deny that I wasn’t shaken when I found out in high school that we have a senior that’s smart and so good-looking. But every single time when I greeted him he just ignored me, and I’m like ‘forget about it’ and moved on.

Jennie: But then again, I’m not the only shameless one. A lot of girls tried to talk to him and got ignored, except you. Every time you walked past him and need not to say anything, his eyes went to you instinctively.

Jennie: And I’d also realized that you’re the only person he talked to, that’s the only time his poker face showed expressions, which is why we’d all thought that out of all the women in the world, he’d choose you.

Frankly speaking, Jennie transferred to different school in 12th grade, she had no idea of the presence of another.

Y: Was his face like this every time he saw me? 🙄 This kinda expression was it? 😒

Jennie: Dang, those two. Accurate!

Y: …

And how did they even perceive that as signs of interest?

Jennie descended from a family of scholars, her father an archeologist while her mother a college professor, eventually their thinking was old fashioned—positively feudal. Watching their daughter of nearing thirty and had no male relation of potential son-in-law, they were undeniably concerned.

When Jennie was still in New Zealand, never had they ever brought up the topic in their phone calls. However merely returned for a few days, the poor girl had been getting her ear chewed off.

She grumbled, “Had I known it’s gonna be like this, I wouldn’t come back.”

Gloating over her misery, you pricked the bubbles of truth, “I guess your parents were afraid that you’ll find yourself a kiwi husband so they never pressed you about it. Now that they’ve coaxed you to come back, of course they’re gonna seize the opportunity to settle you down with a domestic spouse.”

She banged her head against the table, “That’s racist, racist! Why’s my life so miserable?”

You lifted the cup of fresh coffee to your lips, blowing on it prior to taking a sip, not even trying to console her at this point.

Your supposed “hang out” for the day was because of her desperately crying for help earlier in the morning that her parents had arranged a blind date for her.

She had never done anything like that, which was why she was extra nervous and dragged you out from your house to be that… third wheel.

The more she talked about it the more she grew restless and finally she slumped motionless on the table as if her body was hollowed out. You intended to remind her of her hair getting into the coffee, but before you could even speak up, a hand came out of nowhere and brushed out her messy strands.

Assuming that it was you, she lifted her head and grabbed ahold of the hand, then as if feeling an unusual sensation, aggressively surprised, “Who are you?”

The hand belonged to a remarkably handsome man with dark eyes and hair; well behaved, very courteous, very well-mannered, radiating all—Jennie’s designated partner for the blind date.

Maybe he was equally unfamiliar with the social engagement which he had also brought along a company as emotional support.

Therefore, what was supposed to be a blind date for two, appeared to be for a pair now.

Jennie’s partner, Kim Doyoung, came from a family of scholars as well; his friend went by the name Qian Kun, whose parents ran a small business.

You were struggling to manage a conversation with Kun and at the same time observing the other two, seemed like she already had the urge to run for her life, meanwhile the man was more of a gentleman that there was no way for the usually bold Jennie to lie her desire to escape.

As for the impression that Doyoung gave you… it was a positive that he had taken an interest in her.

No no no, but the way he looked at Jennie was definitely like… he was gazing upon his lover.

It gave an indication that they had known each other for a long time.

Interesting.

Kun was untalkative, but he was polite, the kind of person that would only answer questions, not offer more and kept silent when not. Though he lent a sense of comfort and harmony, but lacked existence at the same time. Thankfully he was born charming that even when he did not speak, people would almost stop and stare at him.

More than a little while at the cafe, Doyoung offered to buy dinner for everyone. Jennie had wanted to reject however under the supervision of her mother with a text message querying about their progress, she gritted her teeth and made it happen in case she would be having her parents breathing down her neck.

Doyoung only ate a little and then stuffing Jennie with so much food that it was visibly to you that she had lost patience with the man.

It was yet the end, that you proceeded to the next round at a karaoke bar. Somewhat dubious that Jennie had reached the limit of her tolerance, or she intended him to retreat. Who used to have a wonderful singing voice was intentionally going off pitch, and picked a trot song that she belted out from deep within her soul.

It was to the point that you, being a tone-deaf, could not help but grew annoyed at her awful singing.

She was rather ferocious that night that she bitterly suggested to compete Doyoung in drinking. Clearly she was a lightweight but insisted the attendant to serve bottles and bottles of soju.

Your eyes bulged in surprise as you stared at the dozen of alcohol, you contemplated warning her but out of the blue you registered the changing gaze of Jennie on Doyoung.

She cracked open a bottle of soju and slammed it on the table with a loud smack. She looked at him provocatively, speaking, “If you get through me tonight, I’ll try to date you for good, deal?”

Both you and Kun gaped at the pair in silence. There was a ghost of a smile crossed Doyoung’s face then he reached over to snatched the bottle from her grip, “You don’t have to drink, I’ll finish all of these, as long as you don’t go back on your word.”

Next thing you all witnessed him drowning bottle to bottle, ravenously. Till the third bottle, he was unable to swallow anymore, clear transparent liquor escaped from the corner of his mouth. Jennie roared, “Don’t let it drip!”

He shot a glance at her then ushered Kun to bring him another bottle.

Kun said nothing, and did not bother advising him, without a word he fetched another dozen of soju. You watched him as a small smirk crept onto your face, Doyoung was discreet in choosing friends, you thought.

Specifically how many bottles he had downed, you had lost count of it. He was completely wasted and could not even sit steadily.

You could not bear to watch another moment more and wanted to convince Jennie to make him stop, but in that sense, it meant that she would have to raise the white flag and date him for real. But acknowledging the cruel fact that she had not had even a slither of interest in him, you gave up instead after multiple failed attempts.

In a way everything just came to an end, there was not an outcome between Jennie and Doyoung. However on the way back, you could sense the bad omen in your friend.

You kept your voice calm and neutral, but there was clear teasing in your tone, “That was a difficult one, seems like you can’t get rid of him any way.”

Jennie went silent for a moment while she switched gears mentally, “At first I thought he was familiar but I couldn’t pinpoint exactly who he was until I saw that he was left handed during dinner then I suddenly remembered that he’s that douchebag Kim Dongyoung.”

“Dongyoung? That sounds familiar.” You heard somewhere but could not remember the sudden recollection.

She said, “During high school, the asshole that I had a crush on!”

Now, hearing that from her own lips, you came to the sudden realization and a blurry silhouette of a guy popped inside your head. For quite a while that Jennie dated him in high school, later it was because the counterpart was tangled with another girl that they broke up after. Then Jennie went overseas, and the guy called Dongyoung vanished into thin air, nowhere to be found.

“But why is he called Doyoung now?”

“It was some superstitious belief I guess. His family is weird.”

“Seems like he was hoping to rekindle the past romantic flames. Do you still have feelings for him?” you asked.

She answered disdainfully, “We were immature back then, I’d already lost whatever I had for him.”

“To me it’s like he couldn’t forget about you though.” Honestly you could tell that she had not moved on entirely from him, otherwise how could she recognized him as the Dongyoung back then?

“That’s his problem. I don’t dwell on the past, especially one that’s tainted.” When she spoke of the word ‘tainted’, she muttered between clenched teeth, which did not sound nice at all.

You became silent then, not wanting to jog her through bad memories. However you could not help but be reminded of the diminishing figure of Yoonoh and Sooyoung that day as the distance between them increased by a yard per mile. Suddenly you could feel the morose mood within.

Jennie drove you back home then buzzed off with a simple “goodnight”. You knew that she was definitely going for speeding down the road to get her mind off.

From afar you had already noticed that the lights were on, for sure Yoonoh was home. When you made your entrance and changed your shoes, there you saw him on the couch.

You were still sulky and resentful and bitchy so you decided to ignore him at the moment. You changed into your fluffy slippers and went straight for the stairs and up them.

“Where have you been, why do you smell like alcohol all over?” He sat on the couch, suddenly threw a question with obvious ill judgement.

Subconsciously you took a whiff of your own self, and retorted, “I didn’t drink.”

“What’s with the strong odor if you didn’t?”

“Probably when helping Doyoung…” you paused, previously you had made a mental note to ignore him at all costs, yet you were explaining yourself to him?

He sure knew how to pick up important points, “Who is Doyoung?”

You pursed your lips, had you wanted to explain to him, but questioned back instead, “Why do you care?”

His face went dark immediately, “You’ve been with that guy this whole day?”

“So what if I was?”

“It’s fine, but I have to remind you now that you’re labelled as me, Jung Yoonoh’s wife, you better not try something that puts me in shame,” he said, coldly.

Oh, so that’s it?

What were you exactly wishing for? Doing this deliberately, intentionally to get him misunderstood. You sure were out of your mind.

“Alright.” You were too tired to fight with him, mentally tired, honestly you had began to get tired of this lifestyle as well. Two people who lived under the same roof and seeing the same face every morning, day in and day out, yet always fighting and hurting each other every time when mouths opened that you basically did not speak the same language. It was indeed tiring.

As if he never thought that you would be easily compromised this time that he was stunned for a second, and just continued what he had been doing with nothing said. You did not stay any longer and went upstairs.

In fact, all these years you both had cared too much about pride which caused this constant tension and friction in between.

When one attacked another, there would be horrible and awful words as defensive comeback.

Those hurtful words would end up hurting yourselves anyway. If you did not went all out your way to maliciously hurt others, how would it lead to harsh and cruel retaliation in the other part?

As long as one first backed down and admitted defeat, eventually the other would stop before going too far.

Both adults knew that, yet no one had the courage to let go of their pride and ego.

#nct scenarios #nct jaehyun #jaehyun scenarios

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myheartmightexplode · 5 years ago

Text

As of Now I'm Down Straight Up

by MusicalSense

Summary

"He’s on his back again and this time he’s not looking at the sky; he’s looking right into the surprisingly blue eyes of Bert McCracken who just chokeslammed him into the ground and is now standing above him with his feet planted left and right of Gerard’s hips." Hallelujah.

In this AU Bert and Gerard didn't meet prior to warped tour and neither Three Cheers nor In Love And Death are out yet so technically it should be set in 2003, but like, the timelines don't really matter for this one. Inspired by an interview with MCR where Gerard talked about Bert chokeslamming a kid who got up on stage during their set.

There’s blood in Gerard’s mouth and he’s not sure if it’s his own. He runs the tip of his tongue over his aching front teeth and turns around to see if whoever headbutted him got away unscathed. He definitely felt his teeth slice through… something, which is kind of worrying since they are freakishly small and that means that he had a mouthful of some stranger which is… all a little unsanitary, isn’t it? A guy with a bloody nose bumps into him and Gerard gets a face full of Eau de Sweaty Armpit. He chokes a little and ducks and shoves – his go-to move in the pit – to keep Tall and Sweaty at a safe distance and then brushes his greasy hair out of his face. He’s standing at the edge of the mosh pit at Warped, probably too close to the speakers given his bad ear, but right now he does not care even in the slightest. He can feel each beat of the kick drum resonating in his bones and his heart is racing along with the music as the song crescendos and comes to a crashing, slightly off-key end. He will definitely have to incorporate something like that into their next record, he thinks.

“The next song is called ‘A Box Full Of Sharp Objects’.” Announces Bert McCracken. He looks good today, Gerard thinks. Really good. Sure, he’s just as sweaty as Gerard is, but the way his wet tangled hair looks with the red makeup smudges on his cheek and the manic glint in his eyes… Gerard gulps. Perhaps he does have a thing for boys who look like they would beat him up without hesitating and make out with him afterwards.

“Marry me!” Tall and Sweaty hollers next to him with the fervor and timbre of a frat bro after his sixth bear of the night. Gerard winces. Yeah, his hearing is definitely not going to improve anytime soon. Maybe he should start wearing the second in ear monitor too; he thinks he might be developing a tinnitus.

“Who, me?” Bert asks with wide eyes and an even wider grin on his face. He presses a hand to his chest in mock-surprise. Gerard’s not entirely sure but he thinks Bert’s wearing white nail polish on the left and black on the right hand. He wonders if it’s a Queen reference.

“Fuck yeah!” Tall and Sweaty yells. Gerard twitches. How did that guy even manage to keep his baseball cap in the pit? He’s pretty sure that he himself lost one or two pins and maybe his belt to the crowd.

Bert wags his eyebrows. “We’ll see about that later.” He turns to his bassist and giggles in that weird high pitched way of his. “Looks like I’ve got a date tonight, Jepha.”

Fuck. Fucking fuck. Why can’t Gerard be a sweaty frat bro? Sure, his Gran always told him to worry less and just ask for things because really, what could happen besides him getting rejected? But somehow he didn’t think that her advice would be applicable in this situation and yet… Oh god, she’d be laughing so hard if she could see him right now, thrashing wildly with the crowd at a The Used show mere hours before he had to be on stage himself just because he thought the singer was kind of cute and wanted to check him out live. The band launches into the next song, kicking Gerard back into action. He shakes his head a little and allows himself a small smile. So what if he has a tiny man-crush on another singer, he can still have a good time. He looks around quickly to check for people who look like they wouldn’t appreciate him throwing himself in their midst and when he doesn’t find any, he dives straight back into the pit.

God, he loves this so fucking much. The hot press of bodies around him, the elbows connecting with his ribs, even the feeling of sweaty skin sticking and unsticking from his. For a while he loses himself in the push and pull of it, careful to keep his head down so he doesn’t get hit in the face. Somehow he seems to be just the right height for that, not big enough to really stand his ground and not quite small enough to weave through the crowd like Frank does either. He feels someone pulling on the white stage shirt he’s wearing because it was the only semi-clean thing in his wardrobe after touring for a while. Somehow his stage clothes are always taken care of while his normal t shirts decompose in a smelly pile in a corner of their bus. Right now though, his last good shirt is dotted with small red blood splatters and he briefly worries about the state of his face which seems to be one big dull ache right now. He really hopes that the blood isn’t his; having to sing with a broken nose would suck balls.

His gaze connects with a short-ish dude with a bloody bitemark on his jaw and a bright grin. For a split second Gerard recognizes him as the person whose face he hit his teeth on but then he’s being hoisted up and carried on top of the crowd. He takes in a gasping breath and blinks up at the almost cartoonishly blue sky for a few moments. Sure, he’s crowdsurfed before, but usually inside smaller clubs and never at Warped where the audience looks like a boiling kettle full of rage and drunk scene kids. Maybe he should reconsider though, he thinks idly as he’s being carried away from the pit. Someone’s jewelry catches on his hair and the buttons of his shirt and he tries to keep his feet still so he doesn’t kick anyone in the head and there’s sky around him and the wavelike movement of the crowd under him, and he thinks maybe this is what it feels like to drift in the ocean during a storm, and then he’s being hoisted on stage.

‘Oh fuck’ He thinks. “Oh fuck.” He says. While no one’s technically going to kick him out for it he is technically also not supposed to be here and it’s taken him too long already; he should be jumping back right now; he’s seen other people do it and they always got away with it as long as they didn’t disturb the set, and he turns around and then someone grabs his throat and slams him to the ground and. Holy Shit.

He’s on his back again and this time he’s not looking at the sky; he’s looking right into the surprisingly blue eyes of Bert McCracken who just chokeslammed him into the ground and is now standing above him with his feet planted left and right of Gerard’s hips.

Actually, maybe he hit his head harder than he thought. He’s feeling a little faint right now. Bert’s hand is still around his throat. Gerard tries to swallow and chokes on his spit. He feels his pulse beating away frantically, even faster than the music now, and he wonders if Bert can feel it. The moment seems to stretch like the string of a bow being pulled back and Gerard worries that if he makes one wrong move he’s going to make it snap and hit him in the face.

Fucking hell. He’s going to die here. Above him Bert grins with all of his teeth and mouths along to the final chorus as the crowd goes wild. He locks eyes with Gerard and winks and then he. He licks his hand, from palm to fingertips, and wipes it on Gerard’s face and suddenly he’s painfully hard in his jeans. There’s sweat dripping down from Bert’s hair and his teeth still ache and he still can’t breathe properly and he thinks he just fell in love. He’s dying but man, what a way to go.

Bert, who doesn’t seem to have picked up on Gerard’s epiphany, gets up from his crouch and gets back to performing and after a second Gerard picks himself back up and leaps into the crowd before one of the security guys can usher him down and he still feels like he’s floating.

He doesn’t get back up on stage; it’s not like he could ask Bert for his number in the middle of a concert, right? Right. They’re either going to meet backstage or maybe they’re going to collab or, or, maybe they will never see each other again (‘Shut the fuck up Gerard you’re literally touring together’ His logical side tells him) but even if that’s the case, so what? It’s not like he just met the love of his life or anything. Ha.

He might be panicking a little.

Later that day, before he had time to change out of his blood splattered clothes (He thinks he might just keep them for the show, the red adds a certain element to the whole look…), he’s just wandering around when he comes across one of the billboards showing messages from fans and really just anyone who submits something via text message.

‘MCR rox my soxx’ He reads and smiles. Next up is a longer message. ‘Bleeding dude uknowho I choked meet me @10 bhind mainstg luv bert’.

Oh. Okay then. That’s definitely him, right? Gerard grins and touches the bruises starting to form on his neck. It seems like Bert wasn’t the only one who left an impression.

#fic #bandom #gerbert #gerard way #bert mccracken

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fanfixsavelives · 5 years ago

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Hooked [Dean Winchester x Reader] {Part 1}

You both knew what you were doing was going to come back and bite you in the rear end. After all… you were a witch, he was a hunter. Your father would kill you if he found out. Sam would definitely kill Dean if he found out.

It was supposed to be a one time thing. You’d even made a blood pact stating that it would be a one time deal, and then you would both return to your proper spots on the “food chain.”

It had started when Dean walked into the diner your family owned. You had taken a job there almost eight years before, when it was clear that your father (who was also the head of your coven) was not going to let you leave. From the very moment he walked in, he’d been giving the look. Your father had warned you about men like these- arrogant, cocky, sexy, and a little homeless looking. “These men could be hunters, poppet.” He’d instructed. Just to be rebellious, you’d made sure to gesture him over to the counter so you could serve him. He came over with a cocky swagger and a sexy smirk. He was wearing a suit with a tie that no doubt complimented his green eyes. You smiled at him and propped your elbows on the counter.

“How can I help you, Mr. …?”

“It’s Agent, actually. Agent Wasowski.” His voice was surprisingly low and gruff.

You chuckled. “You know you have a one-eyed Disney monster named after you?” You joked, taking a rag and wiping off a spot that had previously been taken by the town drunk- why he frequented the diner that only served him one beer when you were off-duty, you had no idea, but he never failed to show up.

Agent Wasowski rolled his eyes playfully before chuckling a little. “I’m sorry. That was a little childish. What can I get you Agent?” You asked.

“Actually, I need some information about the owner of this diner.” He sighed. “But if you wanted to get me a slice of pie over there and charge it to this card that I’m just gonna leave sitting out right here… accidentally? I wouldn’t arrest you.”

You rose an eyebrow. “Not supposed to eat on duty then?”

He shook his head. “Not when I’m interrogating the waitress. No.”

You winked and turned to the pie plate. After cutting a generously large piece of cherry pie, you set it on a napkin. “Whoops. I’m not supposed to put those on napkins! Oh well. We wouldn’t want it to go to waste, now would we?” You handed Dean a fork and pulled out the whipped cream. His eyes twinkled when you sprayed a huge dollop on his napkin, then on the pie. “On the house.” You offered.

“So, do you know the owner?” He asked before taking a large bite of pie.

You popped your hip out, placing a hand on your hip and blowing wisps of your hair out of your face. “I would hope so.” You answered with a chuckle. “Has he done something wrong?”

Dean shrugged. “He is a suspect in our case, but we don’t have anything concrete right now.”

“Well, ask away. I’ll help anyway I can.” You smiled. You figured he was talking about a money mishap that your father had eventually had fixed.

“Did Mr. Y/L/N ever have any contact with Zachary Pillmouth?” He asked. Ah. So this is about Uncle Zac’s murder?

Your face fell a little before answering. “Of course. He ran our finances here. They were very close- grew up together you could say. He was like an uncle to me- to a lot of people in this community.” You were wiping the counter again, mainly to avoid the feelings that surfaced and distract from the tears that were trying to surface.

“Did he and Mr. Y/L/N ever have a falling out?” .

You thought about it for a moment. “The more I think about it, the more I remember that they weren’t really talking anymore. Neither of them would tell me what happened, but I know Uncle Zac showed up here with some bruises. I never really thought about it, Zachary liked to box on the weekends.”

Dean pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. “Did you notice anything weird about either of them before?”

“Well, Zac came in here the morning before he died… but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t even drink the coffee I gave him. I chalked it up to fatigue or a fight with Rita.”

“Does this symbol look familiar to you?” He asked, sliding a piece of paper across the table. You squinted.

“Um… yeah. That’s the symbol at Y/L/N manor. It hangs up everywhere. It’s ridiculous.” You scoffed. That symbol represented every negative feeling you had ever felt. It represented all of your failed dreams to travel. It represented the lineage that you hadn’t bothered to memorize, but all 9 of your brothers- being the suck-ups that they are- “had” to memorize.

“What do you know about Mr. Y/L/N?”

You shook your head with a sigh. “He was born in Liverpool, grew up in a boarding school, mostly. As soon as he turned 18 his parents sent him here with money and privilege. All he had to do was find a wife, settle down, and build the family business in the states.”

“The family business of diners?” Dean chuckled.

You shook your head. “The family business of investing. The diner was an investment. In the town, in food, and in family.” You quoted. Your father had only told you that every time you complained about working a long shift.

Dean nodded, looking around. “You seem to know a lot about Mr. Y/L/N.” He observed.

You nodded, raising an eyebrow while wiping off another spot on the counter. “Well, I would hope so. My father has only told me those stories every night since I was old enough to understand words.”

Dean choked on his pie. “Your father? Your father is Mr…”

You chuckled. “Yup. Y/N Y/L/N.” You shrugged, holding your hand out with a huge grin.

Dean struggled to swallow his pie before reaching out to shake your hand. “I thought your dad only had boys?”

You shrugged. “I’m the only girl. Youngest of 10. I get left out a lot. But I’m also the most protected. It’s a complicated family relationship.”

Dean gave you a forceful smile. “I bet.”

You looked at him in confusion. “Did I upset you?”

Dean shook his head. “What? No! Just a little suprised Mr. Y/L/N has his… daughter working as a waitress at a diner he owns.” He was lying. You could tell.

“Well, after I turned 18, I tried to leave town, but my father wouldn’t allow me to. He said my family needed me to stay. So I got a job here. My plan is to eventually have enough money to at least move out of the house my father let me borrow.” You sighed. “Get my own place. One my father can’t barge into anytime he wants.”

The front door opened, and another tall man in a suit came in, looking around. “Dean, I got more information on Zachary. He was at the Y/L/Ns the night of his murder. And apparently, Zac had just outed Mr. Y/L/N for witchcraft.”

Your heart dropped. Your father hadn’t told you that Uncle Zac was betraying the family secret. That probably meant that- your heart plummeted. You and Dean shared a look.

“Yeah. That symbol that we found on the body? It’s the Y/L/N family crest.”

You cleared your throat. “I’m sorry for interrupting, but if I understand this right, you’re accusing my father of murder.”

Sam sighed. “I thought Mr. Y/L/N only had boys?” The strange agent asked.

“It’s a long story.” Dean scoffed. “Look Y/N, I know it’s a lot, but-”

You shook your head and held up a hand. “Listen, I know this may be strange- coming from his daughter of all people, but it’s not that far fetched.” You bit your lip, looking around.

“What do you mean?” The other agent asked, leaning in. “Are you saying that your father is capable of-”

“Not here.” You whispered. You took your order pad and wrote your address down. “Meet me here at 7. I’ll explain more then.” You slipped the sheet of paper in between two napkins before sliding it over. “I’ll have to throw you out now, if you don’t mind. It avoids suspicion.”

Dean pouted. “Can I at least finish my pie?” He asked.

“I’ll make you a whole pie later.” You offered before throwing them out.

#hooked #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural #series #witches #murder #dean winchester x reader #x reader #vampires #werewolf #crime #mystery #fanfiction #love

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hungline · 5 years ago

Text

put a spell on me (please be mine)

pairings: showho, minor changki genre: angst, fantasy au, rated nc17 warnings: mentions of death and blood a/n: written for the mx halloween fic exchange 2018 hosted on ao3! words: 2302

summary: Shin Hoseok is the number one witch hunter in all of the Seven Realms, but when he first catches a glimpse of Son Hyunwoo, it is like the heavens above parted just to let this celestial being grace this horrible slice of reality where a king slaughters his own people for the sake of remaining in power.

It sits heavily on Hoseok's chest.

He holds a life in his hands, one he has been commissioned to wring out and put an end to. One he doesn't want to risk. A life he wishes he had never crossed paths with, to begin with.

But it is still in his hands.

And when he sees him, when he watches the way sunlight makes his skin bronze and how plants of all kinds open up to greet him, Hoseok doesn't think he can go through with it.

Killing Son Hyunwoo cannot be the answer.

There is a prophecy older than time itself. Only a few know of its existence and even fewer know of its contents.

Hoseok does not know what it says word for word, but he knows what it means. He knows why it has been kept secret for so long.

The King would have his head if he caught a whiff of Hoseok's knowledge on the subject. Only those in his inner sanctum are meant to know, but Hoseok knows.

Entirely by accident, mind you, but this knowledge still puts his life in danger. So he decided to get close and stay close so that when the King grew suspicious, Hoseok would have a chance of fleeing before his ultimate demise by the King's men.

The amount of money he receives for each commission isn't bad enough to pay for his mother's medical needs by the way. The arrangement works out double for him in the end.

Hoseok thinks he could make it a few years out on his own before he is captured and turned in though. He is not the number one witch hunter in all of the Seven Realms for nothing. He has outwitted and outfoxed the most brilliant of magick users in the kingdom. He has more blood on his hands than he could ever have the ability to wash off and he wears that like armor.

He looks as tough as everyone expects him to all so that no one would be dumb enough to mess with him.

All so that he can be left alone just like he wants and just as he has always been.

He needs this witch's blood.

It is meant to be used in an immortality potion, but Hoseok doesn't understand how one form of magick is meant to trump another. Is it not wrong to fight fire with fire, after all?

Well, not Hoseok specifically, but the King ordered him too and if Hoseok wants enough money to pay for his mother's medicine, he too wants the High Warlock's blood.

Hoseok knows what is at stake and when he first catches a glimpse of Son Hyunwoo, it is like the heavens above parted just to let this celestial being grace this horrible slice of reality where a king slaughters his own people for the sake of remaining in power. He looks fearsome from afar, fearsome enough to make even Hoseok pause, but when he comes closer and spies from the brush surrounding the witch's cottage, that is the moment he realizes that maybe love does exist after all.

So he keeps his distance. Not because he is afraid of his own feelings, but because he is afraid that he may already be too involved with this particular case than he should be. A lot of things ー important things ー hang in the balance with this and if Hoseok messes up, if he makes one false step, then everything before his very eyes could go up in flames.

He needs this to work.

It should not surprise him that soon enough, it all blows up in his face.

After one night when Hyunwoo came out to water his garden and Hoseok noticed how moonbeams danced across his face and how the pixies fluttered about his head like a halo, it became too much. Hoseok retreated even further into the woods and camped out there, making sure that he could still observe the witch this far out and that he remained undetected.

It was fairly easy at first. Hyunwoo had not given any indication up until that point that he noticed Hoseok lurking about at all and the woods were easy to navigate, easy to live off of. Waking up to the sun rising and hearing the birds chirp is enough to make Hoseok feel at peace within himself just like being able to sleep under a blanket made up of stars does. It definitely should have been a warning sign for him, feeling content and happy for once in his life, but he had never expected to underestimate one of his targets in the massive degree that he did Hyunwoo.

On the night of the next full moon, Hoseok goes to bed early and does not wake with the usual warming sunlight slanting across his face. Instead, he wakes up to fur in his mouth and a loud growling by his ear with drool dripping down onto his clothes. Hoseok has seen his fair share of creatures and led too many expeditions not to realize that a werewolf has infiltrated his camp, but before he even gets the chance to come up with a strategy, the mass of fur in his face is being lifted and gently pushed away.

Hoseok sits up and instantly feels calm, his heart rate slowing back down to normal as he catches sight of a glowing Hyunwoo. His dark hair is in its usual bun atop the witch's head and his robes are a light, dusty rose color that complements Hyunwoo's skin tone surprisingly well. There is a smile on his face that only further confuses Hoseok, but what is most confusing of all is the fact that when Hyunwoo turns back to the werewolf and pets it on the head, fear lances right though Hoseok's heart. And it is not the usual fear, it isn't even fear for himself either.

The fear he feels in that moment is for Hyunwoo.

But Hyunwoo shows no hesitation, no fear at all as he continues to pet the wolf while he murmurs something that Hoseok cannot make out to it. It is hypnotizing to watch.

"You really should be more careful."

Hoseok has never heard Hyunwoo speak before and it almost comes as a shock to him when he realizes that the witch just spoke directly to him, but he fights to not let that surprise show on his face as he thinks of something to say in return. Nothing comes though and they continue to listen to the sounds of nightlife in the woods around them as Hoseok carefully avoids Hyunwoo's gaze.

"It's fine if you do not wish to speak just yet," Hyunwoo continues, stepping closer as he does. "I only want to make sure that you are okay. You can shake your head yes or no."

His voice is so calm, Hoseok thinks, calm enough to tame even the wildest of cats. Or dogs, whatever. What matters is that Hyunwoo is awaiting a response and even if Hoseok did not know who this witch was prior to tonight, he would still be unable to deny him anything that he wanted.

So he nods his head and feels something sizzling just beneath his skin that leaves him feeling breathless as he finally looks up to meet Hyunwoo's gaze and finds them twinkling just like the stars high up above them.

"Good. Come along then."

"I still don't think he should be here, Alpha."

Hoseok has grown tired of hearing the same phrase leave Changkyun's lips for the past few hours and though Hoseok is sure that Hyunwoo is not able to look anything other than composed and compassionate at all times, he is sure that Hyunwoo feels the same.

"Are you doubting my judgment, pup?" Hyunwoo asks with a smile on his face that does not match the steely tone of his voice.

Changkyun bares his teeth at Hoseok when their eyes meet but quickly diverts his attention back to Hyunwoo. "Not at all. I just don't trust him. I can smellー"

"I am perfectly aware of what you smell on him, Changkyun. But I am your elder, your Alpha, and your High Warlock, am I not?" Hyunwoo cuts him off, the glow over his skin darkening ever-so-slightly.

"Of course!" Changkyun yelps, his young face flushing as he bends his head down in a clear sign of submission. "I'm sorry, Alpha. I spoke out of line."

Hyunwoo sighs and his smile softens enough to turn Hoseok's insides into mush. "All is forgiven, pup. Now hurry home, Kihyun must be missing you."

Changkyun looks unwilling to go, but to Hoseok's relief, he only nods and leaves Hyunwoo's cottage quickly enough. Hyunwoo visibly relaxes once the werewolf has left and Hoseok is left studying him as if he will never get the chance to do so again. Hyunwoo's face is soft, there is no better description than that, but his softness is something other men would be too proud and arrogant to embrace the same way Hyunwoo does, unknowingly or not. His hair is out of its bun, longer than it was before and a shade lighter, but his skin is the same tan it always is due to working on his garden under the relentless sun. Hyunwoo's beauty is almost too much to bear for Hoseok's frail heart.

"I apologize for Changkyun," Hyunwoo's voice is almost as soft as his face, but fuller, the sound of it rich. "Werewolves are very territorial and I told him you were out there beforehand, but he didn't listen."

Hoseok almost chokes, his eyes blowing wide as he gapes at Hyunwoo. "Youー!"

Hyunwoo only smiles. "You're not that great of a witch hunter, you know. I mean, who in their right mind falls in love with their target?"

"What?" Hoseok croaks, his heart falling to the floor with each word Hyunwoo speaks.

"I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm flattered. You're very handsome and the pixies like you, but I don't know anything about you," Hyunwoo continues as if Hoseok had not spoken at all.

Hoseok clears his throat and tries again now that Hyunwoo is looking expectantly at him. "How do you know any of that?"

Hyunwoo's smile curls around the edges, a twinkle in his eyes that sets alarm bells off in Hoseok's head. "I know everything that goes on in my forest. Also, the pixies will rat out anybody for some sugar water. Plus, I always knew it would be you who the King would decide to send."

Hoseok blinks at him, not knowing what to say now. Hyunwoo is obviously patient enough to wait it out, but there is something in the tone of his voice that just doesn't sit right with Hoseok at all.

"You know about the prophecy?" Hoseok asks in a hoarse whisper that even he can barely hear.

"Of course. It is about me, after all," Hyunwoo chuckles before he tilts his head and lets his smile simmer. "You could stay here with me if you want."

Hoseok's heart stops. His breath freezes in his lungs as he stares at Hyunwoo across the room, trying to figure out if this is real life or if the werewolf really did eat him. Just thinking about the latter leaves Hoseok feeling irritated that a simple werewolf did him in after all that he has faced already. He has never been faced with this though. Hyunwoo is just too good to be true... Not to mention that Hoseok cannot abandon his mother.

"Butー"

"I can brew your mother's medicine here and have her set up in a cottage in the village nearby where many of my friends would be able to look out for her and protect her from any harm. You don't have to worry about that," Hyunwoo says without missing a beat, waving his hand to make two mugs float towards the table. "The King would never find either of you if you decided to stay."

"How do you know any of this?"

Hyunwoo smirks. "Magick."

Hoseok knows that is not too far-fetched, but the amused grin on Hyunwoo's face makes him edgy. So he decides to press on.

"And the rest?"

"I'm friends with an Oracle. She told me you were coming a long time ago, Hoseok."

A pinch to Hoseok's thigh quickly proves to him that this is real life after all and when Hyunwoo chuckles at the incredulous look on his face, Hoseok can't help the way his heart stutters in his chest. He is too far gone to care anymore.

Hoseok absolutely cannot and will not hunt Hyunwoo down for the sake of the King.

He holds a life in his hands and for once, he is deciding to nurture it instead of killing it off like he usually would. Fuck the King and his evil ways anyway, Hoseok is not scared of him anymore. Even if Hyunwoo knows that Hoseok is in love with him, even if Hyunwoo is the key to this entire mess or not, Hoseok will protect him with his life now.

(Hyunwoo is not surprised, his Oracle friend, Bora, had already shown him and Hoseok living a happy life together and even if he does not love Hoseok right now, they will always have time after the Great Battle of Magick and Demons to fulfill the bright future Hyunwoo was shown a long time ago.)

On the night of the red moon, the High Warlock will put the Evil King's reign to an end through hate or love and the kingdom will rejoice because what was wrong is now set right. The High Warlock has only one choice and all must pray to the heavens above for his will to not bend.

#showho #mxwriters #kwritersworldnet #kwordsmiths #prettyboysnetwork #betareadernet #mx #angst #p:hyunwoo/hoseok #f:pasom(pbm)#m: fic

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durativo · 6 years ago

Note

Scissors emoji for murder

Send me ‘✂’ and my muse will kill yours. Right now. Brutally, horribly, bloody. Just do it.

(Right now? Brutally, horribly, bloody?

Oh Vergil.

Don’t you know you don’t deserve that?)

“You can’t be serious…” Was Vergil’s first words when he finally woke, peering around a clean cold room, sterile, the scent of rubbing alcohol, his body sunk into a massive bed, at least three needles in his arm, and five wires sticking out of him in total.

“Oh, I’m being serious.” Dante is sitting in the light of the window, arms folded, body leaned back.

Vergil lifted his head, an ache passing through his whole spine as blood rushed down from his head and he practically fainted right there. The blackout lasts a couple seconds. When Vergil wakes, Dante is holding his head up a bit telling him. Don’t overdo it.

It takes Vergil a good long while to figure out what happened before this. He finally recalled sparring with Dante, not for any good reason, honestly when was there? And then he recalled waking up here.

Dante has to fill him in on the part where – with no real serious attack from Dante – Vergil’s mouth just started filling up with blood until he vomited it on the ground. Where no matter how hard he shook Vergil, or even slapped him around, Vergil did not seem to respond. How Vergil looked like a corpse. How his eyes didn’t even shut.

Dante left out the part where he started panicking for help. Someone. Anyone. He leaves out the part of literally picking up Vergil and just running to the emergency room because knows how to get there, he’s been there before, just never for himself, and certainly never for his brother.

When they had to cut Vergil out of his coat, his body seemed to tell some horrific story.

There was stab wounds that looked ancient. Like they hadn’t healed in years. Not oozing or festering, but they didn’t close up, just hardened over scabs. His body has long cracks that branch out like a fractal tree, occupying his skin on his arms, on his feet, on his neck, around his chest.

He looked like he’d been rotting for years.

Now that he was awake, it would be a perfect time to yell at him, scold him for hiding this, for acting like it wasn’t happening.

But that would be foolish.

Because Dante would have to pretend that he didn’t notice either.

That the years slipped by and the way Vergil moved wasn’t slowly changing. That Vergil used Yamato like a cane more than a weapon. That maybe he had a hand in this, that maybe Vergil didn’t even eat when he barely bothered in the first place, that Vergil was spending more time alone and buried in a book than he used to, that Vergil wasn’t struggling to do simple things. That Nelo Angelo wasn’t just trauma – that it wasn’t a misery of the body – that this wasn’t a side effect of a now 30 year long ongoing struggle.

He’d have to pretend this was a surprise.

The only surprise was that it was happening now.

He puts Vergil’s bed up, letting him sit up since Vergil cannot seem to really bring his body up the way he wants. Vergil doesn’t really seem to process what Dante is saying. Like talking to a wall. Maybe even a wall would react more.

The way the doctor put it is like a stab to the throat.

“I would tell you how long he’s got, but I’ve never really seen anything like it… I don’t even know how he’s alive now.”

They are different. They are not human. They are not demon. There is nowhere for a hybrid to be. There is no place for them to go. No book for them to read. No person for them to speak to. Even if Eva and Sparda were here now – and by now, he’s not sure Eva would be, although he knows damn well Sparda would (which is not what he wants, but that’s hardly the issue) – they would have no way to understand this. Eva was human. Sparda was demon.

Not even their parents would know what they are going through. Even when just the two of them were together. They had always been alone.

“When you can complete a physical therapy test, you can go home. It’ll be tomorrow.”

“That’s a way to test if human’s are strong enough to go home.”

“Well that’s what you are.” The nurse said it so matter-of-factly.

Dante looked at Vergil, surprised to see him stunned to silence.

After all this time, it was this that finally hit him. She continues to explain but Dante can see the look on Vergil’s face means he’s checked out. He’s sure if he had the strength, he’d throttle the nurse for even insinuating that’s what they are.

The rest of the day Vergil just remains the same. Stunned silence. No matter how much talking Dante does, he gets an eyeroll, a little sigh, but not a word. When visiting hours are over he tells his brother to go to sleep, he tells him in the morning he can order whatever he wants and this hospital had surprisingly good breakfast.

Dante couldn’t sleep that night. He stays awake all night staring at the clock.

Visiting hours open at 8am.

Dante sits there with his boots on the desk since 10pm when he got home.

Maybe at 12am he gets up to get a glass of water. He doesn’t drink much of it.

Blue light of dawn starts to filter in at 5:30.

At 7am he gets a phonecall.

“Devil May Cry… sorry, we’re not open today.” Dante tells the phone and is about to hang up when he hears someone.

“Mr. Eva?”

The name freezes him.

He forgot the hospital records had him under that name.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“Oh. Um. We need to talk to you. It’s about your brother.”

“Okay. I’m listening.” Dante replied.

“… Somewhere about half an hour ago, the nurses got an alarm that his EKG flatlined.”

Dante’s whole body fills with dread.

Tell me it happened.

Tell me it happened and I wasn’t there for him.

Tell me it happened and I couldn’t hold him.

Tell me it happened and I hadn’t even said goodbye.

“Okay.” Is all Dante says, cutting off the speaker.

“–Well, what happened was the machine disconnected because he ripped out the cords. We found a lot of blood around the window, and broken glass and– it looked like he jumped.”

Dante nearly dropped the phone on the floor.

Of course he would.

Of course he’d rather.

“But we can’t find his body.”

Dante felt something kick him in the gut.

“I’m so sorry sir. I don’t know what happened. We’re calling to ask if he is with you. If not, we’ll contact the police–”

“No.” Dante snapped. “I know where he is. I’ll go get him.”

“I’m terribly sorry sir.”

“No. I’m the one who’s sorry.” Dante slammed the phone down and threw his coat on before he headed out.

The hospital was not that far, out of town, it was in the countryside. There was a forest around the area. The building was quiet and calm and a good place to heal. Dante stands outside the rows of windows that Vergil’s room was at. He can see on the third floor the broken one, and the trail of blood that runs down it to the second and first floor windows. Everyone is standing around.

There’s a trail of blood in the grass, and it leads into the forest.

Dante doesn’t really go in far before he finds him.

Vergil is laying in hiding the underbrush. Dante knelt before him, catching the heavy scent of Vergil’s blood before anything else.

Vergil is wheezing. His ribs are cracked, his air leaks out of his body. He’s got a broken leg, his knuckles are covered in blood and broken glass, and Dante sees he’s got a nice shard of glass, about nine inches long, tapering to a fine point, and he’s sliced it across his own throat a couple times.

“Dante–” For all his pathetic weakness, he uses every ounce of strength to throw himself on his brother, and squeezing, pushes the glass into Dante’s hand, slippery with blood.

“Kill me. Kill me I cannot take this a second longer – kill me before I kill you–”

Oh… how those words have no weight anymore.

Dante grabs the glass and shatters it on the trunk of a tree.

“What the fuck are you doing!?” Dante snarled at him, and picked Vergil up like he was nothing, and held his broken body close. “I thought you were fucking dead!”

“Kill me!” Vergil isn’t even explaining himself anymore, he doesn’t want one, he doesn’t deserve one, he just wants this over with. “You should’ve done this years ago – I should’ve – fuck…” Vergil is panting hard, and Dante realized he was squeezing his brother’s side to his body. He pulled him away so his broken ribs weren’t getting any more damaged.

Dante held his brother. Held him like a mother holding her child, and Vergil felt so light, it was like carrying one. He just holds Vergil limp and gentle as he can, hugging him to his body.

Vergil choked. Dante worried that he was going to puke blood again, and held him upright so that he wouldn’t choke on it. But no. That’s not what he choked on. A sob broke free.

“The Yamato… will not come to me…”

Dante stands completely still, holding his brother in the forest, and looking around at the emptiness. The sunlight was dappled by the leaves of the trees. Glistening on their faces.

Vergil is shaking.

“I tried to call it… I want it… I just… I was going to...” How broken and uneloquent Vergil is now, when his voice is choking with emotion, and his sobs break half his sentences. “I was going to let it kill me… but it wont come to me.”

“Maybe it’s trying to save its wielder’s life.” Dante huffed.

“I am worthy of it no longer…”

“Don’t make shit up.” Dante barked. He doesn’t recall that Yamato asking people to be worthy of it. He also doesn’t recall the Yamato’s blade not responding to Vergil. He doesn’t bring up either of those thoughts.

“You’re going back in the fucking hospital. If you break out again, I’m breaking your other leg. Do you understand?”

Vergil takes that another way. Dante is not listening to him about Yamato. Dante is not listening. Vergil quickly stops sobbing, and just goes despondent.

They put him on the first floor. He can’t even begin to try to physical therapy test, because his broken leg and ribs. Vergil lashes out at everyone, and by the end of the day, he’s gone catatonic. Dante agreed to sleep over at the hospital, and keep a watch on Vergil because he was so unstable. Vergil is still catatonic. Dante doesn’t even bother trying to annoy him awake.

Vergil doesn’t eat. The hospital staff gets on Dante’s case about it, so he sits there on the bed with Vergil, and tries to convince Vergil to eat – which turns into him eating Vergil’s food just so the hospital will shut up.

“You’re not going to get better like this.” Dante huffed, shoving a spoon through a plastic cup of jello. Dante doesn’t expect a response, but he sees Vergil shift, and his glazed over, veiny, tired eyes, bore a hole in Dante’s head.

“… I’m going to die here.”

It’s the first thing he’s said in three days.

After he finally speaks again, he starts to move around a bit. His hybrid body has healed his broken leg, but it has taken such a ridiculous amount of his energy Vergil is rarely awake, and rarely doing anything. In the middle of the night, when the pain starts to flare up, when the Underworld and the Human world start to meet because of the shift; in those hours, those witching hours, around midnight to 3am, Vergil wakes up and gasps, and begs Dante once again to kill him, begging, bribing, pleading.

You’re my brother. How could you do this to me? How could you let this happen to me?

Dante knows tonight is the same goading into death, and his words only mean what’s happening now… but Dante feels like Vergil is asking him about everything. Dante thinks on those words after Vergil goes back to sleep. How could you let this happen to him?

Dante sits there by the window, waiting until he’s sure Vergil is asleep, and waiting for his moment to be alone, and he curls up in the light of the moon and starts to cry.

After a lot of breaking down, Dante thinks they’ve finally just settled into this, that they’ve accepted what is happening. Vergil nibbles at food at least once a week, and the hospital… well, the hospital never stops reminding them of the truth, but they’ve always been good at dodging the truth regardless.

Dante brings food from home, and the staff is fine with it, so long as Vergil could just eat something. He makes Vergil a strawberry sundae, although it’s a little melted by the time he’s got the container to his room. He doesn’t help Vergil feed himself because his battered pride has already taken enough. He just opens the container and sets it down.

“Here. It’s a sundae.” Dante said, holding it out to him.

Vergil stared at the mix of red and white. He stares for a while, and glanced up at Dante. Dante has brought his own sundae, and after some struggling, Vergil finally does pick up a spoon and carry a spoonful of the thing to his mouth.

They eat. It’s silent for a bit.

Vergil set the spoon down. “… When I die, bury me at home, in the garden.”

“Yeah, finish your sundae first.”

A roll of Vergil’s eyes, and smirk from Dante, they laugh. Any moment they can bring themselves to laugh is a well needed respite from everything happening around them – and in the end, for Dante, hadn’t it always been that way?

“Sir, you can’t do that in here.”

Dante stepped into the room to find Vergil sitting by the window. It’s the first time he’s actually seen Vergil out of bed in a while. He’s in his hospital gown, leaning his head out the window, with a lit cigarette in his mouth.

Of course, word got out that Vergil was ill, and Kyrie had sent a gift basket from everyone, it had fruit and snacks and flowers and get well soon cards and drawings from the orphans that Kyrie hoped would cheer them both up. Nero had packed some other things as well, he also delivered it, and it seemed Nico had left Vergil some cigarettes and a bunch of other stupid things, condoms, liquor, and her card said nothing more than ‘Kicking the bucket already? Well then live a little!’

Of course, Dante failed to tell them he was, in fact, dying, so her card only seemed that much more distasteful. It’s probably because of that that Vergil likes her gift more than anyone else’s.

No pity.

That’s all he wants.

“I got him.” Dante coaxed the nurse to leave.

They stood their ground. “Sir.” They tell Vergil. “It is against the hospital rules to smoke inside here.”

“What’s it going to do?” Vergil asked. “Kill me?”

The nurse furrowed her brow.

“It’s not about you.” She said. “Everyone can be affected. Some patients here have weak lungs. You can get them killed.”

Vergil turned just to give the woman a look.

Dante knows what the look means. Something along the lines of ‘do you really think I care if I take some people down with me?’ It’s probably the most Vergil has ever looked like himself.

“Smoking is bad for your health.” Dante cut in.

“So are you.” Vergil replied. “They still let you come here every day.”

Dante finally turned to the nurse and told them to leave. They were still very upset, but seeing how both of them were not budging, they forfeit, and turned to leave.

“Doctor said he can’t give an estimate because he doesn’t understand how my body works. He said if he did, it would’ve been two weeks ago.” Vergil says all this around the cigarette on his lips and blowing smoke out the window. “I wish he was right.”

Dante just sits on the edge of the hospital bed and watched Vergil. He holds the cigarette between two fingers, gazing outside at the world like there’s something to see, but it’s always the same view, a low view of the garden outside the hospital. There’s people there, nurses and patients alike, sitting in the designated smoking area of the garden. It’s probably what drew Vergil to the curiosity anyway. Vergil sits there, bathed in sunlight, naked except for the I.V. on his arm, and the hospital gown around his body. He looks so small, his body is so skinny, he’s curled up, knees tucked in close to his chest, arms around his legs, his head leaning out the window. He’s reduced to this room. It’s his whole world.

“… You know…” Dante murmured. “Leaving it all behind… it’s… it’s not that bad.”

“How would you know?” Vergil replied.

“I’ve seen it.” Dante returned. Vergil glanced at him. Dante looked down at himself. The words tumble out while he’s not thinking. “I’ve seen a lot of people die. Even in a battle. Sometimes… the death is so violent, but… the aftermath… the aftermath is…”

Silence falls on him, and Vergil doesn’t make a noise.

“Everybody looks so peaceful when they die.” Dante murmured. “When it’s finally over. M-… Mom… she looks so peaceful when she died… even though… even though… they massacred her…” Dante sighed to hide back his voice breaking. “It took a lot more than just her. But over time… you start to notice. The way people look when they die. Like… they’re at peace somehow.”

Vergil just stares and doesn’t say anything for a long time. Finally he glances away and replies.

“…War and peace go hand in hand. War has always been for death… and there is no greater peace than death.”

Dante blinked. He wondered for a moment about asking Vergil where he read something like that, but he has a feeling it’s not some quote. He has a feeling Vergil is very familiar with it. It sounded like demon logic. Dante stared while Vergil smoked, the cigarette slowly fading away into ashes.

If he was a poet, maybe he’d find some sort of irony in Vergil smoking, considering what was happening to Vergil himself. A pile of ashes to compliment another pile of ashes.

But he was not a poet.

“How much are you hoping that cigarette is going to kill you right now?” Dante asked.

“I’m pretty hopeful.” Vergil replied.

Dante doesn’t really react. He finally sits there, joining his brother. The cigarettes remind him of someone he used to know, but he doesn’t bring him up, it’s not necessary, he doesn’t want to muse on the past, because that’s when he knows Vergil will really be gone, and even after all this time, he’s just not ready for that.

There is nothing graceful about the decline. Vergil’s pissing blood, he’s coughing up blood, and still smokes in-between it. He’s gotten so small. The doctors finally sit Dante down and tell him that he can take Vergil home, not because he’s gotten any better, or any independent from this experience, but because if he doesn’t go home now, he’s never going to see it again.

Dante is too afraid to take Vergil home. There are weapons at home. There are things that can kill Vergil. And even when they stood right in front of Dante and told him Vergil is going to die – he doesn’t want to accept it.

Vergil passes out at the simplest things. He got a bit of a headrush from a cigarette one morning, and suddenly he’s laying limp on the floor. He gets out of bed too fast, and wakes up on the floor. He can hardly make it to the bathroom, and Dante has gotten used to just sitting there and helping Vergil wash his body. Shave his face, avoid those horrific cracks in his skin that chip away at him like he’s made of stone.

“… Kill me.” Vergil says while Dante is shaving his face.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m working on it.” Dante huffed. He got used to Vergil uttering that. It was a common occurrence.

“Please.” Vergil whispered. “Dante…”

Dante puts the razor down, wiping Vergil’s face. “Stop.” he huffed.

“Please.”

“Enough.” Dante huffed, finally, feeling wetness leave his eye.

“Just kill me, please… you would have done it before.”

When I knew you were going to take others down with you. Dante wanted to snarl, but he’d checked in his anger at the door every day he came to the hospital. He had to put his anger and frustration away, otherwise he wouldn’t make it two minutes with this man.

Vergil’s shaking frail hand comes up and touches Dante’s face. Dante stills. This is probably the gentlest his brother has ever touched him, and it’s because Vergil has no strength left in his body. He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t plead. It’s with a shaky hand and his stony thumb that Vergil wipes away a tear that’s on Dante’s face.

“I don’t want you to die.” Dante finally choked out, and his sob rose in his throat and cracked his voice before he could properly speak.

“I know…” Vergil huffed. “… But I want you to kill me.”

The decline had been fast, but that never means that Dante is ready for any of it. He’s not ready for Vergil to start going catatonic again. He’s not ready for Vergil’s pleas of death to be a welcome noise because now Vergil is silent. Now Vergil is nothing. He doesn’t eat. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak. It’s then that Vergil flatlined.

It was then that Vergil died.

With nothing. With no fanfare, with no final goodbye, with no last bit of respite. He does not go out with a blaze of glory, in a fight to the death, in a poetic way, in a violent way, in a way he’d want to die, in a way he deserves.

It’s peaceful. In his sleep.

And Dante is not there.

Of course, the staff are quick to revive Vergil. He even opens his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t move. Quickly he falls back into what he so longed to be. They call Dante quickly at some 4 in the morning, and Dante rushes in and stumbled to his brother’s side.

Vergil is comatose.

I’m not ready, I’m not ready, I’m not ready, I don’t want this, Vergil, please, I’m not ready for you to go.

Nobody is there with them. Dante can’t call anyone else. He can’t tell them to come be there for Vergil. Or in reality, be there for him. He’s all alone. His brother is dead already, a thread is barely holding him from being gone.

They tell Dante it’s his call to pull the life support.

If he was giving Vergil what he wanted, he would just rip the cord out of the wall and be done with it.

But he is not done.

He climbs into the bed of his brother, and pulls him into his chest. He is unconscious. He is so light, he is so weak, he is so small now, in this tiny room, hooked up to a tiny machine, surrounded by strangers, swallowed up in pain and in fear. Dante puts Vergil’s body on his, hugging him close.

He holds Vergil. The boy he lost when he was eight years old.

My brother. Who I mourned for 10 years.

My brother. Who has died a thousand deaths.

Yet Dante still isn’t ready for this one. He’s sobbing into Vergil’s hair, stroking his worn face, squeezing him close.

He is not ready.

He was not ready when he was eight.

He was not ready when he was eighteen.

He was not ready when he was twenty-eight.

He was not ready when he was fourty-two.

He was not ready now.

He has never been ready.

“I love you.” He choked out with a horrible break in his voice, that devolved into sobbing as he squeezed his brother’s head into his chest. “I love you, I love you…” He squeezes harder. “Can you hear me? Please.. tell me you can hear me.”

Dante stared down at Vergil in silence, his tears hitting Vergil’s face. He feels something on his arm. Vergil’s hand twitches, his fingers moving. Dante held his hand, squeezing.

“Can you feel me? I’m right here.”

Vergil’s hand squeezes. His fingers are like claws.

“I’m right here.” Dante whispered. “Don’t be afraid. Don’t be angry – I know you didn’t want me here. I know you waited until you were alone to die. I know you. I know the kind of person you are… but I’m here. I’m here. I won’t let you be alone.”

He can imagine what Vergil would say if only he was awake.

I’ve always been alone, Dante.

And how Dante wanted to lament everything, how he wanted to go back to that day and fix everything, how he wanted Eva and Vergil and Sparda to never leave him, how he wanted to make everything better, how he wanted to make everything right.

There is nothing left to do.

Dante holds his brother’s hand tightly, feeling what weak bit of life that remained in the twitching fingers of his brother’s frail hands. He cries for a long time, and after he’s cried he sings softly, as if it would help Vergil go to sleep, but his singing is choked up and broken and nothing sweet like how Eva sang that song.

Vergil’s hand goes limp.

The life support flatlines.

Dante, if he was a different man, would almost laugh, that even now, at least Vergil would still fight the one thing keeping him alive, and even then, managed to somehow fight the machine just to let himself die.

It always had to be on his terms.

Dante holds his hand up, and urges the strangers in the room to go away. He’s holding Vergil in his arms for a long time, until he starts to feel cold, until he starts to feel like a thing, and not a person, the whole time the alarm ringing in his ears, as if alerting him to what is happening, as if reminding him that this is real.

Finally, someone who could stand it no longer came forward and shut off the machine.

And everything is silent.

#long post #REALLY LONG POST I AM SO SORRY IF YOU ARE A MOBILE USER #death tw #terminal illness #drabble #i guess #you mentioned vergil not outliving his human body on your blog #so #uh #this happened #i am not one of brevity #but i know that vergil would want a bloody end so badly #.... but not dante.#so dante is just not going to give you that verg #yamatodad

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