#final spike steam tour | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

themuseic · 4 years ago

Text

Only Fools (Chapter 8)

(Art Credit: @clumsycopy)

Fic Summary: Sent to Boone County, West Virginia on an assignment, you find yourself engulfed your work. How could you possibly find time for anything else? Even if “anything else” includes the tall, kind, and handsome bartender from down the road?

Word Count: 2.8k

Read Chapter 7 here.

Read here on AO3.

Warnings: Fluff, obscene amounts of fluff. Alcohol mention, but no explicit consumption.

Author’s Note: Okay, I really do think I’m back now. If that isn’t the case, apologies in advance. If it is the case, hi! I’m excited to catch up on things! Also, this chapter has references to a song that was also used by @aloneandsleepless in her one-shot Elvis. If you haven’t read that yet, PLEASE do. It’s so beautifully written and well worth the read. As always, thank you for reading, love you all.

It had been the talk of the town all week. All month really.

You knew that towns had traditions, and you had just brushed it off as such. But when you brought up the winter festival to Clyde, the sheer excitement on his face let you know that the celebration at the diner was far from just an ordinary Saturday night on the town. It was the spirit of the holidays in Boone County, the hotly anticipated to-do. “People come from all over,” Clyde explained in between mouthfuls of burnt bacon, from where he sat across from you at the trailer table. “Even come down from Charlotte, if you can believe that.”

You whistled. “Sounds like quite the party. And it’s this week?”

“Yup, on Friday,” Clyde nodded. “I’m gonna be closing the bar that night to go. I don’t think I’d get too many customers that night anyway.” He shuffled his feet along the linoleum floor. “Actually darlin’, I’ve been meaning to ask you…” Suddenly, Clyde clammed up, almost afraid to get his next words out.

“Yes, Clyde? You know you can ask me anything.” His hesitation almost made you nervous. Though he tended to be a quieter soul, rarely did words fail him when the two of you were alone. He exhaled and steeled himself for his query. “Well, I was wonderin’ if you’d like to be my date.” You stopped. You could have heard a pin drop in the silence that blanketed the trailer. Realization of what he had asked hit you all at once, and you broke into hearty guffaws. A smile so big it nearly hurt you plastered itself across your face. At that reaction, Clyde visibly relaxed, a smile dancing at the corners of his lips.

“Clyde, we have quite literally been sleeping together for two months now.” He blushed a deep red and his lower lip pushed forward into the smallest pout. “Well, I didn’t want to assume, and I know we’re sleeping together but…” You shushed him by placing your finger onto the center of his plump lips. “Clyde, I think it’s cute. Of course I’ll be your date.” You closed the distance between you, flung your arms around his neck, and pulled him into a soft kiss. Clyde smiled against you and returned the kiss with vigor, his lips parting slightly as he pushed his face into yours. He pulled back with a smack, and his forehead came to rest on your own. A swift smack landed on your ass and you yelped. “C’mon darlin’, let’s get this cleaned up so we can go get that trail cam footage,” Clyde muttered as he squeezed you softly.

~~~

The town was blanketed in a plush layer of crisp white snow. It lay in piles on rooftops and cars, on street corners and it lined the pathways that people swathed in layers of coats and scarves meandered down. It was everything you expected from a small town holiday, but it was far from gauche. It was crystal clear why the Logan family was so eager to attend.

With little care to watch the ground you walked on, you misstepped and yelped as your foot hit a patch of ice that threatened to slide your legs apart into a swift split. “Woah there!” Clyde jumped, hooking his arm under your armpit to keep you upright. You laughed at yourself as you held onto his thick arm to catch your footing. “Can’t seem to keep myself standing huh?” you joked, peering up at him. He chuckled, with an almost imperceptible eye roll. “You’re gonna get yourself in trouble one day from not watchin’ your surroundings, darlin’,” he tsk’ed, prompting you to stick your tongue out at him. Clyde shook his head with a small smile, and helped you right yourself.

You stepped forward without letting go of his arm, and he squeezed your elbow into the crook of his arm to acknowledge your clutch on him. You could feel your face warm and you dropped your gaze to smile at the ground.

~~~

The diner was warm and packed full of people. Clyde shielded you from the patrons as you pushed your way to the counter, eager to nab a winter drink to warm your insides. Once situated at the bar, he called out your order to a worker that seemed overjoyed to see Clyde. You laughed. “You know just about everyone in this town, huh Clyde?” He shrugged, passing you a steaming mug. “Comes with havin’ one of the only bars in the area,” he winked, and raised your mug to his lips.

Clyde stood behind you at the bar while you sipped your drink, acting as a human wall to halt people from trampling your feet, with his hand resting on your waist. He pointed out all the people that he knew and provided a small anecdote for each one, almost as if he was providing his own personal, albeit abbreviated, history of Boone County. You could listen to him talk forever, his honeyed words soothing to your ears over the cacophony of the diner.

“Hey gal!” you heard a voice call from across the diner, breaking you from your unwavering gaze at Clyde. You turned to see Mellie bounding towards you, Jimmy, Sylvia, and Joe close behind her. Jimmy was carrying a young blonde girl on his shoulder, and you assumed it was Clyde’s niece. Cynthia? Samantha?

“Hey lil’ Sadie!” Clyde called from over your shoulder. Sadie! That was it, you chided yourself mentally. Mellie rushed up to you and flung her arms around your neck and pulled you into a crushing hug. “Hey Mel,” you and Clyde responded in unison, your voice airy as Mellie squeezed your breath from your chest. With your head tucked onto her shoulder as you returned her embrace, you looked back to acknowledge the rest with a smile and their respective name. “And you must be Miss Sadie, huh?” you inquired as you pulled away from Mellie and turned to the young girl, who looked remarkably like her father, with her nose and ears tipped red with the cold.

“Yes ma’am!” she crowed, her hands dug into Jimmy’s short hairs. You noticed her hands clench on his hair and she dipped her head to glance at him for just a moment, a devious smile across her face. “And are you Uncle Clyde’s girlfriend?” Clyde choked behind you, and you glanced behind yourself to look up at him. He was pale white and glaring straight at Jimmy, who was desperately trying to insist he had nothing to do with his daughter’s question, however unconvincing his protests were.

You didn’t blame him. Two months of living together, and you and Clyde had yet to define your relationship. You didn’t really mind it. You knew that putting it off would dull the sting of your eventual departure. But how could you even begin to explain that to a child? Oh no, not his girlfriend, just the girl he sleeps with, the girl he takes out, the girl he fucks. The girl who can’t commit. That wouldn’t do. So instead, you motioned for Sadie to jump off of her father’s shoulders, bent down to her height, took her hands in your own, and said, “Well yes, I am Clyde’s girlfriend.”

The stifled gasps of Mellie and Sylvia were almost silent to your ears as you glanced back at Clyde. He was still white as a sheet, but his eyes flicked from Jimmy’s to yours, and the hint of a smile began to break through his blank expression. You straightened to your full height and turned to face him, chewing your cheek. “That is, if that’s what you want,” you whispered, searching his face for a hint of how he might feel.

Clyde’s next words were more a soft breath than a whisper. “Yes darlin’. I’d like that very much.” You beamed, and he slunk his arm around your waist, pulling you flush to his body and into a kiss so deep your heart just about stopped in your chest.

You melted into his touch and sighed, your hands threading through his thick hair. His family, his friends, and the strangers that surrounded you melted from your consciousness, and not even the hoots and hollers of Clyde’s family drowned out the sound of your heartbeat thumping in your chest. It was perfect.

A small clearing of a throat reminded you that you were, in fact, in public, and you hastily broke from Clyde, opting to rest the side of your face on his chest instead. Jimmy shook his head, chuckling at the scene before him. “Congrats you two lovebirds, glad y’all finally decided to make this thing official,” he whistled, lifting Sadie up in one swift motion to set her perched back upon his shoulder. Mellie reached out to squeeze your arm tenderly. You laughed. “Took us long enough, I guess.” Clyde hummed and squeezed you tight, his cheek resting on your head.

“Welp,” Jimmy continued. “I promised Sadie here we’d go on the Ferris Wheel so we could see the stars. Y’all care to join us?” Clyde peered down his angular nose to look at you cross-eyed and raised his eyebrows. “What’dya say?” You grinned. “We’d love to.”

~~~

It was a joy to run around the festival with the Logan clan. Acting as your personal tour guide, Sadie babbled to you about her favorite things at the fair. She grabbed your hand to pull your attention to whatever she deemed worthy of pointing out. Sadie bragged how she was the reigning champ of the ring toss, and how she wasn’t tall enough to go on the Scrambler yet, but the moment she could she was going to ride it the whole festival, which was easy to believe given her tenacity and spunk. Mellie passed you a never-ending stream of warm winter drinks - ”Spiked if you’d like,” she’d wink - and Jimmy, Sylvia, and Joe were cracking jokes nonstop. But what really made the night perfect was Clyde.

Your sweet Clyde. He held your hand in his mitt of a hand, squeezing it randomly, pulling you in for kisses both short and sweet, and long and deep. You were sure you would get dirty looks from the festival attendants after you nearly devoured each other on the Ferris Wheel, but you really couldn’t care less. Clyde teased you and you teased him back, keeping up a line of banter that was so easy. At one point in the night, the two of you found yourselves separated from the rest of the Logan clan, cozied up by yourselves in a booth. You both warmed your hands with a cup of hot chocolate cradled in your grasp.

“You having’ fun?” Clyde murmured into your ear, his arm slung around your shoulder. You nodded into him and tucked yourself up into the nook of his shoulder. Clyde’s arm outstretched to grasp his mug and lifted it to his lips to take a huge swig. You palmed the warm beverage in your hand, feeling the warmth radiate through your body from where you held it, and where Clyde was pressed to your side.

You gazed up at Clyde, your hands and heart warmed and full. Clyde smiled at you, his eyes falling softly to trace the features of your face. For how often he pouted, you had yet to see one flit across his face all night. Something flashed in his eyes, and before you knew it, Clyde’s finger was dipped into the mound of whipped cream atop his beverage and he snapped it up to your face to dollop it right on the end of your nose. “Hey!” you exclaimed, pushing away from his chest just a hair as a laugh bubbled up your throat. “You’re a menace,” you laughed, as you made no move to wipe the cream from your nose.

Clyde snickered and you swatted at his arm, pulling a yelp that feigned offense from him. “What’s that for now? You look cute as hell with a lil’ nose decoration,” he shrugged as he squeezed your shoulder and jabbed your side with the metal tines of his prosthetic. You smiled at each other, your eyes hazy with bliss. Suddenly, his profile was illuminated and you could see a bright flash out of the corner of your eye. With squinted eyes, you turned to the source.

A beaming Sadie, clutching a disposable camera in her small hands, sat across from the two of you in the booth. It seemed that not even the squeak of the vinyl as she had climbed into the booth was enough to pull your attention from the trance you were drifting through, and you both jumped at her arrival.

“Scared the living daylight out of me,” Clyde sighed, his hand coming up to clutch at his heart with drama.

“Sorry Uncle Clyde, but I couldn’t help it,” she whined, “You two looked so cute and cozy!” You scrunched your nose up and wiggled the tip. “How can I be cozy with this cream stuck on me?” Clyde laughed a low chuckle from deep in his chest that made him rumble against you. He leaned in and bumped his nose with yours. When he pulled away, a dot of whipped cream was left at the very end of his nose. He grinned.

“Oh my gosh. This is such a good shot!” Sadie squealed. “Get close! Let me take another photo!”

Clyde’s arm tightened around you and pulled you closer into his side. You were mid laugh when the second burst of light broke across your vision and the click of a camera made it feel as though time had halted.

You knew that your time in Boone County was temporary. But you knew you would live with that memory forever.

~~~

The lightest flecks of white tumbled through the air, catching on the light of the street lamps and stringed bulbs that were hung throughout the parking lot that acted as the festival's main drag. Most of the attendees had begun their individual treks home or had moved into the warm haven of the diner. Large fishbowl windows gave you view into the crowded establishment through clear, unfogged stretches of glass. The cheers and merry yells of toasts and memories being made rang out over the empty courtyard, ringing free until they were absorbed by the snow.

Instead of being pressed up against the townsfolk or against the windows as your feet stumbled across the toes of others, you and Clyde were leaned against a tree across the courtyard of the festival. You gazed skyward, watching the small flakes of snow swirl through the sky. Music lilted through the air and fell lightly on your ears. A familiar chord rang through the air and grabbed your attention. You felt a nudge on your side. You looked up to meet Clyde’s crinkled eyes as he gazed down at you. “Want to dance darlin’?” he murmured as he trailed his fingers up and down your arm.

“Yes please Clyde.” He beamed back at you and took your hand in his as he pushed his back off of the tree. Snow crunched underfoot as you wandered to the dance floor. It was a small area of interlocked wooden panels, slightly obscured by a thin sheet of snow. Clyde offered his hand up to you in a grandiose gesture. A small laugh bubbled up in your chest as you slipped your hand into his, and he pulled you tight to his chest and began to sway.

Clyde’s voice rumbled against your face where it was pressed against his chest as he asked, “So whatcha think, sweetheart? Think Boone County can throw a good lil’ winter party?”

You nodded immediately. “Absolutely. This is so beautiful Clyde,” you sighed with content. A voice crooned over the speakers and the lyrics rang out over the courtyard.

“Wise men say…”

“You look so perfect, you know that?” Clyde crooned, raising his hand to brush the side of your face with the tips of his fingers.

“... only fools rush in…”

“So do you, Clyde.”

“But I can’t help…”

It was warm in his arms. Secure. You felt as if you were in another plane of existence. Tucked in his arms, you were hidden from the world. Safe.

“Falling in love with you.”

Clyde spun sharply with you in his arms, swiftly grabbing your attention. He looked down his long lashes at you, gazing deeply into your eyes with his intense amber gaze. “Sweetheart, I…” he cleared his throat, and lifted his hand to palm the side of your face again. He ran his thumb over your cheekbone. “I just want… You don’t have to say it back. But… I want to tell you…” he sucked in a sharp breath.

“I love you.”

Your breath halted in your chest. Your stomach swooped. No one had made such an admission to you in… well, you weren’t sure just how long. Before you had a chance to admit that you were speechless, Clyde pulled you into a mind bending kiss. You melted into him. It wouldn’t matter what you said. You were his and he was yours. The snow fell silently around you, and the two of you swayed together quietly.

~~~

Have a winter drink! Thank you to my Irish friends (love y'all!) for direction on the recipe <3 my favorite suggestion was "Coffee+Whisky, add in other shite as it pleases ya". ~~~ My lil’ take on an Irish Coffee:

As much hot coffee as you'd like. As much whisky as you'd like. Brown Sugar to taste. Fresh whipped cream to top off. (HIGHLY recommend whipping your cream. My favorite way to do it is 1 c. heavy whipping cream, 1 c. sugar, and a splash of vanilla extract, whipped to peaks. Don't overmix though, don't make sweet butter!)

Combine the coffee, whisky, and sugar. Stir, and top with whipped cream. A dash of cinnamon over top never hurt anyone either!

~~~

Taglist: @mind-p0llution @thedivinemissm @clydesducktape @finn-ray-nal-beads @ladygrey03 @desiraypark @1800-fight-me @aloneandsleepless @hopeamarsu (Comment or message me to be added or removed!)

#only fools #clyde logan x you #clyde logan x reader #clyde logan x femme reader #my writing

47 notes · View notes

beautifulletdownfics · 4 years ago

Text

Twenty Good Reasons :: Part Fourteen

Read Earlier Chapters Here My Masterlist

Part Fourteen, This Is Family

The following morning was like a balloon slowly deflating.

I woke up dozens of times during the night. Nurses would come and go, a night doctor came to check on Laykn a few times, and every time Harry moved underneath me, it tugged me back to the room. It felt like waiting for a flight, there was this restless stillness in feeling like something was coming, and I needed to be ready for this to be the time I woke up to it.

There was a sense that morning would come, and Laykn's doctors would waltz back in and have answers.

What really happened was that my parents returned from their hotel just after seven a.m. and when Laykn's doctor came back to see us, he wanted to wait until the late afternoon before changing anything. I flicked between watching Dr Davies as he spoke and looking to Harry from where he was standing in the far corner to me, giving up his seat so each of my parents could have one. He frowned through the news but gave nods of understanding where he seemed to agree with what was being presented to him.

But I wanted to know now. I wanted Laykn to wake up now.

I felt we had already waited entirely long enough.

"Has he gotten better overnight?" I asked carefully, but I could taste the impatience in the words, right on my tongue, "I just—Is he, I mean …"

Dr Davies gave me a look that said he really couldn't hypothesise, "Looking at the monitoring from overnight, he's definitely not gotten any worse which is sometimes the best news you can have at this stage. We're not seeing any of the things we worry about—a spike in temperature, further bleeding, swelling—so, so far Laykn's doing well. He's doing okay for now. I know it seems like nothing, but I promise you it's not. We'll review and talk again in another six hours, but we'll know even more in twelve. That's when I'd be thinking we'll start to see a shift and be able to talk about trying to wake him up for you."

"Twelve hours," I repeated aloud, mainly for myself. Harry gave me a small but infinitely reassuring nod, "Okay."

"In the meantime, stay with Laykn by all means, but Nina and Harry," he looked between us both, "You should go back to wherever you are staying and freshen up, have a nap, eat something. Laykn's going to need you all as he comes through this, and you're useless if you're not looking after yourselves. And each other."

"Thank you," my mum said for us all as Dr Davies left the room. She turned to Harry and I, "He's right. You came straight off the plane here, you haven't even checked in—oh, is that going to be a problem with your hotel?"

"It's fine," Harry pacified, "I let them know we wouldn't arrive until today."

"A shower and a nap," my mum reached for my arm as Harry started collecting our belongings, "You'll feel a thousand times better, trust me."

I thought about telling her I didn't know that I could feel any better, much less a thousand times so, but instead, I pulled her in for a long hug. I took the handle of my small, carry-on suitcase from Harry as he gave my parents both a hug as well.

"You'll be a new man too, Harry," The warmth in my dad's voice was evident, "Can't imagine you can feel any of your limbs right now after a night of Nina sleeping on you?"

"She's pretty comfortable, actually," Harry returned with a smile, "We'll call you from the hotel. Was there any problem with yours?" He asked as an afterthought, frown settled back on his forehead, "I can—

—Ours was perfect," my mum confirmed, giving Harry an appreciative smile. Something warm chinked together in my chest at Harry's care for my family, "Go now, both of you need showers and something substantial to eat. And you should call your family, Harry. We spoke to everyone at home last night."

In the hotel bathroom, Harry stayed under the spray of the water much longer than me.

I stood in front of the mirror carelessly towel drying my hair, wearing the pyjama set Harry packed for me. The steam from the shower and the smell of hotel soap had the whole bathroom giving off the perpetuating clean, warm feeling I enjoyed most.

Neither of us was speaking, and there was no song being hummed under Harry's breath as he stood behind the thin glass pane. When he eventually got out and stood behind me to dry off, he was frowning tersely, as if deep in some thought he couldn't get a hold of properly. I gave him a slight smile and tried to ask the question with my eyes: are you alright? While we ate, Harry called his mum and told her what was going on, and listening in on that conversation added another layer of realism to this whole thing. As if he read my mind, Harry's neck turned away from our reflections, and he gave me a concerned look.

"Your mum is right. You hadn't had a meal since we left London," his hand thoughtlessly gestured out from where we are in the direction of the suite where we'd just finished a couple of plates of room service, "We're going to have to take some food back with us if we're going to spend long hours at the hospital."

I was suddenly too tired to have the conversation I knew needed to happen, "I know," I agreed readily, part of the hollow feeling I'd had for the last twenty-four hours now filled with food, "But right now I swear all I want is to lie flat. Can we nap and then make a game plan?"

Harry paused, if only for a moment, "Yeah, we can."

"We both look like zombies."

Ten minutes later, under the perfectly crisp hotel sheets, Harry rolled over on his side to face me, "This doesn't feel like it's really happening, does it? I don't even know what day it is anymore and it's only been one day."

I hooked my knee up onto his thigh and pressed my forehead against his shoulder, "It doesn't feel like Laykn's even there, does it?" I whispered, "Like, without him being awake, it's like … I don't know."

"We should figure out where he was staying, go get his stuff," Harry said, "His passport and all that."

There was silence then for a few moments then, all I could hear was Harry's breathing and the soft hum of the city outside the hotel room. The sheer volume of thoughts and feelings I'd had in the last twenty-four hours was overwhelming, and as I took in a slow breath, the smell of Harry's clean skin was a final straw.

He heard me sniffle and pulled his arm out from between us to wrap it around my body, "I know," was all he said, which was somehow the perfect thing for him to say.

I cried against his shoulder until the release of it had simmered down all the conflicting emotions rising up in me. Eventually, it was just both our steady breathing, and the only way I knew Harry wasn't asleep was from watching his eyelashes blinking on his profile, lit slightly from a crack in the curtains. His fingers had stilled on my skin, and there was no sound from him. Just blinking. Just staring at the ceiling.

"What are you thinking about?" I whispered.

"The baby," Harry replied easily. "And Laykn. And how quickly life can change without you realising it's going to. No warning for either, you know?"

I smiled minutely, "Well, we had a little warning with the baby. Just didn't know it was a warning, did we?"

Harry's hand fanned out on the top of my back, "That's true. I'm just—I'm glad that in both those things, in both these things, I've got you. I'm so grateful for …" his voice strained. Harry squeezed my shoulder to his side, "For you, and for us being solid but mainly I'm grateful you told me to pull my finger out a few months ago because boy I don't know if that douchebag could've handled this shock to the system. Not well, anyway."

"I'm grateful for you as well," I pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

"I think we should call your doctor in the morning," Harry said quickly, as though it had been right on the tip of his tongue to say, "Tell her what's happened and find out what we should do or even if there's anything we can do."

"You're worried, huh?"

"Yes," he turned his head towards mine, "I'm worried. I'm worried about everything. But I can't do anything about your brother, and I can't make your parents feel any better, and I can't quell your fears either, I can make sure we look after you right now."

"Are you worried about the tour as well?" I said quietly, sure it would be on the list somewhere.

"I'm really not," Harry rolled completely on his side, "I don't give a shit about it, I can do a tour whenever. The only thing I'm—I don't like that postponing dates will …"

"People are going to talk about it," I finished for him.

"Yeah," Harry sighed, "Dan sent through the statement earlier, do you want to read it?"

He was already reaching behind for his phone on the bedside table. The room lit up as Harry unlocked his work phone and held the screen between us, flicking through until he found the Mail app and opened it.

From: Dan B.

To: Harry Private

Subject: RE Statement, Clean

Mate, we can make any changes you like x

It is with deep regret we announce the indefinite postponement of the final leg of Harry's tour following a family emergency. At this stage, we do not know when the dates will proceed. We know this news is upsetting and will come as a shock to you all. We ask that you respect Harry's privacy at this time, and the privacy of his loved ones. Full Stop Management, on behalf of Harry Styles.

Will be posted as white text on black background on all channels. Comments disabled where they can be.

Awaiting your approval.

Love to you all, DB

We didn't say anything, and I knew Harry was waiting for me to speak first. It was straightforward and clinical, which was often the way with the communication out from Harry's team. This felt different, though, because it was talking about something deeply personal, without talking about it at all. I knew the layer of distance was protection. Harry was very deliberate in putting there.

"I think that's what you have to say, right? Is there anything else you'd like to include?"

Harry shook his head, "No."

"You didn't want it to come from you?"

Harry shook his head, "No, I only wanted eyes on it, I'm turning off my work phone after this. Dan can reach me if he needs to. Otherwise, I'm not working right now. I want this handled professionally, not personally."

"Okay," I wouldn't have minded if he'd felt the opposite, but wasn't surprised to hear him say it. "Well, I think you give them the okay then turn it off."

I watched him type out a quick response and do just that. He didn't hesitate or second guess it, just sent off his approval and that was that. The screen went black a few moments later, plunging the room back into darkness and I wondered if Harry was thinking about the fallout. What the next step he wasn't going to be involved in would mean. I wrapped my fingers around Harry's wrist and brought it to my mouth, kissing the warm skin there and then holding it to my lips.

"I'm not worried about it, Nina," he said eventually, turning his head to the side once more and finding my temple with his mouth, kissing me, "Just want Layk to be alright."

I woke up four hours later to Harry's phone ringing.

"Shit, sorry," he jogged into the bedroom and ripped if from where it was charging, "It's your mum."

I sat up in the sheets straight away, the initial shock of waking to the noise increasing tenfold by who was on the phone. Harry had it answered and on speakerphone almost instantly.

"Hi Mae," he said, lowering himself down to sit on his side of the bed.

"Hello, love, we just tried Nina's phone—"

"—I was asleep, I'm here, is he okay?" I cut over her speaking, staring at Harry's face in front of me.

I could hear movement behind her in the speaker, "Yes, yes, yes," she reassured us, I watched Harry let out half the breath he was holding, "The doctors have just been in, and they've made the adjustments that will wake him up. They think it'll still be another few hours—"

—We'll be there within the hour," Harry told her nodding despite my mum not being able to see it.

"Hopefully before that," I added quickly.

After getting off the phone with my mum, Harry and I sat still for half a beat before I realised I'd been clutching the bedsheets too tightly. My white knuckles released the material slowly and rubbed my palms down my face.

"Have another shower," Harry suggested, still watching me, "Wake up properly. I'll order some room service we can pack and take with us."

"Did you sleep at all?" I asked as he stood up and started walking out of the room, I pushed back the covers and rose to my knees.

"Yeah, I got up about half an hour ago to check in with mum and for a stretch, got some kinks in my back from the flight and—

—And me sleeping on you?"

He scrunched his nose up at me, "Maybe a little bit, now go," Harry nodded towards the bathroom door.

The shower helped with the fuzzy shock still hanging in my skull like a cloud. Eventually, the reality of the call with my mum set in and urgency set in. I shut off the water and got out, feeling something close to optimistic hope bloom. As I dried off and found fresh clothes to put on, I could hear Harry moving around the room. By the time I was coming out of the bedroom looking for the shoes I'd deserted when we had arrived earlier, he had a few brown paper bags and pieces of fruit sitting on the hotel dining table ready to take with us.

"Can you see my sneakers?" I asked him vaguely, hopping over his open suitcase that somehow hadn't made it into the bedroom.

He looked up from his seat, "At the door."

I hopped on one foot when I returned to the living area where Harry was, and, eventually, I dropped down onto the sofa beside him to slip on my shoes. Just as I was about to ask Harry if he was ready to go, his phone rang out loudly again.

"Richard?" He said quickly as soon as he answered, Harry, held his phone vertically out between us. "We're just about to leave the room."

"Oh good!" My dad's voice rang out, happy and lighter than it felt I'd heard in days.

Had it really still only been a day?

"Lakyn's awake!"

"What?" I exhaled, "Mum said it would take hours."

"That's brilliant," Harry said after me, a surprised grin on his face, "How is he?"

"Talking to your mum in the room now," dad continued, "He's groggy and a little disoriented, but he's awake."

The tears burst out of me immediately, loud, ugly tears that didn't arrive quietly, "Dad."

"I imagine he'll be asleep again by the time you get here," he told us, "But we told him you're here. He gave us a dopey smile."

"We're coming right now," Harry promised urgently. "Just as soon as Nina can manage to get her second shoe on."

My thumb kept slipping, and my heel would land outside the shoe again, I swatted Harry's shin at his teasing.

"It's because she doesn't undo the laces. And get her to stop crying," dad laughed, "You know how her brother hates any grand show of emotions."

"Shut up," I sniffled to them both, relief flooding through me in waves I couldn't quite believe. I violently shoved my foot into the sneaker one last time and wriggled it until it slipped in properly, "Ah! It's on. We're on our way, dad."

Harry deposited his phone into the pocket of the short sleeve, button-up shirt he was wearing. When I met his eyes, we were both smiling.

Harry shook his head and laughed, "Your fucking brother."

"He's awake!" I squeaked, crawling over Harry's lap and crossing my arms behind his neck. His hands settled on my waist, warm and steady, I planted a firm kiss on his lips, "I love you."

He smiled against me, "I love you too. Let's go."

Laykn slept for nearly six hours.

It was nearly 2pm by the time we got to the hospital, and when we arrived, my parents were sitting on either side of my brother, each with a book opened on their laps. A stark contrast to having sat watching him for any sign of movement for almost the entire twenty-four hours previous. There was a new calmness to the room, it felt less like an emergency situation somehow.

"Hi," Harry said behind me as we walked in and interrupted them.

My mum was up and hugging us both hardly a moment later. Harry and I got the recap on Laykn, and what his doctors were saying now he had woken up and fallen asleep. While we were talking, Harry slipped out, and it wasn't until he returned with four take away cups of tea I realised where he disappeared to.

And so then we waited.

Harry and my dad found a deck of cards and worked their way through all the games they knew between them. For a while, I sat to moderate and score. My mum sat at Laykn's side with her book, and about three hours in I pulled out Harry's laptop to try to get a few bars of symphony down. I gave up after another hour or so, his software wasn't up to date, and I couldn't remember the section I wanted to work on. Where momentary relief had cured my mind for most things, it still wasn't in work mode. I could hear the game of Snap starting to get nasty, Harry with his bottom lip between his teeth in concentration while my dad completely crushed him each round. I interfered before the name-calling could get particularly nasty, plonking myself down on Harry's lap and declaring my hunger to the room.

"I'd have beaten you that time," Harry insisted, dropping his cards on the table, "Nina broke my focus."

My dad rolled his eyes, "Sure you would've, son."

"Harry's got sandwiches," I announced, "One of them has mustard in, I had a sneaky peek as we left the hotel."

My mum stood up and stretched out her back, "I" m not quite ready for food yet, we did tell people at home we'd call them when it was morning their time. Richard, I could use a walk?"

My dad stood obediently, and pressed a kiss to my head as he walked past, "Look after our loser," he said of Harry with an amused smile on his face.

"Well," I let a puff of breath out once Harry and I had the room to ourselves, "That was rude? Why didn't they want to eat with us?"

Harry started pushing me off his legs, "Because we only had lunch two hours ago. They' v been in this room all night, I understand the need for a walk. It's good you're hungry, though."

I watched as Harry rummaged around in his backpack and pulled out a brown paper bag and two bottles of water. He returned to the table but took the seat my dad left, resting his elbows on the table and watching me with mild humour as I tore into the bag.

"I have to tell you something."

I frowned through chewing my first bite, Harry's face was unreadable if not a touch guilty, "What?"

Harry's eyebrows dug down as he looked to his hands on the table, "I told my mum … About being pregnant."

An incredulous laugh bubbled out of me, "Harry! You told her? What?"

"I know!" He cried out, "We're not meant to. I know. But with everything going on, I was so worried and stressed and fucking terrified for you. I didn't know how to deal with it all without talking to someone."

"Harry," I said softly. He was so earnest, and the concern was apparent on his face, "I'm okay."

"Didn't know that this morning," Harry mumbled. "I just needed her advice and help with what to do."

"It's okay," I took another bite of mustard and cheese goodness, "What did she say?"

That's when the smile appeared on Harry's face, "She's really happy about the baby. It was hard to keep her on track, really. She had good advice as well, just needed a clear head in on it with me, you know? I mean, then your dad rang and now things are a little lighter."

I knew how much Harry trusted his mother's judgement, and I truly loved it about him. Anne was a steadying force in his life, and when Harry couldn't trust himself, he could always trust her to have the answer. I had come to trust her voice in our lives as well.

"She's happy?"

"Yeah," Harry breathed out, and his smile turned into a megawatt grin, "Bloody elated."

"I'm glad you told her," I said honestly, "I'm sorry you've had to be so worried. I—

"—Hey, no," Harry frowned at me again and gestured to Laykn's bed without looking, "This is exactly where your head is supposed to have been. The baby happened so quickly before we left, it's… It's hard to keep everything in my brain at the moment, really."

"Whose baby?" A voice across the other side of the room said.

Harry and I both shot to our feet and turned to Laykn whose eyes were open and looking at the hospital ceiling, unfocused, but once I was at his side, they were clear and unmistakably those of my younger brother.

"Laykn," I breathed out, "Laykn, hi."

"Hey," he croaked out, "You're having a baby?"

I could barely see him from the tears brimming in my eyes, and just as I was about to evade the question, Harry spoke.

"We are."

"Harry," I hissed through an almost-laugh. "Stop telling people!"

"I might forget," Laykn piped up again, "Although I remember mum and dad saying you two were here … Was that today?"

"Yeah, mate," Harry responded, pressing his hand on the bed above Laykn's shoulder and leaning up over into his line of sight, "You spoke to them this morning. It's nearly 5pm now."

An expression fluttered on Laykn's face but couldn't stay there from the bandages. When he spoke, it strained his voice to try and inflect the humour behind it, "So my brains aren't leaking out my ears?"

"Laykn!" I scolded.

"Not yet, Layk," Harry said evenly.

I watched Laykn's eyes close in an exhausted flutter, "Are you really having a baby?"

Something softened in me at the sudden vulnerability in his voice and the way it was clearly difficult for him to be conscious this short amount of time, "We are," I told him, "We only just found out though, so you've got to keep the secret for us. Mum and dad don't know."

"Ah," Laykn sighed, "I can keep my mouth shut, but it'll cost 'ya."

I sniffed back, tears, "You idiot."

Whether it was our news or the moment, or Harry hovering over him and me scolding him, I watched Laykn's eyes pool as well. The skin around his eyes reddened, and a tear budded and then rolled down his cheek.

"I'm really fucking glad you're both here," he said through the emotion.

"Of course," Harry responded, "We love you. It's so good to hear your voice, mate. You scared us all."

"I scared me," my brother added quietly.

Handy internet portal to the writer’s inbox!

Tags: @heslilac @stylesfics-xx @miorni @prettyinlimegreenboots @ordiinarysue @bopbopstyles @georgiahoranxx @sing-me-a-song-harry

Would you like to join a tag list?

#1dff #fanfic #fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles stories #harry styles fiction #one direction #one direction fanfic #1dfanfic #fic: twenty good reasons #hina

84 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 4 years ago

Text

A New Kind Of Freedom (Branjie) - Enescudoh

A/N - first ever fic so all crits and comments gratefully received! Thank you to Mia Ugly for a wonderful email telling a complete novice how to do this part. I’ve left this open ended - haven’t decided if I’ll come back to it or not yet.

Fic summary: A little ways down the road, some things have changed, others have stayed exactly as they are. Brooke and Vanjie can only avoid each other for so long before tequila combined with what should have been a great idea from a French drag queen make them question how much they’ve really left things behind them.

Non-AU, but canon-divergent in that Brooke never moved out of Nashville to LA.

‘Another round of tequila for my best bitches!’

The dancers that have taken over this West Hollywood bar cheer as Brooke seems only to want to get them drunker, perhaps to disguise how drunk she’s getting.

‘Think you want to take it easy for the night? Maybe have some water?’ Nicky asks, as she tries to clamber onto a table. Six foot three before her heels were on – that’s going to be a long way down if she falls. Nicky goes up to steady her and instead Brooke raises her hand like she’s a boxing champion.

‘Everyone give it up for Nicky! She’s the fucking best. Nicky, you’re the fucking best, you know that?’ Brooke takes her French co-star’s face in her hands and pecks her on the lips. She laughs it off, enjoying the moment, before helping them both off the table.

‘Nicky’, Brooke says, when their feet are back firmly on the floor, ‘we have just done a motherfucking global tour.’ She slams her arms on the table with every word. ‘We have just finished a motherfucking week long run in fucking Los Angeles. When, tell me, is a better time to get so drunk you forget your own name, than right motherfucking now?’

‘And that’s the only reason?’

There’s something about the way Nicky asks her that makes Brooke temporarily lose a single layer of the alcohol shield she was using to protect her emotions.

‘I hoped he might have come to a show. Or just, like, said hi. While I was here. Cos, I mean, he knew I’d be here. But he didn’t, and the show’s done now, and as far as he knows that’s me out of town and… it sucks that he didn’t even want to say hi. It’s like, a tiny bit that. But mostly just the celebrating our motherfucking show part.’ Brooke sees Nicky look at her with pity and immediately starts up again acting the type of drunk she wants to be tonight, as if that will speed up it arriving in real life.

‘I’m fine! Honestly – I’m so happy right now. Come on – tonight’s for dancing, not for talking, let’s get back out there, mademoiselle!’

Truly, that’s all Brooke wants. To get so euphorically drunk she forgets her own name, and to kill these night time hours in Los Angeles before this place that was so thick with memories makes her do something stupid. To deny that part of her that wishes she’d seen him while she was here, until she can get back to real life, where she could get him out of her head by telling herself there was, at least, no good excuse to be prompted to think about him. Most of the time.

—

‘C’mon Nicky, let me stay for one more round, I’ll buy everyone another round!’

‘Brooke, you can barely stand up. I’m getting you an uber, you’re going home where there’s a bed. You know, a place for sleeping that’s not a leather couch in a bar?’ Nicky was hardly stone cold sober, which made it challenging to scroll back through their conversation, trying to find the address of Brooke’s AirBnB. She’d taken her stuff there this morning after they’d checked out of the hotel the tour was putting them up in, using the next week for meetings she could usefully do while in town. It had made so much sense in the daylight. Now Nicky curses that she doesn’t know where to actually book her Uber to.

She finally loses patience trying as Brooke appears to have passed out on her shoulder. Nicky takes her phone from her pocket and holds it to her face to open it. Luckily it’s used to recognising her in drag. She opens the app – and right there is a saved address of an apartment nearby. Nicky makes a mental note to rip Brooke a new one for how stupidly organised she is, before booking a car, just about managing to manhandle Brooke into it, and going back into the bar for another round of shots. Just because Brooke was out of it, doesn’t mean her night has to end.

—

The buzzer drags Jose out of bed, rubbing his eyes and his spiked up bed-hair. He checks his phone. 3:15am. Serves him right for thinking he might actually get some sleep one night this week. The buzzer carries on sounding as if someone was leaning on it.

‘Jeez, I’m coming already Mary’, he grumbles. ‘What is it?’ He asks into the intercom.

‘This is Ali, uber driver – ‘

‘Child, ain’t no one here ordering no uber at three o’clock in the god damn morning.’

‘There is woman in my car, this is her address to take her to, but I cannot wake her up, she asleep in my car.’

‘Silky I swear to god if this is your idea of a prank – ‘

‘Please take sleeping woman from my car, thank you sir.’

Jose is rapidly starting to think this is the strangest dream he’s ever had but he plays along, puts his door on the latch and goes downstairs to investigate.

And sure enough, passed out on the back seat of a Prius, snoring like the moose he knows, is Brooke Lynn Hytes.

Jose sighs. There isn’t enough good karma in the world to pay him back for not even entertaining the idea of getting a video of this. He hands Ali a tip and begins to gently coax his ex-boyfriend out of the car.

—

After Jose has helped a barely sentient Brock into his building’s elevator, out of drag and make-up, and onto his sofa, under a pile of blankets of varying thicknesses and softnesses (because he knows that when Brock’s drunk he’ll switch randomly between freezing cold and boiling hot in the middle of the night), sleep doesn’t exactly come back easily. For one thing Brock’s snoring can traverse walls. But he’s also trying to piece together what’s happened. He knew Brock was in LA. He’s been running different routes every day for the last fortnight just to avoid the posters. Did Brock want to come and see him, try and build up some Dutch courage and take it too far?

‘Get out of your head, child’, he whispers to himself. ‘He don’t think about you like that no more, you know that.’

He tosses and turns and before he knows it, it’s light outside.

—

Brock wakes early, turning and stretching. He needed more sleep but knows he only wakes up feeling this uncomfortable when he’s tried to cram his tall frame onto a sofa for the night. He curses – was he really so out of it he didn’t even make it to the bedroom of his own AirBnb last night? As he prises his eyes open, and casts the two blankets off his body to join the several already on the floor, he realises this isn’t the same place he came to bring his suitcases yesterday. Is it? It feels strangely familiar.

Before he can work out where he knows the apartment from, or why he’s there, the smell of strong coffee hits his sinuses, and the whirring of a Nespresso machine sounds up. He groans.

‘Mornin’, sleeping beauty’, calls a familiar voice from the kitchen. And suddenly how he knows this apartment falls into place.

Brock stands up and steadies himself on the sofa before walking through to where the voice came from.

‘Hey stranger.’

Jose turns around and smiles at him. Usually something that bright would shatter him into pieces on a hangover like this. But when it’s Jose’s smile, whatever he’s feeling, it only makes it better.

‘Coffee?’

‘Like you even have to ask.’ Brock sits – carefully – on a high stool and sinks his head into his hands, taking it out only when the steaming mug is put down in front of him. He examines it as he drinks.

‘You still have this tacky tourist mug from Chicago?’

Jose freezes at the counter. He won’t let Brock see the warmth that washes over him with memories of that trip.

‘Uh, yeah, I guess I do. I can get you another one if –‘

‘No, it’s nice. It’s nice that you have it.’

Brock meets Jose’s eyes as he says it, much as he’d rather look away.

‘Your tour finished last night then?’

‘Yeah, uh-huh.’ Brock desperately tries to think of something to say to stop what he knows is about to come out of his mouth. ‘I hoped you might come see me while I was here.’

‘I hoped you mighta asked me to.’

Brock swallows as he’s caught off guard by Jose’s honesty.

‘So I don’t remember running into you last night, where –‘

‘You wanna tell me how you ended up here?’

They start talking at the same time and trail off, when Brock’s phone starts vibrating.

‘This ought to give us some idea,’ he says as he answers it. ‘Hey Nicky.’

‘Ah! She lives!’ Jose busies himself in the kitchen, trying not to overhear anything. He doesn’t want to know, really. It doesn’t matter. It didn’t mean anything that Brock showed up here last night, just as he was beginning to… no, not beginning to anything. No beginnings. Everything ended a long time ago. He couldn’t afford to think otherwise.

Anyway, there’s nothing to overhear, as Nicky is regaling Brock with everything that happened after she’d gone home.

‘Honestly, it’s a miracle I managed to get you into that uber when I did –‘

‘Wait, you put me in an uber?’

‘Yes honey – a stroke of genius, I might add.’

‘How did you find… um, where to send it?’

‘It was your nearest saved address – thank me over brunch, bitch, you still good to meet in that café in an hour?’

Brock’s been pacing around the living room. He leans through to check Jose is out of earshot before replying, ‘I think today’s more of a duvet day hangover than a brunch hangover. Sorry my love, I’m gonna have to raincheck this one.’

‘Ugh, fine. I guess I’ll just go flirt with the cute waiters by myself. Bye, bitch.’

‘Well, that’s that mystery solved’, Brock says as he re-enters the kitchen. It seems almost too simple. Too… prosaic. Like it should have been fate, or destiny, or some grand force beyond his control that brought him to Jose’s door, and instead it was a French drag queen with a bad memory after a few drinks.

Jose laughs to himself, and to the floor, as Brock explains. ‘You ain’t changed this address out in three years? How many times you been to LA since then?’

‘Honestly, not that many. And I’m just going to meetings, back and forth, and I don’t stay in the same places…’

‘Alright, Miss Thing, we get it, you in demand.’ He starts to relax. He was worried that Brock showing up meant something, something too big for him to be able to protect himself from. He just has to get through the morning, maybe only another hour, and then Brock can waltz back out of his apartment just as quickly as he showed up in it. Not waltz. Crash, or tiptoe. Brock doesn’t really have any mode between those two extremes.

‘So, uh, I guess you remember where the shower is, and then, as long as you actually know which apartment it is you’re going to this time, we all good here…’

Jose can hardly bring himself to look at Brock as he potters around looking for a towel, but he knows Brock’s eyes are following him all around the room. Can’t he at least pretend it’s as difficult for him to see Jose as it is for Jose to see him?

‘I don’t know, since I’m here…’

‘Since you here what?’

‘I’m just saying, it’s been ages. I hardly talk to you any more. It’d be nice to reconnect with my friend. You got plans today?’

Jose feels his feet become rooted to the spot. It’s so tempting – to spend the day with Brock, patching up the hole he’s felt over the last couple of years without the Canadian in his life. Maybe he’s wrong – maybe it is better to have him as a friend, to have some of him, than to have to completely cut himself off from this force of nature, this beautiful, magnetic person. To think of himself as lucky that someone like that wants to spend time with him, wants to be his friend, rather than dwell on all the things Brock doesn’t want with him. He sighs.

‘Sure. I mean, nah, no plans. Sure, we can hang out.’

‘Yeah? That’s awesome!’ Brock is starting to feel human again – he can tell by the way his speaking voice is slowly crawling out of the bass register.

—

As Brock turns the shower off, he hears a voice on the other side of the wall. He allows himself a smile to think that even when Jose was trying to be quiet (as he could tell he was now), his voice still carried across rooms.

‘I’m real sorry, I know it’s shitty, it’s just this once, I promise – I just… I got an old friend show up in town. I’ll try see you some time this week, ‘kay? OK. OK… OK. Bye.’

Brock doesn’t realise he’s been holding his breath until he lets it out. He counts to five in his head before he unlocks the door, one towel around his waist, another tousling his blonde curls.

‘Hey – give me 15 minutes then I’ll be ready to head out. OK?’

Jose looks up at him. He tries so hard not to flinch as he does. It’s just muscle memory, he tells himself, brain pathways and stuff, that once they’re there, don’t go away. That’s the only reason looking at Brock’s body makes him feel like this, because he did in past, not because he does now. Anyway - he’s made a decision, the least he could do is see it through. ‘Sure.’

—

It’s remarkable how quickly they slip back into each others’ company. They hardly notice that they’re going to their old haunts, stop to get in their heads about if that means anything – they just know the places they enjoy, how they spent so many days happy and relaxed in this neighbourhood. How they don’t even think about how much hard work it is, trying to keep each other out, versus how natural they feel.

‘So how’s Nashville been treating you?’, Jose asks over an iced coffee.

‘It’s been good actually!’ Jose suppresses a snicker, but doesn’t do so well to keep himself from raising an eyebrow halfway up his forehead. Brock seeing Nashville as a means to an end that he wished he could leave had been a common theme of conversation between them.

‘I’m serious! I mean, my lease came up and I actually got really close to moving out here, but then… some stuff changed. I realised there was a side to Nashville I hadn’t got to see much of yet, so I figured I’d sign on for one more year.’

‘Sides like… what, everybody be discovering their local parks for the first time in quarantine, shit like that?’

Brock looks up from the table. ‘I met someone. It didn’t work out, we’re not still…’ He’s careful not to trip over his tongue as he gets that out. ‘But it was nice. Having a relationship while we both literally couldn’t go anywhere, you know, it helped to turn the everyday into a bit of an adventure. For a little while.’

‘So lemme get this straight. You actually willingly had a relationship with another person, in the same city as you, no breaks, no passes, no long distance shit, for…’

‘Uh, five months.’

‘For five months, without losing your god damn mind over it?’

Jose is chuckling, he’s taking it better than Brock had ever imagined he would, whenever he’d pictured Jose finding out about it. Part of the reason it had ended with Max after five months was precisely because he found himself wondering how Jose would react to everything he was doing, and somehow picturing doing all of the coupley things he’d previously never entertained with Jose tended to make him happier than actually doing them with Max. He wasn’t an expert in relationships, but he didn’t think that was how it was supposed to go.

“What about all that shit about “freedom”, about that being the most important thing to you in the world?”

Brock pauses. He’s been having enough trouble articulating it to himself.

“Say what you want about a pandemic. But it’s pretty good for making you… re-evaluate… what it actually is freedom means to you. When a lot of it gets taken away, I mean. Freedoms you never thought you’d have to live without. Suddenly, you can’t travel, you can’t perform to crowds, you can’t go to bars, you can’t hug your family… maybe, it starts to make you think that those are the freedoms that matter to you… and that in the scheme of things… freedom to flirt or to have sex, I mean, to involve other people in your freedom, and wish for it not to be personal… I don’t know, maybe that’s not the kind of freedom I found myself craving all that much on the other side of this. And maybe having one person who cares about you enough to look out for you, whose emotions move in sync with yours… maybe that’s a kind of freedom too.”

There’s a pause. Most people would misinterpret the face that Jose’s making as him trying to understand what Brock’s just said. But he knows better. He’s seen that face before. That’s the face of Jose’s heart breaking.

Brock wishes he could take back the words. He knew they’d sting, that’s why he hadn’t talked to Jose the minute he’d had that realisation. How could he have just shown up, years later, as if now he was finally ready for everything Jose wanted, as if nothing would have changed for Jose in the meantime? So when Jose finally opens his mouth to ask him that, says softly ‘how many months were you gonna sit on that before you said anything to me?’, Brock answers honestly.

‘I figured you’d given me too many chances already.’

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #canon compliant #angst #slow burn #enescudoh #concrit welcome

25 notes · View notes

cherryrogers · 4 years ago

Text

when dusk falls {1}

WHEN IT RAINS, IT POURS

pairing: bucky barnes x reader | royal au

warnings: mentions of war, death, rape + forced marriage. pure angst tbh.

summary: One fateful afternoon, your blissful life as the beloved princess of Taria comes to a sudden halt.

a/n: ok so i am very excited for this fic. more excited than i’ve ever been to write a fic ever, i really hope you guys like it !! it’ll likely be a slow burn, and i’m gonna try so hard to do weekly updates (unheard of from me i know !!) anyway please enjoy and any feedback is appreciated !!

series masterlist

The Kingdom of Taria was said to be the most beautiful place on the planet. A verdant location, rich with greenery from north to south. Known as the planet’s garden, visitors would travel for days overseas simply to inhale the fresh scent of the crisp air upon arriving within Taria’s borders. The civilians were lovely, always smiling and willing to offer tours of the gardens and markets. And the monarchs — the most loved the world had ever seen. They lived in a fabulous palace in the centre of the green land, one of the oldest buildings to exist in Taria. The palace front garden was free for anyone to roam, a place where the King and Queen could be seen waving from their balcony, broad smiles covering their lips.

And the Princess; she was the kingdom’s gem.

Adored by the people of Taria and those of allied kingdoms, you made it your mission to be less of a princess to your people, and more of a friend. You played with the children in the palace garden on sunny afternoons, went to tea with the women who sold baked goods at the markets, helped their sons with schoolwork when you had time to spare — there wasn’t a single name you could put to a face. You felt so free, so lucky to be engaged with the people that made Taria as wonderful as it was. You didn’t even need personal guards, not when there wasn’t a soul in the kingdom that wanted to hurt a hair on your head.

The life you were so grateful to live, that you cherished so close to your heart — it was terrifying how easily it was stripped from you. How easily Hydra ripped you away from the golden dream that it was.

You’d been hiding in your library, laid out on a plush beige couch, the skirt of your royal blue dress spilling over the edge, flipping through the pages of a thick, hardback mystery novel. It’d been gifted to you by Sharon, your lady-in-waiting and best friend before that. She’d left you alone in the library momentarily while running to bring you both a steaming cup of chamomile tea; an essential when reading, she’d insisted. If you weren’t so caught up in your book, perhaps you would’ve noticed Sharon had been gone for nearly ten minutes. It was only when the sound of commotion erupted from behind the large doors of the library that your eyes finally flickered up, and when they did, your friend was suddenly bursting through the doors, a frightened expression on her face.

“Sharon, what’s wrong?” You’d slipped your bookmark between the pages of your novel before placing it at your feet.

The blonde rushed towards you, taking your hand and tugging you up from the couch. “We must go.”

Your face contorted in confusion, but Sharon didn’t care to explain as she snatched you away from the centre of the grand room, making a beeline to the back door of the room that led into your personal garden. Her hand was tight like a vice around your wrist, pressing your bracelets uncomfortably into your skin.

“What was with the yelling outside?” You questioned breathlessly, struggling to keep up with her pace as she pushed open the glass garden doors. “And why— my gosh, why are we running?”

Winding through the plethora of brilliantly coloured roses and tulips, you shrieked as you closely avoided tripping over your own feet, bare and aching from the gravel of the pavement between the square plots of flowers sticking to your soles. Everything was happening so fast, even the colours of the garden were blending together as you tried to figure out what could’ve been going on.

Sharon’s hand fleetingly let go of your wrist as you steadied yourself, and before she could clasp it back in her grip, you ripped it out of her reach.

She narrowed her eyes. “_____, we don’t have time—”

“Tell me what’s going on.” You folded your arms over your chest, the waver in your voice telling Sharon that you needed to know then and there, your nerves beginning to build more with each passing second.

The woman was about to object, but since you weren’t aware of the gravity of the situation, she decided telling you may have been a better option — whatever got you away from the palace the as soon as possible. Sighing quickly, she held your upper arms in urgency. “It’s Hydra, they’re here. Here for you.”

In that moment, you swore your heart had never dropped so low in your stomach. “For me? What— What do they want with me?”

“I don’t know; as soon as I heard your name, I ran to find you. They’re searching the palace for you right now, _____, we need to get to the stables and leave before they find you.”

She took your hand in hers, ready to make a run for it, but you didn’t budge. Mouth hung open in shock, you were paralysed on the spot.

The Kingdom of Hydra was a dark place. Plagued with freezing temperatures and harsh blizzards, the majority kept far away from it. The effects of a long dictatorship had set in over the decades, making it the complete opposite of Taria. King Alexander called all the shots, passed laws that benefited him, denied laws that benefited the public. Crime was at an all time high; women raped every day, markets trashed and robbed, murders around every corner — the King didn’t bat an eye. Nobody did. The only reason people stayed was because they had to. It was against the law to migrate unless the circumstances were exceptional, but realistically they’d never be severe enough for the King to lose tax money over.

Attempts at rebellions had spiked over the years, usually only consisting of not even one hundred civilians wanting to fight the system. The King’s father, who occupied the throne before him, was killed by a rebel when the castle was attacked by hundreds of men wielding pitchforks. Once Alexander became king, he threatened that any civilian who dared to rebel against the monarchy would be sentenced to death without question. While there were still quieter rebel forces waiting for their moment to strike, most were ultimately too fearful to take physical action, and they were right in feeling so.

Hydra was a brutal place; living there was a life sentence that you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy. But it seemed like soon, you’d be serving that miserable time yourself.

Only when you felt a warm hand press to your cheek did you snap out of your fear, glossy eyes meeting the deep brown ones of your friend. “You’ll be okay. I’m going to get you to safety, but I can only do that if we leave now.”

Forcing your fear down with a painful gulp, you nodded hurriedly. The blonde’s lips curled slightly in reassurance, before she took your hand eagerly and headed straight for the tall, cream garden gate leading out to the stables.

She quickly explained the route you’d take; travel west through the Goldwater village, borrow a rowboat from the docks, and sail over the Emerald Sea to the Swari Island; a small but resourceful community not ruled over by a monarchy, but had offered hospitality to the royals of Taria if they ever needed it. They’d know who you were when you arrived there, and because it was such an independent island, Hydra likely didn’t even know it existed. If they did, they probably would’ve attacked and taken over the place a long time ago.

The plan sounded hopeful, and your nerves had actually began to simmer once you were close enough to the gate for Sharon to shift the heavy metal lock. But when a worried voice called out from behind you, her movement was paused, the lock only being half pulled.

Steven — your father’s valet — stood tall in the doorway to the library, golden locks and beard seeming even lighter with the sun beaming down onto him. But the look on his face was anything but light; thick brows pinched and lips curled into a frown, he waved for the two of you to return.

“There are soldiers behind that gate,” He called. “You can’t reach the stables.”

You turned to Sharon with a fearful expression; she kept a tight hold on your hand, letting go of the gate to respond to Steve. She remained calm, but at the foiling of her plan, her demeanour had visibly changed. “Then what are we to do? I won’t let Hydra take her, Steve.”

His face fell even further, a hand coming to clutch at the sword on his hip as he jogged towards the two of you. Blue eyes set on you, he spoke with sorrow. “I’m afraid that they’re not going to leave without you, Princess.”

Your friend scoffed, shooting the valet a glare. “And why is that?”

Steve didn’t reply, an apologetic glint in his eyes as they stayed on you. You held his eye contact, shaking your head in disbelief. What did he mean they weren’t leaving without you? It wasn’t like Steve to give up so easily, especially when it came to your safety. He had a duty to your father, to ensure your protection before his at all costs. But Hydra didn’t care for duties and loyalty — they didn’t care for compromise. What they wanted, they got. And they wanted you.

“Steven, what do they want with _____?” Sharon asked again, this time more aggressive with her tone, but her hard exterior was beginning to crumble.

Like you, she knew Steve to be confident, determined. He’d been like that even at the age of thirteen when she’d befriended him — the scrawny blond boy that didn’t have the patience to read books or plant seeds in the back garden like the other kids she neighboured with, instead always running around on the dirt roads using long, pointy sticks as swords to battle with an imaginary opponent.

Originally from the war-torn Kingdom of Lidor, she migrated with her aunt after her parents were caught in the centre of a Hydra attack on their village. Sharon was staying at her Aunt Peggy’s for the weekend when it happened, and as soon as it did, Peggy wasn’t risking her young niece being killed along with her brother and sister-in-law if they dared attack again, which was likely inevitable.

That was the scary thing about Hydra; they had the absolute power to ruin everything in their wake.

Sharon met you when she was sixteen; she was wandering the beautiful palace garden with her aunt when you’d approached the two of them, introducing yourself with a kind smile. It was the first time they’d been near the palace, their new village being in a more remote area of Taria, and preferring to keep to themselves while recovering from the tragedy back home. You ended up clicking with her straight away, easily being drawn to her fiery attitude and quick wit. As you got closer, you became her shoulder to cry on when she’d opened up about her parents and her life during the war at home, learning that Lidor was fighting on their own against the powerful forces of Hydra, and had been three years — Hydra had a certain way of keeping their harmful affairs quiet.

Later that week, you informed your father of her kingdom’s situation, and after a discussion with Taria’s knights and the leaders of your allies, cavalries upon cavalries shipped out to Lidor to rid the place of Hydra’s men. The war came to an end months later, and you’ll never forget the relief and joy on Sharon’s face once you’d let her know that her home could soon begin to recover.

She’d also spoken of needing a job, and after a short conversation with your parents, they approved of her being able to fill the spot of your lady-in-waiting. Sharon was hesitant to take the role, as it meant leaving her old aunt to live alone in their home miles away from the palace, but you assured her she could visit Peggy whenever she wanted, and that the role wasn’t so much a servant job — more like a professional best friend.

Steve, then eighteen, was introduced to you when you ventured out to meet Sharon’s aunt at her home. Unlike him in his childhood, he’d grown incredibly tall and broad, large biceps and muscular thighs easily filling out his clothing. Purely kindness and charisma, Steve seemed like a man your father would’ve adored. One day, you brought the two of them down to the palace for dinner in the evening. Steve was obviously out of his comfort zone; he’d never once imagined he’d ever come to be around so many royals. Like you’d guessed, he had your father clutching his stomach with laughter, and he’d deeply admired the blond’s courageous spirit when he’d expressed his desire for a job where he could protect people who needed it.

At the end of the night, the King pulled him aside and told him that if he was interested in being his valet, the job was unmistakably his. Of course, Steve accepted it without question. You’d always remember the first time he held a real sword; it was like witnessing a child during a sugar rush.

Since that day, both Sharon and Steven had never been too far away, always around to keep you company. It was a good change to have good friends living in such close proximity. Your life had never been better, safer.

And now, in their presence, you’d never felt more afraid.

Before Sharon could force an answer out of the valet, a raspy, smug voice sounding from where Steve had been stood only moments ago in the library doorway caught the attention of the three of you.

Tilting your head to look past Steve, your jaw tightened at the sight of a dark-haired man, dressed in dark clothes and scruffy boots — a clear juxtaposition among the vibrant garden. Upon his lips, a too-satisfied smirk, and on the left metal shoulder piece shielding his thin tunic, the image of a skull with tentacles coming from the mouth clear as day — the symbol of Hydra.

“I must say, Princess, you have a wonderful palace here.” He patronised, stepping into the garden gesturing to the enormous building behind him.

It was then you noticed the four soldiers that’d followed him out, expressions completely vacant, staring straight ahead as if they hadn’t just infiltrated the royal palace. Their uniform was similar to brocks, except the skull symbol was replaced by a large red star.

Steve pushed you behind him protectively; your grip remained tight on your friend’s hand. “You have no business coming to Taria without speaking the King first. This wasn’t part of the agreement.”

Agreement? Hydra had no business in Taria at all; none that you knew of, anyway.

The man shrugged carelessly. “The King wants the Princess in Hydra now; circumstances have changed.”

“Circumstances have changed how?” Steve challenged, glowering at him.

Frustration bubbled in your chest. You didn’t understand what Hydra wanted with you, and you definitely weren’t aware that there was an agreement between Taria and Hydra. Your kingdom vowed a long time ago never to make deals with the devil, the devil being a kingdom ruined by dictatorship and power-hungry men.

Sharon uttered your name cautiously as you removed your hand from hers, stepping forward to lower Steve’s raised arm, no longer shielded from the man who’d seemingly been sent to collect you.

“Tell me what’s going on,” You spoke up confidently, shoving down the anxiety threatening to appear in your voice. “What agreement do you speak of?”

The man’s sick smile widened upon hearing your voice. Looking over his shoulder, he gave a nod to one of the docile soldiers who left his side on his signal, before turning back to you. “I could tell you, Princess — but I think it’s better that you hear it from the King and Queen.”

Your eyes widened; behind the man, you watched as four soldiers escorted your parents into the garden. They appeared tired, as if they’d put up a fight. Wouldn’t any loving parent to keep their child safe? Of course, Hydra had likely brought enough infantry to keep control of the situation. Your knights were strong, but scarce compared to the large army Hydra had built over the years.

“Go on,” The man coaxed, stepping off to the side so that you were eyeing your parents directly. “Ask them.”

Biting your lower lip, you pushed back the confused and angry tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. “Father, Mother — what’s going on?”

A stray tear trickled down your mother’s face, her eyes never leaving the ground. She was petrified. Exhaling deeply, your father took her hand gently, before shooting you an apologetic look. “This was never meant to happen, _____. I was going to renegotiate the agreement…”

His pleads to show himself in a better light fell flat, futile — everyone knew that you were leaving with Hydra one way or another. You brought your brows together, silently asking him to just tell you the truth. Another heavy sigh, and he came clean.

“One day, when your mother was pregnant with you, her and I rented a sailboat from the east docks. We used to sail along the Heartlen Ocean all the time when we were young; she was due to give birth in two weeks, and since she’d be palace-bound upon your birth, I decided that one more sail before the big day wouldn’t hurt.”

Typically, most who chose to go sailing took boats from the west docks to travel the Emerald Sea. They were easier to access, less remote than the east docks hidden by the thick woodland separating them from Taria’s centre. But if you recalled correctly, that’s why your parents were so fond of the Heartlen Ocean — it was quiet, the whole ocean was theirs to sail freely.

“We’d been out for an hour or two, ignoring our compass and the sky growing dark. We had no idea how far out from Taria we were. Your mother suggested that we head back, but… but before we could, she went into—”

“Can we speed this up, Your Highness?” The insufferable man snarked, earning himself a piercing glare from your father, but he obeyed nonetheless.

His eyes landed back on yours, filling with regret once more. “She went into labour on the boat. We were so far out that going back to Taria wasn’t an option. So, we sailed to the nearest land we could find, which turned out to be Hydra. We had no choice but to ask for their help, and— and they gave it to us, but with a cost. The King, he refused to help your mother unless we made a deal, that deal being that if she gave birth to a baby girl… she was to marry his newborn son once he‘d turned twenty-one.”

You could have fainted on the spot. Steve offered his arm to you, which you took quickly, holding on as if the ground was turning to quicksand. If that meant the ground would’ve swallowed you up and been your escape from the nightmare-come-true that was happening before you, you wished the ground were quicksand.

Tears yet again glazing your eyes, you shook your head. “I— I don’t know what to say.”

Meekly, your mother lifted her head, broken eyes meeting yours almost painfully. “We had no choice, my dear.”

I know. You wanted to say it, but the words refused to leave the tip of your tongue. A sob stuck uncomfortably in your throat, but you couldn’t cry. You couldn’t let your guard down; not in front of Hydra.

Not in front of the people who held your mother’s life in their greedy hands, only agreeing to save it if they could benefit from doing so. You refused to show them an ounce of your vulnerability.

Still wearing that ugly grin, the man who seemed to be leading the Hydra soldiers brought himself back between you and your parents, and you couldn’t help but glower at him. “Well, I believe congratulations are in order. Princess, you’re getting married.”

“You’re sick.” Steve spat, but the man just snickered.

“Soldiers, prepare the carriage for our departure,” He called over his shoulder, and the expressionless soldiers obeyed, marching past you to unlock the garden gate, revealing another dozen soldiers right outside. “Oh, how rude of me, I haven’t even introduced myself.”

He reached for your hand, but Steve was quick to bat it away, drawing his sword from his hip with a stern stare. But by doing so, the soldiers stood at the gate followed suit, ready to lunge at the valet if his sword moved any closer to their leader. With great reluctance, your friend put his weapon away, and the man reached for your hand yet again.

His hands were rough, and you couldn’t hide your grimace at the dirt he’d failed to wash from them. Moving agonisingly slow, he brought your silk-soft hand to his lips. “I’m Brock; we’re going to be seeing a lot more of each other once you settle in Hydra.”

You could’ve thrown up, right then and there. He was enjoying it, seeing you and your family miserable. Once the public heard of the sudden news, they’d be terrified. If the King of Hydra could so easily take their Princess away from Taria, what was stopping them from trying to take Taria for themselves completely?

Brock chuckled as you tugged your hand from his grasp. “I hope you’re a little friendlier to your husband-to-be; I know that Prince Isaac is very eager to meet you.”

Husband. It was still almost impossible to process. A deal to save your mother’s life — and your own — made twenty years prior meant that your freedom was to be completely stripped from you. It didn’t matter how they’d treat you in Hydra; they’d be taking you against your will, forcing you to marry a man you’d never met, and if he was anything like his father, you would’ve rather been as far away from him as possible.

Of course, you could’ve refused to leave. But when you were surrounded by soldiers, ready to comply to any instruction Brock gave them, you didn’t want to think about the consequences of doing so.

You’d like to have thought Taria had moved on from such traditional norms of a kingdom ruled over by a monarchy. Money was provided to civilians that needed it — not only to survive — but to live a stable life, the richer inhabitants of the Kingdom were taxed more and didn’t complain; everyone had a chance of a good life in Taria. Your family certainly made sure of that, and not many other kingdoms had come to follow in your footsteps of upholding a fairer society.

However, the rules concerning the marriage of the King and Queen’s children had been the same since a monarch first took to the throne in Taria, and everywhere else too. And you didn’t mind that; you trusted that your parents wouldn’t force you into marriage with a man you were certain about. They’d definitely never have you marry Prince Isaac of Hydra if they had a say in the matter. But the deal was made a long time ago, and Hydra had a knack for never forgetting what they’re owed. It’d be illegal for you parents to go back on the agreement, and again, you didn’t want to think about the consequences of that happening.

“The carriage is ready, Commander.” A soldier announced from behind you, voice as monotonous as you’d imagined it to sound. His words still sent a shiver down your spine.

“I— I need to collect my things.” You stated to Brock, who waved you off.

“There’s no need; everything you could possibly need will be given to you at the castle, Princess.”

So you weren’t even allowed to bring your own clothes, or books, or anything to remind you that you’d never truly belong to Hydra. Of course they’d want to strip you of your identity; they wanted you on strings, dancing around for them as if you were a puppet. In their clothes, reading their books between the walls of their castle, perhaps it’d be enough to transform you into one.

You sighed, clenching at the skirt of your dress in annoyance. “May I at least say goodbye to my family?”

Brock seemed sceptical, but figured that perhaps you’d let down your front a little if he granted you what you’d asked. “You have two minutes, then we must leave immediately.”

As soon as he stepped out of your way to begin gathering his soldiers, you made a beeline to your parents, ignoring the gravelly pavement against your sore feet. Pulling the two of them into a loving hug, you didn’t care to suppress your tears that time.

“I’m so sorry, dear,” Your father mumbled in your ear, his tone dripping with regret. “The palace guards tried to stop them from entering, but there were just too many soldiers. And the knights weren’t aware—”

You pulled away, offering him a forgiving smile. “It’s not your fault, Father. Neither of you are to blame.”

Tearful eyes landed on your mother next, who could barely lift her gaze from the ground. “Mother, please listen to me.”

She glanced up as you addressed her directly, her frown deepening. “If you hadn’t accepted the deal, neither of us would’ve lived to see how beautiful Taria has become over the past twenty years. Living this life and having it taken away from me… it’s better than never having lived it at all, I swear.”

“The arrival of this day has plagued my nightmares ever since you were born,” The woman choked out a sob, immediately taking your hands in her trembling ones. “Don’t let Hydra take away the good in your heart, my dearest. And— And don’t lose hope.”

You gave her a nod of assurance, before stepping back from the two of them, afraid that you’d turn into a sobbing mess if you spoke to them any longer. “Thank you, for everything.”

As the two leaned into each other, your parents plastered on smiles of appreciation, of love, and you made sure to keep that image fresh in your mind forever. If that were the last you were to see of them, then you refused to let the memory get away.

Turning around, you couldn’t help but chuckle sadly at your friends, watching you with such fallen expressions; they’d never appeared so down. Around each other, the three of you never shared a dull moment. If you were to leave Taria to marry in the future, it was meant to be far less melancholic. Unfortunately, not everything can work out in everyone’s favour; destiny seemed to really not want to work out in yours.

Approaching Steve first, you quickly wrapped your arms around his neck, a sense of temporary relief filling you as his big arms enveloped your waist. He was a brother to you; it felt like you’d known him your whole life rather than a mere few years. He held you tight, almost afraid that you’d disappear into thin air if he loosened his grip in the slightest.

“I wanted to tell you...” He muttered softly in your ear. As the King’s valet and his most trusted confidant, Steve was told of the matter only a year prior. The King knew that Hydra would come knocking soon enough, and he believed that Steve deserved to know the truth, him being so close to his daughter and all.

“You couldn’t,” You responded, voice muffled by his shoulder. “I understand that.”

“Taria wouldn’t be the place it is without you; I guess I just thought that… nobody could ever take you away from here, no matter how hard they tried.”

Stepping back, you moved your hands to his shoulders, giving them an assuring squeeze. “Hydra will never be a home to me, Steven. Nobody could ever truly take me from here.”

His lips curled at that, though it didn’t seem to raise his spirits; it’d be impossible to. The worst case scenario had become a reality — Taria’s Princess in the clutches of Hydra.

Leaning forwards, you pressed a short kiss to his cheek, a token of your gratitude for the valet and one of your best friends. “Take care of yourself, Steve.”

“And you, _____.”

You grinned; it wasn’t often that he addressed you by your first name. He’d become so accustomed to calling you by your title around the palace that it slipped his tongue naturally, despite your pleas to address you as his friend, not his princess.

The moment your eyes fell to Sharon, she pulled you straight into her arms, almost knocking the wind out of you. She’d never been much of a hugger; even on her birthday each year she’d cringe when you and Steve would attack her with hugs and affection. But with the possibility playing on her mind that she may never get to be in her best friend’s presence again, she was happy to keep you as close as possible during the little time you had left there.

“Sharon—”

“There has to be a way to stop this,” The blonde shook her head against your shoulder. “It’s not— this can't be legal.”

A sigh left your lips as you pulled back, trailing your hands to her upper arms. “Somehow, it’s perfectly legal. Even if there was a way to prevent me from leaving, I doubt that the outcome would be any better than this.”

If marrying the heir to Hydra’s throne meant that the rest of Taria was left untouched, you’d leave your Kingdom without a second thought. Their King was not a man of reason; broken deals were always followed with brutal consequences.

Sharon knew that; Lidor happened to be on the receiving end of those consequences when the war broke out on her homeland. The Kingdom was meant to surrender themselves to Hydra’s rule when the previous king was in charge. But when he died and his son took to the throne in turn, he refused to let Lidor fall under such an appallingly cruel government. And following that refusal, Lidor was practically demolished.

If it weren’t for the help they received from Taria and their allies, the place would no longer have been inhabitable. It’d been rebuilding itself slowly over the past few years, and Sharon would’ve hated to see the same tragic thing happen to Taria.

But then again, look at what the cost was. You, trapped in the walls of Hydra’s Castle that’d seen more affliction and agony than your parents had ever even heard of — she couldn’t just let it happen. She was going to fight for you, as your lady-in-waiting and best friend.

Wiping at her eyes furiously, Sharon shook her head again, simply refusing to let you go so easily. “This isn’t goodbye, _____.”

“Sharon—”

“You’re always the one telling me to look on the bright side, to never stop looking for light at the end of the tunnel,” She spoke sincerely. “The war on Lidor had torn me up for years; without you, I have no idea where I’d be, but I certainly wouldn’t be happy. Now it’s my turn to get you through this.”

You furrowed your brows, uncertain of what she’d meant, but then she uttered something lowly, not wanting anyone else to listen in.

“I know someone in Hydra — they work for King Alexander personally. If I write to you, they’ll get the letters to you.”

Scoffing breathlessly, you narrowed your eyes at her. “Are you insane? Do you know how much trouble you could get into? And who do you know in—”

“Hydra is awaiting your arrival, Princess.” Brock’s teasing tone sounded next to the garden gate, and you assumed that meant your two minutes was up.

It was really happening. You were really being stolen away to Hydra, like a mere object.

Sharon took your face in her hands for just a moment, savouring her last few seconds with you before the smug idiot behind her snatched you away. “I love you, okay? We all do.”

“I love you all too.” You shot her half a smile, glancing up at Steve, who was already looking back at you, and taking a look over your shoulder to eye your parents once more.

Sure, Taria was aesthetically gorgeous, but it was the wonderful people who occupied it that made it a profoundly beautiful place.

The longing expression on your face soon faded when your eyes diverted to Brock, and announced that you were ready to leave. He offered you his arm; you ignored the gesture.

His cavalry were set to depart, already mounted on their dark-haired horses, shining manes blowing gently in the slight breeze. The carriage was rather small, only made to escort two people at a time, and the thought alone of being stuck so close to Brock for as long as it took to simply arrive at east docks made your stomach turn.

Sharon and Steve followed you out next to the stables, watching as the carriage pulled away with their beloved friend inside of it.

Steve naively waited for the nightmare to end, to wake up in his chambers and know that you were sleeping safely in yours. Sharon’s jaw was tight, already contemplating ways to guide you back to where you rightfully belonged.

The taller of the two finally tore his eyes from the carriage, now long gone down the dirt road heading east. He pressed his lips into a thin line, already sensing the frustration boiling in his friend’s blood. “Sharon—”

“You knew,” She intervened bitterly, crossing her arms over her chest as her narrowed eyes snapped up to Steve’s. “You knew that Hydra would come for her and you didn’t even tell me — didn’t even tell her.”

The blond’s lips parted to respond, yet we knew that there were no words he could possibly come up with to make the situation any lighter. “I know you’re hurting, so am I—”

“We’re not the ones being forced to start a new life in Hydra, Steve. _____’s the one that’s hurting. I just... I just think that she deserved to know.”

With that, the woman turned back abruptly, making a swift exit back through the garden gate. The valet remained in his place, a hand absentmindedly going to rest on the hilt of his sword as he observed the carriage morphing into a black dot on the horizon.

And for the first time in his life, overlooking the green land and breathing in the fresh air of the Kingdom he’d come to call home, he felt that Taria didn’t seem so beautiful.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes au #royal au

85 notes · View notes

honeymoonjin · 5 years ago

Text

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: jin x reader ft. elf!jk || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: est. 13k

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: thriller, angst, fantasy || ʀᴇʟᴇᴀsᴇ: 14th December

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: you and your husband jin try to enjoy a nice holiday in the North Pole, but there’s something not quite right with the elves.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: cursing, some aggressive characters, though no gore or explicit violence, this one’s kinda a dark setting though i promise the characters are still honeymoonjinᵀᴹ soft

“I don’t like this.”

You glance up from the half-eaten butterscotch pudding, finishing your caramel mouthful. “What do you mean?”

Jin glances up from the picnic table the two of you are eating at, eyeing the fellow tourists and smattering of elves wandering around the campground. The two of you had gone on a surprisingly brief tour of the North Pole's capital, Middlenog, kept in a tour bus for a ride down the main street, only stopping at a small museum and now, a campground for lunch. Oddly, your tour bus were the only guests at the site, and the booth for reception had been shut since you parked up, with no sign of opening.

“Maybe it’s off-season,” you dismiss, shoveling another spoonful of the delicious - and complimentary! - dessert in your mouth.

Jin glances back at you, brows furrowed. “It’s December,” he exclaims, “in terms of Christmas, it’s the very definition of on-season. Where are the rest of the tourists? Where are the elves taking holidays with their families and friends? I just don’t get it.”

You stare at your now-empty bowl mournfully, before pushing it to the side and looking back up at your husband. “I mean, if Christmas is busy, they probably take their vacations in the middle of the year, right? Anyway, it’s not a big- Seokjin!”

You cringe violently as the dark-haired man waves over your tour guide, a stout redhead with a friendly face and clever eyes, greeting the elf with an over-enthusiastic handshake.

“Franklyn,” he cheers jovially, though his eyes glitter in an entirely different manner, “I wanted to ask you a quick question. How do we go about booking a cabin here, perhaps for a week or so?”

The elf’s eyebrows lift slightly, and you watch as he leans his body backwards, before his arm goes taut and holds him back in place. You watch him swallow hard as he realises Seokjin isn’t letting go of his hand. “Uh, you can ask at reception, sir.”

Your husband doesn’t blink. “Reception’s closed.”

A tense smile breaks out on Franklyn’s face. “This place isn’t so well run, huh? You’d be better off vacationing in one of our luxury holiday resorts in East Cane! That’s the place we’re headed to next, it’s about an hour out of the city but it’s got reindeer riding and the Auro-”

“We prefer the city life,” Jin interrupts smoothly, finally dropping Franklyn’s hand with a flourish, wiping his palm on his jeans with a never-faltering grin. “How about you recommend us a place to stay inside Middlenog.”

“But Middlenog isn’t for-” Franklyn coughs suddenly, a tinny noise that sounds entirely artificial. “Hey, how about I fetch you folks some more dessert? Calories don’t count on a holiday, you know!”

You hum, eyeing up the buffet table they had set up, a few picnic tables pushed together and laden with food. “Actually, I wanted to try the mudca-”

“We noticed you haven’t eaten yet, sir.” You’re taken aback when it’s the elf this time, not your husband that cuts in. Franklyn has his head tilted just enough that his small, felted hat doesn’t tip off, and his smile is plastic.

Jin goes silent for a moment, jaw flexing slightly, in the way that you noticed it did whenever he was concentrating extremely hard on something. “You noticed me, did you?”

Franklyn doesn’t explain further. “The food is completely free, and if the clients don’t finish it, we have to throw it out. All those meats, breads, cakes, puddings; they were all put there for you to enjoy as a part of the tour. So go on; be naughty.” Franklyn winks at the both of you like it's an inside joke shared between friends.

You begin to feel uneasy, but Seokjin just holds his gaze. “I think I will,” he says slowly.

“Good!” Franklyn’s clear relief is shattered by the ringing of a stick of jingle bells, the driver elf standing outside the bus, waving the couples and families back inside. The redhead deflates a little, before puffing himself up and smiling down at the both of you. “Well; why don’t you take something to go? We aren’t meant to have food or drink on the bus, but I won’t tell if you don’t!”

You curl your arms inwards as they rest on the table, slipping them off the edge to hug yourself. Something about this interaction struck you as extremely unpleasant, even as Franklyn beamed down at you. Maybe it was something about the way he bared his teeth as he smiled. Perfectly pearly whites.

“Well thanks, Franklyn,” Jin cheers, moving to stand up. “I’ll go quickly browse the selection and pick out something for the ride. Give us just a minute!”

Franklyn nods happily, waiting for Jin to take you by the arm and lead you to the now-abandoned table of food. Once you reach it, some of the food still steaming lightly, Franklyn tips his hat to the two of you and runs up to the bus, mumbling something to the driver before leaning back out with his hand on the door, waiting.

“Fuck,” Jin hisses under his breath, “keep a smile on your face while you talk. He can’t get suspicious.”

You laugh and poke him playfully, though your heart pounds inside. “What’s going on?” you whisper. “I think something’s not right here.”

He reaches around you for a bread roll, lathering on some herby butter. “Listen to me very carefully, baby. We’re going to get on that bus, wait for it to pick up enough speed, and we’re going to pull the emergency door lever and jump out into the forest.”

You glance at Jin sharply, seeing Franklyn perk up at your movement. Forcing yourself to maintain a calm appearance, you let yourself freak out on the inside. “What do you mean, Jinnie? We can’t do that.”

“You feel it too, don’t you? They want us out of the city. There’s something they’re not telling us, something they’re hiding. I just know it.”

You pretend to inspect a squeeze bottle of sauce, trying to ignore the way your hands tremble as Franklyn in your blurry peripheral impatiently checks his watch. “Jinnie, I’m scared.”

“If we get caught, we say it was an accident. Trust me, honey, it’s better we leave them and their influence as soon as possible. I think they’re spiking our food.”

You gasp, catching it at the last second and letting the air bubble in your throat. “They can’t do that,” you defend reluctantly, though your stomach turns at the thought of the butterscotch pudding you had devoured just minutes before. “Do you really think so?”

“I’m convinced,” he replies shortly, picking up a paper plate stuffed full of goodies. “So take food to make it look like we’re eating, but don’t have any more, okay? I haven’t eaten any yet, so if something happens, I’ll take care of you.”

Your eyes prickle violently and your knees threaten to buckle. “Seokjinnie, I’m scared.”

“We should get back on the bus.”

“I don’t wanna get back on the bus.”

“We need to,” he instructs in a low voice, hand on the small of your back the only thing that anchors you. “We’ll get off soon, okay? Wait for my signal, then jump and roll. Don’t try and land, just roll.”

You stare as the entrance to the bus nears closer, Franklyn trying his best not to send you both a withering glare as he gestures for you to hurry up. “Okay, baby.”

Jin waits until he’s just within earshot of the tour guide before speaking up one last time. “We should’ve gone to fucking Hawaii.”

The impact jerks most of your memory from your mind. One moment the two of you are holding hands tight enough to turn the knuckles white, and the next your vision is blurred, a pounding in your head and sour copper in your mouth.

The two of you fall on grass, tumbling over each other as your momentum carries you, but it’s uneven and littered with stones from the road and snapped twigs from the forest. You spit out a mouthful of blood, stumbling to your feet with shivering limbs, and even as your ears ring, you hear your husband calling your name, tugging on your arm to pull you along towards the dense thicket of trees.

You’re blubbering, hiccuping on blood and snot and tears, but the squealing of tires drags your attention back up the road, where thick black streaks of tar lead to the bus, heads poking out the windows, and a bewildered redhead elf hopping out to stand on the road, yelling something you’re too shell-shocked to decipher. Jin tugs at your arm, jerking you forward, but it’s not until the elf, in his tan shorts and bright green short sleeved button-down, reaches up to remove his felt hat, chucking it to the side and breaking into a run, arms pumping furiously at his sides in tune to the jingling of the bells on his pointed shoes.

You cry out at the sight, finally catching your feet underneath you and sprinting as fast as you can, your husband hot on your heels. Darting through the trees, trying to watch out for uneven ground, you suck in shallow lungfuls of air, pushing and pushing as the two of you make it deeper into the forest. Soon enough, your lungs begin to burn and your legs ache, wanting nothing more than to curl up.

You halt yourself, ducking instinctively behind a tree, listening out over your panted breaths for any sign of Franklyn. As you slowly catch your breath, holding a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound, you turn to face your husband, who’s pressed up against an adjacent trunk, brows furrowed in concern.

The two of you stay like that for a moment as your ears strain for sound of anyone incoming, but there is none. Tentatively, you lean out from the cover of the tree and look around. You’ve gone deep enough into the forest that light is dim here, and you can no longer see the road. In fact, no matter which way you turn, you’re faced with a bleak infinity of tall, mournful trees, silent bar from the rustling.

Your blood runs cold. Silent. It’s not just a lack of noise from Franklyn. There’s no evidence of life anywhere, no chirping of birds or flapping of wings, no scratching of squirrels climbing up the trees. Your gaze falls down to the forest floor, a thick layer of pine needles, leaves and twigs lay over barren grey dirt. From outside, from the road, the forest looked rich, vibrant, branches heavy with snow. But here, the thicket is so densely packed that all the snow hangs heavy on the upper branches, and below is a dead void, long, bland tree trunks more like skeletons that living organisms.

“I think we lost them,” you husband whispers into the expanse. “Or at least he gave up on following us. Those shoes didn’t look built for running.”

Anticipating a day of exploring, the two of you had put on sneakers for the tour that morning from your hotel, and you feel so grateful for that decision. The pair of you in basic jeans and warm sweaters and jackets would be faring far better than the elves in their kitschy uniforms, and at this point you would take any advantage you could get.

But still, the odds were against you, and in the open hollow of the forest, you felt that more than ever. “Jinnie, what are we gonna do? We’re lost and we left that food on the bus.”

“It had something in it, Y/n.”

“Getting a little high or sleepy is better than starving to death!”

Seokjin sighs in internal frustration and rubs his face. “Y/n, sit down.”

You frown, legs folding to sit cross-legged on the ground. “Seokjinnie, it’s cold,” you complain. He stares at you for a few moments as you shuffle uncomfortably, trying to smooth out the prickly debris below. You huff at him. “What?”

“Why are you sitting down?” he asks softly. “It’s the middle of winter and those jeans are your only layer on your bottom half.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “Because you asked me to, assho-” You go stock still, gaze darting up to meet his in fear. “Oh god.”

Your husband’s face crumples, rushing forward to pull you back up by the arms. “They’re keeping us compliant, Y/n. Everything this tour has been showing us is a fucking lie. And if they stuff us up with free food that keeps us obedient, then we’ll go back home after the trip telling everyone how perfect and wonderful the North Pole was. I… I don’t know how long it’s going to take for the drugs to wear off, Y/n.” He pulls you into a hug suddenly, arms tight around your shoulders. His voice is shaky, thick. “If we meet someone, honey, you need to stay close to me, okay? You need to be very very careful.”

You nod, hands finding their way up to clutch at his back, breathing in his familiar scent. “Jinnie, we need to keep moving. I know it’s dangerous, but we have to find someone. We don’t know the terrain. If we don’t have anyone to help us we’re getting caught by nightfall. And besides; there’s no way we could survive this weather overnight without any supplies.”

He exhales heavily enough to ruffle the hair on the back of your head, squeezes you one last time, and pulls away. “You’re right,” he concedes with eyes bright with tears, “let’s keep going forward until we find something. Or someone.”

The walk is relatively peaceful, for a few hours. The exercise keeps your body warm, and the deeper into the forest you go, the scenery slowly begins to come to life again. After about an hour, the washed-out trunks are replaced with rich brown, stout builds with patches of moss bursting colour on the sides. The lifeless packed dirt softens and changes to soil, a spongy layer of freshly fallen leaves replacing the dry remnants that littered the outskirts.

It’s several hours before you hear anything other than your own steps. The sun slips lower and lower in the sky, a fat disc of yellow ochre that dissipates before it reaches you. Jin and you don’t speak, don’t waste the energy it would take to make conversation. The total, somber hush of the forest is broken for the first time by a high, piercing yell.

The two of you freeze suddenly, ducking behind the two nearest tree trunks like your lives depended on it. Without a visual of the action, your eyes go hazy staring back the way you came, at the deep wall of trees between you and the civilisation you ran from. You let your ears focus in instead.

There’s a solid thump, followed by the involuntary oof of someone being winded. You muffle a gasp and curl into a ball at the sound of multiple voices, jeering loudly.

“What are you gonna do now, Golden Boy? No one to defend you now. We got rid of Yoongi, and we’ll get rid of you, too.”

Another sound of impact, and the victim of the assault lets out a whine that echoes through the forest. “You’re just nasty! What did he ever do to you?”

A different, lower voice cuts in with another hit. “Oh, shut it, tinseltoes. The two of you are little rats, you don’t appreciate everything the ones in charge give you. It’s not just us; we had a request from the big guy himself to stop you from meddling.”

You and Jin share a frantic, wordless stare. He was right after all. There was something fishy going on. You can see on your husband’s face the way he reaches his decision. The emotions that play in his eyes, the doubt followed by determination. As the two separate voices continue to harass the third, Jin waves at you once to remain where you are, and jumps out from behind the tree. You gasp silently, shaking your head with wide eyes, but he’s already making his way towards the commotion.

“Hey! Stop picking on this poor elf!”

“And who the fuck do you think you are, pal?”

You cringe at the roughness of the strangers’ voices, cursing out why your husband would ever do that. Jin, however, just gets more fired up, and you hear surprised grunts, and some scuffling, like he’s shoved one or both of them.

The two begin to get louder, yelling, and the moment you hear the unmistakable sound of flesh impacting on flesh, you can’t stay in your spot any longer. Jumping out, your heart breaks at the sight of your husband cradling his cheek with a pained expression, opposite arm raised in a guarding position to protect himself.

Past him is a figure curled up on the ground, but you pay it no mind, keeping a careful eye on the two attacking elves. Both are short, but while one is scrawny, an unflattering comb-over under his felt hat, the other is stout, fist still clenched, an angry red colouring the deep lines on his face. Their attention is caught by your sudden movement, and they do a double take, glancing at Jin, then back at you.

“Wait a minute,” the taller one one growls, “what’s wrong with you two? Your faces aren’t….” He scrunches his face in disgust, spitting into the dirt thickly. “Fucking humans, aren’t you?”

The older elf narrows his eyes at you, open hatred on his face. You notice upon closer inspection that the both of them catch the light, a faint silver shimmer on their cheekbones. You wonder if this was the thing you and Jin were apparently lacking to out you as humans. “It’ll be the Sweet Adventures bus tour again. Dragging filthy mundane scum through the streets of Middlenog. You don’t belong here, got it?”

Jin sets his jaw with a wine, eyes bright with anger. “We’re the scum? You took this poor kid out into the middle of the woods just to beat him up.”

“If he had any elf-magic in him like the rest of us, he’d be able to fight back,” the older elf retorts.

The figure curled up behind Jin shifts, a head poking out from his legs. “I do-o,” he whines miserably, hiccuping a sob. Instinctively, Jin reaches down to place a hand protectively on the soft brown hair of the boy, patting comfortingly.

“Well, show us then, Golden Boy,” the brawny elf mocks. “Every other elf has enough for a little spark, so why can’t you? Do you really despise yourself that much? Fucking pathetic.”

A wet sniff comes from behind Jin’s thigh, and you watch small hands wrap themselves around his knee; even with two, his fingertips barely touch. Jin glances over at you with a pleading look, and you nod slowly. Clearly both of you had the same rising protective urge over this small elf that you hadn’t even properly seen.

Steeling your spine and hoping your stern face looks intimidating, you turn to the elves. “I bet you two haven’t visited any human cities, right?”

The smaller one curls his lip. “Why would we?”

You take a breath, willing your voice not to shake. “Then you probably don’t know much about our weapons.”

The two exchange a look. Jin tries to make eye contact with you, but you ignore him. “We know some,” the smaller one says warily.

“When I came here, I brought something to protect myself. I don’t want to have to use it, but I will.” Trying to disguise the trembling of your hands, you slip the backpack from your back. Of course the two of you hadn’t thought to pack food or water, or really anything for survival, but you do know one thing Jin insisted on bringing that just might save your asses. You reach in and pull it out, praying your husband’s look of bewilderment doesn’t ruin your bluff. “Do you know what this is?”

The elves stare wide-eyed at the can of spray-on cologne in your hand. Even the smallest ducks out from behind Jin, his wide doe eyes the first actual glimpse of his face you’ve seen thus far. The tougher elf reaches out an arm to prevent his friend from backing away when they see the spray bottle. “Is it… It’s not a gun, right?”

You grin. Thank fucking god. “That’s right,” you affirm with a nod, raising it quickly enough that they all flinch. “And if you don’t come back the way you came, I’ll have no choice but to fire. This gun is particularly effective because it can shoot at long distances. So you better watch your step all the way back home.”

The elf with the hat shrinks back, tugging at his companion, who stands there for a moment, nose flaring. Finally, he relents, not before jabbing a finger in your general direction. “The two of you will fucking pay for this, you hear me? The second we reach the town, we’re calling the Jollies on you. You may have won this time, but in the scheme of things, you’ve already lost.”

He shoots you one last glare, but you straighten your arm and tighten your finger on the trigger, and the two turn tail, rushing noisily through the trees. They glance back a few times to see if you’re still aiming at them, but you don’t let your arm fall until you can no longer make out their forms.

Once the tiny blips disappear from view, you let it drop, sinking to the ground in an anxious heap. “Jesus. Your fucking bougie cologne. After all that.”

Jin grins, but you can tell his relief from the way the tension leaves his shoulders. “You’re just lucky I have good taste, honeybun. That ‘bougie cologne’ just saved our lives.”

You hear a hiccup. “C-clone?” a small voice questions.

Your exhaustion leaves you, and instead your maternal instinct rises again. “Hey, little guy,” you coo, “are you okay? You’re not hurt?”

You see his tiny fingers scrunch up the thick fabric of Jin’s jeans as he buries his face out of sight again. “Can you put the clone gun away?” he cries out in a wavering voice. “Koo doesn’t like violence. ‘S scary.”

Jin laughs, a comforting sound to both you and the frightened elf. Ruffling his hair, Jin gently detaches the boy from his leg so that he can crouch down in front of him. “No need to be scared, buddy. It’s not a gun.”

The small figure has his knees up and his fists bunched up over his face, so that only his mussled hair shows. Slowly, though, his fingers relax. “It’s not?”

“It’s cologne. Something that makes you smell nice. Y/n was just tricking the mean men so that they’d leave us alone.”

He hums in consideration, brushing at the dust that’s collected on his overalls. In a total contrast of Franklyn and the other elves running the tour, both the two bullies and Koo were in extremely dull clothes, nothing like those TV-ready red-and-green confections that the others wore. The overalls you saw now were a washed-out green, clearly too big for him judging by the way the ankles had to be rolled up several times and the suspenders kept slipping off his shoulders. Underneath was a grey t-shirt, too thin to provide any real warmth, and his arms were prickled with goosebumps. In fact, the only real decent piece of clothing he wore were a pair of heavy-duty black boots, something you’d see in a factory. “Y/n,” the young elf repeats experimentally in a shaky voice. Your heart melts at the sound. “Y/n saved Koo?”

“Well, Jin helped too,” your husband defends immediately. “But yes. You’re safe with us, Koo.”

Finally, Koo drops his hands and lifts his face up. Eyes just as wide as before glimmer with unshed tears, wet streaks tracking over his cheeks, which are bright with a silver blush that glows from below the skin. Strange, you think. You hadn’t noticed that on Franklyn.

Jin sighs, fondly patting him on the cheek. “Listen, Koo. My wife and I jumped out of a tour bus, and we’re now pretty lost. I know you must be shaken up right now, but if you could help us, we’d really appreciate it. A place to stay, some food or water, even just directions.”

Koo rubs his button nose with the back of his hand, blinking owlishly. “You- You want my help?”

“If that’s okay.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, nose scrunched up with the effort of it, like he can’t process what your husband is telling him. Shaking his head, he opens his eyes again with a pout. “I’m not a very good elf to ask for help. I can’t even do elf-magic like everyone else. You don’t want me.”

You frown softly, shuffling closer to him. “How come you can’t do elf-magic? Were you not taught it or something?”

He rubs his eyes hastily, wiping away the tears that spring up again. “It’s not taught,” he explains in a shaky voice, “it comes from your heart. The more love you give and receive, the more magic you have. The other elves make fun of me because- because-” he jerks with a sob, burying his face in his hands again. When he talks again, it’s muffled. “Even if you’re the meanest, loneliest elf in the world, you still have a little bit of magic because of your self love. But Koo can’t even make a spark. I’m a bad elf,” he blubbers hopelessly, whole body wracked with sobs.

You stare at Jin with wide eyes, feeling yourself tear up at the confession. Without a second thought, you launch your body forward and wrap your arms around the crying elf in a tight hug, pulling him up so you can rub his back soothingly.

He freezes for a moment, but as you and Jin both coo sweet reassurances, you feel him go lax against you, arms coming up hesitantly to hug you back. You feel the pressure of his chin as he tucks it into the crook of your neck, and the wetness of his cheek on your skin. “Wh-what is this?” he questions in a weak voice.

“It’s a hug, Koo,” you explain haltingly. “Do you really not know what a hug is?”

“It’s nice,” the elf mumbles instead, wriggling slightly to snuggle in deeper.

You glance up at Jin over his shoulder. The pleading look in your eyes is probably akin to a child asking to a parent, can we keep him? but you can’t help yourself. There’s something about Koo, something about the innocent galaxies in his wide eyes, something about the way he buries himself into the warmth of a kind stranger like his life depends on it. There’s something about him that makes you want to keep him by your side, safe forever.

Judging by everything else you had seen so far, and what Koo had mentioned of the other elves, it didn’t seem like a very nice place for him to be living. When you left - that is, if you managed to leave - you wanted to take him with you.

“Koo,” you say slowly, “do you… do you have a place where we could stay for the night? We just need a night to regroup and then we’re going to try and go back home. Back to the human world. Would you like to come with us?”

You feel his chest expand in a deep breath as he regains himself. Gently, almost reluctantly, he pulls away to glance up at you, shaking his thick brunette hair from his face. Though you didn’t notice it before, it’s a lot longer than you would have expected, longer than any other elf you’d seen so far. He absentmindedly runs his fingers through it as he speaks, dislodging the twigs and leaves that are knotted up from being sprawled on the ground. He winces as a particularly matted section of hair gets caught, but his eyes are still so wide and vulnerable as they look up at you. “The human world? I- I don’t think I’d fit in there…”

Jin’s eyes soften sadly. “Do you fit in here?”

Koo drops his head, giving up on taming his disheveled locks. He shrugs solemnly in resignation. “I have a place I like to go to sometimes, when I wanna be alone. It’s not too far from here.” He lifts his head again, a small smile playing at his lips. It’s the first time you’ve seen him smile. “We call it the Clubhouse. You know; like Mickey Mouse?”

Jin laughs, brushing his jeans as he stands up. “You elves have Disney Channel or something?”

Koo cranes his neck up to the elder, shuffling his feet. “We don’t have television or internet here, but one of my cousins smuggled in some tapes once. Mickey was my favorite.”

Jin’s eyes dart to you in worry at the mention of smuggling. How bad was this place? “Could you take us to the Clubhouse, Koo? If you help us now, we can help you escape from here. Please.”

Indecision is plain to see on Koo’s face. His eyes waver, he sucks bottom lip into his mouth and hollows his cheeks, hands in his lap fiddling restlessly. "Uh... Mm... I don't know..." He darts his watery gaze over to you and you give him what you hope is your most reassuring smile. That seems to do it; the tension in his body melts, and he slumps, nodding in tiny jerks. "O-okay then. But I have one condition." He's never looked more serious, more grim. "You need to help me find my brother first."

---

With poor insulation, Koo's hideout is still on the colder side, though it's still far more tolerable than outside. As the three of you trekked through the thick forest, the sun had fallen, and quickly the outdoors was inhospitable. Although elves had done a good job over time at maintaining survivable temperatures right in the centre of the North Pole, the majority of the continent was still arctic tundra, and so a lot of the heat was leached or blown away by icy winds.

The Clubhouse really wasn't more than a cleverly-secluded treehouse, one that he had to guide you how to climb, with just the branches rather than planks or handholds to aid the way. It was sturdy enough that you felt comfortable staying the night, but three persons was clearly over capacity, as you had no choice but to sit directly on your husband's lap as Koo tucked himself into the corner opposite, taking a battered hairbrush to his tangles.

You lean into your husband's warmth, part of you wishing it was just him so that the two of you could be alone, but mostly grateful that you had come across an elf like Koo in the first place rather than freezing to death outside. Jin has his arms loosely around your waist, resting on your lap, but even just their weight is enough to reassure you a little. You tip your head back onto his shoulder, almost missing the look of something akin to confusion in Koo's eyes.

"So this brother of yours," Jin begins, "he's a criminal?"

Koo flinches, face crumpling. "He's not," he defends thickly, tossing his hairbrush noisily into the cabinet of belongings he took it from. "Yoongi shouldn't be in prison, he didn't do anything wrong."

"People don't just go to prison for no reason, Koo," Seokjin retorts, not unkindly, "we aren't judging, but we need to know what we're getting into here. Was it something small like stealing or is he a murde-"

"It wasn't his fault!" Koo fires back in a weak scream, making the two of you jump. He blinks, and fat tears fall from his lashes, barely touching his cheeks as they fall to wet the floor in dark spots. "It wasn't his fault," he repeats hollowly, making no effort to wipe his running nose. He lies against the back wall, staring into space, brows furrowed with guilt. "It was me. He took the fall to protect me." He breathes shakily, taking a moment to compose himself.

"Yoongi's a good person. He's my brother. We were working in the factory together when I was fifteen. It was-"

"A factory?" you interrupt incredulously. "When you were fifteen years old? That's child labour."

Koo's taken off-guard by your exclamation. "Well, yeah. Little elves work better in the smaller factories like tinsel factory where we worked because you can fit more. How else could we make money for food?"

Your eyes prickle violently as your hand comes up to cover your mouth.

Jin's voice is calm as it comes from behind you but you can see the way his hands tremble as they rest on your thighs. "So you and this Yoongi guy were working in the factory. Are you able to finish your story, Koo?"

The elf nods, wiping away his tears with a fist before continuing. "I didn't take it seriously back then. I was stupid, showing up late and not working hard. I had two strikes, and one day I accidentally broke the stringing machine. If I had gotten caught, I would've been fired and then Yoongi and I wouldn't have had enough money for the both of us. He thought if he said it was him it would be his first strike and it would be fine." He squeezes his eyes shut, forcing out more wet tracks to run down his cheeks, and his shoulders shake. "We didn't know. The three-strike policy was only for minors. He said he was the one that broke it and they took him to prison. To Candyland."

"Koo," you make out in a garbled sob, breaking Jin's hold to rush forward and pull him into a hug. It seems Koo recognises it this time, because he reaches his arms up like a child and lets you embrace him tightly, wailing noisily in your ear, shaking like a leaf. You squeeze him even more snugly as he lets out his heartbreak.

Jin moves past you in the cramped space to rub his back, sending you a worried gaze. "Koo, buddy, how old are you now?"

The boy sniffs. "Twenty-two," his voice sounds from behind you, heaved sobs slowly reducing to weak trembles.

Jin bites his lip, cheeks puffing out at the action. "Seven years, then. I-" he breaks off with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I hate to say it, Koo, but there's a good chance he's not still in the same place he was taken away to. You don't know for sure that if we go to that prison Yoongi will even still be there. We're risking everything by putting ourselves in danger's way, and we might not get anything back for it."

You glare at your husband, rubbing Koo's shoulder yourself, but the younger boy just pushes off you, sitting up and twisting around to stare at Jin.

"I know," he says somberly, "but what kind of elf would I be if I didn't even try?"

Jin returns the eye contact silently for a moment, before nodding in resignation. "We'll go first thing tomorrow."

The prison is bigger than you imagined. Rather than a simple complex of cells, it's closer to a camp, with several different concrete buildings spread across an open expanse of barren grey dirt. An endless trail of hunched over elves spill out of a bungalow furthest from the bushes you've ducked behind, single-file like ants as they make their way in tattered overalls over the lifeless land and towards a massive building, tall enough to block out the weak sun, wide enough that the far end almost disappears into the horizon, what looks like an endless, monstrous factory topped by several twisting chimneys that force up black smoke that clots the sky in smears of grey, sucking up any remaining colour.

Koo's face is stricken, looking over it. You suspect he's never actually witnessed it up close, though it was only a few hours' walk from his treehouse. Your one saving grace had been the lack of any elves out and about in the backstreets of Middlenog so early in the morning when you had rushed there, but now it seemed that luck had run out.

Regular patrols roamed the yard, easy to spot as they were the only elves in the traditional bright colours - though even then, they were closer to heavy military than friendly Christmas elves. Their uniforms were thick, tough fabric like you'd see a SWAT team wear, but they were a dark red like dried blood. The pants were tucked into solid camo-green boots, and each and every one you could spot were holding giant guns, painted over the same shade of muddy green, held in the arms or slung over a shoulder. From the ones close enough to see properly, their faces were hardset, all tough jaws and furrowed brows. Nothing like the softness of Koo's features, with his plump cheeks and delicate lips.

Speaking of the young elf, you glance back over at him in concern. His face has gone so pale that almost all of his silver glow has leached away, and his hands are shaking violently. In preparation of the risky heist, he had put his hair up off his face, two strips of ragged fabric serving as ties, one on either side, just above and behind his ears. The pigtails would be cute, were it not for the long-lived sorrow in his eyes.

"And this place is called Candyland?" Jin questions incredulously. "It's a nightmare, is what it is. Jesus."

Koo bites his lip with a shrug. "It used to just be called the Middlenog Penitentiary, I think. But when we started getting human tourists... Well, us elves aren't meant to interact with humans anyway, but just in case they got lost or something, they didn't want the humans to think we have a prison. If we just say Candyland, they assume it's nice."

Your mind whirs, your stomach turning. "It's gotta be over thirty years, right?"

Jin frowns. "Huh?"

"The North Pole has been open to tourists since, like, the eighties or something. All that time and nobody's seen how horrible it really is? When we get out, we have to say something, maybe we can- I don't know, stop it? How does nobody know about this?"

Jin opens his mouth with the beginnings of a shrug, but then freezes, mouth dropping open. "Fuck." Koo jumps a little at the curse word, worried pout deepening, but your husband's attention is fully on you, a frantic fear in his eyes that you've never seen before. "Y/n. You know all those stories on the news, tourists that went off-tour and went missing or died?"

You nod automatically, before what he's implying sinks in. "You don't think..."

Jin reaches out to grip onto your hand tightly, breathing through his nose to try and stop his voice from wobbling. "If this is what they treat their own people like, imagine what they'll do to outsiders. If we get caught, honey, I don't think it's just going to be a slap on the wrist or deportation."

Your fingers tighten around his in fear, and you glance back the way you came, debating just turning around and giving up on the whole prison-break scheme. But then you turn around again, and you see the vulnerability in Koo's eyes, the careful hope, the deep-residing guilt. You swallow hard. "Then we don't get caught."

Jin sighs out slowly. "Yeah. Okay." He shuffles a bit to adjust his crouching position, and lets go of your hand to place both on Koo's shoulders. "Listen. Do you have any information on where he'd be, how we're going to find him?"

Koo takes a stabling breath. "Um, I think, he- If he's still here, you can probably find him in the sleeping part, over there." He points, careful to keep his hand out of view of the patrol, to the bungalow where elves still pour out in a slow trudge. "It's alphabetical order, so Yoongi will still be waiting to go, I think. The beds have names too, apparently. Yoongi always told me that's how they keep track of them all, make sure every bed with a name has an elf in that night."

Jin processes this, jaw working. "So that means by tonight, they'll notice him missing?" Koo nods. "Fuck, so we need to get back to the station before then."

You feel tendrils of doubt wrap around your lungs, shortening your breath. "How are we gonna get past the security, Jinnie? I bet Franklyn's already warned them that we're missing."

"We can't think about that now," Jin brushes off, his brow furrowed with concern as he glances past the bush, out to the single-file prisoners and patrolling guards. "Okay. There's a scrawnier elf heading our way, his rifle's tucked away, I can knock him out and use the uniform. Koo; what does Yoongi look like?"

You tip your head to the side. "Jin, why doesn't Koo just g-"

"You both are staying right here," your husband swiftly interrupts, voice lowering into a hush as the guard slowly strolls closer and closer. "If anything happens to me, Koo can get you out of here. Okay?"

Your eyes widen with alarm, but you force yourself to keep to a barely-audible whisper. "No! Not okay, Jin, I'm not leaving without you."

He glances up one last time, his face relaxing into grim acceptance and determination. He ducks forward, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your forehead, just on your hairline. "I love you," he mouths almost silently.

You reach up to grip his wrist, but he reluctantly shakes you off, and shuffles to the edge of the wild patch of bushes you're hid behind. The moment the guard passes into sight, Jin jumps, slapping a had over the guard's mouth and pinching his nose shut. He pulls the smaller body down, trapping his arms with a tight embrace and pinning down his legs against the ground.

You and Koo latch onto each other muffling your mouths as the figure struggles for a few long moments, grunts slipping out from behind Jin's palm occasionally. Finally, he goes limp, and Jin holds him still for another thirty seconds or so to be sure, before releasing him and urgently stripping off the uniform, awkwardly slipping it on as he remains crouched out of sight.

Noiseless tears track down your face and over your hand at the sight, at how what had meant to be a peaceful holiday had spiralled into something so twisted and threatening.

The uniform is too small for Jin, and you see him wince as the tough hem digs into his neck, but he forces the boots on and shuffles over to the two of you one last time, patting Koo's knee.

"I need to know something," he mutters hurriedly, "something only you and Yoongi know. In case he doesn't believe me. And I need to know what he looks like."

Koo's eyes waver in thought. "Well, he has light brown hair, almost blonde, like honey. He's short. Um. He kind of looks like a cat when he gets grumpy." Koo's face softens, a wisp of a smile playing at his lips. "Actually, that's what you can tell him. When we were really young, before either of us worked in the factory, we would go play in the forest or the fields all day. He'd pretend to be a cat, and I would be a bunny, and we'd chase each other and run around for hours, acting like we were free." A sudden flood of tears fills his eyes and overflows down his cheeks. "Tell him I miss him and I can't wait to see him."

Jin manages one sad smile before he's standing up, walking further into the yard the way the guard came, letting a stern gaze harden his features. Your heart thuds as he slowly wanders towards the bungalow, fighting the urge to hurry. Once he slips past the outflow of workers, you exhale, turning your back to the prickly wall of bush that conceals you.

The moment your gaze settles back, your mouth drops open, and you have to forcibly restrain yourself from swearing out loud. Beside the unconscious body, in nothing but a pair of plain briefs and grey woolly socks, lays Jin's jeans and jacket, and further beyond that, a gun. The guard's gun, that he must have either accidentally forgot or chosen not to carry. Fuck. Your husband was going into enemy territory with nothing to defend him. Worry fills you again like a sour balloon, blocking your airways and turning your stomach.

Beside you, Koo sniffs away his tears and tentatively shuffles closer to you, his arm pressing into yours. You glance over, and tuck your arm around him to pull him into a hug. "We'll get Yoongi," you promise, "if anyone can do it, it's Jin."

Koo snuggles in, short fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt absentmindedly. "Y/n," he starts.

"Hm?"

"Is Jin your brother?"

You barely manage to suppress a surprised laugh, it coming out as a snort instead. Hastily, you glance back to ensure your noise didn't attract any unwanted attention, but all the patrolling guards seem to have moved away, closer to the factory entrance where the incoming stream has bottlenecked, slowing down the line all the way to the bungalow. Hopefully this buys Jin more time to find Yoongi.

Bringing your attention back to the frightened elf in your arms, you shake your head, soothingly rubbing your hand up and down his outer arm. "Jin's my husband."

"Huz-bin?"

You freeze, glancing down at the boy. "Husband," you correct. "You don't have husband and wife here? No marriage? Boyfriend, girlfriend?"

He sits up, out of your embrace. "Huh? We have friends. Well; some of us have friends, yeah. I don't understand the other words," he admits, head ducking forward so that his pigtails dip, partially covering his face.

You find yourself struggling for words. "It's- Well, it's like love. Um. You love Yoongi, right?" Koo frowns slightly, like he's not following. "There are different types of love, you know. Love between friends, and between brothers, like you and Yoongi. You can give each other hugs to show your love. Another type of love is romantic. As well as hugs, you kiss each other and... do stuff like that. God, I don't know how to- Do you know what kissing is, Koo?" He shakes his head blankly.

You rub your eyes tiredly. "Man, how wou- Oh! Just before, when Jin left us to go, he kissed me on the forehead. Do you remember that?"

Koo thinks back, eyes wandering, before nodding slowly. "Like..." He presses his lips out in a full pout and dips, the motion of Jin pressing a kiss to your forehead, although far more awkward.

Despite the entire nightmare you'd ended up in, you find yourself grinning at his jerky imitation of a kiss. "Yeah, that's it, Koo. People that love each other romantically can kiss each other in lots of different places. It's really common in the human world. When Jin and I take you and Yoongi back home with us, you'll see."

Koo nods with a grateful smile, but he can't help the tears that fill his eyes again. "I hope so," he sobs quietly. "I hope it's us four."

Your heart breaks, and you can't think to do anything but nod, throat tight. Suddenly, you hear footsteps quickly approaching, and you gasp, clapping a hand over your mouth and whirling around to glance past the bush into the courtyard, melting when you see your husband, intact and unharmed, dragging a prisoner by the upper arm.

"Koo, it's them," you rush out, and the younger elf lets out a surprised whimper, clutching at your sleeve as he glances out.

The shorter figure that Jin tugs along is stumbling and flailing as if to struggle and break away, but his grime-streaked face is light with awe.

"Yoongi!" Koo squeals desperately, voice cracking, and you can see the way both Jin and Yoongi's eyes widen in fear at the noise.

You hurriedly turn and grab onto Koo, shushing him as you frantically glance around to see if any guards overheard, before turning to Jin and shaking your head. Though he keeps his inconspicuous, glacial pace, the tension in his face relaxes.

Koo's vibrating like an energizer bunny underneath you, jumping uncontrollably in his excitement, though he manages to stay quiet enough until the two men are close enough to cast their shadows over you.

You release your arms, patting Koo on the back encouragingly. "Give him a hug, baby." The pet name slips out without you noticing, but Koo is too distracted to even hear it, gasping at the idea and leaping up to take the smaller elf in his arms.

Even though Koo is smaller than the average male human, Yoongi is even tinier, barely taller than five foot. As Koo throws himself at him, burying his face into the crook of Yoongi's neck, his eyes go wide in bewilderment, a deep silver blush rising on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Even with the dirt on his face, his glow is clear to see as he's embraced by Koo, mouth falling open and delicately slanted eyes startled like a kitten. You smile warmly as you see the resemblance to a cat that Koo spoke about.

"Wh-what is this, Koo?" Yoongi's voice is lower than Koo's, but so soft, so gentle, and the younger boy whines happily and holds him even tighter.

"It's a hug, Yoonie," Koo explains, his voice muffled. "The nice humans taught me. It means I love you, hyung."

Suddenly, like he understands, Yoongi raises his arms and wraps them around Koo's back, hugging him back with a fierce protectiveness that warms your heart. "I missed you Koo, I'm so sorry I left, I'm so sorry, hyung won't leave you ever again."

Koo sobs openly, murmuring something back you can't hear, and as the two quietly exchange sweet nothings to each other, you look up plaintively at your husband, hands out to invite him closer.

With eyes brimming with love and relief, he picks you up off the ground with ease, hands shifting to cup your face tenderly.

"I was worried," you pout, feeling your heart slowly return to its normal rate now that Jin is back with you again.

"I was gone five minutes tops," he brushes off, though his body still trembles slightly with the rush of adrenaline and relief. "Anyway, we need to get a move on, honey. Let's head ba..." He trails off, staring behind you with widening eyes.

Only then do you realise that all four of you are standing, blowing cover right on the outskirts of the prison complex. Your blood runs cold as you glance out behind Jin, further into the camp. As the last of the prisoners disappear into the factory, the guards follow behind, only one or two going the other way, into the bungalows to make sure everyone's left. You relax just slightly. It seems you missed getting caught by sheer luck-

"Hands up."

You go stiff as a board when you hear the voice from behind you, and you swear internally as you remember the missing part of the equation. As Jin shoves you hastily behind him protectively, you turn around to see the guard from earlier, standing in nothing but his underwear and socks, brandishing the gun directly at the four of you.

Jin throws his hands up, you following suit instinctively, and he shuffles the two of you back to join Koo and Yoongi, who've broken apart in shock, glancing back at forth at the guard and Jin, waiting anxiously for something to happen.

"There are four of us and one of you," Jin says slowly, "so just let us go and this will be better for everyone."

The guard, a slightly tubby but still built middle-aged elf, bristles, adjusting his grip on the gun. "I'm the one that's armed here," he forces out, "so you better watch it."

Jin shrugs, arms still raised. "Even so," he says, voice somehow completely calm, "I don't think you have the balls to actually do it."

You gasp loudly, breathing out your husband's name in surprise, but he just shushes you, shifting so his broad frame covers yours completely.

Your heart thuds in alarm as the guard flushes with anger, face reddening and finger tightening on the trigger.

"I will," he insists, though his voice isn't as stable as he probably intends it to be. "Why are you two trying to save stupid elves anyway? You won't get away with this."

Something about his comment rubs you the wrong way, niggles the back of your mind, an issue you can't quite put your finger on. As your mind whirs, your hands slowly slip lower and lower. Poking your head out from around Jin's side, you take a closer look at the weapon that's pointed at your heads. The paint is flaked off in some places from wear and tear, and you frown as you glance down the barrel, at how thin the hole is down the centre. There's something, too, about how wide and rounded the place where the bullets go is. You really know nothing about guns, have never needed to inspect one up close, but you're certain it shouldn't be-

It hits you, all at once. The second you make out the writing, the raised lettering that paint concealed but couldn't hide completely. MATTEL.

Your hands fall to your sides. You think perhaps his lips moving is him yelling at you to raise them, but really you don't care.

It's a toy gun. A water gun, probably, judging by the shape of it. This whole prison is run on empty threats. There's no danger here, not really.

Perhaps you would be scared of the potential of elf-magic, that tool which you didn't fully understand, but even then you know that's not a factor.

The guard barks an order at you, waving the gun like it's anything except cheap plastic, his face colouring an aggressive red as he raises his voice, trying to attract attention. "Stupid elves," he had said.

He wasn't an elf at all.

You turn your back on him, glancing behind Yoongi and Koo as a couple of guards rush out of buildings, looking around for the source of the commotion. This one guard with a kids' toy was no threat, but there were strength in numbers.

You share a look with Jin, before each grabbing a hand of Koo and Yoongi respectively, yelling at them to run and tugging them, as fast as you could go, towards the outskirts of the town, suburbs with countless windy, abandoned alleys for the four of you to lose the guards in.

You hear Koo let out a little scream when the guard pulls the trigger at you as you all rush past him, and a lukewarm spray of water hits you, wetting stripes over your clothes and hair, getting you on the back of the neck.

You all continue to run, closer to the first line of houses, feeling the sprays of water grow more distant. As all other factors disappear, and your survival instinct kicks in, the last thing you remember hearing is a peal of joyous, hiccupy laughter as Yoongi finally breaks free from Candyland.

The walk back feels longer. Perhaps it’s the constant fear of getting caught, of guards still hot on your tail, or perhaps it’s your urgency to get back home, but several times the four of you have to stop for a break, resting your body weight on age-old tree trunks and letting your muscles ache in their reprieve.

As the weak sun grows high in the sky, filtered through lofty canopies, you’re finally stopped by Koo as he silently points upward, where an inconscpicuous tree hides the Clubhouse. You hadn’t even seen the crude wooden form as you approached, so well was it hidden between branches.

Koo lets you and your husband get up first, guiding you from the bottom with one hand, the other still firmly interlocked with Yoongi’s. They had held hands the whole way home, like even a second without physical contact could tear them apart again. You couldn’t blame them.

Koo had overgrown his older sibling over the years, and while Yoongi tried to grumble about it, there was nothing but warmth in his voice, and he couldn’t hide the silver heat that rushed to his face and the tips of his ears whenever the two locked gazes.

You and Jin had suggested bypassing the hideout entirely, knowing that it would surely be better to go straight towards the station. Yoongi, however, was quietly but firmly adamant on revisiting the treehouse him and Koo had built as children, and you tried not to grow frustrated at the delay.

The station that you had initially arrived at was somewhat like an airport, rather than a real continuing line. There was one stop in and one stop out of the North Pole. A portal sustained by a deep silver glow of elf magic had taken a busload of tourists from a small city in Denmark - the closest place to the Arctic - directly into Middlenog, where heavy lines of security monitored everyone arriving and departing. At the time, you had marvelled at how safe and well-run everything was. Now, the thought of somehow sneaking past all those people seemed impossible.

“Are you coming up?” Jin calls down from his crouched perch in the treehouse. Having left his old clothes behind, he was stuck in the unflattering milital wear of the prison guards, and you could tell the sizing was an issue, his neck bearing a red ring where the hem had dug in.

You think you hear Yoongi muttering something as he potters around the base of the tree.

Koo cranes his neck up, eyes crinkled happily. “Just a minute!”

You’ve never seen him so cheery before, the way his head bobs between Yoongi and the two of you, two bundles of hair tied on either side of his face to show an excited grin. You watch Jin visibly soften at the sight, a gentle smile smoothing out the lines in his face.

After several moments of slow rustling, you finally hear a happy gasp, and Yoongi’s form stands up again, holding a small wooden box covered in dead leaves and dirt. He brushes it off, and tucks it under one arm, awkwardly climbing the tree one-handed to sit beside you with a pleased huff, thumbing the worn corners.

“You have it, Yoonie?” Koo calls up hopefully. After receiving confirmation, he joins the three of you, pressed tightly up against his older brother, resting his chin on Yoongi’s shoulder. “After all this time, hyung.”

“What is it?” you question curiously, leaning forward to stare at the small case, eyes wide as you watch Yoongi gently flick open the two metal latches to lift the lid. The hinges are slightly rusted, and he has to put all his strength into it, but the moment it gives and swings open, a pale silver light emanates from within, and Yoongi’s face goes lax with relief.

“I can’t believe it’s still here,” Yoongi breathes. He delicately sets down the box on his lap, pushing it closed and cradling it. He turns his head to the side, where Koo’s face is inches away from his own. With a rueful smile, he reaches up and pinches the flesh of Koo’s cheek fondly. “We were gonna run away, just Koo and I. One of my old friends once told me that if you pooled enough magic, you could make your own portal, a back door of sorts. It was how we were gonna escape. Back then.”

Koo’s eyes turn mournful, and his bottom lip wobbles just slightly. “I’m so sorry, Yoonie. I tried to keep adding to it for when you could come back home, but I couldn’t make any by myself.”

Yoongi just shushes him quietly, pressing his lips together in a sad smile. “I understand, Koo. But… there are four of us now. I don’t think this is enough for all of us.”

Koo lifts his head off Yoongi’s shoulder. “What if we made some more now?”

“Closer?” Jin questions, lines of worry back on his face with the bad news.

Yoongi mulls this over, biting his lip. “I don’t know if it would be enough…” He breaks off and looks up at you and Jin. “If we got closer, past the Middlenog border, I think we’d have a clearer path to the human world. Word in Candyland was that the elves in charge are using something to suppress elf magic. None of the guys in there could even make a spark. But perhaps if we made it out in the tundra, we’d be able to. We’d risk getting caught, but it’s our best chance.”

You share a look with Jin, shrugging in defeat. “We’ve come so far,” you point out, “why not test our luck one more time?”

The doubt on Yoongi’s face isn’t eased, the small elf’s delicate mouth twisting in concern. “But… We’d have to work fast. As well as dampening magic, the Middlenog borders protect the climate too. I don’t know how long we’ll survive out in the tundra. Even if we pass the border patrol, if we get there and it doesn’t work, we’re dead.”

It’s Koo that speaks up, a quiet resolve within that speaks beyond his years. “We’re dead already, Yoongi. Do you really think they’ll risk just sending you back to Candyland?”

Yoongi’s brow crumples, but he nods shortly, grabbing the box and standing up, holding a hand out to his brother. “We need to hurry,” he explains. “I know a way to the border, but we have to make it before sunset.”

Jin stands too, bending at the waist to avoid hitting his head on the roof. “Then let’s go.”

Although the walk to the Clubhouse was stressful, the two hour trek to the border is a nightmare. Yoongi leads you through shady backstreets and abandoned suburbs, Middlenog growing more desperate the further away from the centre you go. The constant threat of being caught out keeps all of you on edge, and the only conversation shared is whispered instructions and warnings.

The way Yoongi was taking you was only a couple of hundred metres west of the more populated, touristy areas. The heavily monitored areas. It also meant that you’d be avoiding the station, instead attempting to sneak out past the city limits away from the crowds. It was risky, because, like most countries, the North Pole had strict border patrol, but your chances were certainly higher than going through the regular channels.

It surprises you, the stark difference between the city and the tundra. Even as you approach, hidden by an overrun, wild orchard, you can see the line at which dirt and concrete becomes ice, the place where calm air gives way to billowing snow drifts. Even as your anxiety rises at the thought of braving such uninhabitable wilderness, there’s also a slow building of hope. Your freedom lay there, barely thirty feet away.

“Do you know how often patrols are?” you question, staring at the free space between you and the border.

Yoongi shifts, keeping the box pressed close to him. “Pretty regularly, but it won’t take us long to make it across, and then we can open the portal straight away.” Turning back to the two of you with a serious look, he places a hand on Koo’s back protectively. “It’s important that the two of you think of home. Your house, I suppose. Do you have the same house?”

You crack a brief smile at Yoongi’s obliviousness to the concept of marriage, but sober your expression and nod. “We just picture our house?” Yoongi nods, taking another glance out at the open land in front of you. “Then how will you two picture it? You’ve never seen it before; I don’t think either of us has a photo of the house on our phones.”

Yoongi’s brow furrows at the use of the word ‘phones’, but just shrugs patiently. “My home is with Koo.”

Koo nods, a gentle expression on his face. “And my home is with hyung, of course, but… But also with you two. Maybe?”

Your smile returns, warmer this time. “Both of you have a home with us, always.” Your throat constricts, and you clear it with a harsh cough. “Okay, if the border patrol isn’t coming anytime soon, I say we just go. We’re sitting ducks just waiting.”

“Ducks?” Koo repeats in confusion.

Jin barks a short laugh, and pats Koo on the shoulder. “Come on, kid. Let’s go home.”

The four of you ready yourselves - kept together a line connected by tightly-held hands - take one last glance for any patrolling elves, and then make a break for the border. Koo is in the front, Jin next, you third, and Yoongi bringing up the rear. As you sprint, you focus on the line where lifeless grey becomes luminous white, and the warmth of Jin and Yoongi’s hands in yours, fuelling your momentum.

The plunge of the Arctic grows nearer and nearer, and you feel your heart leap, marvelling at your final stroke of luck, when, just as your husband’s front foot leaps past the border, your back arm goes taut, the sudden snap back breaking your grip on his hand, and you and Yoongi go flying backwards.

You groan as you hit the cold, unforgiving dirt of Middlenog, shoving yourself up as quickly as your aching body allows to work out what happened. A yelp brings your worst fear to light, and you whirl around to see Yoongi being roughly dragged to his feet by a familiar face, a shock of red hair shining out beneath his felt cap. Franklyn.

Your eyes widen, more so when out of nowhere a burly arm wraps around you, pinning you to a solid chest. You cry out in rage, kicking, but the body the red-sleeved arm belongs to is far taller than you, and your toes barely touch the ground, placing all the pressure on your constricted chest.

On the other side, already buffetted by flakes of snow, your husband and Koo stare in horror as your group of four is violently split apart, and they rush forward, only to freeze when a third elf, one you recognise as the driver of the tour bus, lifts a sleek black revolver in their direction. Jin goes deathly pale and Koo, even in his elf-borne naivety, recognises the true danger of the loaded gun.

“What do you want?” Jin calls out, but the driver just stands silently, more of a guard dog than anyone worth negotiating with.

Franklyn, however, shifts Yoongi in his grasp, holding the struggling elf under one arm like a child as he crouches down to retrieve the fallen wooden box.

“Leave him alone, you bully!” Koo cries, stomping his foot in lieu of actually stepping forward like you can tell he’s itching to.

Franklyn laughs, craning his head as at least twenty elves, some in the same tactical uniforms Jin was in, flood out of a nondescript residential building directly beside the orchard, all carrying loaded weapons, ones a threatening gleam told you were all real. You watch in bafflement as they surround you, five or six of them taking the wooden box of magic from Franklyn, disappearing back into the building. Yoongi twists helplessly and lets out a wail as your only exit gets taken away, and you yourself feel your spirit die, going limp in the hold you were trapped in.

Franklyn passes Yoongi off to a more muscular elf, who doesn’t hesitate to rest the tip of his weapon against Yoongi’s jaw, and you hear the horrified sobs of Koo, even as his voice is whipped away by vicious winds that bring out an angry silver on his face. Jin fights back tears, nose and ears already a raw red from the cold. He gives you a mournful look, an apology that runs deeper than words, and you shake your head mutely. None of you could have known it would come to this.

“Did you really think,” Franklyn poses smugly, strolling forward to stand in front of you, a twisted grin on his face, “that you’d make it out of here? With two elves, no less? This isn’t a pet store, Miss Y/n.”

“No, it’s a fucking concentration camp,” you spit out, watching in rage as he lazily itches a spot on his collarbone, a red line rising on the surface after a few moments.

Franklyn, not an elf after all but a human like you, laughs. “It’s not our fault they’re so naive,” he deflects. With an evil glint in his eye, he runs a finger down your cheek, laughing as you squirm, and your husband yells from the other side. “It’s not our fault you are either,” he adds.

You go still. “What do you mean?”

He continues to pat your cheek patronisingly, gripping your jaw to keep your eyes on him. “It was fun, you know; watching that little red dot wander all over Middlenog. For a moment there, we thought you had actually been arrested. Imagine our surprise when the tracker came right back out.”

“Tracker,” you repeat slowly, feeling your stomach lurch.

Franklyn lets go of you, wiping his hand on the garishly festive costume he dons. “It’s a shame your darling husband didn’t enjoy any of the free food we offered. Luckily, just one of you was enough.”

You let out a shaky breath, beyond disgusted. “You guys are evil,” you snap at him, “and you won’t get away with this.”

Franklyn shrugs slowly. “I think we will, actually. First I’m going to shoot our little escaped convict here, then I’ll shoot you, and finally we’ll all sit and wait and see how long it takes the men out there to freeze to death.

You let out a sob, glancing over at your husband, who’s shivering violently, arms wrapped around the smaller body of Koo, both of them with icy tears freezing on their faces. “Fuck,” you whine, “please just me say goodbye. That’s all. Please just let me say goodbye to him.”

Franklyn sighs in resignation, dropping his head as he considers. After a moment, he nods slowly, and lifts it up again, staring you in the eye. “No.”

The foul taste of copper fills your mouth, and you realise that you’ve accidentally bitten into your lip, opening up the still-healing wounds from your fall from the tour bus earlier. It seems like years ago, even if it was only yesterday. The pain sobers you, and as fresh tears track endlessly down your face, you lean into it, poking your tongue at the rawness of it, keeping your eyes open as you watch Franklyn make his way over to Yoongi.

Finally stopping his struggle, Yoongi goes stock still in the hold of the human dressed as an elf. His feet dangle uselessly around the height of the man’s knees, and he glares at Franklyn as he approaches, taking the gun from the man to point it directly at Yoongi himself.

Yoongi’s bottom lip trembles, but he keeps his dignity, staring hard at the man who holds his life in his hand, all silver gone from his face from fear.

Past the border, you can still hear Koo’s mournful screaming, writhing and squirming in Jin’s grasp even as his voice cracks from the thin air. Franklyn ignores him, and that just makes the younger elf wail louder, kicking his legs out as he begs desperately.

The redheaded man cocks the gun, humming to himself as he aims, waving the barrel over Yoongi’s mouth, eyes, forehead, before settling under his chin, pointing up, watching as the elf fights his tears.

“This hurts me, you know,” Franklyn says with a sigh, though you see the glee in his eyes. “It hurts me to have to kill you. You’re no use to us dead. You filthy fucking elves should be grateful that we give you money for food and shelter, all in exchange for easy factory work. But no. Even after we dress up like Christmas monkeys to make you feel safe, even after we give you jobs, you’re still not grateful. So while it’s a shame that I’m wasting my resources here, I can’t deny that I’m going to enjoy this quite a bit. Come on; count down with me. Three.”

Yoongi finally lets out a sob, causing the human to laugh wickedly. You stare helplessly onwards, wanting to look away but feeling like you had to show this brave young elf support to the very end. His eyes aren’t on you, though.

“Two.”

Yoongi’s staring directly at his younger brother, directly at Koo. His eyes widen.

“One.”

Koo’s glowing.

Just as time slows down, and you see Franklyn’s finger tighten on the trigger, a sudden burst of light envelops you, and all the people around you. You shut your eyes, clenching them shut reflexively even as the blinding silver penetrates your eyelids.

You feel the grip around you vanish suddenly, and you fall to the ground without it, banging your knees and elbows on the hard dirt, pressing your hands over you eyes as a thick blanket of silence wraps around you.

When the endless silver light drops away, streaks of neon paint the black of your vision, constant starbusts that flicker when you blink. You groan, sitting up and staring in wonder at the scene that greets you.

Yoongi’s on the ground too, slowly getting up just like you. But every single human, every attacker in sight, is totally unmoving, some with arms or legs bent at awkward angles.

You and Yoongi’s eyes meet in wonder, the elf’s nose and upper lip smeared with liquid silver, drying like blood, and at the same time you look outward, towards the Arctic wilderness.

Jin’s on the ground, covered in snow, but no longer are relentless waves and buffets whipping his hair and clothes around. Instead, the air is perfectly still, like a bubble around him and Koo.

And Koo.

The youngest elf is the only one still standing, panting with wide eyes as the radiant glow beneath his skin slowly fades to a regular silver flush. The air is peaceful around him too, and once you get up off the ground you see a new line, a curve that leads out and around him, like an extension of the climate of Middlenog itself. He catches his breath quietly for a few moments, staring at the three of you and the destruction he caused to the humans.

Then, breaking the stunned silence of the group, Yoongi heaves out a relieved cry and rushes forward, taking Koo in his arms, the motion of a hug now ingrained in him as a sign of love. Koo breaks down in his grasp, and even though he’s larger, he looks so small in his older brother’s arms.

“So scared, hyung, I was so scared, they were gonna take you away again, Koo couldn’t-”

“I know,” Yoongi simply coos, rubbing his back and stroking his hair, both pigtails having long since fallen out from the wind. “But I’m still here, bunny. You saved me.”

Before you even realise he’s moving, Jin’s barreled into you full force, sweeping you off your feet in a spin, planting frantic kisses on every inch of your face. You squeal, breaking into an involuntary giggle when you feel his ice-cold lips on you, relaxing into his secure embrace.

“Fucking hell, I almost pissed myself,” Jin admits, and you laugh in a sort of delirious euphoria, throwing your arms up over his shoulders and pulling him in for a proper kiss. “I’m serious,” Jin muffles around your lips, “not even ‘cause I was scared, I just needed the warmth.”

“Stop it,” you whine with a dopey grin, “that’s not romantic at all. What about, ‘I thought I was gonna lose you, I love you so much?’”

Jin pulls back from you, cupping your cheeks tenderly and looking deep into your eyes. “I’ve never been more scared in my entire life,” he admits. “You’re my whole world, you know that? I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whisper back reverentially. “Now let’s go home.”

When you join the other two, you see Koo’s been busy. Behind him and Yoongi is a steadily growing window of molten silver, shifting like liquid though staying in a rough oval as it gets larger and larger. Yoongi’s staring at him, eyes brimming with pride, and as he reaches out to gently grab onto Koo’s hands, the portal expands faster, blooming with their combined efforts.

You and Jin wait in awed silence until it’s done, and the two elves turn back to you, flanking your sides.

“Think of home,” Yoongi instructs. Almost shyly, he reaches out his hand for you to hold on to, and Koo does the same to your husband. A small smile plays at his lips as his eyes dart to his younger brother and back to you. “And thank you.”

With overwhelming emotion making your eyes prickle, you turn to Jin, squeeze his hand a little tighter, and step forward.

#btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #ficswithluv #thekimlinenet #bts fanfic #bts oneshot #bts x reader #jin x reader #jin fanfic #jin fluff #jin angst #bts fluff #bts angst #bts fic

972 notes · View notes

softboywriting · 5 years ago

Text

Christmas Kiss | Shawn Mendes

Summary: You and Shawn have been friends since you were kids. You never meant to fall in love with him, his life and job now make a relationship hard. This Christmas you decide to tell him how you feel, there is only one problem, you’re sick with a cold and you don’t think you’ll get to see him. [fluff] [Christmas themed] [sick/cold] [non au] [friends to lovers]

Word Count: 2.6k

|Masterlist In Bio|

Being sick when Shawn comes home from tour for Christmas is not ideal. You felt the cold coming on two days before he was scheduled to land in Toronto. You had plans, big plans with Shawn. It's been ages since he's been able to hang out in person, and you finally have the courage to admit to him that you want to be more than friends. This week was supposed to be a huge life changing event, a Christmas to remember. You did everything you could to stop the onslaught of runny nose and puffy watery eyes; medicine, orange juice, supplements, but to no avail. You are undoubtedly, irrevocably, sick.

Monday morning you wake up to the doorbell for your apartment buzzing non stop. The world feels heavy. You sit up in slow motion it seems and there is nothing you can do but focus on breathing for a moment while you gain your bearings and listen to that awful tinny buzzing from someone wanting into your building. You crawl out of bed and drag yourself to the door, dragging your feet like they're in sticky mud.

"Hello?" You ask, finger on the call button for the front door. Your voice is completely wrecked, absolutely destroyed from coughing. "Hello? Anybody there?"

"It's Shawn."

"Shawn?" You glance at the clock over your couch a few feet away. It's just after nine. "What're you doing here?"

"I got you some stuff. Let me in, it's cold out here." He laughs and you press the door button to let him in.

Moments later he is pushing open the door to your apartment and carrying in bags of stuff. You wrap a blanket off the couch around your shoulders and watch as he unloads bag after bag onto your kitchen island.

"What's this?"

"Medicine, food, gifts." Shawn starts unpacking and setting aside Oreos and some ramen cups. "I stopped by the store for you on my way over with your Christmas gifts."

You shuffle forward and look at the bags. They're full of more groceries than you would usually buy in two weeks. How much does the guy think you eat? And what is with all the junk food? You tug the corner of a bag down and see a bottle of whiskey. "What's this?" You pull out a fifth of Canadian whiskey and give Shawn a look.

"That's for us." He puts away the Oreos and some mac and cheese into a cupboard. "Hot toddies are good for making you sweat out a cold."

"Uh huh. You said “us”? You're not staying."

"The hell I’m not."

"Shawn, you can't get sick. You're a rockstar, you have to sing. You...you have responsibilities."

"Yeah and right now," he pauses and hands you a box of tissues. "My responsibility is my best friend."

Best friend. That packs a punch you didn't expect. A haunting reminder of how he thinks of you, at least, how he presents that he thinks of you. It's hard and it's getting harder, that courage you built up the last few months is withering now like ice in the hot sun. It's just turning to steam before your very eyes. Shit.

"What if you get sick?"

"So what? I've been sick before and I'll be sick again." Shawn wads up the last of the grocery bags and sets aside a bunch of wrapped boxes on the counter. "I've waited four months to be here and to see you. I'm not letting some stupid runny nose stop me."

"I'm not going to be any fun." You sniff, eyes watering heavily. "I'm just going to sleep and be miserable."

Shawn rolls his eyes. "I know you. You'll want to watch Lion King and drink peppermint tea until you're so tired you pass out. I'm prepared for that."

"Wow. Just read me like a book why don't you?"

He grins. "Go sit down. I'll make some tea and we'll talk and catch up."

"We talk everyday."

"But it's different when we're together."

"Yeah but..." You chew on your lip and he lays his hand on your shoulder. "Never mind. Thank you for coming over."

"You'd do the same for me." He cups your cheek and you turn your eyes up at him, sure that you must look terrible. "You're welcome."

His soft gaze breaks you. You step forward and wrap your arms around him, pressing your face to his chest. Your fingers curl tight into his shirt and he holds your head with both hands.

"I missed you," he says, fingers working into your hair and scratching at your scalp with his blunt fingertips. "Things aren't the same without you."

"I missed you too." You murmur, eyes closed and you can almost, just barely, smell his cologne. Maybe your one nostril is unblocked. Maybe...just maybe you just want to be immersed in that familiar scent so bad it's appearing in your mind.

_____________________

Shawn spends the rest of the day with you. He makes you tea and warm whiskey spiked drinks. You watch the Lion King, Mulan and Moana. Just after six the sun starts to slip behind the horizon, your living room becoming dark. Shawn's arm finds its way around your shoulders and he leans his head on your head. You want to tell him. You need to tell him how you feel.

"Tomorrow is Christmas."

You nod slightly. "Sure is."

"My parents are in Barbados." Shawn chuckles. "It was a gift for their anniversary, but the cruise got rescheduled. I was surprised when they said they'd be gone for Christmas. It's not like mom to miss it."

"Maybe they just really needed a vacation."

Shawn sits up and runs a hand over his unruly long hair. "Probably. I know mom's been having a hell of a time finding clients for work. And dad...dad is always working hard, a hundred and fifty percent everyday." He sighs. "I'm glad they taught me a good work ethic y'know, but I wish they'd take it easy. It's not like it was when Aaliyah and I were kids. They don't have to try so hard."

You lay your hand on Shawn's and he turns it over, threading his fingers between yours and rubbing absentmindedly with his thumb. "I suppose parents always want to provide for their kids, even if they are rockstars." You giggle and he gives you a look.

He hates when you call him rockstar. He says it feels like it cheapens things, makes you less than him. He doesn't want you to think of him as a rockstar but as your best friend.

"Are you parents flying in for the holiday?"

You shake your head. "No, they couldn't afford it this year."

"Why'd they move to Florida again?"

"Mom wanted to live on the beach." You roll your eyes and he squeezes your hand. "Dad also got a job down there with the construction company he works for."

"Ah. So, do you want to spend Christmas together?"

"I figured that was the plan." You look to the window where it's snowing heavily outside. "I didn't think you'd want to drive home across Toronto in this weather."

"I don't." Shawn pulls his hand away to brush his hair back with it while he reaches for his drink. "I don't mind taking the couch."

"You know what you need?" You say, getting up and going over to the kitchen. You grab a few hair ties out of the bowl that holds your keys. "These."

"Ponytails?"

"Yeah. Your hair is ridiculous and you keep pushing it out of your face every two minutes." You stand in front of him and he leans forward for you. Skillfully you gather up the top of his hair into two little pig tails on the top of his head. He looks outrageous and you can't help the ugly laugh that burbles out.

"I look stupid don't I?" Shawn asks, half laughing at your reaction. He stands and looks in the decorative mirror beside the TV. "Ohmygod. This is my new look." He turns to look at you where you've collapsed on the couch laughing and struggling to breath through your clogged nose. "Goodbye headbands, hello pigtails."

"Stop! Shawn I'm gonna die!"

"Nope. You did this." He poses, peace sign over his face while making duck lips. "High fashion baby."

You start coughing, laughter quickly succumbing to a wheezing fit and hacking. You down the rest of your tea, just warm from sitting on the table too long, and take a few deep breaths.

Shawn drops to his knees beside you, hand on your chest. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I made you laugh too hard, I'm so sorry. What can I do? How do I help?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine." You cough a few more times and grab Shawn's mug, downing his drink. "I just laughed too hard. It's alright. I'm okay, just a little tired now."

"Come on, let's settle back down on the couch." Shawn grabs your arms and sits you up right on the sofa. "I'll grab some extra blankets and we'll sleep out here."

"But-"

"No buts. I'll be right back."

You close your eyes and lean your head back on the cushions. You're dying. Sickness is wreaking havoc on your body. Shawn's wreaking havoc on your heart, and you're absolutely destroying your mental capacity with liquor and cough medicine. You can't wait. You have to tell Shawn. It's now or never. Balls to the wall. You just have to-

"Are you okay?" Shawn's voice breaks through your thoughts and you open your eyes. "You look a little out of it."

"I love you."

"I love you too?" He says sinking down on the couch and flopping the blankets he was carrying over your lap. "What's with the sudden affection?"

"No, I mean-" You hold your head as it throbs. Maybe whiskey and NyQuil don't mix. In fact, you know they don't. "I am in love with you."

"I know."

"W-what?"

Shawn brushes your hair back off your clammy face and looks at you with those soft hazel brown eyes you adore. "I've known for a long time.”

“I-I Wha-”

“It's okay, don’t panic. I'm in love with you too. I know I always said that when the time comes I'll know, and I can't pinpoint the moment it happened but one day I woke up and I realized my whole world is waiting for me in a tiny apartment in Toronto." He chuckles. "I've been working on a way to tell you, a way to make it work with my job. I haven't found that way yet, and I hoped you would wait for me, though I didn't expect that. So I never told you. I couldn't- I won't hurt someone like that, especially not you."

"I-I don't know what to say." You stare at him, unsure of your reality as your head swims. Is this real? Did you fall asleep? Are you in some kind of cold medicine induced mini coma? "I'm asleep aren’t I?"

"You're not." Shawn presses his hand to your forehead. "You've got a fever though."

"This isn't real. You're not even here. I'm going crazy." You slump over and Shawn covers you with blankets. "I'm just coping aren't I? Stressed myself out so far that I'm dreaming of telling you the truth."

"You're awfully self aware for a dream."

"That's just what dream Shawn would say."

He chuckles. "I'm getting you some Advil. Relax and I'll be right back with a very real glass of water and two very real pain relievers."

You close your eyes once more and quickly you begin to drift off to sleep. You vaguely remember Shawn sitting your head up to take the Advil and water. But after that everything is a blur of sleep and muddled nonsense dreams.

_____________________

Christmas morning you wake up on the couch. Your body is stiff, achy from sickness and the unsupportive couch cushions. Beside you is a glass of water and some cold medicine on the coffee table. There is a lump of blankets by the other end of the couch and you can see a mop of hair sticking out, two pigtails very visible.

Then reality hits you. If you're waking up now with Shawn asleep in your living room that means last night was very real. It means...you confessed your feelings and Shawn, well, he confessed them back. Excitement, hope and terror are quite a cocktail of emotions. They make your stomach lurch, your heart flutter and your hands shake. What happens now? Where do things go from here?

"Hey," Shawn's groans, peeking over his blankets at you. "How's the fever?"

"Good? I think? I just woke up."

"Mmm." He sits up and stretches. "It's Christmas."

"Yeah." You look over to the tree in the corner where there are boxes from your parents, your sister and Shawn all waiting to be unwrapped. "I can wait though."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to be the only one to unwrap gifts."

Shawn laughs and grabs a few of the boxes from under the tree. "I brought my gifts too, the ones my parents and Aaliyah left for me at my apartment."

"Oh. I thought you brought all of those for me, I thought it was a lot but I didn't want to say anything."

"No." Shawn passes you a box with your name on it. "You definitely deserve this many, but I didn't go crazy."

"You've been crazy." You smile and he gives you a look that turns into a smirk. "Did...did you mean what you said last night?"

"Every word of it." Shawn sits across from you on the couch with his box in his lap. He picks at the paper a bit. "It's okay, like if you don't want to do anything right now. I know my life is insane and yours isn't anywhere near as hectic." He chews his lower lip. "I couldn't ever ask you to commit to my life and the distance and-"

"Shawn."

"Yes?"

"We'll figure it out."

His eyes light up and he stares at you, seemingly bewildered. "You want to try? You want to be in a relationship? With me? I-I'm- you're sure?"

"Shawn I haven't wanted anything more in the last year. We already make the distance work as friends. What's the difference in doing it as a couple?" You sniff and wipe your eyes that are watering from your clogged sinuses. "I think the distance has only made us stronger friends and-"

Shawn leans in to kiss you, hands on your legs and you stop him at the last second with your fingers against his lips. "Please?" he murmurs.

"You're so dumb."

"Because I'm going to kissing you and you're sick?"

"Yes."

He grins and grabs your face, pressing his forehead against yours. "I guess we'll just have to be the couple that shares everything."

"This is not what that means."

"I don't care." He tries to kiss you again and you groan, stopping him. "Shawn, you're gonna get sick."

"I don't care." Another attempted kiss. "I've waited a long time for this."

You cup his face and push him back a bit so he will stop trying to infect himself. “I have too but I'm not going to kiss you and get you sick. And when you've got this cold I will not kiss you then either."

"Yeah you will. Don't lie."

"I won't." You giggle and he pushes forward, leaning you back until you're laying against the arm of the couch with his body covering yours. "Is this for real?"

"Very real." He kisses your nose. "I don't want to wait." He kisses your head. "I've been alone for a long while this feels...it feels so right. Please let me kiss you."

"Alright." You close your eyes and he presses his lips to yours. It's soft, sweet and everything you ever imagined. "Happy?"

"Yes," he whispers, smiling against your lips. "Merry Christmas darling."

You giggle at the pet name. He knows it's one of your favourites. "Merry Christmas Shawn."

End

______________________

Thank you for reading! Please reblog if you enjoyed this and reblog to support and encourage myself and fellow writers. - A

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted fics.*****

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes non au #shawn mendes au #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fan fic #shawn mendes fan fiction #shawn mendes story #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes writing #shawn mendes storites #shawn mendes christmas fic #shawn peter raul mendes

656 notes · View notes

minstrivia · 5 years ago

Text

; way down in bed stuy | m.

— a/n: this is my fic for the spring fic exchange gifted to the lovely @taendrils. enjoy babe xx

— pairings: jeon jungkook x reader

— genre: smut, light angst?

— word count: 5k+

— warnings: asphyxiation, rough sex, possession!kink, oral sex, edging, shameless infidelity, drug use/abuse (we got acid up in here. don’t do it kids), voyeurism, do people actually fuck in the rain like is that a thing?, unprotected sex cause like who wears a condom in the rain, smh who fucks in the rain tho, creampie, clearly he has a fat cock who do you think i am, dirty filthy talk, this is filth, morally i should be ashamed, i am not

— summary: as a final farewell you fuck your sister’s unbelievably attractive knave boyfriend that you definitely do not have feelings for...again.

This time you decide Jungkook is…pitiful.

You tell yourself that’s why you’d allowed him to approach you the way he did, his clothes tightly clung to him like a second skin, obsidian black hair that would normally adorn a disastrous fluffiness flattened to his head in a way that falls beneath his eyes in clumped spikes, and his skin flushed with a keenness that you’ve become way too accustomed to. He is palpably pitiful today—at least, more than usual. The temper surrounding him is a sombre stench, and the impromptu choppy slew of texts that had followed the silence of a missed call had been telling enough. So, when he’d stalked over to you, you’d expected it; expected his clumsy shoves at your shoulders, his incoherent rambling as his large palm haloed your wrist in a grating vise, recklessly jerking you behind him as he cantered fleet-footed, itching to reach his destination. And you’d counted on finding yourself stumbling, bereft of logical dispute, back to him—always back to him, everytime.

“Need you.”

“Jeon, what—”

Jungkook’s eyes are always glassy as they lure you in, drab dilated pupils seeking answers you won’t give (not now anyway) not when he’s hot, so fucking hot, his skin scorches yours perversely in a way that’d have you concerned if you didn’t know any better. But you know, you know he’s long consumed the insipid paper taste of acid and you’re getting the lusty aftershocks, the slated crest that befalls once the opiate has branched and ignited the blood in his veins—the peak of his trip, that’s when he comes to you, when he’s riding the most rhapsodic moment and he ‘needs’ to take you with him. You’ve gotten used to it too, letting him have you whenever and wherever he wants and you’d be more chagrined by the way you’re pinned up against him inhaling his suffocating musky scent of cinders and shorts on a merry go round smack bang in the middle of a children’s playground, if it weren’t for the steady retreating daylight. And the way he’s touching you—definitely the way he’s touching you, his hands wayfaring restlessly like they can’t decide where to perch, yet nevertheless, it’s vicious and fervent, earnest to make itself known, tips of his fingers cumbering at times and the amble thrums a sinful eagerness down the length of your spine.

“S’pretty,” he mumbles, lower lip sweeping across the washed plane of your collarbone as he does so. “Fuck, you’re so pretty, way too pretty, you know that? Tell me you know that.” His timbre is imploring, grasp that bit firmer like he’s afraid you’ll bolt from his arms—like you’re the only thing grounding him to this cruel reality, and you’re ashamed that you like it so much, ashamed that when his eyes descent pleadingly as he stares up at you, you feel that dulcet rush of empowerment, the one that voices how rapidly you could dismantle his treasured ego, how quickly you could make him beg and he would, he’d beg so tragically.

But it isn’t what you want, not now, not ever, so you give. “I know Kook.” Your fingers comb within the thickness of his tresses, the dampness making it weightier than it’d normally be as you rake it away from his forehead. “I know.”

You can categorise being with Jungkook when he’s like this into steps, advances that flow seamlessly into the other, and you’ve been doing this far too long not to know when the change comes, when something veers in his manner, morphs on his features and he’s feeling with an altered strain of vigour. This part though—this part is always your favourite. His sweetened tongue pampering you with enticing endearments and psychedelic compliments that have you reeling in want, in being wanted; it pours out of his mouth with zest, jumbles and clusters of vulgar curses and words that would put the both of you in trouble if anyone else were to overhear. And that’s when you think you hate him the most, when you have your flashes of clarity, fading out of the cosmos of everything Jungkook and sharpening to your surroundings. The rue frets at you then, a restless irritation manifesting at your nape his lips can’t chase away, and a spat formed to cut right at the pike of your tongue—it’d be futile though, because no matter what you say, you can’t blame him and selfishly you can’t blame yourself either. You blame circumstance, Bed Stuy, irrefutable attraction. That’s what you’re calling it, ‘irrefutable attraction’. The hours you occupy enthralled in the ardour of his steamy touch, intoxicated and heated whilst he consumes you in that gradual tack that makes you oh so delirious, your very own narcotic because that’s what he is—a vicious addiction.

Admittedly, you’d known from the start. When Irene had first brought him home, boozed-up on cheap spirits, mousy giggles bubbling up her throat as they tried and despicably failed to evade the wooden floorboards that had protested and groused under their ungraceful teeters; you’d been there to witness it all. The cringeworthy display of your elder sister, an arm slung around his shoulders as she hung carelessly off her ‘new boyfriend’, looking clammy and dishevelled as ever in her slurred greeting. And him, he’d seemed fine—later you’d realise he’d substituted the tart flavour of liquor for the earthy spiced mary jane—but then, he’d seemed in better condition than the wreck beside him. And something about him enticed? intrigued you, his magnetic stare studying you daringly, drawled speech bordering on mischievous and his smug smile, boyishly plagued. Too attractive, you’d thought. He is damningly way too attractive. His stunning features lost on the destitution of the neighbourhood, when instead he deserved to be plastered on posters, screens, billboards—still does. Except now you know he can also be so much more with the melodious voice you’ve had the privy bliss of hearing, that is so much foreign to his natural low huskiness, you’re sure he could sell out arenas, tour the world and leave this place and its memories behind for good. Like you want to. Like you are.

“God, I want you so fucking bad.” Jungkook’s hands finally root at the tapers of your waist, fingers splayed out possessively as if he wishes he could be touching everywhere at once. “You’re better than her, so much better than her.”

And there, the admonition of your vicious addiction. It had only meant to be a one-time thing, and even then was too much. But you’d given in—like you always do—give, give, give, playing into his wily wishes, and you weren’t drunk, and he wasn’t drunk, and it had been so so fucking wrong but you’d been curious, unbelievably curious; tumbling hastily into the unlit bar back storage room at your sister’s 21st birthday bash with her boyfriend in tow, his erection rock-hard and insistent on your thigh, mouth sucking and teeth clipping harsh mauve onto the surface of your skin and it had been way too easy to forget where you were when he fucked you, legs wrapped low on his hips, hiked up on the wall, hands clutching desperately at his nape for stability as he pounded into you brutally without falter. You liked what he had to offer, liked the way he dominated you in every way, liked the thrill of being in the arms of someone older, and it just felt right. It still feels right, in the moment at least, everything clicks and it feels like in some cruel twisted fate you’re meant to do this—meant to be with him.

“Jeon just—” You grasp at the base of his shirt. It’s cold out, not cold enough to have you shivering in seek of warmth, but cold enough to want his body nearer and it’s raining, previous heavy downfall simmering down to a softer spring rain. Regardless, it’s done most of its damage anyway, glazed you both over with fresh rainwater and his shirt has your palms feeling clammy; somewhere in the back of your mind you’re aware this isn’t a good idea, but it’s far back and you’re here. “—please.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Jungkook smirks haughtily, supple lips steamed on your skin and his breath warm with a choppy chuckle. This is how it always goes, your concise breathy pre-exchange on words of confirmation because he knows, you know, and you just both know. So, you allow yourselves to mould without inhibition, when he gives you what you want and you provide what he needs. Later, you’ll ask what’s on his mind—even though you’ve got a strong idea—and he’ll ask what’s on yours (you’ll never tell), but for now it’s mindless, a primitive yearning for sex and all it’s gluttony.

“Gonna make you feel so good, baby, fuck you like you want,” He rasps, creeping his wanton touch teasingly up your upper leg, palm grazing the soft flesh and hiking your skirt with the rise. “You’d like that huh?”

You croon mindlessly into his touch. “Hmm—” Your eyes flutter to a gentle close, the pads of his fingers alighting your nerves as you stable your rousing pants. “Gotta get me wet though.”

“Oh, yeah?”

He glances up at you, eyes wide and imploring framed by full wispy lashes, his teeth capturing his bottom lip cheekily when he cocks an eyebrow up. “Want me to eat you out?” He asks. “You’d like that?”

“Hmm…yes.”

“Yeah?” His breath fans over the tender pulse on your neck and you’re gorged with zeal at being so close to him. “Want to get my mouth messy with your pretty pussy?”

You nod heedlessly. “M’not getting my knees wet and dirty to suck you off though.” And you know it’s unfair, you know that he loves when you’ve got your lips wrapped around the thick girth of his cock, kitten licking at his slit and his fingers burrowed into your hair as he forces you to take all of him with fierce breaths through your nose. You know he craves the feeling of your nails digging crescent moons into his thighs, always too daring, too close to brandishing him with your telling mark. But you want to take this time, give less and take more, and you think that’s fair on you.

He chuckles gruffly like he knows exactly what you’re thinking, his eyes trained on yours with something sadistic flickering past when he speaks. “Don’t have to, Irene beat you to that.”

You still instantly. “Fucking hell Jungkook,” you mutter with a pissy huff, throwing your head back as you glare at the clouded skies, the downpour of sleet dribbling jarringly onto your face. And you have half the mind to shove him away for that comment alone, in fact, you should but instead you retire to a overtaxed, “S’not even funny Kook.”

“Sorry.”

He’s not sorry. You know he’s not sorry. The mischievous drawl of the apology is far from meaningful and you hate it. “You’re a fucking prick.”

“True. You want to stop?” He asks, slowly sinking to his knees in that teasing way he does so, balancing his weight as he makes the floor seem further than it is with a smug smile. And when his knees collide with the metal, your leg is quick to leave stability, draped over his shoulder as you find footing with the other. “You know I will if you say the words.”

“I—” You sigh. You don’t. Of course, you don’t. “No just- just fucking continue.”

“Bit bossy for someone that wants their sister’s boyfriend’s tongue on their cunt, don’t you think?”

“Jungkook.” You spit his name out in clamant warning, it’s subdued but callous and your brows cleft bitterly because he’s the only one daring enough to make jest of this, pointing out exactly why what you’re about to do—what you’ve been doing is wrong. And even though you’re glaring down at him, eyes full of thunder and lips pulled in a sneer, his cheeky grin refuses to waver, stubborn enough to resist until he hears what he wants, like the fucking teasing imp he is. “Christ.”

You puff out a laborious breath, chest heavy with tiredness because that’s what you are tired, drained by this sneaky tirade and just being with him. That’s why this is it, this is the last time. “What d’you want me to do? Beg?”

He shrugs, “Would be nice.”

You scoff. You don’t know what you see in him. You don’t. Okay, you do. You do and it’s stupid—so horribly stupid because it’s wrong. It’s wrong that you notice the way that he smiles when he’s happy—really happy, not the stoned gauzy content. No. It’s the happiness he gets when he’s slaving away on a piece that he’s sprung inspiration on and for so long it’s sounded battered and sullen and lost and then it just fits, after late nights of heavy grunts and rapid tapping, everything comes together and it’s rejuvenating and yellow and warm. And sometimes you see it for yourself when his nose scrunches cutely, the ends of his lips tugging into something big, teeth all for show, the front two slightly bigger than the rest in a way that is so so endearing and you can’t help but relax into a smile yourself. And other times he’ll call you at incredibly odd hours, and you’ll be so groggy with nothing but sleep clouding your mind but then you’ll hear his voice, unapologetic and soft, needing to urgently share his triumph with you—no one else but you—and you’ll imagine his smile, so vividly you’d see it right in front of you and suddenly, suddenly sleep is the furthest thing from your mind.

It’s unfair that you think he’s misunderstood, that the ink that paints his skin in intricate designs is his armour and that it’s beautiful and that really you wish you could rest your head upon his broad chest, fingers twirling delicate, drawing over the kaleidoscopic garden of flowers that lies just beneath his collarbones as the sun sets and rises and sets again, streaking your bodies with a shimmer of gold before cooling it with a midnight breeze. And you imagine there’d be something playing in the background, muted and mellow, a playlist of his, the more romantic ensembles, making you feel cushy as he’d hum soothingly along, gentle palms floating over the length of your spine, duvet only coming up to his hips, your entangled legs covered beneath and it’d be so serene, his embrace warm and you’d feel it—feel his love.

It’s intrusive that you think his eyes never say exactly how he feels, that the chocolate orbs glimmer, wrathful and edgy, eluding to more than he tells; wanting someone to dig, wanting to be stripped layer after layer, wanting to be seen, to be called out blatantly on his shit. You see it because you recognise it, the same wretched storm that rocks hazard in his pretty orbs weigh the same as the ones you see in the morning, when you’re looking at the mirror and willing yourself to get by another pointless day because there’s something unknown waiting in the future however near or far; and it’ll be the reason you sigh in ease and say, ‘well done, you did it’.

It’s wrong that you insist that you don’t harbor something beyond platonic for him, that your skin doesn’t prickle with a potent green when he’s touching her in front of you, someone who is so blatantly wrong for him—not that he’s any right for you. He’s not. But he could be, he really fucking could. You don’t love him. You think away from here, away from this dump, away from the perils that swirl him further down into this never ending rabbit hole; you could love him—maybe. It’s so wrong to even think so, because when you look at him, pelts of rain dripping from the ends of his hair and down the curve of his patchy blush cold-pinched cheek, his eyes lustily hooded and his steely touch tightening at your thighs, urging you to speak. You realise he won’t change, not for you.

“Please.” You say, a defeated plea for him to drag you into his spinning orbit and make you a part of it for a while, the little he can provide. “Want to feel you on me, want you to make me feel good, please.”

“Hmm, so pretty baby, so good for me.” You’re unsure if he’s talking about the sight he’s uncovered when he pulls your panties to the side or the words that have spewed from your mouth, but either way you allow his words of praise to sooth your balmy skin. “Look at you so fucking pretty for me.”

Your thigh bounces on his shoulders when he moves in closer, his pointer and middle finger, coldish and coarse as they spread your lips apart and when you chance a look at him, you catch the way his tongue sways across his lips, eyes hooded as he stares—stares at you like you’re a fucking treat. And you love it.

“Jungkook.” His name is airy now, soft and lingering in a lustful plea that’s almost non-existent.

“Uh huh, I got you,” He says. “Always got you.”

You don’t have much time to dissect what his words mean nor do you have time to think about being leant up against the centre metal pole when his tongue delves into you, flat and wide, a torturous slide of wet heat over your exposed cunt; so erotically that the buzz of pleasure rises instantly, the impulse going straight to your head and you want more, you need more. And suddenly, you’re hyper aware of his every movement, his mouth cooling your heated cunt with a steady blow, the tip of his tongue swirling around your clit, teeth scraping lightly against the nub before he sucks it into his mouth drawing a needy curse from your clasps.

“Fuck, that’s good.” Your fingers place naturally on his hair, nails carding through it insistently as his mouth works wonders, knowing exactly how to drag shivers through your veins and have you open-mouthed as you swing your head skyward. His palms massage at your hiked thigh roughly, jerking you slightly forward in his attempt to delve deeper, causing your other shoe to slip on the wet metal, hands flailing instantly to curl around a nearby extended pole for stability. “Shit.”

He hums guttural, a growl that crawls from the back of his throat that you perceive as a form of agreement and the intensity of the vibration electrifies you. Sinful and hungry, it’s become entirely clear that Jungkook hasn’t got the slightest regard for holding back, his tongue laps at you sloppily, gaze dark and attentive looking at you in a way that itches until you’re forced to peer down and the sight has you releasing a loud broken indecent moan. His lips are dark and wet, and it’s obscene, so fucking lewd the way he slurps you up, his tongue flicking, twirling, slipping between your slit, only his tip, never pushing too far as to tease you and have you whimpering for it, which you are. With his nose pressed flat against your mound, drawing your clit into his mouth, tugging gently at it; you are delirious.

“Jung—oh.” Your fingers tighten at his roots as the words choke up in your throat and your hips rut forward acutely, because you ache for more, it hurts the way you ache for him, a rampant fire fusing in your abdomen and pinching at your waist, always wanting more and more and more of him. And he knows it.

He pulls away languidly, mouth dragging slow from your clit in his release, the vulgar soppy pop enhancing and accompanying his pornographic actions. “Taste so fucking good,” He slurs. “So so pretty, look at you, my pretty baby.”

His fingers trace where his mouth has just been, roaming delicately like he’s trying to familiarise himself and he’s quiet, unnaturally so, murmuring to himself as your chest rises and falls, your heavy breath the only disturbance to the peace. Your teeth dig anxiously into your lip, wondering what his lack of comprehensible words and his careful touch could mean, you can bet that you’ll come to the same conclusion; nothing, all of this means nothing and you’re thinking too deep into it like you always do. You don’t imagine his brain can form too complex thoughts at the moment, taken over by the primal base of needing to fuck and being clouded in dope. So, you feel it, feel the slimy glob of saliva that he expels from his mouth, you feel the way it dribbles filthily down to your fluttering hole and the pad of his finger catches it before he presses into you and you’re gasping sharply at the intrusion.

“Ohh….yeah.”

“Need to stretch you out,” he says, his finger dragging and chafing across your walls torturously, as you suck him in with every languid pull. “You’re so fucking tight around my fingers, gonna be fucking delicious around my cock, huh?”

“Uh huh.”

“Yeah? Fuck, you got me so hard baby.”

His finger is thick, so fucking thick and long that you feel him so wholey, when he slips another finger in, your hole stretching barely to accommodate the extra width, pumping them out in a quicker succession that has you trembling and keening. His thumb pressing between the lips of your cunt, flicking fast across your clit as he continues to fuck you with his fingers, curling them to brush against the barrier of your walls; driving you closer and closer to that steep-cliff edge. He’s got you completely at his will like this, persistent and vigorous with the way he’s pleasuring you and his words only send you reeling further. “You’re so fucking hot like this, almost ready to take my fat cock.” The sounds are downright obscene, moist squelches that follow the drag of his fingers and ring continuously in your ears. He’s got you like this, so wet, so ready, so desperate, teeth bruising at your lips in the hopes that you can curb the volume of your moans, fiery curses and the shameless whines of his name. “I should really use three fingers huh…you’re so tight, but you like it don’t you, little fucking slut loves it when it hurts.”

A strangled noise bubbles at the back of your throat as the term shudders through you. “Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“Close?”

“So so close,” you breathe.

He hums contentedly and before you know it everything's amplifying, the stress of his thumb increases to vigorous rubs, fingers pumping you raw, fast and rough, he’s shoving and jerking in and out of your cunt. And you’re sizzling, your skin is sizzling, the downpour of spring rain does nothing to cool you down and instead sinks and perspires like steam. Your eyes are screwed permanently shut whilst you feel it—everything, his insistent thick fingers, his breath fanning over your thigh arising goosebumps from the flesh, the fact that you both must look like a picture to passerbyers and ceasing to give a shit. Everything is too much and yet not enough. “Need, need—” You jolt.

Nothing. “Fuck.”

The feeling of emptiness crashes too suddenly when he pulls away from you completely, dismissing your oncoming climax, drifting you into a harsh halt that has you shivering, limbs rattling uncontrollably and gasping laboriously for air to fill your lungs. Briefly, you wonder if this is how it must feel for him, when he’s coming down from a high and sinking into reality, the dizziness, the numbness, the cold that invades you like violent waves. It makes you crave, crave for more, another sinful taste, to return to the overwhelming heady feels of beautiful pleasure. And you get it. His touch does nothing to calm you, searing in their trail to land at your waist, clasp persistent at tugging you closer and resting his forehead against yours.

“Christ Jungkook, that—” Words fail on you, fumbling at the tip of your tongue in the depth of the haziness surrounding you. It’s at this point that you know you’d do anything to have him, to prompt him in completing the wreckage he’s caused. “—that.”

His chest must be blooming in pride at your appearance, flushed and glazed wet, knowing he is still to make a mess of you. “You need time?” He asks, and his voice plays distorted and far in your ears, like he’s miles away from where you feel him.

You shake your head hastily, hands clasping the sides of his face to ground you from the shudders of elation. “No—no, fuck me now, like it when I’m sensitive.”

“God, you’re so fucking good.”

His mouth crashes against yours and there’s nothing tame about it, nothing that flutters at your heart, and releases butterflies to cause ruckus in your stomach. It’s raw and it’s carnal and it’s thrilling enough for you to understand why you love it, your teeth clacking together, lips squashing and merging, as he kisses you chaotically; messy licks into each other’s mouths, heads ducking and lolling about as you push and fight for dominance, his teeth, sharp and purposeful, sinking piercingly on your bottom lip until you submit. He draws blood and the tang of iron on your taste pallets has you feeling heady. His kisses, unloving and brutal, are still as ever breathtaking. And they travel, fleeting across your skin, curving at your jaw and making home in the nook of your neck. He pulls at the elasticity of your skin, scraping and sucking at it and your hands make work at his trousers.

“No marks.” You rush out in haste, yanking his trousers and boxers down. “No marks—Fuck.” You’ve got a leg wrapped around his waist, hands locked behind his neck when he sinks you onto his cock, mushroom head stretching at your hole painfully and it burns, supine heat that inflames your insides because his cock is so fucking big that no matter how well or not he preps you, your walls will always quiver at the girthy drag. “Fuck, you’re so big, oh my god.”

“Take me so well though—” His mouth is pressed at the crevice above your collarbone as he hums, bottomed out inside you, and waits. “—tight little bitch taking every inch of my cock.” Jungkook doesn’t listen to you though, never does, his mouth plucks and draws out marks of his stake on you that are always a pain to excuse. But you’re too far gone to care, all you can feel is him, so full of his cock that nothing else matters.

You clutch at him tighter. “Move, move, want you to fuck me hard Jungkook, make it hurt.”

The sensitivity of having him inside you hits when you feel his cock twitch at his words, you feel the rapid tiny sway, pressing him deeper and your breath hitches shakily. “Yeah. You want me to fucking ruin you, show you who you belong to?”

“Yes.” His cock slides out, the forceful resistance leaving you aching until it’s only the tip left and he’s bottoming out again, rocking slowly. “Yes—oh, fuck Jungkook, please.”

“You like that?” He grunts. “Like when I fuck you slow, when I make you feel every fucking inch of my fat cock.”

“Yes. Fuck, yes.”

The pace is agonising, leaving you feeling almost barren for moments that last too long. He’s fucking you deep, dragging out every single second, every inch so you feel it, so that it takes over and you’re mewling and whimpering pathetically. His hips slam into yours, lodging his cock, pressing it further and you’re drowning in it, like this it feels like forever, like you could be stuck in his arms and you wouldn’t mind it one bit. Have him biting at your skin, fingers bruising on your body, have him loving you. The thought itself is daunting, how much you want it, and it’s unfair he’s giving you this teaser, plunging his cock into you unhurriedly almost as if he wants this to last as well—almost. Not enough. “More,” you beg, the intensity is burning at you and you might just fall apart if he continues at this. “Please need more.”

He chuckles. “Always want more, don’t you? want me to fuck you fast, fuck you and own you like a pretty slut.”

You nod. Yes.

“Fuck, turn around.”

It’s quick now and the excitement of that roars at you, as he swivels you around, bending you over, stomach pressed up onto a metal bar and your legs spread behind you. There’s no restraint, and he’s thrusting into you without prior warning, hands tight on your hips as he begins to pound into you, how you’ve both wanted it. “Ah yes yes yes.”

He’s hammering into you, frantic and possessive, his cock filling you out and keeping you blissed as he brushes at your cervix, prodding, probing, adrenaline unwavering. And the sheer brute force reminds you exactly where you are, the merry go round you’ve been perched on, lurching at his actions, swinging you around in a way that makes you dizzy as the scene around you blurs. It’s unhygienic and filthy, the rain that falls causing the sound of your skins slapping together just that bit more raucous, and your skin feels murky with the mixture of your sweat dribbling down your face.

“Fuck, your cunt is so fucking good.” His palm splays at your stomach, the other prying at your wrist forcing an arm behind your back, as he re-adjusts himself, never ceasing up on you. “All mine, you take cock like a fucking slut, just for me huh.”

The whimpers tremble at your lips and your back arches away from him and it’s maddening. He’s got you so under his control, your thoughts are clouded with nothing but him, and he’s fucking you so so good, it hurts. “Fuck I— ngh, yes. All for you.”

“I know. My. Pretty. Slut.” His words are punctuated with steely thrusts, stealing your breath and choking you up with every one.

Your body is trembling, and you can feel the way the tension tightens in a loop as he continues to fuck into you with vicious intent, you’ll feel him tomorrow, you know it, feel the weight of his cock inside you, feel his balls, heavy and full slapping against you. His fingers reach to press at your neck, clenching tight and pushing further and further, you itch to scratch at his grasp and give you back the breath that he’s taking from you, the blood pounds at the back of your neck as you struggle and struggle and he pushes further. You’ll feel it and need him again, like a drug. When you’re so heady, you match his wavelength, floaty and submitted to the throes of hedonism. And the comedown is like a bullet train, the crown of his cock angling to hit right there, the spot that has you screaming his name as the loop snaps and you lose your breath. Everything is white noise, humming and buzzing as he chases the peak of his orgasm, cum released into you, string after string and he holds you. His arm loops beneath your breast holding you back onto his chest, tight, unwilling to let go.

“Don’t go.”

You won’t. Tomorrow, you promise. Tomorrow.

3K notes · View notes

guerrerense · 4 months ago

Video

flickr

CP 1401 - FP9A por Christopher Parma Por Flickr: Originally built for Canadian National in 1958 as CN 6541, the locomotive continued to pull passenger trains when it was passed on to Canada's VIA Rail (as VIA 6541). The engine made a foray into freight service in the States when it spent some time working for Nebraska's Nebtoka Railway as NRI 54 in the 90's. But it was soonafter called back home to Canada, and it's served as CP 1401 for more than 20 years now. CP's pair of FP9's (both ex-CN) have been operating in business train service for quite some time now. So, it's not much of a step up to serve behind the Empress on the Final Spike Steam Tour to Mexico City, seen here racing across the Sunset Route between Beaumont and Houston. B40B (Final Spike Steam Tour; Calgary, AB to Mexico City, CDMX) CP FP9A #1401 CP FP9A #4107 Dayton, TX May 25th, 2024

#flickr

2 notes · View notes

tokiro07 · 4 years ago

Text

Nintendo would never do it cus they’re cowards but I want Odyssey 2 to be like a grand tour through Mario history rather than either a retread of Odyssey 1′s stages or a bunch of new ones (though the latter would definitely be appreciated). Interestingly, you could actually line a lot of them up thematically and it would work out

Bonneton -> Luigi’s Mansion as the ghost-themed level (probably either like Dark Moon where there were several mansions or 3 where it’s one big mansion with multiple themes for each floor); boss is King Boo, with cameos from E. Gadd and Polterpup at least, and maybe even some of the more iconic ghosts from the series

Tostarena -> Sarasaland as the desert level; boss is Tatanga, with a cameo from Daisy

Steam Gardens -> Donkey Kong Country as the jungle level; boss is King K. Rool, with cameos from the various Kongs and maybe even Stanley the Bugman

Forgotten Isle -> Yoshi’s Island as the tropical level; boss is either Kamek or Raphael the Raven, though Burt the Bashful and Prince Froggy may either cameo or act as mini-bosses

New Donk City -> Diamond City as the urban level; boss is either Wario or Captain Syrup, though Waluigi and several Warioware cameos are present as NPCs

Bubblaine -> Delfino Isle as the beach level; boss is Petey Piranha or Bowser, Jr.

Mount Volbono -> Subcon as the visually abstract level (I know it’s more like the fire level in context, but I’m not sure any generalized Mario setting would fit super well); boss is Wart, though Birdo and possibly other bosses like Mouser show up

Lake Lamode -> Rogueport as the secondary water level (though Rogueport isn’t particularly water themed, it can be expanded fine, I think); boss is either Grodus or Crump, though the Shadow Sirens will probably appear; Mario’s partners from at least Thousand Year Door will cameo, and perhaps the original Paper Mario too, whether in new 3D models or all being flat (the latter would be pretty funny, honestly)

Peach’s Castle -> Beanbean Kingdom as the castle level; boss is Fawful, with a cameo from at least Prince Peasley, but possibly Starlow and other Mario & Luigi characters too

Nimbus Arena -> Star Road as the sky level; boss is Smithy, and has cameos from Geno and Mallow

The Moon -> pretty much anything from Mario Galaxy might work as a way to mess with the physics, but I’m partial to Honeyhive Galaxy on the basis that it would bring back Queen Bee, whom Nintendo seems quite fond of based on Mario Kart 7; since I’ve already used the alien boss Tatanga in Sarasaland and there’s not really a good boss associated with Galaxy aside from Bowser, I’m actually going to put the Broodals here since it’s a space level and they come from the moon

I can’t think of anything good to replace Shiveria as the ice level or Crumbleden as the weird out of place dark level or Bowser’s Castle as the Japan level, but I don’t think any of those are explicitly necessary. I’m sure there’s settings I’ve forgotten or elements that can be taken from Mario games aside from what they’re necessarily best known for (like TYD’s Boggly Woods, Super Paper Mario’s Underwhere, Snowman’s Land from 64, etc.), but as long as the expanded Mario cast is given the opportunity to cameo at the least or actually contribute to the plot at most, I’ll be happy

It’d also be neat if the Tennis games somehow got their own explicit level focusing on Waluigi, possibly bringing in Lucien from Aces as the boss and featuring cameos from the various human characters (possibly also including the Golf players)

I can’t think of a good place to put Foreman Spike, so put him in Diamond City I guess

As a final pie-in-the-sky idea, they could also finally visit the Waffle Kingdom that Luigi visited offscreen in TYD and let us meet Princess Eclair, but I imagine that since that was only ever intended as a joke, Nintendo is never, ever, ever going to revisit at all

The main problem with this idea is that a lot of these locations are probably on the same continent as the Mushroom Kingdom, so it’d probably feel a lot less grand than the globe-trotting map of Odyssey 1, but I don’t rightly care, that was just a glorified level selection screen anyway

#super mario #super mario odyssey #ideas

14 notes · View notes

haikyuu-scenarios-box · 5 years ago

Text

Haikyuu Horrors — Week 1 🔪

Wendigo — Kuroo Tetsurou x GenderNeutral!Reader

Next week: Demon — DemonKing!Oikawa Tooru x FallenAngel!Reader A/N: lowkey dedicating this to @kageyama-tho and @normiewrites bc i love their blogs and they said they love horror stories fuck me up im so excited to write next week’s scenario The setting is in the Ashio Copper Mine and I had to make a couple of changes for the sake of the story. Although the mine’s been abandoned since 1973, tours are still carried out to this day and it’s a popular tourist spot. I’ve diverged from that (and some of the geography) and made it so that the mine’s been closed completely since 1973, including the public. TW: character deaths, gore, blood, mentions of cannibalism and murder this is a wendigo scenario what did u expect Word count: 3,617

UNDER THE CUT

__________

January 9th, 2018. 12:47:32 AM Ashio, Nikko, Tochigi Prefecture The Kuroos Cabin

They both lived beneath a sky forsaken by the sun.

The threat of fractures haunted their bones, the undertones of their skin had been drained and exhaustion circled their eyes.

They both lived beneath a blinding white, their irises forever glazed.

Steam rose up from the latte that sat near the map of Nikko. [Y/n] had only taken a couple of sips of the coffee, finding the flavour disgustingly sugary. There was no element of surprise there, though - after all, it came from power in a packet. Superficial scratches ran along the desk, worn down from the never-ending notes and diagrams that [y/n]’s pens drew.

‘It’s almost one in the morning.’

‘Oh, Tetsurou,’ [y/n] approached Kuroo, wrapping their arms around his waist, ‘How come you’re up?’

‘I was asleep until I heard the kettle boiling,’ he chuckled, his fingers combing through their hair. Agony sank into Kuroo’s chest as several strands came out. He ensured that they ate three healthy meals a day, remained hydrated and spent time outdoors, but inadequate sleep takes a great toll on any body.

‘The coffee tasted awful, so it wasn’t even worth waking you up for,’ they said sheepishly, ‘sorry.’

When it came to [y/n]’s insistence on tagging along with Kuroo during his trips to Nikko, he possessed an immeasurable dislike. The steady decline in [y/n]’s health induced a sickening anxiety within him, causing numerous arguments that all led to his failure in persuasion. [Y/n] always prevailed, ending up with him in their expensive two-story cabin in Ashio, drinking that godawful packet coffee throughout the night.

Kuroo grabbed both of [y/n]’s hands, placing a kiss on each knuckle. ‘Come to bed,’ he coaxed, leading them out of the study.

‘I can’t,’ [y/n] pulled away, ‘I’ve got a new lead and I’ll lose my train of thought if I leave it for the morning.’

A long, dejected sigh left Kuroo’s lips. Their marriage of three years was fulfilling and filled with immense joy, there was not a speck of doubt about that fact. It was that obsession of theirs that caused concrete to pour into his lungs. For the entire year, it’d non-existent – it only emerged during those winter trips. It was almost a ritualistic occurrence that was triggered by lingering trauma.

‘It’s been six years, [y/n],’ he said with sorrow, immense grief overwhelming him.

‘And I’ll work on this case for another six if that’s needed,’ [y/n] returned to their desk, eyeing the blueprint taped to the wall above it. It was entirely taped with maps of nearby areas, newspaper clippings from 2012, head shots of the volleyball team they managed in high school - everything that they believed would assist them.

‘Look at this,’ [y/n] turned their laptop towards him, showing him a list of names on an excel spreadsheet.

‘Since when did you become so tech-savvy?’ Kuroo grinned slyly.

‘Firstly, excel isn’t tech-savvy,’ they scoffed, ‘Secondly, don’t change the topic,’ they demanded. ‘I made a list of everyone who disappeared from the area over the past six years.’

Kuroo leaned into the screen, his pupils drifting down the list.

‘And?’

[Y/n] pointed to the column titled “disappearance”, ‘Ever since the winter of 2014, the year they closed the investigation, a bunch of people would vanish within days of each other. All of them had no familial connections and barely any relationships, so there’s never been any pressure on the police to find them.’

Their lips pressed against the ceramic cup, taking a sip of their now-lukewarm coffee. ‘I’m glad neither of us have gotten snatched so far,’ they laughed nervously.

‘Probably because we’re not a socially inept,’ Kuroo chuckled, burying his face into the crook of their neck. He grabbed their shoulders tenderly, turning them around. ‘They’re dead, [y/n],’ Kuroo said with a soft voice. He placed his hands on their cheeks, the pad of his thumbs stroking their cheekbones. ‘They got lost during the snowstorm that day and died of hypothermia.’

‘No, they didn’t!’ they yanked his grip off them.

‘For fuck’s sake, [y/n]!’ Kuroo exploded, yelling in frustration, ‘The case was solved years ago! You’re losing sleep and ruining your health for nothing!’

‘You’re so full of shit!’ they fumed, ‘I know you don’t believe that because you were obsessed with this case too, remember?! But unlike you, I didn’t stop caring about what happened to our friends!’

‘I didn’t stop caring, I just moved on!’ Kuroo stepped towards into them, driving them to walk backwards until their back pressed against the wall. ‘Every year, you insistent on coming with me and I let you. I try so damn hard to make sure that you don’t return to your obsession, but you do it the moment I fall asleep.’

[Y/n] cowered under Kuroo’s intense gaze; his eyebrows knitted as air hissed between his teeth.

‘You’re never coming back here ever again,’ Kuroo walked away, prepared to slam the door shut, ‘we’re leaving in the morning.’

‘The mines, Tetsurou!’

The muscles within Kuroo’s shoulders suddenly relaxed, his posture slumping. ‘The Ashio Copper Mines that'd been abandoned since 1973...’ [y/n] began, ‘the police never even considered checking them.’

He finally looked at them, donning a smile riddled with misery.

‘Do... do you really want to know what happened?’

‘Of course I do! Don’t you dare tell me that you found out and kept it from me,’ [y/n] said with disgust.

‘If you were the one who found out first, I would’ve been furious if you didn’t keep it from me,’ Kuroo picked up their snow jackets from the clothes rack, 'let’s go.’

__________

‘How are we meant to get in? The adit’s sealed,’ [y/n] rubbed their gloved hands together furiously, vapour drifting out of their mouth.

‘Not fully,’ Kuroo walked over to the slabs of wood that covered the left edge of the adit. He placed a hand against them, his brain vividly recalling his first venture inside. The images pulsated within his eyes, almost liquefying them within their sockets.

Kuroo began to move the wood, each one sinking into the snow as he discarded them.

‘It’s a really small gap, but I think we’ll be able to squeeze through. Come,’ he ushered.

Although the glacial breeze no longer pricked into [y/n]’s exposed skin, the place somehow intensified their cold-induced numbness; as though fungus began to bloom from their pores. They believed that their unease was caused by the dark, but it continued to plague their muscles even after Kuroo flicked on the flashlight.

‘Hey, it’s alright,’ Kuroo put his arm around them, ‘there’s nothing threatening our wellbeing down here.’

‘Except for the rocks above us that may tumble down at any moment,’ [y/n] shuddered, ‘where exactly are we going? I-it’s still pretty dark.’

‘I want to show you what I found,’ Kuroo held them even closer, ‘Don’t worry, there’s no skeletons,’ he smirked.

‘This is not the time to joke around!’

A shriek erupted deep within the mines, the sudden spike in their blood pressure inducing a shiver into every vertebrae.

‘W-what on earth was that?’ [y/n] wheezed, breaking away from Kuroo. They frantically looked around, but their vision was limited to what the flashlight exposed. A droplet of water fell onto their scalp from the rusty beams above, causing them to gasp and jump backwards into Kuroo.

‘Calm down,’ he cooed, holding [y/n]’s hand. ‘It’s been abandoned for over a decade and everything’s breaking down. Odd noises aren’t unusual.’

[Y/n] nodded with a gulp, their saliva soothing their dry throat.

‘That elevator though’—Kuroo pointed the flashlight to his left, revealing a cage elevator—‘didn’t break down much. It worked fine the last time I was here.’

‘The last time?’ [y/n] scoffed playfully, ‘You’ve been going on spooky adventures without me?’ they asked sarcastically.

'Can’t comfort you every time you get startled,’ he snickered. He led them into the elevator and pulled the latch, the coils creaking as it took them upwards.

Their arm was tightly looping around his, horrified at the possibility that they’d get separated.

‘The wendigo’—Kuroo grunted as he slid open the cage-like door of the elevator—‘is a mythological creature that comes from Algonquian folklore.’

Logs of moldy wood were hammered into the walls over the rocks underneath, the spotlights mounted on them burnt out years ago. Several mine trolleys ran along the railway, ores of copper overflowing. The soles of Kuroo’s shoes created a crunch as he walked onto the pebbles covering the ground.

‘Tetsurou,’ they said with a stern voice, ‘when I said that this isn’t the time to joke around, I meant it.’

‘What, you’re not into Native American culture?’ Kuroo teased.

‘I’m not into you trying to scare me even more.’

‘[Y/n]…’ Kuroo placed his forehead against theirs, giving it a slow and gentle kiss, ‘... you have to trust that I’m telling you all this for a reason.’

[Y/n] held Kuroo’s hand in silent agreement, continuing to follow his lead.

‘The Algonquian people believe that when a human starves long enough, the wendigo spirit will begin to possess them, driving them to have thoughts of cannibalism.’

A screech almost entirely pierced through [y/n]’s eardrums, a high-pitched ringing flourishing within their ears. The hairs along their body pointed upwards as their lower lip quivered.

‘Humans who find themselves in such a situation usually succumb out of survival. But even then, they’re not excused from the sin they committed. Their fate to transform into a wendigo, a man-eating monster, is sealed. That is their punishment.’

Another screech, this time leading to the sensation of an ice pick digging within [y/n]’s ears.

‘What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck!’ [y/n] looked at Kuroo with fury and repulsion, ‘Y-you’re so damn casual about t-th-that story! And those sounds!’—they waved their hands around, attempting to come up with an appropriate description—‘Those a-aren’t things b-b-breaking down, o-or a person that could be here, b-because it’s so—’

Multiple shrieks, shaking and swirling within the aged walls.

‘Monstrous?’ Kuroo turned around to face them, the hazel of his eyes seemingly green. ‘Our friends were trapped in the mines for weeks, [y/n]. They were starving.’

‘I really don’t like that you’re implying that our friends ate each other. And I don’t like that you’re narrating some campfire story while doing so,’ [y/n] backed away from him, ‘we’re leaving. We’re leaving right now.’

Kuroo completely neglected their demand, immediately clasping his hand around their wrist and dragging them forwards.

‘Let go!’ [y/n] dug their heels into the ground, clawing at his fingers, ‘Dammit, Tetsurou, let go of me!’

They’d known him since their first years at Nekoma. Well over a decade had passed since then, yet there was never a single occasion where force was an element of Kuroo’s touch. As a matter of fact, the delicacy and tenderness of his touches were a sharp contrast to the roughness of his callouses - that was the kind of man [y/n] developed an intense love for. Not the man that was forcibly dragging them somewhere they didn’t wish to be.

‘A wendigo never dies from starvation and its hunger is insatiable... that’s the whole point of the curse,’ Kuroo dismissed their pleas. He finally stopped in front of a row of small wooden planks, propped into a muddy patch of soil. ‘But when I found them during that winter in 2014, I made a vow to keep them well-fed. That list of missing persons you showed me? That was the menu.’

‘You fucking kidnapped people and threw them in here?!’ the next shriek led a burst within [y/n]’s ear canal to suddenly erupt, their own scream merging with the animalistic ones echoing within the mines. [Y/n] pressed their hands firmly against their ears, palms warm with the blood that slowly poured out.

‘I killed them beforehand so they wouldn’t suffer.’

Their face was raw from the negative temperature of the night, their tears scorching it as they trailed down. Kuroo wrapped [y/n] within his arms, holding them tightly into his chest. It did not induce the slightest amount of comfort, though. Kuroo’s embrace was foreign, alarming and unspeakably nauseating.

The white paint on the wooden sticks was almost entirely chipped away, age having worn them down. [Y/n] kneeled in front of them when they caught glance of the letters scratched into them, blinking rapidly to lessen the clouding of their vision.

Inuoka. Kai. Shibayama. Taketora.

A cassette of the team devouring the intestines of those four played inside [y/n]’s mind, as though their body was taunting them. Bile rose up their stomach, burning the delicate membranes of their throat and mouth as they spat it out.

‘W-who the fuck even are you?!’ they aggressively pushed Kuroo away, ‘You’re not the man I married! I d-didn’t marry a fucking murderer!’

‘You’d rather they starve again?’ he asked in disbelief.

‘You just said that those things don’t die from starvation!’

The next screech prompted Kuroo to stand up and face away from them, appearing to be waiting for something. ‘It’s not fair that we’re alive and happy, [y/n]. We both have to die just as horribly,’ he said in an uncharacteristically calm manner. If [y/n] hadn’t known any better, they would have believed that he was a deaf man that was completely unaware of the monstrous wails. ‘That is the punishment for our sin.’

‘What fucking sin? There’s no sin! Please, Tetsurou, this is all just survivor’s guilt—’

The muscles of their tongue tensed at the sight. The creature was no shorter than twelve feet, its legs thrice the length of its arms. Its pale, wrinkled and sickly grey skin was tightly taut against its bones due to severe emaciation; its abnormal skeleton on the verge of breaking through. No hair was to be found on its body - only frost.

Its claws, the size of battle swords, sunk themselves into Kuroo’s head with ease; as though it were a needle gliding through a pin cushion. It placed its gaunt, sunken face in front of Kuroo’s, releasing a high-pitched scream that throbbed within [y/n]’s damaged ears. The short strings of decayed tendons that hung from shank-like teeth flew away from its mouth, some dropping to the ground.

[Y/n]’s pupils drifted towards the rocky ceiling of the mine, spotting several more wendigos screaming in hunger. The sound of flesh tearing caught their attention, leading them to look at Kuroo once more.

The wendigo pulled his head upwards. [Y/n] watched every vein within his neck tear until his head was completely severed from his torso, splashes of ruby painting their face and dyeing their clothes. The vocal cords within their larynx were paralysed - even though the scent of rotten mince from their husband’s blood clung onto the hairs within their nostril, [y/n] found themselves incapable of making a single sound. Kuroo wasn’t capable of doing so either while he was ripped apart, the blood filling his upper body making him gurgle instead of scream.

What distressed them even further was the wendigo’s sunken eyes. Its murky, faded golden eyes.

‘... Kenma?’

The wendigos that lunged in [y/n]’s direction immediately snapped them out of their shock, prompting them to grab the flashlight. Sheer horror powered their legs to run to the elevator nearby; they possessed no desire to turn around and see how many there were exactly, especially when considering that that would slow their movements.

Splinters and cuts embedded themselves into [y/n]’s fingers as they pushed large barrels, tumbled trolleys, rocks — anything and everything — in the wendigos’ way while they ran. Under normal circumstances, [y/n]’s strength to do such things would have been non-existent, but their heart beat fast enough for adrenaline to seep into every cell. Fear was a fuel to pushing the body well beyond its limits.

Although [y/n] was relying on the unstable light they wavered around, the elevator began to enter their view. They extended their right hand out, prepared to close the metal door once they got in. Their brain was floating, their vision was hazing and their organs were collapsing.

The unanticipated piercing of large, pointed teeth into [y/n]’s shoulder was what led them to finally scream. The wendigo was a creature of the winter, yet its bite was agonisingly hot. They could fully feel its humerus, rib cage, vertebrae — its entire skeleton — pressed against them while it lifted them off the ground.

The wendigo was then suddenly ripped away from [y/n], Kenma — or rather, what used to be Kenma — having jumped at it. The pull tore several of [y/n]’s tendons, their nails digging into their shoulder to ease the throbbing sting.

With that singular brush of a four-leaf clover, [y/n] made it to the elevator at last. They found no time to apply pressure to their wound, dropping the flashlight and slamming the door shut. One of the wendigos gnawed at the bars, leading [y/n] to pull the latch frantically. It was significantly taller than the others - around fifteen feet. If it weren’t for its door, it would have easily grabbed [y/n]’s head and crushed it, giving them an end identical to Kuroo’s.

[Y/n]’s head spun with a ruthless migraine, anxiety deepening while the wendigo refused to let go of its grip on the elevator while it ascended. They were unsure if it was their sole aim of escaping, or the trauma they’d gained from watching their husband’s severed head rolling towards them, but an intense rage engulfed them. They began to relentlessly and repeatedly slam the soles of their shoes against the wendigo’s claws.

It screeched with a fury and pain, eventually letting go. When the elevator reached a halt, [y/n] realised that the adit was now close.

[Y/n]’s brain began to shut down as they continued to run, following the white emitting from the small gap they entered from. The howls of those wendigos — their friends — reached a crescendo, blending into a singular note. They wondered how frequently they must have screamed as humans, desperate to suppress their hunger and restrain the wendigo spirit. Their survival relied on renouncing their humanity completely. Yaku, Fukunaga, Teshiro, Lev - they all succumbed, feasting upon the flesh of their teammates. All [y/n] could do was hope that they weren’t devoured alive.

The truth of Kuroo’s last words regarding them tormented [y/n] - “they’re not excused from the sin they committed. Their fate to transform into a wendigo, a man-eating monster, is sealed. That is their punishment.”

When [y/n] finally squeezed themselves through the gap, they immediately barricaded it with the discarded planks of wood and nearby rocks. Their skin was encased with a filthy, blackened sheen of melted ice. It was a disgusting contrast to Kuroo’s blood on them; jelly-like, thick and sticky. Their own blood, on the other hand, warmed their bruised, sweaty body while it gushed out of their shoulder. It all made [y/n] reek of rust and mold.

A loud, poignant wail left their cracked, bleeding lips, collapsing on all-fours as they sunk into the snow. Crimson and mahogany wept into the ground, tainting the white that stung their knees and palms. [Y/n]’s nostrils narrowed with mucous, dripping into their mouth and leaving a salty taste against their tongue. Tears tickled the tip of their nose as they fell and melted their way through the snow, the proof of their grief vanishing as quickly as it was born.

For a moment, they wondered if they’d sinned too.

__________

December 26th, 2018. 04:38:05 PM Ashio, Nikko, Tochigi Prefecture Ashio Copper Mine

Years’ worth of wendigo-related research and observations, all hidden away in the cut outs Kuroo made within complex chemistry textbooks.

[Y/n] quietly chuckled to themselves as they dragged the ice sled up the short mountain, amused by their past naivety. Those hollowed books all rested on the large bookshelf in the living room, yet they never bothered to even read the titles. Not until after Kuroo was decapitated, that is.

One of Kuroo’s hidden possessions included a comprehensive map of the Ashio region. When [y/n] sat down and analysed it the first time they found it, their loneliness for him surged. They were encouraged by others to return to the dating scene once they’d recovered, but they knew they’d never do so. [Y/n] wasn’t lonely for company - they were lonely for Kuroo.

Having reached the large hole situated above the Ashio Copper Mine, [y/n] kneeled beside the ice sled. In one of Kuroo’s diaries, he specified the only way he keep them well fed. There was a hole situated above the mountain housing the mine, deep enough to guarantee that no wendigo could climb up and emerge. That was where he dropped the bodies.

Several items were strapped onto the sled - a snowboard, a helmet and a thermally insulated box. However, they were mere props. They proved to be highly effective tools of disguise, attracting no suspicion whatsoever while they made their way from the town to the isolated mines. Those who passed by [y/n] never viewed the duffle bag as an object of interest. What menacing thing could there be in the bag of an individual clad in snowboard attire? Goggles? An extra pair of gloves? Bindings?

How extraordinarily slim was the probability that a corpse would be present?

Unzipping the duffle bag, [y/n] eyed the bloodied dent within the man’s temple. Kuroo specified that some Algonquians believed that the human remained trapped within the wendigo’s icy heart, but [y/n]’s always rejected that theory. The wendigo that was once Kenma tore its childhood friend in half, then proceeded to guzzle down his muscles and slurp on his pulsating arteries.

There was no human in there.

But [y/n] finally understood the sin Kuroo referred to - it was the sin of escaping the ghastly demise their friends met. For committing that, they were rewarded with an equally violent death, or the punishment of ensuring that the wendigos remained fed when they awoke from hibernation every winter.

Some may say that that was not the case. That [y/n]’s statement that there was no sin — only survivor’s guilt — was correct. It was far too late for [y/n] to speculate on such matters, though.

[Y/n] huffed as they dragged the body out and rolled it into the hole. Numerous revolting crunches echoed while its skeleton shattered, limbs at grotesque angles due to the obliteration of its joints.

When screeches bounced against the walls of the mines, they realised that they lived beneath a sky forsaken by the sun.

Fractures began to settle within their bones, their complexion had been drained and exhaustion cursed their eyes with an itchy dryness.

They realised that they lived beneath a blinding white, their irises forever glazed.

#it's 2 in the goddamn morning ya'll better give me feedback on this :^((#haikyuu horrors #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsuro x reader #scenario #writing #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu #haikyuu fandom #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #tw: blood #tw: gore #tw: murder #tw: cannibalism #tw: character death #gender neutral reader

110 notes · View notes

satoshi-mochida · 4 years ago

Link

Spike Chunsoft has released the launch trailer for Robotics;Notes Elite & DaSH Double Pack.

Additionally, the publisher announced the following launch discounts:

Robotics;Notes Elite & DaSH Double Pack

PlayStation 4 Digital Double Pack – $10 off. (Compared to when purchased individually.) Available with an additional 10 percent discount and Mini Soundtrack from October 13 to 20 in North America and October 16 to 23 in Europe. (Discount and soundtrack for PlayStation Plus users only.)

Steam Digital Double Pack – $10 off. (Compared to when purchased individually.) Available with an additional 10 percent discount and Mini Soundtrack from October 13 to 20.

Robotics;Notes Elite and Robotics;Notes DaSH Digital Versions

Switch Digital Version – Available individually with a 25 percent discount between October 13 to 20 in North America and October 16 to 23 in Europe.

PlayStation 4 Digital Version – Available individually with a 10 percent discount from October 13 to 20 in North America and October 16 to 23 in Europe. (Discounts apply to PlayStation Plus users only.)

Steam Digital Version – Available individually with a 10 percent discount from October 13 to 20.

Here is an overview of each game, via Spike Chunsoft:

Robotics;Notes Elite

About

Thanks to the rising popularity of the PhoneDroid—a device which features augmented reality (A.R.)—the age of advanced technology has finally reached Tanegashima. On that island, Central Tanegashima High’s Robot Research Club is about to have their club disbanded. Despite their predicament, Kaito Yashio, one of only two members in the Robot Club, couldn’t care less and would rather play a robot fighting game all day. His counterpart, the reckless club leader Akiho Senomiya, ignores Kaito’s apathy as she strives to keep the club from being disbanded by completing their giant robot.

One day, Kaito discovers a mysterious A.R. annotation titled “Kimijima Report.” It contains instructions involving locations all across the island—and warns of a conspiracy involving the entire world.

Key Features

Mystery in Tanegashima – Travel the island of Tanegashima and use the PhoneDroid to unlock the secrets sealed away by Ko Kimijima.

The Story You Want to Tell – Branching storylines allow you to pursue the endings you wish to see with each character.

A Dream Worth Fighting For – Only you can help the Robot Club pursue its dream of building a life-size Gunvarrel!

Robotics;Notes DaSH

About

The island of Tanegashima is preparing for the Summer Festival half a year after the events of Robotics;Notes Elite. Kaito Yashio has graduated high school and is applying to attend college as he pursues his dream of becoming an astronaut. Through Nae Tennouji, an acquaintance he knows from JAXA, he is introduced to Itaru Hashida, who happens to be on the same ferry heading back home. Itaru claims to be taking a tour of the island, but as times goes on, he starts acting strangely… Together they enjoy summer with the former members of the Robot Club: Akiho Senomiya, Junna Daitoku, Frau Koujiro, Subaru Hidaka, and Airi Yukifune, a girl they met from the incident last February. However, some unsettling incidents start occurring all around them, harbingers of an event that will again plunge the world into chaos.

Key Features

Breathtaking Imagery – Experience the world of Robotics;Notes like never before with newly animated graphics.

Find Your Happy Ending – Featuring intricate, branching storylines, allowing you to fall in love with any character you wish!

Timelines Converge – Itaru Hashida (Daru), a beloved character from the Steins;Gate series, plays an intricate part of the story in DaSH, making this a must play for Science Adventure fans.

Robotics;Notes Elite & DaSH Double Pack is due out for PlayStation 4 and Switch on October 13 in North America and October 16 in Europe. Robotics;Notes Elite and Robotics;Notes DaSH are also due out individually for PC via Steam on October 13 worldwide.

Watch the trailer below.

youtube

#Robotics;Notes Elite #Robotics;Notes DaSH #Robotics;Notes #visual novel #Spike Chunsoft #Gematsu

5 notes · View notes

kunderdogs · 5 years ago

Text

Ateez / GF Defending Them 2/3

Here’s part 2!!! Tomorrow I’ll put up part 3 which is Wooyoung and Jongho :)

Once again, this has mentions of violence/fighting & racism so if that triggers you, please read at your own risks. And this doesn’t reflect the members. Just how I feel they would react in certain situations.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Yeosang:

Showing your boyfriend around your home town was something you had been telling him you wanted to do for a long time. So when they went on tour in the town just a little ways from where you grew up, you nearly ran to your phone to book your flight back home and call your family to tell them the good news.

Months later, you were hand in hand with Yeosang, walking around and experiencing the night life while the other seven boys were scattered around the city. Some in front of you, running in and out of stores as they played a game while others were sucked into the shopping mall that was opened late. They had finished the concert for tonight and just got done with dinner so it was a little after midnight yet the boys were still high off the adrenaline from the fans.

Just as you were passing a nightclub and mentioning a funny story to Yeosang, a drunk man stumbled into the two of you roughly. Yeosang was able to steady the two of you after you tripped before throwing a glare at the man over his shoulder. He was known to be a savage and not hold back his tongue, but the language barrier seemed to stop him before he could say anything.

The man returned Yeosang's glare almost instantly, "Watch where you're going, little boy."

Before he could stop it, you heard Yeosang scoff before replying in Korean, "You bumped into us. You should watch out."

Obviously not knowing what the hell he just said, the man looked confused at him before at you then back again. "Tell your little friend that this is America, and we speak English here. If he doesn't like it, he's welcomed to go back to China."

At this point, there was absolutely no way for you to keep quiet. The man's friends assessed the scene and were trying to defuse it and pull him away to the side but he swayed and came back to stand in front of you two.

You frowned. You'll be damned if someone was going to be blatantly racist, especially in front of you! "Watch your fucking mouth, prick." With that, you placed yourself in front of Yeosang as he tried to pull you away. "But, you're right. This is America, where he has just as much rights to be here as you. Go with your friends before I get really mad."

There was a moment where you thought he would back off until he laughed loudly in your face. "Look at that, this little bitch has a mouth on her," he slurred to one of his friends who gave you an apologetic glance. His beady eyes were on your boyfriend once more, "You'd better put this one on a leash. She sounds rabid."

You weren't sure if Yeosang knew what the guy implied but you reacted before you actually thought it through. Your heel swung down on his toe so hard, the guy screamed and buckled under the pain. In the next moment, your fist connected with his cheek just the right amount that made him finally lose his balance and tumble to the gravel. His friend stared wide eyed before rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

"He's not fuckin’ Chinese, he's Korean." And with that, you spat on the floor next to him and snatched Yeosang's hand to continue your walk around the city.

In the back, you could hear the friend say that he deserved that before leaving his ass to whimper in a ball. You were fuming so much as you stomped down the street that bystanders parted for you.

It was probably the dark scowl on your face, brows frowned aggressively while Yeosang stayed quiet behind you. Finding an empty bus stop, you threw yourself on it, folding your arms over your chest and glared at the building across from you.

Soft hands untangled your arms but you were still too pissed to look him in the eye so when he whispered your name, you couldn't help but glance to the side. That little smirk that you loved was stretched on the vocalist lips, his thin fingers rubbing your knuckles to calm your nerves.

"Are you alright, love?"

His question only made your anger spike so the next second, you were pacing in front of him. "No! I can't believe someone would say that - from my own town! This is just - I honestly cannot believe - Who even is that racist?! Like what the fuck! How dare he! America has so many different races and cultures and-and there's so many minorities in this particular side of town - oh my god. I'm going back to give him a piece of my mind."

You made a move to go back the way you came, until you felt a hand circle your wrist and pull you to stand between your boyfriend's spread legs. He looked up to you, for the first time since he was taller than you, and laced both your hands together.

"I love that you are so protective and won't sit down where there's injustice but please, let's not resort to violence." Your arms wrapped around his shoulders and visibly relaxed against him. "If something happens to you, I'll have to get into a fight and my face is too pretty~"

"Oh, so what you're saying is that you're too pretty to fight but I'm not? Got it." You teased, smirking when you saw the wide eye panicked look he gave you.

"Yah! How can you just twist my words like this? Aish...You're too beautiful to be even out and about. I'm going to lock you in the hotel room for the rest of the tour."

"Ooh~ I like the sound of that. Will you be in there with me?"

His cheeks instantly bloomed pink. "Stop teasing me, woman!"

Yeosang wouldn't mind you defending him, as long as it wasn't violent. He'll even cheer you on if you got especially savage. He loves when you stand up for what you believe in and would encourage you to always speak your mind and never, ever change.

Mingi:

Although he hated to admit it, Mingi took a lot more time to fully recover from his back pain than he let on. With the new album coming up in two months time, nearly all of the members had already most of the choreo, if not all, memorized. It took him a little bit longer due to the constant strain this particular dance had on his back and sides and he had to take more breaks than the rest of them.

He already felt like shit for missing nearly all of the promotions for Wonderland and it'll be a cold day in hell he was going to have a repeat of that.

Currently, at ten pm, 5 hours since the group had wrapped up their practice for the day, Mingi was still in the hot training room, with their choreo teacher glaring daggers into him from the mirror.

They were towards the front of the room, far away from the side door when you quietly slipped in with Jongho. You convinced the maknae to come out of the studio for dinner since you knew he needed a break as well. As you two opened the door, their dance teacher was laying in on Mingi on his missed step. The two hadn't even noticed they had company.

"I know you think two months is a lot of time but the rate you're learning is too slow," their teacher huffed, running a hand thru his sweating hair. "You really need to get your shit together. You don't want to be a burden to the team, again do you?"

With his head lowered, you saw Mingi lower it some more. That was a low blow, and you felt Jongho freeze up next to you while the anger boiled in your veins. While around fans and the boys, Mingi always smiles and laughs but he was deeply hurt by the fact that he couldn't participate and felt that he didn't hold his own weight. He felt like he let down the staff, the fans and most importantly, the boys. They tried to reassure him that they just wanted him to come back healthier and take his time but that didn't make the guilt go away.

"No, I don't. Everytime I do the chorus, the twist makes my back ache so I miss the timing -"

The older male was having none of that and this time, angrily threw his snapback at the mirror, causing Mingi to flinch. "Stop with the excuses! The other boys had injuries too, you don't see them whining about it! They suck it up and are professional! Carry your own weight and stop relying on the boys to pull it for you."

That was the last straw. You had heard more than enough to get you seeing red. So without further ado, and too quick for Jongho to snap out of his shock to yank you from the room, you were stomping over to them.

Hearing the footsteps, they both turned to see the look of promised murder on your face and fire in your eyes. "I don't care who you think you are, but you have no room to belittle Mingi. He's still recovering from an injury and this comeback has been hard on all of the boys to get down. Much harder than any other. So maybe you should change something, like San suggested weeks ago, rather than blaming them!"

Stunned, the dance teacher didn't do much other than stare with his mouth agape. You grabbed Mingi by the arm and dragged him out the door, Jongho following close on your heels.

But you weren't done just yet. "If you two don't tell your manager about that asshole, I sure will! It's one thing to have constructive criticism but that was outright bullying! Is he always like that?! Where's my phone? I'm calling your manager right fucking now-"

"Baby, please," Mingi pleaded, placing his hand over yours that was digging in your purse. "He's right. I shouldn't complain and just try to push past the pain. I'm sure it'll get better with time and practice."

You rounded on him, eyes narrowed in a glare that had never been directed at him as long as you had been dating. Jongho cowered behind Mingi's strong back, peeking from around his shoulder to watch the onslaught.

You were sure if steam could come out of your nose, it would be bellowing around the hallway right now. "No matter what happens, that is no way to speak to someone! It's like everyone forgets that you guys are human. You need time to recover, and even San and Yunho complained about the spins and dips in the chorus. If it's too complex, it should be changed, especially if it'll further irritate your injury! Don't you dare stand there and take that again, Song Mingi. I will raise Hell over this entire building."

There wasn't much he could do but nod, holding onto Jongho as if the maknae would protect him from you as you hurriedly spun on your heel. "Let's go eat before I burn this place to the ground in my anger."

Being so quiet when faced with confrontation, Mingi would definitely be one to silently thank you for defending him/protecting him. He wouldn't ask you to do it, or even tell you about any negative encounters but if you happen to be there and stop it, he would be in the background, letting you say whatever you wanted before pulling you away from the scene to calm you down.

San:

There's not much that San can't do. That includes fighting. San is pretty good at getting out of things with his charm and quick wit, so you rarely ever have to defend him and if there were a fight to break out, he is a black belt.

Honestly, he knew how protective you can be. Being an older sister, you had your fair share of defending your siblings from bullying and knew how to fight (even if it was street fighting, it still counted). Everyone liked San and his members so there was no real need for you to go into protection mode.

Until one fateful night two years into your relationship with San. You were out, celebrating your friends' engagement and since she was also friends with San, it was only natural that he was there too. The night was going perfectly fine; none of your friends were too wasted, no drink had spilt on you and there was no drama between anyone so far.

That all ended when you went to the bathroom, leaving San alone to get another round of drinks for you two at the bar. The line was long at the ladies room, which wasn't new to you but by the time you were done and making your way to find your boyfriend, some girl was pressing her body against him while batting her lashes at his unamused expression.

"I told you, I have a girl already." His flat tone told you that he was done being polite right about now.

"Really?" She sneered, twisting box dyed blonde hair in her fingers. "Then where is she? Oh right the 'bathroom'. Honestly, she probably is flirting with another guy right now. She looked rather easy to me."

There was a twitch in his jaw that made you upset there was two people that didn't move the hell out of your way fast enough for you to get to them. San huffed before taking a sip from his beer. "The only easy girl I see around here, is you. Throwing yourself at a man whose said he's taken three times is just pathetic."

Enraged, the girl quickly grabbed the untouched drink next to his, you presumed it was your drink, and splashed it on the front of San's button up. There were shocked gasps and yelps all around before people turned to stare at the two of them. It was enough of a pause for you to break past and stand in front of your boyfriend.

"Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" You taunted, hands on your hips and head cocked to the side with a scowl.

"As if I would want to waste my time on you," Her brown eyes narrowed on San behind you, "Or that bastard either."

You shoved her shoulder, hard enough to have her stagger back, unbalanced from being in heels. "Keep your mouth shut, bitch, unless you'd like me to shut it for you."

Her face twisted in anger, slowly turning red from the emotion before pushing you back, "What are you going to do? Go play somewhere, little girl."

Tired of talking and buzzed enough to do something irrational, you didn't realize you slapped her until you did it twice and then yanked her hair so she was on the ground, with you standing over her. A few yells and cheers sounding like "WORLD STAR" sounded off around you but you didn't pay her any mind.

Grabbing San's hand, you walked over her, smirking at as she clutched her face.

"He's mine."

San loves when you're possessive and jealous side comes out. He finds it so hot, even if you're raging mad at him. The only times you'd have to come to his rescue would be if a girl had tried something with him and was getting aggressive but after he saw it for the first time, he would never let you forget it. He would tease you saying that it was really sexy how you don't take shit from anyone and even suggest you slap him when you got freaky. Of course, you would stare blankly at him like “I will actually slap you if you keep that up.” and he'll just laugh. He just finds it really sexy so he's all for your jealous/protective nature to surface.

#ateez #ateez scenario #ateez reaction #kang yeosang #song mingi #choi san #part 2/3 #ateez roty #ATEEZ PRESENT #im sorry

110 notes · View notes