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gimmethatagustd · 11 months

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what the fire gave us (1) | jjk

You were born with a Gift that the world wanted to turn into a weapon. All Jungkook wanted to do was show you that you could find love, even in the dark.

🔥 pairing: shadow elemental!jungkook x water elemental!(f)reader

🔥 part of a spring offering collab

🔥 wc/date: 9.7k | june 2023

🔥 warnings: major character death (doesn't occur until part 2 but i'm being nice by warning you now; not jk or reader), minor character death, referenced past murder, smut (doesn't occur until part 2), unrequited love (not between reader & jk), reference to human experimentation (nothing is described in detail), persecution of supernatural people, mentions past war, blood, injuries/violence, they all definitely have ptsd, jungkook is a precious baby boy but he'll also kick your ass, JESSI !!!!!! JESSI STANS RISE UP !! JESSI IS THE COMEDIC RELIEF !!! (at least, i find her funny)

🔥 notes: PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD READ THE WARNINGS. there is heavy angst, particularly in part 2. i hope that you enjoy this story, even with its cuts and bruises. think of it as stranger things meets avatar the last airbender 😂

🔥 more notes: i was supposed to finish this fic in may lmfao but y'all should know by now that there's no point in trusting me to do what i'm supposed to do. i'm sorry but i will probably never change 😭 ANYWAY. this fic is gonna be over 20k, so i decided to upload it in two parts in an attempt to maintain my sanity cuz this website is trash about handling long posts. i'm almost done with part 2, so it should be uploaded within a week (i swear to GOD i mean it). also, if you follow me on AO3 you'll see that i'm posting this fic in multiple chapters. that's cuz i like the formatting of AO3 chapters better than tumblr. the formatting fits the story better, too.

🔥 main masterlist / part two

🔥 what was jai listening to? cyberpunk - ateez

moodboard credit: @btscontentenjoyer

3 MONTHS

Lookout duty is hard on you. When it’s your turn to camp out on the roof and watch for potential threats, you complain that staying awake all night is hard. Most of the other runaways are night owls, but you aren’t. You need your beauty sleep, you joke. You can’t get comfortable on the roof, even if there’s a flat landing with pillows and blankets to keep you warm.

These are a few of your excuses, but you can’t bring yourself to tell the others the truth: you are scared.

It’s close to midnight when you hear the creak of the trapdoor opening. The likelihood of it being anyone other than the group of Gifted runaways you live with is low, but you can’t trust that the impossible wouldn’t happen. You’ve seen the impossible happen far too often.

Hopping down from the old milk crate you’d been sitting on, you crouch behind a giant bean bag with your bow and arrow ready. The harness you wear strapped around your torso holds your spare arrows. It digs hard enough into your shoulder that you form blisters if you don’t wear a thick enough shirt.

The fluffy pink hair poking out of the trapdoor makes you sigh in relief.

“Hey, kid,” the pink-haired man whispers.

He gently closes the trapdoor and walks with a hunched back toward you, careful not to expose too much of his body beyond the roof’s railing. The abandoned warehouse you live in is on the city's outskirts, with nothing for miles but empty concrete parking lots and overgrown plots of land.

Still, you never know who might be out there. Although the Red Pins have only inflicted pain from within their research facilities, all the runaway Gifteds know that the government employs more than one type of evil to hunt them down.

You try not to think about them, those scientists in long white coats that fall to their thighs and blood-red nametags pinned to their labels with names you often see painted on the walls of your nightmares. Lately, the frequency of the nightmares has lessened. It doesn’t feel like it, though, when you often wake in the middle of the night to your friends screaming in their sleep while they suffer through their own trauma. You wish the knowledge that the pain of being government lab rats is something you all share could be comforting. But, instead, it only makes you hurt more.

“Yoongi,” you huff, returning to your perch on the milk crate. Now your hands are all sweaty. “You should be sleeping.”

“Hi, Yoongi; nice to see you too! Thanks for coming to hang out with me!” Yoongi mocks your voice, clearly stating what he thinks you should have said. “Oh, no problem, Y/N. I just wanted to see how you were doing and hang out with my favorite kiddo.”

You scrunch your nose at kiddo.

“I’m not a kid.”

Yoongi leans over to rub his knuckles into your head. “Nah, you definitely are.”

Despite the lack of lighting outside, Yoongi practically glows. That’s always how it is with fire elementals. It’s like they absorb all the light and let it buzz inside them. Like fireflies, you’d once told Yoongi. He hadn’t found it cute to be compared to a bug.

“If I’m a firefly, then you’re a fucking fish,” he’d teased. You’d promptly summoned water from a nearby puddle to throw in his face.

For as long as you can remember, that’s how it has been between the two of you: fire and water. A push and pull. So different that you need each other to be whole.

You watch Yoongi get comfortable in the bean bag, his skinny limbs spreading like a starfish and his eyes lifting to the sky. In quiet moments like this, you would give anything to hold him. And not out of fear like you had when the scary men came to take you away from your parents. And not out of anger like you had to when you stopped him from blowing up the research facility they’d held you in.

No, you want to hold him and for it to be gentle, soft, and peaceful.

Like now, when the world is silent except for the crickets calling to each other in the weeds and the rustle of wind in the trees.

But he thinks you’re just a kid.

You’re not that much younger than him. But, if you put in the effort to look at your relationship objectively, you’d see that Yoongi’s paternal nature comes out with you and the other runaway Gifteds. He cares for you as an older brother would.

It’s not enough for you, though. It will never be enough.

“Is everyone else asleep?” You rest your elbows on your knees and hold your chin in your hand. When you speak, you look out at the empty field.

“Hobi sneezed and blasted a hole through the bathroom wall,” Yoongi says with a low chuckle. “So me and Joon found some supplies to patch it up the best we could. I think they’re all asleep now, though.”

“How is it Hobi’s the one breaking shit and Namjoon’s fixing it?” You press your hand against your mouth to muffle the ugly snort bursting from you. There’s very little to find funny in this life, so you cherish how your chest burns with fond warmth.

“The world’s all backwards.” Yoongi’s gummy smile lights up the night and tears into your heart.

The two of you fall silent once again. Moving slowly, you reach out to hook your pinky finger with Yoongi’s, a small smile forming when you feel his pinky wrap tightly around yours.

“Where are we gonna go, Yoong?”

He watches you with eyes heavy with sleep, determined to stay up with you even though he doesn’t need to. Initially, you thought it was because he wanted to keep you company. Now, you often wonder if it’s because Yoongi is afraid to sleep, too. He never speaks about his experience at the Labs; the other runaways have learned the hard way not to ask. Singed eyebrows don’t look good on anyone.

“I don’t know.”

You already knew this would be the answer, but it scares you anyway. Yoongi always knows everything.

Yoongi lets go of your hand to sit up in the bean bag.

“Hey, kid,” he whispers. He gently presses his palm to your jaw, cupping your face. You hope he doesn’t hear your breath hitch in your throat. “As long as we’re together, you don’t gotta worry about anything, okay?”

You stare at him for a long time, searching the bags under his eyes and the worry lines on his forehead.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

3 MONTHS, 1 WEEK

There’s a stream that cuts through the overgrown fields behind the warehouse. It’s man-made, flowing from a sewer tunnel beneath the cracked parking lot - and likely from somewhere else, perhaps connected to a lake beyond the woods at the property's edge. The separation between industrialization and the natural world of the unknown hurts your heart. You’d never felt longing until you found yourself inside a cage of cinderblock walls and concrete floors.

A rope of water whips across your face, drawing you from your thoughts of the woods. It’s muddy and makes your skin and clothes smell sour.

Though the air is still crisp and bites at the tip of your nose, spring came early this year. It takes minimal effort for Namjoon to draw more water from the soiled stream as it’s not frozen over like it should be. With a flick of his wrist, another rope of water hits you, this time across your chest.

“Aghh!”

“Pay attention.”

You lift your arm in enough time to block his next assault. The liquid rope freezes in the air before shattering into a thousand glimmering pieces, scattering jagged ice across the pale yellow grass.

“I’m tired of this, Grandpa.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes at the pop culture reference; you’re pleased he understood. Posed to speak, mouth already opening, he barely gets a sound out before another voice bellows across the field.

“WELL, THAT’S TOO DAMN BAD!”

Hoseok isn’t afraid to be loud. He smiles, all teeth and pink tongue, and throws his head back as he cackles. Everywhere he goes, he carries the smell of spring with him - cherry blossoms and morning dew that makes newly-grown pieces of grass stick wet against ankles.

You close your eyes and let spring overpower the sour smell of sewer water Namjoon has thrown at you for the past hour. It lets you forget how your skin aches with welts and bruises.

As Hoseok bounds toward you and Namjoon, a dark tornado spins beside him. When he gets closer, you can see Hoseok occasionally blowing a small gust of air toward the tornado. It appears to be made of smoke, a gradient of grays and blacks.

“Look at this,” your friend announces with a mischievous grin. “Me and JK learned a new trick.”

With a quick snap of Hoseok’s fingers, you and Namjoon watch in patient silence as the tornado begins to slow its speed. Almost gently, the smoke curls tighter and tighter until the darkness turns into a solid mass.

Jungkook stumbles a few times as he attempts to get his footing. His limbs continue to propel his body into a small spin.

Hoseok quickly reaches out to grab the younger man. Secure hands squeeze his shoulders, and then it’s only Jungkook’s head lolling about.

“Cool, right?” Jungkook’s voice is gruff, but his lips curl into a weak smile.

Namjoon lets out a long sigh. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”

Although Namjoon is right, Jungkook does look like the effort of his little party trick took a toll on his body; you can’t help but match his smile. Especially when his eyes flick toward yours. You told his gaze for half a second before Jungkook quickly looks away. His cheeks flush pink, but you’re sure it’s from the exertion of all that spinning.

“I think it’s really cool,” you praise the two while elbowing Namjoon in the ribs. With a grumble, your sparring partner returns to his previous stance a few feet away.

“We should go again. Just for a little while longer.”

Every muscle in your body feels stiff when you turn away from Hoseok and Jungkook.

“I hurt all over, Joonie.”

“Let her rest!” Hoseok adds to your whining. “All we ever do is practice fighting.”

“Sparring.”

Hoseok waves a dismissive hand at the younger man. “Whatever you want to call it. I find it to be fri-”

You stifle a laugh by pressing the back of your hand to your mouth as Hoseok is tackled to the ground by Jungkook. The two men roll around, all arms and legs, kicking up dead grass and dirt. A lot of howling and teasing laughter rings through the open air.

It isn’t until Jungkook is launched into the sky by a gust of wind you know comes from Hoseok, and lands roughly on his back, that the playful fight ceases. How Jungkook lands knocks all the air out of his chest, but he laughs once his lungs start working again.

“Ridiculous, all of you.” Hoseok brushes grass from his clothes. It’s futile; they’re dirty and ragged anyway. Try as you and Namjoon might to use your Gifts to clean the clothes; water does little when there’s no soap.

“I let you win,” Jungkook teases.

Still, he stands a bit further from Hoseok than he had previously. Not far enough for anyone to notice, aside from you. You notice although you don’t mean to. It’s hard not to when Jungkook keeps stealing glances, only to look away when you try to return his gaze.

“You did not.”

“Did, too.” His insistence makes you giggle.

“And how did that work out for you? Hmm? How does your back feel? I know you landed on that rock.”

“I-It, it doesn’t hurt.” Jungkook glances your way. His cheeks are still pink. “Would take more than that to hurt me.”

“Jungkook is impossible to beat.”

You startle at the gentle voice, spinning on your heels to see Yoongi approaching the group. He’s got a leather satchel strapped across his chest and resting at his hip. It bulges with what you assume are plants and fruits scavenged from the woods.

“Boy Scouts” is what Yoongi offered when you asked how he knew so much about surviving in nature. It was peculiar; nothing about Yoongi seemed like the type. He’s tougher, more steel than wood or earth. A bulletproof shield, you think. Broad and strong.

“Impossible?”

Your question is meant to be a tease, but Yoongi’s face remains stoic. Such a severe look only reveals itself when he assumes his position as your misfit group’s leader. It would be extremely attractive if it didn’t scare you.

“How can you fight shadows?” Yoongi deadpans. He stares into your eyes long enough to make your face feel hot, but you don’t look away.

“I…”

Yoongi hums at your lack of an answer. Suddenly, you feel unbelievably small.

“It’s not impossible,” Jungkook whispers. His head hangs low, long bangs hiding his face. The rest of his hair is tied into a bun at the nape of his neck. “I’m just as beatable as you, hyung.”

Something about Yoongi’s expression softens at the honorific. Formalities died long ago, along with many other traditions that once made Korea what it was. So many things died during the war - tangible and cultural - lives and ways of being. Now, the Republic is something you know your friends no longer recognize. Although it is not your home country, your heart aches for what it once was - something you will never have the privilege to experience because you arrived during the Restoration of the Republic - a fallacy of an era since the country was never restored to how it was.

That may be best. It is easier to mourn the loss of something you never knew.

In moments like this, you feel terribly inadequate - when you speak with broken Korean or struggle to understand the foreign politics behind why Gifteds are hunted, no matter how many times Namjoon patiently attempts to teach you. All you know is that, at least here, to be Gifted is not a death sentence, per se. Other countries’ governments have been far less lenient with their mutant population.

You’re simply seen as a science experiment to be tested on, poked and prodded, pushed until you’re driven mad, and then warped into whatever shape the government has the need for.

“You have no match,” Yoongi smiles softly at Jungkook with a shake of his head. “I do.”

Holding out his hand, a small flame appears in the center of Yoongi’s palm. It floats just above the skin, though he isn’t burned. You’ve seen Yoongi summon fire a million times from the heat of the air around him, and he never ceases to amaze you.

With a nod in Namjoon’s direction, Yoongi waits for a small rope of dirty water to splash against his hand. Namjoon is much kinder in his attack against Yoongi, only summoning enough water to extinguish the flame.

“Water will always win against me,” Yoongi admits. This time, he holds your gaze when he speaks. “It is my match.”

You feel something stir in your belly that migrates up your chest until it eventually threatens to suffocate you, nearly getting lodged in your throat.

“You would do well to continue sparring with Namjoon,” he says after a moment before turning to Hoseok and Jungkook, who have otherwise been silent.

It’s an order, even if Yoongi is gentle with his words.

With a sigh, you turn back to Namjoon. It’s difficult to stamp down the heat Yoongi always manages to trigger inside of you. You would compare him to fire even if it didn’t already run in his veins.

Drawing from the murky stream, you weave a ball of water between your palms.

“Let’s go again.”

While you spar with Namjoon, Yoongi leads Hoseok and Jungkook to the other end of the field.

You and Namjoon spar as though you are dancing. It’s a push and pull, your rhythms falling into harmony, even when one of you performs a surprise attack or a new move that hasn’t been practiced before. Perhaps it is because you both fight with water. There is a fluidity to it that the others don’t possess.

Occasionally, your eyes stray to where Yoongi, Hoseok, and Jungkook have begun to spar. The three men do not dance. Instead, they are a fury of elements intertwining in chaos. The wind snuffs fire, Yoongi and Hoseok blasting each other incessantly. Shadows allow Jungkook to disappear before being hit by an attack, only to reappear right behind his opponent to go in for the kill.

And it would be a kill if this was real. You know Jungkook keeps a rather terrifying knife strapped to his thigh. You all carry weapons, though you don’t really need them. Even Jungkook, with a Gift that’s misunderstood and exceptionally rare, is never found without his weapon.

Out of all the Gifteds you’ve met on your way to safety, you have never encountered another who can manipulate shadows. So, there is truth to Yoongi’s statement.

Jungkook is terrifying, even with the wide, starry eyes he always seems to stare at you with. He’s quiet and shy, typically sticking to Hoseok. You assume it’s likely because you found the two of them together. Both were kept in the same room at the research facility in Busan. As unassuming as Jungkook may be, you’ve seen him manipulate shadows to wrap around a Red Pin’s neck. Those shadows twisted and tightened until the man crumpled.

You didn’t need to have the Gift of blood manipulation to know when his heart stopped.

It was one of the scariest moments of your life, even beyond the suffering you’d endured having lived in the research facilities since you were a teen. Before then, you’d never seen someone die. Even when Yoongi and Namjoon helped you escape, they shielded you from the worst of it. It wasn’t until the three of you came upon the newest facility that such horrors were unleashed.

Jungkook hates himself for it. You know he does; you typically make your bed beside his, and he cries in his sleep. Self-defense protects the body in the moment, but harms the mind and heart long-term.

You probably would have done the same.

For as tragic as his story is - or what little you know of it - Jungkook has an undeniably beautiful soul. Those horrors have yet to turn him cruel or his heart black. Even when he spars, you can tell that he’s being gentle. He holds back and doesn’t reach his full potential out of fear of hurting others, you’re sure. You can see it in how he bounces on the balls of his feet to keep his movements light and how his back muscles ripple beneath his shirt as it clings to his skin. A bead of sweat runs along his neck, over the vein that bulges from his exerting effort.

Something prickles under your skin. When you look up, it’s into those wide eyes full of galaxies you’ll never understand, are somehow okay with not understanding if it means you can continue to gaze upon them.

A small smile pulls the corners of Jungkook’s mouth up. His expression is short-lived, though, quickly falling as a bright orange flame licks at his ankles.

“Don’t let my words get to your head, Jeon,” Yoongi teases. “Impossible to beat, but easy to hurt.”

This time, you catch Yoongi’s eye. You duck your head when he winks at you, just in time to block another blast of water from Namjoon.

“Why is everyone so off today?” Namjoon grumbles to himself. You haven’t managed to successfully hit him even once.

“I’m tired,” you whine again, dropping a ball of water to the ground. Dead grass quickly soaks it up once it splashes. “We should check on Jessi.”

Your group's sixth and final member is tucked away in the corner of the warehouse on the top floor. It’s dark up there, though Yoongi’s everlasting fire, paired with the windows Jessi managed to open, gives enough light for her to work.

She has black grease smudged on her left cheek and across her forehead. Her long, thick hair is tied back into a ponytail, though strands have fallen out to frame her face. When you step closer, you hear her muttering, but you can’t make out what she’s saying. It’s not for you. She speaks, facing the black box placed in front of where she kneels on the floor. The floor can’t feel good on her knees with its bits of broken concrete and dirt. Everything hurts in this life; it hardly matters as long as you’re here and not there.

“This piece of shit,” Jessi hisses, running her hands across her face. It smears more grease onto her skin, but she doesn’t care.

“Not working?”

“Beep beep boop beeping all over the fucking place, then static. White noise and shit. Like it’s telling me to fuck off even though I’m the one fixing it.”

You hum, crouching down to stare at the box. It’s an old radio meant to transport messages back and forth. Perhaps left behind by the military after it had occupied this land while it bulldozed the vigilantes seeking to save Gifteds from the fate you all ended up sharing anyway.

Jessi tweaks a few exposed wires. Every time they spark, you flinch. Mini white lightning, it’s deadly for anyone but Jessi. She grumbles and continues her work with deft fingers calloused from toiling away at the stupid thing for months.

“I’m normally so fucking good at this, I swear to God.”

Frustration colors her tone, even if her expression and cursing didn’t already give her feelings away.

You don’t doubt her, though, and you tell her as much. Still, you know firsthand that it sucks when your powers don’t work how you want them to. As a technopath, fixing the radio should be easy work for her.

“There must be something wrong with it… Maybe the Red Pins did something to it?”

You don’t know anything about technology. Even with the phone you’d stolen off one of the Red Pins, all you’d gotten to do was look at TikTok and try to find out where your parents were before Yoongi made you destroy the device. The government had ways to track you. Technology was as much your friend as a stranger on the street.

With a sigh, Jessi leans back until she’s sitting flat on the grimy floor.

“Maybe? Fuck if I know. I think I’m getting close, though. I’m getting some frequency when I concentrate really hard, but I wanna fix it so it’ll work even without me.”

Your friend whispers the end of her statement. It goes without saying; each one of you knows the fragility of life on the run.

“Thank you for working so hard.” Even in the dim lighting, you can see her watery eyes shine. It hurts your heart, but all you can offer is a light squeeze of her shoulder.

Jessi shrugs. “It’s as much for me as it is for you.”

You watch her stand and brush the dirt from her butt, her joints cracking from sitting down too long. When you first joined this mutant crew, you would have followed behind Jessi to comfort her. But, after months of running and fighting, you’ve learned that sometimes solitude is the best healing method.

4 MONTHS, 2 DAYS

“What makes you think you’re ready? That any of us are ready?”

Yoongi watches you with catlike eyes from where he sits at the kitchen table. The chairs circled around the battered wooden table are mismatched and in varying stages of deterioration from being abandoned for so long. The one Yoongi sits in is metal, and he leans on its two back legs, his right foot pressed to the floor to keep himself steady and his arms crossed against his chest.

Although Yoongi isn’t raising his voice - he never does - you still feel like you’re being scolded.

“I know we are,” you challenge him. Your voice is steady even as your fingers tremble. To stop them from shaking, you squeeze your hands into a fist, nails biting at the skin of your palms.

You should sit down, but holding your energy in is hard. Instead, you pace the kitchen while Yoongi’s cat eyes and Jessi’s wide ones follow you. You feel like a lion looping its cage, the desire to run restricted and confined.

“How?”

“We can’t stay here, Yoong! We can’t. I can’t.”

The front legs of Yoongi’s chair slam into the concrete floor. He allows the momentum to pull him forward, landing his elbows on the table’s surface.

Looking at Yoongi hurts. You can tell from his face that the next thing he says won’t be pleasant. His lips are pressed into a fine line that curves downward slightly. It’s cute how he can pull off a straight-lipped frown, but not when it’s directed at you.

It’s been at least an hour of back and forth between the three of you. Jessi tapped out a long time ago, resolved to watch the tennis match of an argument between you and Yoongi rather than exert energy on a fight she isn’t committed to. Yoongi and Jessi have the final say in all group decisions as the group's elders. It’s another reminder of how you think Yoongi sees you as someone to take care of rather than an equal.

“Have you ever killed someone before, Y/N?”

You pause your pacing to stand in front of the table. Yoongi is an exceptional cook, managing to create delicious meals out of what little you all have to work with from the forest. But now, at this moment, you feel like you’re going to be sick from the food churning in your stomach.

“No.”

“No,” Yoongi repeats. He speaks slowly, like he’s mulling your answer over, letting it twist around his tongue until he’s satisfied enough with its taste to swallow it down.

Leaning forward, Yoongi presses his palms against the table’s surface. He spreads his fingers and stares at them. The two of you seem to trace over the scars that line his skin, little nicks, and slices that healed light pink or blazing white. You’ve never seen Yoongi naked, but you have seen a good expanse of his body when you’ve used your Gift to help the others get clean. From what you’ve seen, you know Yoongi’s entire body is littered with battle scars.

“I have,” he admits what you already knew, and the gravelly sound of his voice makes you shudder. “Jungkook has.”

You wince at the mention of the younger man, but Yoongi doesn’t give you a chance to speak.

“Do you want to ask him what it’s like to squeeze the life out of another man? He may have done it with shadows, but I guarantee he still felt it in his hands.”

Yoongi lifts his eyes to yours when the first tear rolls down your cheek. Concern wrinkles his forehead.

“Yoongi,” you start, but the pink-haired man shakes his head.

“I don’t mean to upset you, kiddo.” The pet name twists your gut tighter with frustration - even though Yoongi’s voice is filled with gentle adoration when he calls out to you. “But I’ll be damned if I let us walk into that forest without knowing where we’re going or whose claws we’re running into. The Gifted Commune is, at best, a rumor. At worst - a trap.”

You want to tell him that falling for a rumor or getting caught by the government is better than sitting in a concrete cage. The prospect of finding a community of other Gifted runaways who have managed to create a society safe from the evils you’ve grown up with means more to you than the fear of the unknown.

There’s no use, though. Jessi is nodding along to Yoongi’s words; the blank expression she wears when she’s upset already masks her face.

“I will not put you in a situation where you must kill or be killed, Y/N. I won’t fucking do it.” Yoongi clears his throat suddenly, and he looks away from you. You’re unsure, but think he might be blinking back unshed tears.

You’re still pissed, but now your anger is mixed quite prettily with debilitating guilt. You’ve never seen Yoongi cry, and you realize with a sinking feeling that you really don’t want to.

“It’s too fucking risky,” Jessi finally speaks. She presses her fingers against her forehead, massaging it slowly as she, too, looks for words. “The radio is almost fixed; I can feel that it’s close. Then we will have a clearer line of communication with the Commune. It doesn’t guarantee anything, obviously, but it’s better than going in without fucking knowing anything.”

There’s nothing else to say. Yoongi doesn’t look at you or Jessi, instead staring at something in the opposite corner of the room.

Jessi gives you what you think is a smile laced with pity - or at least an apology.

How can everyone be so content to stay in the warehouse? You’re a bunch of sitting ducks, hiding out in the same location for months, practically waiting for the government to send their agents to either corral you into laboratories again or exterminate you. You don’t understand how becoming a moving target is a bad thing.

But, ultimately, you don’t understand why Yoongi can’t just trust you.

With a frustrated huff, you twist around to hurry out of the kitchen. As you cross the threshold, Namjoon appears in the doorway.

“Oh, I need to ask you-”

You don’t mean to shove Namjoon with your shoulder as hard as you do, but you don’t have the patience to comply with whatever he expects you to do for him. Probably more sparring and training.

On the one hand, sharing your identity as a water elemental with someone else in the group is an affirming experience. On the other, it’s infuriating because Namjoon sees your potential and pushes you toward it - even when you fight against him.

Namjoon sputters something, and you hear Jessi convince him to drop it. Whatever else they have to say is lost on you; you’re no longer interested in entertaining the conversations of the “leaders” of the group. Part of you wants to find Hoseok or Jungkook to force them to commiserate with you, but something about dumping your sludge of emotions onto them feels wrong.

So you do what you’ve always done best: you repress.

It isn’t until a few hours later when you’re lounging on your makeshift bed with the only tattered book you kept from your facility (Fahrenheit 451, how fitting), that you give yourself over to the gnawing need to interact with other humans.

Jungkook bounces on the balls of his feet, items that you can’t make out pressed against his chest.

“Will you cut my hair for me, noona?”

The out-of-use honorific flusters you, making your face burn under Jungkook’s attentive gaze.

“You don’t have to be so formal with me,” you insist, embarrassment ravaging your twisted stomach and fluttering chest. Something about the attention Jungkook gives you makes you feel nervous and giddy.

“It’s not very formal, really. It’s… respectful? I just… You are, it means,” Jungkook lets out a huff. He blows his bangs out of his face as his cheeks turn pink. “You are special to me.”

You duck your head, shocked by Jungkook’s honesty. It warms you in a way you’re not sure you understand, letting the feeling sit inside your chest rather than exploring it any further.

“Where I come from, we don’t have words like that.”

Jungkook gives you a shrug. Neither of you mentions that in Korea, those words don’t really exist anymore, either.

“But, okay,” you relent softly.

Jungkook stands beside the mess of blankets that make up your bed, holding a pair of scissors and electric clippers Jessi enhanced to operate on their own. Jungkook nicked them from a Red Pin on their way out of the research facility he’d grown up in. Hairstyling tools didn’t seem high on your list of items to steal, but they’d come in handy. Like now, with Jungkook’s bangs falling entirely into his eyes and his hair sweeping across his shoulders.

The pout Jungkook wears lessens slightly. He holds out the tools with an expectant look on his face. It’s cute how his bottom lip juts out, pink and chapped from nervously chewing on it. You’d overheard Namjoon scolding him for something earlier that morning before you went outside to patrol the grounds with Hoseok and Jessi.

Taking the items from Jungkook, you lead him out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. The lights sputter briefly before they fully brighten the small room. Jessi was excited to learn that her Gift extended to electricity as a whole, not just that within technology like computers and radios. With all your Gifts combined, the warehouse is liveable, almost comfortable.

Jungkook sits on the closed lid of the toilet, making you tower over him. He parts his legs slightly so you can stand between them as you run your fingers through his hair.

You spread your fingers and sweep his bangs up, exposing his forehead. It opens up his face more and makes him look older. Jungkook is handsome; there’s no denying that. You’re sure in another life, he could have been a regular college kid with a sweet girlfriend and a bright future.

“What would you like me to do?”

“Hmm?” Jungkook hums with his eyes closed, and his head tilted back slightly.

You don’t miss how he leans into your touch, completely pliable in your hands, as you massage his scalp and continue to play with his hair. It’s thick and soft, even without the proper haircare products to maintain the health of the follicles.

“How do you want me to cut it, silly?”

You reach for the hairbrush you keep tucked away in the bathroom cabinet. It takes a few more moments of silence while you brush out Jungkook’s waves before he finally speaks.

“Short. Cut it all off, please? It’s too hard to take care of now, and it gets in my face.”

“Don’t get mad at me if it comes out bad.”

Jungkook lets out a frustrated sound. “You always do a great job. You gave Yoongi hyung an undercut. It looks so good!”

At the mention of Yoongi, you feel your heart drop. Somehow you know Jungkook is here to make you feel better even if he hasn’t said anything about the argument, and he’s the one seeking your help, not the other way around. He’s a distraction - one you wonder if Yoongi sent himself.

It isn’t that Yoongi won’t apologize; you just never give him a chance to before you run off to lick your wounds on your own.

It’s the healing quality of solitude, you think as you prepare to cut Jungkook’s hair. However, this time, you’re not alone.

You can’t help but smile when Jungkook starts singing a song of his own creation as chunks of his hair fall to the floor. His song drowns out the static that buzzes in your brain like the fuzziness Jessi’s broken radio emits when anyone but her fiddles with it.

“This way,” you speak softly, not wanting to disrupt his singing as you press your fingertips against his jaw and under his chin to lift his face toward you. Your finger presses against the little mole just below Jungkook’s bottom lip. The angle gives you a better view of your work so far.

A small smile flickers on Jungkook’s face as though he’s trying to keep it down, but the corners of his mouth won’t listen to him.

“It feels nice. We don’t touch.”

You hum and nod your head, but Jungkook’s eyes are still closed. It’s true; kind touches are rare. Hoseok is really the only one who gives out hugs. Everything is tough all the time. There’s little room for gentleness, even amongst friends.

So you understand when Jungkook’s smile wins out, and he finally surrenders to the happiness your light touches along his jaw bring him.

4 MONTHS, 5 DAYS

It takes Yoongi three days to apologize.

Perhaps you should have apologized first, but you struggle to see how you could have done anything that warrants an apology. Yes, you feel bad for upsetting Yoongi, but his attitude toward you lately has rubbed you the wrong way.

During the three days it takes him to apologize to you, he seems to do his best to avoid you.

On the days you’re assigned to go on patrol with Yoongi, Jungkook accompanies you instead. You don’t mind having Jungkook by your side, you discover, even though you’re upset that Yoongi is behaving so childishly.

Neither Jungkook nor Yoongi talks much, but you learn that their silence feels different. Whereas Yoongi’s silence stems from feeling confident and content with not needing to fill the air with incessant babbling, Jungkook’s silence is awkward and heavy. He fiddles with the loose strings of his shirt, his reddened cuticles, and everything else. You don’t mind the awkwardness, though. It’s nice to comb through the woods with someone as powerful as Jungkook; you know there’s nothing to fear with him around.

The only weapon Jungkook carries is the knife strapped to his thigh. You, on the other hand, stay heavily armed. Your fingers tighten around your bow. When you twist your torso, the harness that holds your arrows digs into your shoulder. You also have a knife, though you are honestly afraid of close combat. A gun would be even better, but ammo is difficult to come by. It’s easier to collect your arrows after you’ve shot them, although you haven’t needed to yet. Since finding refuge at the warehouse, no one has discovered your group.

Apparently, all your friends are willing to keep testing fate. You aren’t interested in pushing your luck. Jungkook doesn’t comment on the group’s plans for moving forward - or lack thereof. Something tells you that he’ll do whatever Yoongi and Jessi tell him to do.

Still, going on patrol with Jungkook does a decent job of preventing your thoughts from straying toward your argument with Yoongi. Your hands brushed together a few times as you walked side by side, and you could practically feel Jungkook’s brain shortcircuit from the contact.

Part of you thinks he has a crush on you, but the more logical part of you knows he’s probably shy. The kid has gone through a lot in life. Not everything is always about you; you try to remind yourself. Yoongi doesn’t even want you. Why would Jungkook?

On the third day, bright doe eyes don’t greet you at the edge of the woods, just as the sun is kissing the sky for the first time. Instead, sharp cat eyes hold your gaze when you lightly jog over.

“Good morning, kiddo.”

Yoongi wears dark shorts with tattered edges cut from a pair of old jeans and a plain t-shirt the color of the forest in spring. It’s not warm enough to wear what he’s wearing, but fire elementals run hot like you run cold.

“Hi,” you say, voice a bit stunted as you hold your jacket tighter to your body.

You’ve foregone your bow and arrows today; you may or may not have snapped your bow in a fit of frustration that may or may not have anything to do with Yoongi ignoring you at dinner the night before. A knife and your Gift will have to do, but you feel it is enough. Namjoon insists on learning how to use your Gifts and weapons in tandem. For double the defense, or so he says.

Carrying a knife seems ridiculous when you know how to choke someone with their own spit without touching them.

Once you’re within arm’s reach, Yoongi offers his hand to you. He holds it as though he’s going in for a handshake. Yellow-orange fire licks at his palm and swirls in tendrils around his fingers and wrist.

After a few seconds of silence, he makes a slight grunting sound and wiggles his fingers, beckoning you.

It’s impossible not to cave. A prickly feeling tingles down your arm, beginning somewhere in your chest and eventually settling in your fingertips. A tiny hurricane of water stolen from the moisture in the air circles around your hand just as the fire does Yoongi’s.

He lets out a pleased sound when your palms glide across each other. You hook your thumbs together, using the momentum to spin your hands around until your fingers are interlaced and pressed into your palms. You both squeeze your hands once, twice, three times in a heartbeat before pulling away. By the end, the fire and water have disappeared.

When you meet Yoongi’s eyes, the warmth of the fire in his palm has transferred to his gaze. There is an apology in how you release each other’s hands. The handshake holds secret words of friendship and reassurance between you.

The two of you stand in silence for a bit until Yoongi tilts his head in the direction of the woods. You nod in response and follow Yoongi along one of the many patrol paths your group has established.

There’s never anything in the woods besides small animals like squirrels and rabbits, but everyone feels better knowing there is a consistent patrol of the area, just in case.

“So,” When you look at Yoongi, his lips twist into a light smirk you absolutely do not like. “You and Jungkook.”

“Me and Jungkook what?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Just seems like you two been hanging out a lot.”

“Yeah, because you were fucking ignoring me all week.”

His smirk drops into a stern frown, but Yoongi continues following the path. He walks slightly ahead of you with his hands clasped behind his back. It feels like he’s taking a leisurely stroll through a garden rather than going on patrol in the woods for government assassins.

“It was immature and irresponsible of me, and I’m sorry for that.”

Forgiving Yoongi is too easy. It’s the way the morning sun shines through the canopy of trees above you, casting streaks of light against his fading pink hair. The way he carries himself with confidence is gentle and comforting rather than arrogant or misplaced. It’s how he looks at you; you know he would do anything for you.

“It’s okay,” you finally concede. You scramble a bit to fall in line with Yoongi again. “I was being dramatic.”

“Life is one big drama, isn’t it?” Yoongi muses with a chuckle. It’s a question he doesn’t expect an answer to, which is good, considering you’ve got something else buzzing around in your head.

Well, fuck it. You’re just gonna say it.

Heart pounding, you eventually find it in you to say, “I still think you’re wrong.”

After a moment, Yoongi hums in acknowledgment of your admission but doesn’t offer anything else. It’s better than nothing, so you tell yourself to be content with all that he offers.

“Anyway…” You don’t want to drop the subject, but Yoongi’s question is nagging in the back of your brain now - a nagging question you now have a gnawing desire to know the meaning behind. “Me and Jungkook can hang out without it meaning-”

Before you can finish your statement, Yoongi slaps his hand against your mouth. The calluses on his palms are rough against your chapped lips, and his skin is sweaty. His free arm comes around to the front of your chest near your collarbones. He draws you against his chest so tightly you can’t move.

“Don’t talk.” His breath is hot against your face, and his voice is almost indiscernible.

You give a tiny nod before locking your body completely still. You hold your breath, straining to hear what Yoongi might hear or see what he might see. There’s nothing, just the usual sound of life in the woods - birds chirping, small animals scurrying in the brush. You don’t see anything either.

You can only focus on the frantic pounding of your heart and the calm beat of Yoongi’s against your back. How he can be so relaxed when he thinks there might be danger in the woods that you can’t even see is unreal.

Slowly, Yoongi takes a step back away from you. He holds a finger to his lips and silently mouths for you to stay where you are. Everything inside you screams to disobey as you watch Yoongi disappear further into the woods, the thick trees swallowing him whole.

But you don’t. You stay put, fear rooting you to the ground even though your body desperately wants to follow.

What lies beyond the thicket of trees? What is dangerous enough that Yoongi wants you to stay put but not so dangerous that he believes he can take it on alone?

Just when your resolve is about to crumble, something catches your attention out of the corner of your eye. Barely breathing, you turn your head to watch a dark spot glide across the forest floor. It’s two-dimensional, not an object but a presence creeping along the ground.

Suddenly, the spot grows. It spreads, turning its shape from a flat, uneven circle to a thing with tendrils sticking out of it, each new tendril moving independently. You gasp when one of the tendrils creeps up your leg. Despite being two-dimensional, you can feel the darkness. It’s firm and cold, like a snake slithering up your body.

Every inch of you trembles as the strange darkness slowly spreads across your body. You squeeze your eyes and hold your breath. Perhaps this is the thing that Yoongi saw, a phantom stalking the trees. But now you’re left behind to be absorbed into its darkness, eaten alive.

You’re startled when the cold disappears; instead, strong arms pull you against a firm chest. Warmth envelopes you, and when you open your eyes, you see familiar ones looking back at you.

“I got you,” Jungkook murmurs. He has you tucked under his chin, and he tilts his head down when he speaks to you. You shiver as his lips lightly brush against your forehead.

“Where did you-”

“Shhh.”

Jungkook’s heart isn’t steady like Yoongi’s had been. On the contrary, it’s beating rather furiously. You can hear him attempting to regulate his emotions, taking in mindful breaths and exhaling in a way that tickles your skin.

You don’t know how long you stand there pulled against Jungkook’s chest. After a while, your breathing matches his until you fall into a gentle rhythm that makes you sleepy. The adrenaline is making you crash, your body hardly strong enough to hold yourself up after panicking so severely - still panicking. Luckily, when you lean into Jungkook, his hold on you tightens.

In another situation, pressing your fronts together would have flooded your body with heat. You can feel all of Jungkook like this, from the bulging muscles of his chest to his thigh pressed slightly between your legs from how he holds you up. But fear of the unknown and Jungkook’s clearly distressed state prevent those other thoughts from materializing.

Jungkook’s body doesn’t relax until Yoongi appears around the corner of a large tree. He keeps his arms wrapped around you, and for a second, Yoongi looks around at the clearing you're in as though he can’t see you.

It isn’t until Jungkook lets go of you that recognition flashes in Yoongi’s eyes.

“There you are,” Yoongi murmurs to the two of you. He looks like he rolled around on the ground, little pieces of leaves and sticks caught in his hair and stuck to his clothes. His left knee is bleeding from a few superficial scrapes.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

Yoongi looks at Jungkook before he answers your question, which irritates you. “I tripped when I rushed in, but it was nothing. Just a large fox I heard making noise back there.”

A fox is likely the largest animal in the woods, with no bears or wolves in the area. Still, you don’t trust Yoongi. You can pick up on the charred smell coming off of him. He smells like a barbecue, which means only one thing…

“Have you been practicing turning yourself invisible?”

Jungkook ducks his head down but no longer has long bangs to hide his face. It takes a second for your brain to process Yoongi’s question - and the change in the topic - but Jungkook is already answering him by the time you figure it out.

“It’s not really invisibility,” he says softly. “It’s more like… an illusion.”

Yoongi hums and motions for the two of you to start walking. You’re returning to the warehouse, you realize, even though you only just started the patrol route.

“Yeah, I can… adjust the lighting, I guess? To make it seem like you can’t see me. Or, us, this time.”

Jungkook gives you a small smile when you whip around to look at him.

“I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook repeats. He draws his bottom lip between his teeth and wiggles it like he has more to say but doesn’t want to let it out just yet.

The three of you walk in silence until you reach the warehouse. When Yoongi walks ahead of you, you can tell he’s limping, even as he does his best to walk normally.

“He’s okay.”

Jungkook stands beside you in the field behind the warehouse, watching Yoongi reach the backdoor.

“He’s bleeding.”

Jungkook’s ears are pink when he responds, “He’ll be okay.”

“He’s lying to us.”

Jungkook absentmindedly runs his fingers along his bottom lip. It droops as he speaks through a pout. “Maybe. But I trust him, even if he is.”

It’s a strange thing to trust someone who is lying.

All you can do is nod. All you can do is accept that the people around you are doing what’s right because, aside from them, there is no one and nothing you can trust in the world.

As you approach the warehouse, Jungkook curls his fingers around your wrist to stop you. He watches you with the same wide-eyed look he gives everyone, though something about this time feels different. His expression is more open and vulnerable. He looks at you like he’s waiting for you to hurt him.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he apologizes softly.

“But you didn’t?”

Your eyebrows crease your forehead, trying to recall what you may have done to make Jungkook feel like you feared him. Sure, his sudden appearance in the woods was startling, but he’d brought you a feeling of comfort and safety - not fear.

Jungkook doesn’t correct you. Instead, he lets go of your wrist as shame warms his cheeks, but he doesn’t look away from you. The timidness is still there. You can see it in how he chews on his bottom lip. Still, his eyes take on a more guarded, hardened expression for a split second, and then…

He’s gone.

“What the fuck?” You mutter to yourself.

Now that you’ve seen the darkness before, your eyes quickly notice the spot on the ground that creeps and grows into odd shapes, slinking along the grass before taking form up your legs, curling around your arms.

It’s Jungkook. You knew it in the woods, somewhere deep down. Your fear for Yoongi’s safety - and your own - prevented you from processing the situation. But now, as the darkness envelopes you again, you know what to expect when you close your eyes and open them to see Jungkook’s broad chest as he crushes you against him.

“You never showed me before.”

Maybe it’s weird that you’re still clinging to each other, but Jungkook is warm and solid, and his heartbeat guides yours into a slower rhythm.

“That’s because it’s creepy.”

“Well, I think it’s cool. Even though, yeah, you kinda scared the shit outta me.”

Jungkook lets out an embarrassed whine and squeezes you tighter. You knew he could command shadows but hadn’t realized he could become one or move within them. Sure, the tornado trick he’d done a few times with Hoseok had been cool, but you’d always thought he was merely swirling the darkness around himself. You hadn’t realized he was the darkness.

Honestly, it made him all the more terrifying and equally as endearing.

“I just had this… feeling something bad was happening…” Jungkook whispers into your hair. “I needed to check.”

“Good thing it was only a fox.”

Jungkook nods in agreement; you know he believes it more than you do.

“I’m just happy you’re safe.” You can feel his cheek press against the top of your head for a moment before he finally releases you.

There’s a feeling there as Jungkook leads you to the warehouse. He laces his fingers with yours, and you can’t help but hear Yoongi’s question on a loop in your head.

You and Jungkook?

4 MONTHS, 3 WEEKS

“What if they think we’re the feds and feed us false information?”

“We’re too stupid to be the feds. It would be obvious.”

“I don’t know… we all escaped the government, so they must be pretty stupid.”

“What if they’re the feds?”

“Shit, I never thought about that.”

“They’re not the fucking feds.”

“How do you know that?!”

“Can all of you please just shut the fuck up?”

The six of you crowd around the radio on the kitchen table. Jessi shows you how to operate it, which flip to switch to activate the microphone, and how to adjust the volume. You’re all muted for now. When Hoseok goes to flip the switch, Jessi smacks his hand out of the way.

“Listen to me,” she says sternly, turning in her seat to get a good look at all of you. “No one talks.”

“But-”

“No one talks.”

Five heads nod at her command, including Yoongi, which feels very satisfying to you for some reason.

Details of the Gifted Commune somewhere beyond the woods traveled by word of mouth. Coordinates and radio frequencies were exchanged in hushed tones between the Gifteds who dared dream of a life beyond the Labs. You’re sad to admit that you were never one of those Gifteds. It wasn’t until Yoongi helped you escape that you even realized escaping was an option, so brainwashed into thinking the Labs were all you had. You were in a new country, stumbling through an unfamiliar language, taken from your family. Sure, you’d learned enough to get by over time - but missing your adolescent years made you feel hopeless.

Jessi is the only one who had communicated with the Commune leaders in the past when she and another Gifted managed to break into a control room in the Labs she came from.

That’s why she’s the one to speak into the radio that you find operates much like a long-distance walkie-talkie. You’re glad it’s not you. She introduces herself, her whereabouts, and her credentials with an even voice you know you could never replicate.

Despite the distrust you’re all afraid of, Jessi’s previous connection to the Commune makes it easy for her to request to speak to the Commune leader, a healer named Kim Taehyung.

Sitting with your fingers gripping the edge of the table so tightly your knuckles are beginning to ache, you lean forward as though you can get closer to the gentle voice that floats from the radio’s speakers.

Taehyung doesn’t sound anything like you’d imagined, though you aren’t sure what you were expecting, to be honest. Maybe someone with a rougher voice made harsh by the trials of life as a fugitive of the Republic. Instead, he’s soft as he asks Jessi how many there are of you and what your coordinates are. This man, already larger than life even though none of you knows what he looks like, is patient as he gives Jessi instructions on how to reach the Commune.

“I can assure you,” Taehyung speaks, and you don’t know what he’s about to say, but you find yourself already believing him, “You will be safe here. It won’t be a short trip.” That makes your gut twist, but you focus on his following words. “But there are abandoned shelters along the route to find refuge in. The nights get terribly cold.”

Namjoon scribbles some notes down on a worn piece of paper. It’s been written on and erased to add more notes over the months you’ve been at the warehouse since there are only a few pieces of paper between the six of you. There’s a small hole in the middle of the page where someone erased too hard - or too many times, you suppose.

“Thank you, Taehyung-ssi.”

The line is quiet for a moment. Jessi’s gaze shoots up to glare at Jungkook’s interruption, but Taehyung speaks before she can chastise the younger man.

“Anything for my dongsaeng,” the man on the other side of the radio states.

You don’t know him, so there is no way to tell if the subtle lilt to his voice indicates affection, but it seems like it as the two men use polite terms no one ever uses anymore. It’s old-fashioned and reminiscent of a time lost to all of you.

Jessi steers the conversation back to planning the group’s journey to the Commune. Excitement makes you jittery as you skip out of the kitchen, the men - aside from Yoongi - following after you. The boring stuff is what follows, and you’re all content to let the leaders discuss that stuff.

“Do you think we’ll be able to do it?” Hoseok clasps his hands together, occasionally squeezing them. When he speaks, he keeps his eyes on the closed kitchen door.

Namjoon shrugs at the same time you respond, “We have to.”

PART ONE - PART TWO

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

#jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #bts x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #a spring offering collab #wtfgu

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biteofcherry · 1 year

Note

What story you would write for him - randomagnes0210.tumblr.com/701345413474729984/chris-you-inspired-me-and-i-didnt-know-i 👀

Holy fuuuck 😳🥵🥵

I'm sorry, my brain kinda short circuited. I need time to get it back to function. Damn. Wow. Okay.

that's a soft!dark Steve Rogers

An enforcer/mercenary Steve (maybe for mafia Bucky? idk), who can make things really bloody and still keep his slate clean of any evidence. From organizing a disposable group to do the dirty work, to a stealthy kill done by himself if needed.

He has a sleek beast of a bike, as well a bullet-fast camaro. There's always a weapon on him, even when he looks like he's there to chill only.

You don't see a gun? No glint of a knife? There's a garrote in the wristwatch, or in the beads he wears on his wrist. Not to mention the things he can do with his hands alone.

It's those hands that got you staring when you approached him with your little nephew at your side. The boy, being all moto crazy, couldn't stop tugging at your hand when he saw the Camaro. So you did what any good aunt would - you took his small hand in yours and approached a stranger, asking sweetly if he won't mind your nephew taking a closer look at the car.

Steve's eyes when they settled on you were cold and sharp like a blade. Almost made you take a step back. Then he glanced at the kid, who was staring at his car with pure awe, and back at you, his gaze softening.

"Sure thing, cherry."

His voice had a rich, raspy timbre, reminding you of how your own voice gets after a few good orgasms (which you gave yourself with the use of your toys, since your latest dates lacked in that area).

Steve's eyes shifted to your chest when he said that, a smirk curling the left corner of his mouth upwards. Your top had printed cherries on it. You found it cute when you bought it. Now you felt embarrassed wearing something so sweet it was almost childish.

You dropped your gaze, muttering a thank you.

You let out a breath of relief when Steve's eyes finally turned away from you. He bent over the hood again and your own gaze slid from his tight ass (you scolded yourself inwardly for even daring to look that way!) over the wide plain of his back to his hands.

Those damn hands that would be your undoing, you thought as you stared at them. Nimble and skilled fingers tinkering with something, a vine of dark ink starting atop his palm and curling upwards over the corded muscles of his forearms, to disappear in an array of color beneath the rolled up sleeves of his shirt.

You saw splashes of tattoos on his chest and reaching up to his neck. Your mind wandered through images of exploring hos the pattern looks over his back, his it moves over his ribs when he breathes.

If there are tattoos leading down his abdomen...

You were so lost in it, you didn't hear what Steve was saying, until you felt your nephew tug on your hand.

"Can we? Can we, please?!" The kid looked up at you with hopeful eyes.

"Um." You swallowed, uncertain of what exactly was asked of you. Feeling all the more embarrassed for it.

"Of course you can, buddy." Steve decided, not waiting for your brain to catch up with his proposition to take you both for a short ride in his car.

His smile was bright and charming, yet held a hint of predatory satisfaction. A cocky confidence you usually hated in men.

Steve's eyes held a mirthful glint as he caught your gaze, but also something dark that quickened your pulse.

"I'm sure your aunt craves a good ride, too."

You had to clench your thighs at the surge of heat that filled your belly and spread down, pooling in a small wet spot on your panties.

You should've said no. Your body may heat up for this tattooed, hot as sin stranger, but your instinct all but yelled at you to run away. There was something dangerous about him, in more than just sexy way.

But it's something you would find out much later.

Too late to run away from his possession, or to stop wanting him so badly.

If you only knew how lethal he was, you wouldn't say yes to getting a lift to your place after you dropped off your nephew at his parents.

You wouldn't follow Steve's raspy command and let him fuck you in the narrow space of his camaro - bruises from the steering wheel faint compared to the marks Steve's hands left on your thighs and around your neck.

If you suspected the dark web awaiting you, maybe you wouldn't like how he called you sweet cherry.

Maybe you wouldn't cream on his cock as he fucked you right outside of your apartment, in a dark corridor where any of your neighbors could walk, with his hand pressed over your mouth to muffle your screaming orgasm and hips snapping hard into you.

You wouldn't whisper a weak Yes, Steve when he told you where to meet him, scribbling down the address on a piece of paper and slipping it under the waistband of your ruined panties.

But you said yes to all of those things. You allowed Steve to do those dirty things to you. And you wanted more. Even if your instinct still alarmed of danger.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #soft!dark steve rogers #soft!dark steve rogers x reader #enforcer!steve rogers #it maaay turn into actual series sometime in the futur #*future #idk i make no promises yet but it's tempting #for now I'm titling it - Cherry #steve fic: cherry

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skyebounded · 2 years

Text

Well Don’t! part i.

.main masterlist. .stranger things masterlist.

premise: Being in love with Steve Harrington comes with great difficulties.

Warnings: swearing, angst. SEASON 4 SPOILERS

WC: 3.7K

A/N: I can’t stop thinking about this boy, lord help me!

Fifteen minutes late, highly unlike you, but all things considered you felt it appropriate. You had been glued to the Tv watching the horrific news from the past few days unravel. Talk about a poor Hawkins student brutally murdered, on every channel. You couldn’t seem to pull yourself away from the staticy screen, not until your roommate strutted into the living room, reminding you that you had a job to get to.

You hurried as quickly as you could, grabbing all of your things before you rushed out the door. You felt uneasy as you drove to work, thinking about that poor teen, and everything that their family might be going through. You had heard the rumors, the ones saying that Hawkins was cursed, diseased, and the more you thought about it, the more you started to agree. Nothing but heartache and tragedy lived in this town.

You pull into the video store, spotting Steve’s car immediately, wondering what he would say as soon as you walked through the doors. Climbing out of the car you make your way into the store.

“Did you guys see the news?” you blurt, ignoring the way that everyone all stopped dead in their tracks as if they were doing something that they didn’t want you to know about. Steve looks up at you, his eyes widening as if you had just caught him doing something he shouldn’t be.

“Uh-?” he looks to Robin who looks as though she was going to be sick.

It's then that you notice Steve’s ‘children’ standing behind the counter, leaning over Robin’s shoulder looking at the computer.

“What-?” you point at the kids, looking to Steve for an explanation, your brows knitted together in confusion. Steve makes his way around the counter to greet you, grabbing your arms as he pulls you away to talk.

“Hey you,” he says awkwardly, smiling quickly at you.

You return the gesture, confused by his sudden odd behavior.

“Hey,” you pause, “what's going on?”

Steve takes a deep breath, his eyes darting around the room. He was acting strange, and you couldn’t help but wonder why. He lets out a chuckle, wildly gesturing behind him, “they are um. it's funny actually, but um-you know.”

You shake your head not understanding in the slightest what he was talking about. In the entire two years that you and Steve had become best of friends, you had never seen him so flustered.

“No actually, I don’t know Steve, that’s why I am asking?” you retort, bringing your arms to fold over your chest. Your eyes slowly start to narrow on him.

He rubs the back of his neck, his smile faltering. “Um..” He was stumped, at a loss for words. Never, not once had you seen Steve Harrington at a loss for words. Normally all of this wouldn’t bother you, it's not like his ‘children’ ever really kept to the rules, especially not when it came to your place of work, or come to think of it, anything for that matter. So seeing them behind the counter wasn’t what was bothering you, but it was the way that Steve seemed on edge, lost on an excuse to hide the truth of the matter.

“Steve, we found it, Lipton!” Robin calls out. Steve looks at her, his brows shooting up, and you’re left trying to figure out what the hell is going on, his mouth slightly slack, clearly thinking of something to say. You look over his shoulder to see Dustin and Max collecting their things, and Robin scribbling down something on a piece of paper before they practically jump over the counter making their way over to the door. Steve’s eyes fall closed, sighing before he looks at you again. “I’ve got to go do something really quick, but we’ll be back soon, okay?” He pecks your cheek, which he never did, giving your hands a squeeze before all four of them rush out of the store and into Steve’s car, leaving you completely alone without any chance to ask questions. Odd.

You had no time to process anything except for the fact that you were extremely confused, and slightly peeved at now realizing that you were left to work the shift alone. You stare around the empty store, gritting your teeth together as a bitter taste fills your mouth. You couldn’t help but feel like you had just been left out of something extremely important, and it didn’t sit well with you.

********

Four hours, that's how long they had been gone. You kept replaying what Steve said, ‘real quick…be back soon’.

“Real quick, my ass,” you grumbled, shelving the fifth copy of Howard the Duck. You had been nothing but busy all day, tending to everything that desperately needed to be done before the new shipment of movies came in. Clearing the shelves to make room for all of them, reorganizing the displays for new ones to go out, and not to mention the growing amount of returns that needed to be logged. You’d also had a non-stop flow of customers in and out all day, each one needing more attention than you wanted to give.

What didn’t help was the fact that it was Saturday, your busiest day of the week, and yet you were being forced to work it alone. Normally you wouldn’t mind it if it was any other given day, or if you’d had been given a heads up, but neither of those things had been presented to you. You were more than annoyed, and bordering on angry. There was nothing that you could think of that made sense as to why they all left you, and worst of all, with no idea as to where they were going or what they were doing. It felt like they had decided to skip out to do something ten times more entertaining, and you simply weren’t invited.

“Excuse me, ma’am, can I get your help?”

You let your head fall, taking a deep breath before you plaster on a smile and lookup. A tall lengthy boy was standing in the next aisle overlooking at you, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Yeah, what can I do for you?”

With a quick smile, he says, “I was looking for Cheech & Chong’s Up In Smoke?”

“Um, I believe we have it,” you make your way around to where he’s standing to see that there were no copies left. “Let me see if it's been returned,” you add.

“Okay, thanks.”

You make your way over to the computer, signing when you hear the bell to the door, five new customers filing in. You shake the cursor, waking the computer to see someone's account still open. What caught your eye was the last movie on their account, ‘Cheech & Chong’s Up In Smoke….Late’ You look at the top of the screen, the name Rick Lipton at the top.

You look around aimlessly for a moment, wondering why the name sounded familiar, only to realize that was the name Robin called out hours ago, right before they all hurried off.

“Well?”

Startled, you look at the boy, now standing in front of the counter looking at you. “It’s still checked out.” you snap.

The boy scowls at you before turning to leave. You grab a pen, and quickly write down the address, collecting your things and turning off the computer and lights.

“Hey everyone, um-we're closing early, sorry but you all need to leave, now!”

Nobody moves at first until you snap again, “Now!” You ignore the glares and snarky quips as you usher everyone out the door, following closely behind and locking it. You climb into your car and start it up, before setting off to investigate.

********

You weren’t sure what you were going to find out here, especially not with it being as dark as it was, and out in the middle of nowhere. You had hoped that you wouldn’t find Steve here, especially with it being so late, but there his car was, unmistakably so. You drag yourself out of the car, grabbing the flashlight that you so conveniently carried in your glove box, making your way up to the front of the house. Heartbeat hastening as you bring yourself to knock on the door.

Looking around at the exceedingly dark woods behind you, a shiver runs up your spine, an unnerving feeling that someone was watching you.

“Hello? Steve?”

You knock again, this time beating the door a little harder.

“Steve, I know you’re in there! I see your car out here!” you move to peek through the window, flashing the light inside. If this was a joke you didn’t find it funny in the slightest, if anything it was beginning to make you angrier.

“Steve! Robin!”

You bang your hand against the glass, slowly making your way around the house, looking through each window. “This isn’t funny you guys! Hellooo?!”

Something clatters in the distance, making you jump, your ears ringing as you look down towards the lake, not fond of the eerie feeling that was lingering in the night air. You catch a glimpse of a boathouse a few yards away, bordering the lake, and curse under your breath, as you slowly make your way down towards it.

“I swear to god if this is some sick prank I will strangle each of you,” you mumble.

As you get closer the door opens and Steve appears, nearly scaring the shit out of you. “Shit! Steve.” you gasp, shining the light directly in his eyes. He throws his hands up to block the light as he makes his way up the hill to you, lowering the light in your hand once he does.

“What are you doing here?” He asks.

You’re slightly taken aback by his tone, harsh and demanding as if you were the one who disappeared hours ago.

“Excuse me?” you retort, taking a step back.

“No seriously, y/n, what are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here! And how did you even-” he starts.

“You didn’t log out of the customer's account and so I took a wild guess! And as far as I am concerned Steve, I came to look for you, so that's why I am here, but the real question is why the hell are you here?” you say, gesturing wildly around you with the flashlight.

He runs his hands over his face, then through his hair, with a deep sigh. His hands find his hips, a stern and hostile look on his face. He wasn’t pleased, and that was easy to see, but why? You weren’t sure.

“You need to leave, please I need you to leave now.” he instructs.

You scoff at his statement, deciding that you plan to go nowhere without some explanations first.

“No, you need to tell me what is going on, now,” you make sure to punctuate the last part. He shakes his head, firm on his standing. “Y/n, I’m not playing, you need to leave right now, okay? I will tell you what's going on later, but right now I am begging you, go home.”

There was a hint of desperation and urgency to his tone, followed by the struggle for him to meet your gaze, as he kept looking behind you as if he expected to see someone standing there. The unsettled feeling growing deeper in your stomach. Something clearly wasn’t right, you didn't know what he was hiding, but no matter how hard you tried you couldn't seem to figure out what it was. Betrayal, hurt and most of all confusion, that's what you were feeling.

You look past him at the door, Robin’s head poking out along with Max and Dustin peeking out the windows. You sniff, fighting back the sudden urge to cry. Your jaw tenses, as you shake your head slowly. “Seriously, Steve?” you mumble. Your voice is becoming shaky. “Just tell me what-”

“Y/n, leave. Now.”

You nod your head slowly, biting the inside of your cheeks, “Okay..okay.” You turn on your heel, head held high and head back to your car, letting the tears fall down your cheeks.

*******

You spent the entire night tossing and turning, wondering when Steve was going to come home, but much to your dismay he never did. Your mind had begun to wonder, thinking about the dead teen that had been found the other day, and you couldn't seem to stop picturing Steve in the very same situation, mangled and alone. You hadn’t had any sleep at this point, too busy watching the news to make sure you didn’t hear about another death.

“Wow, you look like hell.”

You manage to pull your gaze from the screen to see your roommate, Emma, on her way out for the day.

“Thanks” you retort.

“Just this morning another body was discovered out by Lover’s Lake. The body is still unidentified, but what we do know is it was seemingly a male, somewhere around the age of sixteen to about twenty years old…”

You droned out after the words lovers lake and male. Panic started to rise inside you as flashes of Steve lying dead flooded you. You never should have left him last night. You should have just stayed, fought him harder, and forced him to tell you what was going on.

“Hey, Steve’s home.”

Letting out the breath that you didn’t know you were holding, you turn to look at Emma, who is currently peering out the kitchen window. You clammer your feet, albeit running to the door, and swinging it open. A look of surprise and relief formed on his face as you threw yourself into his arms. He grabs you, wrapping his arms tightly around your body, as he holds you in silence for a moment.

“Oh my god, you’re okay,” you mutter into the crook of his neck. He pulls away from you, with a soft smile, “I’m okay,” he says.

He pulls you inside, shutting the door after Emma, who was rushing out of the house. Steve looks at you, the same guilty, flustered look coming back to his face.

“I just came home to grab some things,” he says, biting the inner corner of his cheek.

You simply nod, still too relieved and dazed to ask any questions just yet. Steve moves around the house, collecting all manner of things, muttering to himself.

“Have you seen the news today?” you ask, standing frozen in front of the television.

He doesn’t respond, just continues his search for god knows what. The unease starts to set in again as he makes his way to the garage door, pulling it open and disappearing inside.

“Steve! Steve talk to me.” you call out, following behind him.

“I’ve just got to get a few things and then-” he trails off like he doesn't want to finish his sentence.

You move over to him, grabbing his arm, “Can you stop for a moment!“ you pull him away from the toolbox, pulling him to face you. “What are you doing?” you ask, watching as his body stiffens and his jaw tenses. You can see the bags under his eyes, he almost held the look of a crazed man who hasn't slept in ages. “Talk to me, what is going on? What happened yesterday?” you continue.

He just looks at you, his eyes glazed over and his lips pressed together.

“Steve?” you press

“Nothing, it's nothing.” His tone is dismissive and harsh, as he turns back to sift through a box full of random shit. You were tired of the empty and vague answers, or even the lack thereof. He had given you nothing and it wasn’t going to fly anymore.

“That's bullshit, Steve! I am your best friend and I deserve an explanation. You can’t keep hiding things from me.” you snap.

“I can’t tel-…” “Do you know what this feels like Steve? It feels like I am completely left behind, watching everything from afar. Everyone knows everything but me, I am always four steps behind, and I hate it. It's humiliating. I have done nothing but worry, and panic and you have done nothing but lie to me! Feeding me bullshit, when I can clearly see that you are hiding something, that all of you are! “Do you know that there is a fucking killer on the loose? Two dead bodies already, Steve! two!” you pause, sniffing as you blink your tears away, “I don’t know when we started keeping secrets from each other, but I hate it Steve, I fucking hate it. So please.. Tell me what the hell is going on?”

He stops and faces you. shoulders hung low, eyes trained on the door behind you, and you can’t help but think he's planning an escape.

“I need you to just trust me!” he grabs an extra flashlight, mumbling something about Nancy ‘needing one of these’, and you snap.

“No, that's not good enough! I need answers,” you pause, grabbing his arm again to grab his attention. You can see literal steam rolling off him. “Why does it involve Nancy…Steve?” His eyes fall closed, shaking his head.

“We are trying to hunt down whatever is doing this.” he snaps back.

Dumbfounded by his confession you take a step back, tugging at your hair as you try to make sense of what he was saying.

“That’s incredibly stupid! Like really really stupid, Steve!” you huff, “Are you doing this as some dumb ploy to get back with Nancy, prove to her that you’re cool or something because you can catch a killer?”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he picks up a hammer, twirling it around in his hand.

“You’re going to get hurt, or even worse..killed!”

“Why do you care!?” he snaps. He looks slightly shocked by his own question, wondering what he meant by it, but says nothing about it as he runs his hand through his messy hair. You were fuming, it was like he couldn’t see how dumb he was being, and all for a girl who dumped him, if that was the case. Regardless he was setting off on a suicide mission. “Huh?” he prods.

“Because I am in love you, Steve!” you bark. You sigh heavily, feeling only the slightest amount of relief at telling him the truth. This isn’t how you wanted nor pictured how you would tell him. However, it worried you that no matter what you would say, he wouldn’t listen. That he would continue on with his heroically stupid quest. You watch the color drain from him as if you had just shot him, like your words were something utterly foul to his ears.

“Well don't,” he exhales, unable to bring himself to look at you.

It was your turn to feel the color drain from your face. Daggers, it felt like you had just been stabbed in the heart, only to have it ripped from you and crumbled before your eyes. “What?” It was more of a rhetorical question; you didn’t particularly want to hear his response. What you wanted, was to take back what you had said, pretend like everything was okay, and not like you just completely fucked up your entire friendship with him.

“I don’t need you to care about me, and I don’t need you to love me. I never asked you to-”

“Yeah, but I did!” you cut him off. “I fucking fell for you, even though I promised myself I wouldn’t.. you charmed the shit out of me, Harrington.” You sigh, throwing your hands up in defeat.

“I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have..” he mumbles as if he didn’t want it to be heard.

“Yeah well, sadly I can’t turn it off, now can I.” You retort, biting the inside of your cheek. You wrap your arms around your body, a form of comfort and a means of warmth. It was now your turn to not meet his gaze, despite feeling his boring straight through you. You didn’t understand why he was being this way, so callous with your feelings, it was almost like he was purposefully trying to hurt you, to push you away. Perhaps it was one of his ploys to protect you, it wouldn’t be the first time, but this time hurt like no other.

“I’m a complete moron,” you sigh, letting tears fall down your heated cheeks. “I’m so fucking stupid.”

You see him move forward slightly, his arm coming up only to drop back at his side, and you mistakenly thought that he was going to comfort you, take it back and apologize.

“Why would you tell me that?” As if you weren’t already in pain, he had to ask.

You scoff, shaking your head. “Tell you what?” you ask lowly, finally bringing your gaze to meet his. All you could see was pain and sorrow.

“Why tell me you love me as soon as I mention Nancy?”

Your brows knit together as a scowl forms on your face. Was he serious to think that your confession had anything to do with her? Some jealous spat, that you thought would fix things or change his mind.

“What are you implying?” you ask, your voice quivering as you swallow hard.

He looks back at the door, the very one you could claim that he was waiting to escape through.

“I just never thought-” he pauses, as if he didn’t want to say what he was about to, “ I just didn’t think that you’d be the one to throw that phrase around out of jealousy.” he shrugs, his eyes falling to the ground. It pained him to be so cruel to you, to shatter your heart right before your eyes, the very heart that he wanted so desperately to be his, but it was the only way he could think to keep you safe. As far from the threat as possible.

You can’t stop yourself; the words just fall from your lips at this point, “Fuck you, Steve…fuck..you..” You close your eyes quickly, stopping the flow of tears as you turn and leave the garage. If his heart hadn't already shattered, it sure as hell did now.

”Good luck with your venture, Steve,” you note, taking one last look at him, because if by some miracle he did survive, it would still be the last time you saw him because when he returned, you’d be gone.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington season 4 #stranger things #stranger things season 4 #stranger things s4 #angst #steve harrington angst #stranger things angst #stranger thing season 3 #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #joe keery #the upside down

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months

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WYD💬2

Part 1 |

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Summary: A fan makes an offer your can’t refuse.

(based on suggestion he’s been overworking himself for weeks if not months. He knows he needs a break but his work is too important. Maybe what he needs is someone to take care of him so he can focus more on work. from @thezombieprostitute)

Characters: Bucky Barnes

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Your stomach writhes like worms in the dirt. You sit in the back of the uber, uneager to be at your destination. The driver asks if it’s a special occasion and you just sort of mutter. You look down at yourself; you’re sure dressed for something special.

It’s plain enough. A classic little black dress. Thick straps and a simple silhouette. Still, it’s tighter than you’re used to. You dressed it up with a slender silver chain that holds a heart charm and a velvet clutch. Your usual cotton and wool pale in comparison.

You watch on the GPS as the car moves closer and closer to the endpoint. You take out your phone and check the messages. You can barely read any of it as your hands jitter.

You’re being stupid. This is dangerous and stupid. You can’t meet a stranger. Even if he did pay you to do so. Even if you really need the money. You should just send it back.

‘Reservation for Barnes. The hostess will seat you.’

He sent that about an hour ago. His anticipation has only been met by your silent dread and dulcet agreement. It’s one thing to post photos online, faceless at that, but to meet a man like this. This is more than just posing and primping for a camera.

You thank the driver as he pulls up to the restaurant. You get out reluctantly and linger along the curb, tipping the uber as an excuse to take your time. You look up at the dusky facade and gulp. The cursive moniker assures you of your displacement.

You take a breath and cross the broad sidewalk. You dodge out of the way of another couple entering the restaurant. You don’t follow them as you hover outside. There were at least a few decades between the pair; what is this place?

You hug your wrap tight and teeter on your heels as you try to see through the tinted windows. You need to scare yourself out of this. You get one look at this guy and you’re gone. You’re running the other direction. Only then will it really be real. Only then will you get a bit of sense in you.

“Just in time, doll,” a deep voice crawls up your spine and you gasp as you twist around to face the speaker.

Your ankle bends dangerously as your heel catches in the pavement. You bat your lashes up at the stranger; it’s him. He’s even more handsome in person. It almost takes your breath away.

“Uh, hi,” you murmur. Your escape is foiled. Your second doubts are crushed in that instant. You don’t have the courage to walk away. If he’d never seen you, you could've easily scurried back to your hole and deleted everything. “Mr. Barnes?”

He laughs. His smile is deadly. He puts his hand on your arm, bold but casual.

“Bucky,” he offers, “come on,” he checks the watch on his other wrist, “we’re late.”

He nudges you towards the door, bringing his hand down to hover along your lower back. You walk forward numbly. You don’t know what else to do but go with it.

He opens the door and ushers you ahead of him. The hostess greets him as ‘Mr. Barnes’ and is prompt to lead you through the dim lounge. A round booth awaits you near the back of the restaurant.

The hostess takes your wrap and you place your clutch on the seat as you settle onto the curved cushion. Bucky sits and orders a bottle of Shiraz. You fight to keep your shoulders up, trying to wilt in the luxury of the place. You’re an assistant librarian, what are you doing here?

He slides to the back of the booth, reaching over to wrap his hand lightly around your wrist. He tugs until you reticently shimmy closer. You keep your eyes on the table, fumbling with the wrapped silverware.

“Nervous,” he says. You nod and still the cutlery. “Me too.”

You’re surprised by his confession. He must do this all the time. He’s rich and handsome and oh, how stupid you really are. Of course you’re just another in the long line.

You look up at him, flinching as you find him watching you. You wonder if your lipstick is patchy or if you smeared your eye liner again. You bring your hands back into your lap and wring them.

You notice the gray patch among the short stubble along his jaw, a few more strands of silver laced around his temples. His hair is smoothed back but the longer strands threaten to fall forward. He lifts his arm coolly and rests it on the seat behind you. He smells amazing.

“I…” you begin. “I think I made a mistake.”

He tilts his head, his eyes narrowing slightly but otherwise, he does not react.

“How do you know? You haven’t even made the mistake yet,” his hand drifts down to tickle your shoulder, “one glass of wine. How about that? You have one glass before we order, then you can decide.”

“I… I’m not what you think I am,” you utter.

“Doll, you’re exactly what I want,” he winks just before he turns away, another dashing smile sent to the waitress as she arrives with the wine.

One drink. You can do that.

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #drabble #series #au #WYD #marvel #mcu #winter soldier #captain america

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wavesoutbeingtossed · 8 days

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The thing about her musings on her youth in this album is not just about the spending her “prime” years with someone who ultimately couldn’t give her what she thought they both wanted (family, but also in general sense the happiness you get when you’re young and your whole lives are ahead of you).

There’s SO much about her youth in general here, and how the demons of the past have raised and broken her. How each of these experiences have chipped away at her youth. This whole album is give me back my girlhood, it was mine first.

It’s all the things she’s talking about had are part of the same big trauma of the loss of that youth and innocence. It’s snakegate and how Kim K and her lackeys deliberately set out to destroy Taylor’s reputation for sport, which ripped out Taylor’s last few grasps of that young adulthood freedom without her consent. It’s mulling the price she’s paid for spending her entire youth in the spotlight and becoming a commodity instead of a person. It’s looking at a friend’s child and wishing she could protect them from the world the way she wishes she could have been had she known. It’s putting your trust in your first love who ripped the rug out from under you and your faith along with it. It’s spending your time pining for your younger days in the haze of unspeakable loss. It’s carving off parts of yourself as you grow up to make yourself palatable to your peers and your partners and as a result not knowing what parts of you are left. It’s revisiting a love from your past when you still had it all, and after the initial frenzy realizing its hollow. And yes, it’s pouring your heart and soul into a relationship you think is forever and with each passing year the light in the window flickering dimmer and dimmer, only to realize the light wasn’t coming from your home after all, and you may lose your chance to find it again before it’s too late and the dreams you so desperately cling to vanish for good.

And that’s what the end message I think ends up being in So High School: she’s reclaiming the land as it were. All these things that were taken from her and that she gave up are up for a redo. And it’s not rewriting the past, it’s coming to the realization that all those parts are still within her but so is the good. That the freedom she gave up when she released her first album is still found in the backseat of a boy’s car all these years later. That she’s older and wiser and battleworn but that doesn’t mean she can’t find that joy and lightness. “I feel so high school when I look at you” is kind of a loaded statement from someone who didn’t really get to go to high school (both actually and metaphorically). “Bittersweet sixteen suddenly” (love that wordplay btw) because again— she’s been through so much that the feelings of new love that make her giddy like a girl are tinged because she’s been here before and also never been here before because she was never that kid.

(There’s also a whole tangent there comparing Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince to So High School and how fraught the first is vs the lightness of this one.)

That’s why this isn’t just a breakup album. It’s why she dredges up 2016 and Jake and Aaron’s son and childhood and high school and any other number of things. Because she has spent her entire youth and adulthood grappling with the issues that came to roost in TTPD, and while this whole experience underscores that you can never know what’s going on with someone (least of all Taylor, a stranger to us all), I also don’t think it’s a coincidence that she has stressed how much healthier and whole she is now. That is why this whole album is a bloodletting, but it’s not just about a broken relationship. It’s about a whole belief system that has stolen girlhood from her and she’s determined to piece back together in the aftermath of the autopsy.

#this was supposed to be one paragraph lol oops #the tortured poets department #writing letters addressed to the fire #as usual wcs comes in as one of the cornerstones of her discography

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heejayy · 1 year

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I’m not over you

Warning • swearing, hair pulling, spanking, cunnilingus, face riding, praising, degradation, squirting, pet names

Genre • 18+ if I catch minors interacting with this ur blocked! straight up smut!, fluff at the end

Pairing • player! Shuri x Black Reader

Wc: 3.9k

A/n: this was not proofread I’ll edit it in the morning 😭✋🏾

You were sick and tired of sitting at home playing wifey you were just fed up with Shuri’s games. All she ever did was lie and cheat. So to switch it up you called up a few girlfriends and planned a night out; for the first time in a long time, you were going to have a good time.

"Girl, Shuri is going to have a fuckin' fit if she catches you in that," you shrugged, adjusting your dress. "I could give a less shit, tonight I don't want to hear her name at all," your friends exchanged glances before nodding slowly.

“Fine fine we won’t mention her” You smiled satisfied with yourself and your looks.

“Ight let’s go!”

You were having a great time singing, dancing, and drinking. You're not even a drinker yet you were downing shots like water while shouting lyrics to every song that played.

"May I join you?" an unknown person yelled in your ear as she placed her hand on your hips, You turned around to make sure she was worth your time; she was taller than you, lean, and had a nice smile. Exactly your type. You nodded giving her permission, and she encircled you as you danced against her to the beat. You danced with her for three songs but couldn't get rid of the feeling that you were being watched.

Your dancing became more provocative as Nobody Has to Know by Kranium started blasting through the speakers.

"This is my shit!" You grinned as you wrapped her hands tighter around you, feeling the music vibrate through you, lights flashing around as hot sweaty bodies danced on each other. Everyone was having a good time, not worrying about the hangover they’ll have tomorrow.

However, your moment was short-lived, as your friends yanked you away from the attractive stranger.

"What the hell, I was having a good time!"

"Not for much longer, bitch, look who's here." Eve swung you around, pointing to the devil herself. Shuri was in her VIP section, scowling staring down at you. She was surrounded by women, but the only one she was looking at was you, which reminds you of the first time you two met.

"Damn, damn, damn! What am I supposed to do now?" They all looked at you with an 'I told you so' expression as they waited for an answer.

"Don't look at me that way."

“Nah this shit yo’ fault” Carmen commented, “you claimed you were a grown ass woman who could do whatever she want now you stuck” You rolled your eyes at her crossing your arms.

“Shit, well let’s just sneak out while we can it’s dark in here I’m sure I can say she was seeing stuff” You grab your handbag ready to make a run.

“Too late she walking over here now…well good luck” she patted your butt making her way over to the bar and the rest of them followed suit. You watched Shuri make her way through the crowded club with the look that would make one’s enemies kneel before them.

“What the hell are you doing here?” She asked with her grills glistening at the bottom of her mouth, you fixed your posture trying not to seem intimidated.

You cocked an eyebrow eyeing her up and down “I could ask you the same thing.” She scoffed giving a sarcastic laugh looking away for a second then back at you, she leaned down to your ear a whispered “You better be outside in five, and if I have to come back in here for you this whole place is getting shut down” before walking off. You sucked your teeth following her, who does she think she’s talking to?

“What is it?” You asked aggravated pushing the club door open.

“So this is what you do now? You get mad at me and come to the club to dance with strangers?” You let out a sarcastic laugh “That’s rich coming from you ya know? That’s like your whole routine. We argue, you get mad and come to the club, dance with a dozen women maybe even make out with one and then you come home back to me like nothing ever happened. I’m tired of that shit, you don’t wanna be mines just say that” She stares down at you clenching her jaw in anger, she couldn’t rebuttal because she knew all of it was true.

Before you met Shuri she was out there in many ways, she went from this sweet young girl to a player who breaks hearts for sport. People warned you about her but you thought you could handle her, apparently not.

“Usana I’ve told you many times you are the only one who has my heart, where do I go when I come home? Straight to you, you know I love you” You rolled your eyes.

“Bullshit! I’m sick of hearing that same speech ‘Oh you’re my baby, I love you’ blah blah blah. I’m tired of sharing I want something real and if you’re not ready to give that to me then we’re done.”

Over the year you and Shuri have been together you two broke up on multiple occasions, but for some reason, this felt real to her.

“You’ll be back” she called after you as you disappeared back into the club. You told your friends you weren’t in the mood for clubbing anymore and you went home. They thought you were going home with Shuri to have makeup sex again, but not this time you truly were going home alone.

It’s been about three weeks since your fight with Shuri and you had to admit you were feeling a little lonely. Your friends say they’re proud of you for dumping her but you didn’t feel proud. You wanted to be held and touched in places that she would say were off limits to others, you wanted to be loved on until you wept begging for her to stop, but if you call her begging for that she wins. So your next best option was calling an old hookup.

The phone rang for a few seconds then someone answered.

“Hello? Who is this?”

“Hey, Indiyah it’s y/n how’ve you been?” It was silent for a second then you heard a soft chuckle.

“Well damn, I thought you forgot who I was, whatchu been up to mama?” Damn, you missed that nickname.

“Oh nothing I was just seeing if you were busy” She knew exactly what that meant, Indiyah knew you weren’t going to flat-out ask her to come over and fuck so she quickly learned how to tell if you were needy or not.

“Nah I’m not, whatchu’ want me to come over?” You bit your bottom lip “Yeah.”

“Ight pretty girl I’m on my way.”

“Ok,” You giggled not thinking it would work. You haven’t spoken to her in months after you dropped all your girls for Shuri.

Feeling excited you ran to the bathroom to get ready. You took a shower, shaved, and put on light makeup and some cute lounging clothes. Last but not least you sprayed your favorite perfume making sure you smelled good, you checked yourself in the mirror one last time before smiling. You couldn’t even sit down to relax the doorbell rung. A giddy smile appeared on your lips as you jogged to the door.

“Hey boo” you greeted her with a sweet smile, she returned the smile looking you up and down.

“Damn mama you look good as fuck” you giggled feeling your cheeks heat up “Thank you.” Now wasting any time pulled her in shutting the door behind her.

“So…” you giggled nervously “how you wanna do this?“ without saying anything she gently pushed you onto the couch hovering over you

“Just let me take care of you pretty girl” She straddled your lap kissing you soft and sensually, her lipgloss tasted sweet with a hint of mint. You jolted feeling her cold hands roam under your tank as they caressed your nipples, you moaned against her lips loving the feeling. You could slowly feel that throbbing sensation between your thighs become worse aching to be pleased.

“Wait wait…” she pulled away looking down at you “You done with that panther freak right? Her and those warriors won’t jump me right?” You chuckled shaking your head.

“Yes she’s gone for good” she smirked, “good.”

She dipped down to connect your lips again, “damn I missed this” she moaned between kisses. Your hand found its way to her ass giving it a firm squeeze, “fuck baby.” Her kisses made their way down to your neck, she sucked and nibbled with every intention to leave hickeys.

“Mmhh come up out these baby,” she said moving off you as she tugged on your silk shorts. You slid them off with ease and opened your legs, without hesitation, she dropped to her knees hooking your hands under your thighs. She slowly kissed up your thighs while looking up at you “You so fuckin’ fine” you smiled down at her biting your lip “Thank you, baby.”

She began to lick up your right thigh up to your lady parts, you missed how she would lick you up and down like this. “fuck don’t tease me” you begged.

Granting your wish she began gently sucking on your throbbing clit, not too hard but enough to edge you “Ooh shit baby” you moaned as your eyes fluttered close.

Your hand reached for her braids as you tugged on them, in the middle of a blissful moment and feeling an immense amount of pleasure you suddenly hear your front door slam.

“Is this what you do when we argue? You go find someone else to fuck?” Your eyes shot open as heat rushed to your cheeks. You knew that thick Wakandan accent from anywhere.

You pushed Indiyah’s head from between your thighs and sat up “What the fuck are you doing here?” You asked visibly annoyed.

“Well I still have the key and I also pay bills here so, technically I can show up whenever I want.” She was so cocky it was annoying. You rolled your eyes quickly getting up to pull up your shorts.

“Nah you gotta go, bye!” You attempted to push her towards the door but she didn’t budge, “no thank you the only one who’s leaving is you” She stared at Indiyah with hatred oozing from her dark eyes, Indiyah just sat on the couch confused and nervous.

“Um, you told me you two were done?”

“We are” Shuri scoffed “You have two seconds to leave before we have a problem, so I advise you go” Shuri demeaned narrowing her eyes at the girl knowing good and well she wouldn’t challenge her, she was pulling her Panther card and it was unfair. Feeling intimidated Indiyah got up and grabbed her things.

“Tell me when you two really break up I’m out” she put an emphasis on really before walking out.

“Indi wait-“ Not wanting you to run after her Shuri grabbed your forearm pulling you back.

“Shuri let go of me I’m so sick and tired of you, damn you’re annoying.” You snatched your arm away walking to the kitchen and of course, she followed you.

“You don’t think I’m annoying when your legs are-“

“Shuri” you gave her a warning glare, she closed her mouth and rolled her eyes “What do you want?” You asked hoping if you give it to her she’d leave. She shrugged leaning against the counter “It’s been a few weeks since our fight you still can’t be mad at me can you?” She tilted her head with a fake pout, you rolled your eyes mushing her head away.

“You know damn well I’m still upset with you. I’m sick of your games Shuri you lie and expect me not to call you out I’m done.”

“You knew this wasn’t exclusive, we were never official” Hearing those words kind of stung. She’s right you two weren’t dating but that doesn’t mean you can’t feel a certain way.

“I- I know but if you weren’t guilty about what you’re doing you wouldn’t lie” she huffed shaking her head “I don’t tell you everything because I know how you are.”

“What do you- you know what I’m not doing this leave now” you demand pointing towards the door, “usana” she cooed stepping closer.

“Are you really going to make me leave?” She was closing in on you like a predator with its prey. Not wanting to fall for it you backed up until you hit the counter.

“Shuri-“

“Shh, my love you know I’m sorry right?” She cupped your face with both of her hands making you face her. She knew eye contact was the main way to make you fold easily.

‘Don’t fall for it’ was all you repeated in your head, you looked away avoiding eye contact as her veiny hands held your face. She was so intoxicating it was hard not to just say fuck it and give yourself to her, but you vowed to yourself that you would stay strong this time.

“Look at me” she demanded, feeling all self-control leave your body your eyes shot back to hers. All the anger and hatred you held melted away. Her once dark fierce eyes shifted back to her normal soft brown ones. Her eyes flickered down to your lips as she caressed them with her thumb.

“You know I don’t like it when you’re mad at me, this has been going on for too long and I miss you,” knowing she had you right where she wanted you she leaned in and kissed you. Your eyes fluttered close feeling yourself melt into the kiss, her kisses always left you aching and wanting more.

“Shuri” you whimpered against her lips.

“Yes, my love?” Feeling everything in you scream for her touch you just gave up.

“Take me please.” without a second thought she picked you up like it was nothing and as routine your legs instantly wrapped around her slim waist.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?” You nodded with a whimper. Feeling the wetness seeping through her boxers Shuri quickly made it to your bedroom and kicked the door closed. She left multiple kissed on your neck as she gently laid you on the bed. She laid between your thighs kissing you with such lust and hunger. You both moan into each other's mouths, you tugging on her hair and Shuri gripping your thighs.

“Fuck I need you now” you whined feeling her pants rub against your clit through your thin shorts.

“Before I give you what you want, you need to be punished” you swallowed thickly staring up at her innocently.

“But Shuri-“

“Shut up, what did I tell you about letting people touch what’s mine? Do you like being a slut for other women huh? Answer me” she demanded as she grabbed your jaw pulling you towards her “N-no I’m sorry Shuri forgive me.”

“You know exactly what to do if you want forgiveness usana.” She tugged off her shirt moving from between your thighs. You immediately sat up and laid across your her lap and she pulled your shorts down to your thighs.

“You ready? If it’s too much let me know” You nodded giving her all the consent she needed.

She started on your left cheek leaving a smack that echoed through the room, your back arched and your toes curled.

“Ah fuck” you whined as your voice broke trying to hold in a sob.

“Keep count” was all she said before leaving another spank. You gripped the covers burying your face into them before letting out a whimper. She spanked you again and again then switched sides, the feeling between pain and pleasure was a thin line at the moment but you could care less it felt good.

“F-fuck Shuri’m sorry please” you whined feeling tears roll down your cheeks. Shuri’s ego grew at the sight of you begging her to stop.

“How many was that?”

“Eight” feeling as if that was enough for now she gently rubbed both sides of your ass before leaving a kiss on your lower back.

“Good girl now get on your knees you’re far from being done” You obeyed her getting up slowly, you started feeling the stinging sensation intensify as you moved to the floor but you chose to ignore it.

“How may I please you?” You asked as you knelt on the hardwood floor, without speaking Shuri pulled off her pants along with her boxers. She spread her long pretty legs showing you her glistening cunt.

“Eat it” You scooted closer rubbing your hands along her thighs, you tugged her closer to the edge of the bed so you could please her properly. You parted her wet lips running your thumb along her clit, you guessed she was feeling sensitive as she hissed at the little touch.

“Hasn’t anyone told you not to play with your food? be a good girl for me and taste it” Not wanting to anger her you leaned in and kissed it before licking up her dripping juices. Before you indulged yourself in her you got an idea. You reached for your nightstand pulling out your vibrator. You peered at her for permission to use it and she gave you a nod.

You switched it to the lowest setting before repositioning yourself back between her legs.

You teased her clit with it before sliding your tongue into her, Shuri’s head fell back in pleasure. As you circled her clit with the vibrator you could feel her walls clench around your tongue.

“Fuck baby” she whimpered gripping the covers. Her back began to arch as the vibrator flicked her clit, feeling cocky you clicked the vibrator up a notch. You watched as her eyes screw shut, seeming it might’ve been too much you moved the toy away continuing to eat her out.

You hummed against her giving her clit a little nibble “Mmm you taste so good baby,” You cooed rubbing circles into her hips.

“Faster” she breathed out “go faster.” As asked you flicked your tongue faster, sucking on her swollen clit. Wanting her to reach her high you slid in two fingers and curled them up hitting her g spot.

“Fuck! Fuck!” She let go of the covers and latched onto your curls, she pushed your head down deeper in her pussy enjoying the feeling of being on the edge of cumming. Feeling sadistic you pulled away with a smirk, the bottom half of your face was covered in her juices.

“Y/n what the fuck?!” She sat up with a confused look feeling frustrated.

“I want you to sit on my face please” You stood up from the floor and crawled onto the bed, you gave her a sloppy kiss before removing her bra, and you quickly kissed down her breasts before coming back up with a grin.

“You gonna do it?” She nodded with a grin pushing you onto the bed, she moved up placing her knees on the side of your head “Tap my thigh three times if you want to stop” You nodded.

She lowered herself gently and began to ride your face, feeling that intense feeling from before return her hips stuttered a bit. A high pitch moan escaped her lips as she fastened her pace “You are such a little slut for letting me ride your face, you like that shit don’t you?”

Letting her know you enjoyed it you hummed, the vibrations made her whimper even louder. Having a feeling she was close you stuck your tongue out letting her ride it.

“F-fuuuuuck!!” Shuri leaned back with her arms resting on your thighs, her movements became quicker and quicker. The feeling of your tongue sliding in and out of her as your nose hit her clit drove her wild. You reached a hand up to play with your nipples as she threw her head bad in pleasure.

“I’m- im cumming fuuuck!” she screamed as her grip on your thighs tightened. You just gently held her hips helping her move back and forth as she rode out her high. As she finished she collapsed beside you with her eyes closed breathing heavily.

You grinned as you took your fingers to clean up your face and licked them clean, “do you forgive me now?” You innocently ask kissing her lips.

“Yes, now you can go get it” You knew exactly what she meant, you excitedly hopped off and reached under your bed for your toy box. You pulled out the dark brown realistic-looking strap on, and handed it to her. While she got it adjusted you laid down waiting for her.

She caressed your face as she climbed on top of you. She maneuvered her self between you taking one leg and resting it on her shoulder, she teased you a bit tapping your soaking clit before sliding it in. You moaned at the feeling of her stretching you out, “Ooh shit baby.”

She pumped in and out slowly letting you get adjusted, when she thought you could take it she sped up. You reached for the pillow behind gripping it you as your eyes fluttered shut “f-fuck right there” The aching feeling you’ve been feeling all night was finally being attended to and it felt so damn good. The way the veins on the dildo rubbed against your g spot had you crying her name.

“Ohhh fuck Shuri r-right there!” She kissed your ankle before removing your leg off her shoulder, and instantly your legs wrapped around her waist “Be a good girl and take it for me like I know you can.”

Hearing her speak to you in such and calm tone while drilling into like her personal fuck doll you made you clench around her. You became whiny and started to squirm under her, not be able to take anymore you pushed against her chest. With ease, Shuri took your hands and trapped them above your head while her other one held onto your hips.

“Fuck” you cried out feeling an unfamiliar pressure building up in the pit of your stomach. She watched as your face contort in pleasure as your breasts bounced with each thrust. It was almost mesmerizing to her.

Your whines got louder as that feeling in your stomach grew tighter, Shuri could feel you squeezing around her, she knew you were close. She continued to hold your hands above your head while the other one slipped down between you to play with your clit, she watched her dildo disappear and reappear as a white creamy ring formed at the base.

“Fuc- fuuuuuck I’m close!”

“I know baby, I know hold on just a little longer” She gently kissed your sweaty neck as her thrusts became rougher, your thighs squeezed around her and your back arched off the bed. You couldn’t take it much longer, your head was dizzy and you were seeing stars.

She moved closer to your ear to encourage your release“Breath usana, let go and breathe. Come on I know you can do it you’re so close” A few more strokes plus hearing her whisper in your ear was the cherry on top. You obeyed her and let go, you cried out her name as you came with a warm liquid shooting all over the bottom of Shuri’s torso. Pleased with you she trusted and few more times and then pulled out.

“Good girl, you did so well for me” Her sweaty body collapsed right beside you.

“I didn’t mean to-“

“Shhh, we’ll clean it up later,” Trying to catch your breath you both lay there in silence, you could still feel your cum leaking down your thighs.

“I’m sorry baby I really am” she breathed heavily as she kissed your damped forehead. You and Shuri been through everything together no matter how bad you fight in the end you’ll end up going right back to each other.

“I know baby, I know.”

Taglist 💌 : @locoforshuri @6-noir @saintwrld @vampzxi @ihearttish @cafehyunji @sapphicvqmpires @yamsthoughts @shuriszn @shurismainbxtch @oceean @shurislover @siqueth @shurisbathwater, @zayswriting

Shuri’s Masterlist

#shuri x black!fem reader #Shuri x reader #shuri smut #shuri x black!reader #shuri udaku #stud!Shuri #toxic!Shuri #switch!Shuri #ask heejayy #x black reader #lesbian #Shuri x you #shuri x y/n

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 4 months

Text

It was only supposed to be a one-night stand (Part 1)

TW: suicide attempt, mentions of self harm, smut (kinda), yandere shenanigans

okay i mayyy have made this after like seeing a bunch of hot construction workers around my campus doing tinkering and shit and my saviour complex is also kinda flaring up too

and also this is my first ever cringefail yandere, he's not rich and he barely has connections and mans was suicidal

enjouy

Part 2

Everyone doesn't know why you didn't just block him, call the cops on him, or just... anything! You don't either.

This man has been following you around for months now. Leaving you flowers on your office desk, dropping parcels of gifts in front of your door, and visiting your workplace to give you boxes of freshly made takeout.

He's not much of a talker. Maybe it's because he can't exactly speak English well. But that was the only language he had ever spoken or written in before, as far as you know.

He's definitely intimidating everyone around you. Standing at an imposing height of what you think is 6'5, his back alone is usually enough to block the sun from your eyes. With his shaggy, brown hair covering his eyes, unkempt stubble covering his face and scruffy clothes; he usually wears an olive green shirt under his very worn chore jacket and a pair of shabby khaki pants. The man wears a pair of mildly tattered combat boots. He isn't ugly, perse, but he definitely isn't the standard of beauty in society. Your stalker has this rugged and disheveled vibe to him that some may like and most look down upon.

You think he's homeless, living in his beaten car and going to public gyms to shower. You've never seen him eating something he cooked himself, it's either he's eating something out of a styrofoam box, or a package good from convenience stores.

But he isn't unemployed. You know he is a construction worker, you caught him many times staring at you longingly as you hasten your pace, fleeing the soon-to-be shopping complex near your office. He was carrying a heavy set of wooden planks on his shoulder effortlessly, the stranger wiped his sweat using the back of his hand before adjusting his hard hat.

You didn't know that he worked in this field when you first met him. You always had a good heart... or at least a heart that simply cannot handle bystander guilt.

You were walking towards the subway one day, and it was late because you agreed to work overtime. The sky was pitch black, and the only thing that illuminated the path ahead was the lamps swarmed by millions of moths.

Entering the tunnel, there were only a few people around; either waiting for the train, for someone, or for a miracle. Regardless of what they're there for, they're all occupied in their own little world.

You were about to be immersed in the world of social media too, but your blasted phone died. So you're forced to stand in silence and become aware of your surroundings, nothing to numb yourself from the daily mundaneness.

And it was this awareness that led you to notice the man in the first place. You were guarded, taking a few steps away from him as he seemed extremely intoxicated. He was swaying and stumbling, in his calloused hand, held a brown glass bottle with liquid sloshing in it. The man was mumbling something, but it was too soft and incoherent for you to hear. He kept wiping his face using the back of his knuckles.

He, just like everyone else except you, is in his own personal hell too. He spared no attention for you or anything else except his own drunken stupor, so you deem it relatively safe to watch him from where you're standing. The stranger is your only source of entertainment at the moment anyway, the train is coming soon, so why not watch him for a bit more and laugh at him internally for being at his lowest? Certainly, it would never happen to you.

You were snapped out of your own thoughts when you saw him going dangerously close to the ledge, crossing over the yellow line. At the same time, the sounds of wind rushing and rumbling reached your ears, if he falls onto the rails, he will definitely be done for. You looked behind your shoulder and saw bright lights coming from one end of the tunnel, calculating that you only have a couple seconds to make your decision.

You shouted for his attention, catching it and a few others around you. He stared at you with bloodshot, glassy eyes. However, he lost his footing and was about to fall to his ultimate demise.

The adrenaline rush amplified by the roar of the train wheels made you propel your feet toward him. You stretched your arm, grabbed him by the back of his jacket, and yanked him out of the danger zone with all your might. It definitely wasn't easy to move this hunky mass at all, but you did. And you saved him just at the nick of time, as the train rushed by, blasting a gust of wind against the two of you.

You must have underestimated your strength because he was flung back at high speeds. He grabbed your arm by instinct, trying to re-balance himself, and brought you down to the grimy subway floor with him.

You groan as you rush to sit up, cradling the arm that made contact with the ground. Scowling at the stranger for pulling such a stupid stunt in his inebriated state, upset that now you had a few pairs of judging eyes on you. You froze when you saw his eyes though, a unique glimmer made its way to his dark irises. His mouth is slightly ajar, he is staring at you with such intense reverence and adoration which you mistake as a mere alcoholic's intoxicated stare.

You screeched when he suddenly emptied the contents of his stomach on your work blouse. Shouting angry curses at him as his head was slumped to the ground and his eyelids shut.

You got up and tried to swipe as much puke away from you as you ran to the train. The last you saw him that night was in an extremely pathetic state, unconscious in his own puddle of vomit, a bottle of booze rolling away from him. People either crossed over him or walked over his body, sparing a few glances of pity or contempt before boarding the train themselves.

You thought that you were never going to see him again, with that much alcohol in his system, you would be surprised that he could even remember his own name. And you couldn't be more wrong.

A few days after that, you were in the same station, taking the same train because your boss needed you to finish the report by that day. This time, you're exhausted. Not sleeping, eating or enjoying your hobbies puts a toll on your energy levels, what a surprise.

You were nodding off in the train, struggling to keep yourself awake.

Maybe if you let yourself doze off, you'll wake up just in time for your stop. And so, you did, you let yourself drift into slumberland.

It was a mistake.

You were harshly woken up with a torch shining in your eyes and a booming voice telling you that the both of you have to leave, as this is the last stop. Lifting your head from a headrest, which actually was someone's broad shoulder. But you didn't realize that.

You were still half asleep, groggily and hastily gathering your things, not registering that the employee was also referring to another person in your proximity.

You muttered a small good night to the staff before exiting the train, yawning and stretching. Smacking your lips as you realized that your briefcase wasn't with you, must've left it back on your seat. So you turned around and walked forwards, only to ram yourself onto what you thought was an oddly shaped pillar. Cussing under your breath as you stumbled backwards, rubbing your head.

You let out a shocked yelp when you realized that it's the man instead. You were about to say something to him but your eyes landed on his side; he was holding the suitcase for you.

You stammered a quick thank you as you snatched it away from him, picking up the pace as you walked away. Howeever, you heard footfalls behind you.

Looking over your shoulder, you saw him following closely behind.

Perhaps he is also looking for an exit, so you silently lead the way to the nearest opening. But as you walk, you start to wonder; did he purposely stayed on the train with you? If he had to go somewhere he would have gotten off by then, if this was his stop, he would have left before the lights went out.

Finally, having to breath in fresh air once you exit the dusty station, you turned to look at him. Trying to discern which way is he heading.

He isn't moving. The man stood next to your side, staring straight ahead. As if he's waiting for you to take another step. After a few more seconds of idling, he turned his gaze to you.

Understandably being creeped out by this, you told him not to follow you. He blinked a couple times before continuing to stare.

Sighing, you asked him if he is lost. And you got no response.

You asked him if he is stupid. And you got no response.

Not giving a shit anymore, you picked a direction and walked. It's a long walk home and there will not be any trains left until the sun rises. As expected, he followed you all the way.

He is useful in warding off midnight catcallers and other seedy individuals that hang around alleys and empty streets. Who wouldn't be wary of him? He looks like he could easily pick them up by the scruff and fling them to the rooftops. But that means he could do that to you too, and that isn't comforting to know at all.

You reached home after an hour and a half of walking. The man is still on your trail, crowding you around the door as you unlocked it. You opened the door and immediately slipped in, he tried entering as well but you slammed it against his face. He watches you lock and latch your door through the window, he placed his hand on the glass and clawed at it a bit. You simply drew the curtains shut, praying hard that he isn't going to be there by sunrise.

Your prayers wasn't answered because you decided to check up on him an hour later. You saw him laying on the porch with his eyes closed and that tugged at your heartstrings a bit.

Maybe it's the sleep deprivation that is lowering your inhibitions, or you're just lonely and he doesn't look half bad. It could also be the cold one you cracked open that's screwing up with your soberness. Either way, you would have given yourself shit for opening the door and letting him in your house while the world is still asleep. If you get murdered, at least you won't need to go to work next week.

It was a blur, you remembered bits and pieces of his hands roaming your bare back, his cock impaling into you as he sloppily kissed you from the jaw to your neck. How his rough fingers fondled your genitals and how you were gripping your bedsheets as if your life depended on it.

Bouncing on him while you shoved your tongue down his throat was fun, especially when he wrapped his hand around the back of your head, preventing you from escaping him. Feeling the pleasant pressure on you as he pinned you to the firm bed. It was kind of him to shield your head with his hand from hitting the bedframe while he plows you from behind, iron gripping your hips with the other.

You remember starting it, demanding that he gives you something in exchange for staying a night here, you remembered pulling him into a deep, passionate, drunken kiss before he has a foot into the living room. You didn't give a shit about knowing his name or if he had any STDs, you just need to release a lot of frustrations.

You woke up hungover, with you being the small spoon while he held you tightly in his strong arms. They were littered in old scars, some clearly self inflicted.

You turned your head to see that he's still asleep, soft snores escaping his lips. Annoying to some.

Squinting as you let the sharp rays of light stab your eyes, you saw that your clothes and his were strewn all over the bedroom, the door wide open with a stray shoe resting next to it's hinges.

You looked at the clock and realized that you're going to be late. Being the workaholic you are, you shook the stranger in your bed awake. He was groaning and quietly whining about not wanting to get up, but shuts up as soon as you hurled his clothes at his face.

He shot up and cowered behind his arms as you continued throwing his articles of clothing at him, telling him that he has to leave because you need to go to work.

While he's composing himself, you rush to the bathroom to take a quick shower, pretending the cold stream of water is washing away all your sins from the night before. You lather up some soap before scrubbing your skin, internally beating yourself up for your irresponsible choices.

A familiar pair of arms snaked around your torso as you're pulled back into a strong chest, a pair of lips decided to flutter smooches on your temple and ear. His hands explored your naked body, utilizing the suds and the water to give you that electrically tingling sensation.

Of course, this intrusion wasn't taken lightly. You screamed and kicked him out of the shower, telling him to leave your house. You caught a glimpse of his confused and crestfallen look in his eyes, paired with his dripping wet hair and sopping wet body.

You finished your business, threw on a set of fresh clothes and rushed out of the door. And definitely dragging him out of there with you too, not giving a crap that he was in the middle of wearing his shirt.

You ran as fast as you could, wanting to catch the next train. And so did he, he chased after you and squeezed himself into the carriage.

Everyone was also rushing to work, there were no seats left nor were there any standing spots. Shoulders were bumping shoulders and the shorter passengers were at an all time disadvantage. You couldn't reach the handles; but he could.

As the door closes, the man held you close to him and rested his free hand on the small of your back. To outsiders, you and him looked like a run of the mill couple having each other. They couldn't be more wrong, you don't even know a single thing about him.

You just endured it, having no choice but to stick next to him. He yawned and frowned, looking quite displeased that he was not in your bed. Well, that's his fault, no one forced him to follow you back home, and no one forced him to stick himself inside of you.

Among the busy chatter in the train, you and him stayed silent. Gradually feeling comfortable in each other's embrace.

You mumbled curses under your breath, he knows where you live and he is going to know where you work. Couldn't this year get any worse?

As soon as the doors open, you make a mad dash out of the station. Running as fast as you could, not caring who you had to shove to clear your way.

You never looked back, but you made sure to take as many detours as possible to mess with his direction if he somehow managed to catch up to you. But your lungs and your out-of-shape-office-worker legs can only take you so far, you reach a nearby tree in a park next to your building.

You panted as you scanned your surroundings, only seeing the elderly, children, athletic adults, and their pets. No sign of that man you slept with last night.

You took a couple more minutes to catch your breath, knowing fully that your boss would chew you up for being close to an hour late. Whatever, you're here now. Let's earn your salary.

So you walked, it's just a couple minutes away. Nothing else should go wrong today-

You had an incredulous look on your face when you saw him loitering at the entrance. Your colleagues glance him up and down, some admiring the way his muscles slightly stick out of his shirt, some wondering what an unkempt hunk like him is doing in front of such a corporate, sanitized venue.

There was no way to sneak past him, you just had to face him. It was... cute that his eyes lit up as soon as he saw you. So you sighed as you marched up to him, requesting him to leave you alone as politely as you could. There was an edge to your tone, he must either be oblivious to it or he's simply choosing to ignore the fact that you're unhappy with him here.

During mid-sentence, he presented you with a paper plate that had a hotdog on it. You were speechless, it had everything on it: ketchup, mustard, relish, pickles, mayonnaise, cheese, Jalapeño slices, onions, beef chili, and other heaps of things that you couldn't identify. With the number of toppings, you couldn't tell that it was a hotdog in the first place, it was just a mountain of random savory foodstuffs. Your eyes darted to his other hand, it also had a hotdog wrapped in a napkin, except his one only had relish.

"I didn't know what you liked..." He mumbled, voice so deep that you could feel the vibrations in your own chest. The man looked at you with hope, wanting you to accept the plate of everything as breakfast.

You shook your head and said you were late to work. Pushing him away from the door before entering the building, some of the topping amalgamations spilled onto his shirt. Probably staining it forever with its oil content.

He stood there with a frown, he craned his head downwards to stare at the spill.

Then, he looked back up to see that you were out of sight. His shoulders sagged as he placed his own hotdog on top of your plate of horrors.

The man walked away as he pulled out a plastic spoon that he tucked in his pocket, it was given to him by the vendor because it is impossible to eat your order with hands.

He began digging in, throwing one last glance at the main door behind him.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader #tw sex mention #tw self destruction #tw suicide attempt

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honeyhotteoks · 1 year

Text

this night together - chapter five (j.yh + s.mg)

chapter five: not so easy to ignore

chapter summary: things at the studio turn out just about as bad as expected, but wooyoung takes you under his wing and introduces you to some new friends.

warnings: references to a/b/o dynamics such as heat and knotting and designations, alcohol/drinking, angst, sad vibes, but also good vibes?, reference to work place sexual harassment but not like you think

notes: thank you all so much for your kind feedback on this fic. i'm having an absolute blast writing it, and i'm so thankful for all the people giving it a try even tho this genre isn't their thing! that means a lot. this is the last chapter i have written in full, so chapter six may take a little extra time. i'm about to hit a few insane weeks of work, so i'll do my best but please be patient with me. there's a lot more chapters to come though, i promise.....

pairings: alpha!yunho x alpha!mingi x omega!reader

genre: smut, a/b/o/omegaverse, angst, fluff, romance, polyamory

word count: 6.9K

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As it turns out, you can’t just go back to being friends. When you wake in the morning you still feel sick, and your first thought is to wonder if Yunho does too. Maybe Mingi feels the same, but was better at hiding it. Maybe you’ll get to the studio and they’ll take you in their arms like a movie and kiss the breath out of you and hold you close and tell you they should have never, ever driven you home. But you doubt it.

You’ve been in love before, and you’ve had crushes before that. You’re no stranger to getting tangled up in emotional webs, it’s just usually not with people you work with and it’s usually so much easier to walk away. Or run, as you’re used to doing. This body, this designation, this biology, it makes everything always feel so confusing and artificial. Do you want them or does your omega? Do you need them or is it just the after effects of heat?

It’s a lot easier when you lie to yourself.

You’ve been dealing with this biology all your life. That’s all this is, and after a little time and a little distance, your body will catch up to your mind and stop feeling this way about them.

You take those aching feelings and lock them away tightly and then you get up. You shower, you take a deep breath, and then you buy yourself the fanciest coffee you can think of despite the absolute lack of funds in your checking account. This momentary serotonin will be worth the overdraft fee if that’s where it puts you, you need this.

By the time you get to the studio, you’re pretty confident that you’re over them, convincing yourself that it was just fun, good sex. Great sex, even, but still just sex.

But the minute you see Mingi every stitch of the resolve you knit for yourself unravels, and he looks surprised to see you even though it was part of the plan that you’d return today. He leaves the room before you can even open your mouth and try to say something innocuous and you know right then and there you were right all along. It was never going to be that simple.

Yunho blushes when he sees you, his ears turning a dark shade of pink and for a second he trips over his words addressing the wider group.

Mingi avoids your touch when you cross his path at lunch, offering you just a quick hello and then he’s gone again.

Instead of searching for their eyes, you start to get really comfortable with the wood grain of the floor and do your best just to focus on yourself. You’re working on something new, and a week ago you would have stayed late to fine tune your understanding of the choreography with Mingi while he waited on Yunho to wrap up in the back office, but you know those days are gone.

When practice ends they disappear, and you’re left to pack up by yourself. You give it a few minutes, thinking maybe when the rest of the crew trickles out maybe they’ll come to you, but they don’t. So much for being adults about this. You blink back hazy tears as you pull on your jacket, focused on packing up as fast as you can now just to get the hell out of this room.

You don’t even hear him coming up behind you.

“Come on,” Wooyoung says with a roll of his eyes, “we’re going for drinks.”

“I really should get home,” You glance over at him as you finish packing up your bag.

“I’m buying,” Wooyoung counters, “so you really have no excuse.”

What you really want is to go home and bury yourself under the covers for the foreseeable future. Every awkward second glance with Yunho was making you want to curl into a ball and every moment Mingi spent pretending he barely knew you made you want to go home and cry. An entire day filled with almost sentences and troublesome glances and all you can tell yourself is that you knew it, you were right all along.

You don’t answer Wooyoung, and instead you just can’t help yourself, you look behind you towards the back office, but neither of the men you want to see are there.

“Are you really so afraid of making friends you’re turning down free drinks?” Wooyoung prods your side, “That’s really fucking lame of you,”

“Wooyoung,” You sigh, your head dropping back.

“It’s fine,” He says, his voice lilting up in a sing-song, “I thought you were cool,”

Your jaw tightens.

“And I’m not usually wrong,” He goes on, “but it’s fine, I’m man enough to admit when I’m wrong, and you, y/n, are lame.”

“Fine!” You snap up and meet his eyes, “Fine, I’ll come, but just one drink.”

“Excellent,” He smiles, and you’re starting to get the sense that Wooyoung doesn’t really take no for an answer ever.

“One drink,” You repeat.

“Yeah,” He shrugs off, “come on, get your stuff, we’re meeting San at 1987.”

“Where?”

“Bar,” He brushes off your question without really answering, “let’s go,”

Wooyoung turns on his heel without a second thought, and he’s off. You have to jog to keep up with him to get out of the building, and he’s mostly quiet until you hit the evening street outside. He slows to a casual pace and turns his head to you when he says, “You like San, right?”

The question catches you off guard, “Of course,”

Wooyoung smiles, “He’s definitely all business at work, most of the time, but don’t worry.”

“Why would I worry?” Your brow furrows, every interaction you’ve had with San so far has been perfectly pleasant, albeit professional.

“I just mean he’s fun,” Wooyoung corrects himself, “he’s just really serious about the work,”

“You’re all kind of like that,” You point out, “mostly,”

“Right,” Wooyoung nods, winding his way through an alley and you divert off the main street to follow him as he leads you through the back way to their regular spot.

“He takes training really seriously,” You offer, “but I think that’s good. We could all hurt ourselves if we weren’t following his plans,”

Wooyoung grins, “Oh, he’s going to like the sound of that.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” Wooyoung lays a hand softly between your shoulder blades to direct you through a small crowd, “follow that up with how handsome he is and you’ll get special treatment forever.”

You laugh sharply, “Noted.”

He points ahead, “Just up there,”

At the far end of the alley is a hanging neon sign, the ‘7’ in ‘1987’ flickering intermittently. It’s not as flashy as some of the other bars or restaurants along the street you’re walking, but that looks to be part of the charm. As you make your way up to the door and inside, Wooyoung is quick to greet a few people on the sidewalk, throw a wave to the bartender, and he throws around names and details to you faster than you can pick up on them.

San waits at a table in the far corner, two light, wheat beers already waiting on the table. When he glances up from his phone and sees you both his eyes widen but he smiles pleasantly.

“Hey!” He smiles, standing and pulling a chair out for you, “I didn’t realize you were coming, I would have ordered you something,”

“I’m not crashing plans, am I? Woo didn’t say,” You glance between them.

“Not at all,” San shakes his head, gesturing for you to sit, “you’re more than welcome. Seonghwa should be coming too at some point,”

“Oh,” Your stomach does a little nervous flip flop.

“Chill,” Wooyoung interrupts your thoughts immediately, “have a drink, make some friends.”

You smile, taking your seat and letting San push it in for you so you’re settled at the table before he returns to his own place, gesturing for the server’s attention, “What’s your drink?” he asks you.

“Whatever you’re having is good,” You make it simple.

San smiles and points to their glasses before holding up a finger and silently communicating to the server that they need one more. He’s more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him, now outside of work full of easy, confident energy.

“Well,” Wooyoung smiles and takes a long sip of his drink, “this is nice,”

“Yeah,” You’re not entirely sure what you’re doing here, but you might as well go with it, “thanks for letting me tag along,”

“Mm,” San’s eyes are trained on the serving staff but he nods, and then stands as your server approaches, meeting them halfway and taking the beer, thanking them profusely for running it out so quickly. When he returns to the table he presents your drink with ease, “There we go,”

“Thank you,” You nod, accepting the cold glass, and now that it’s in your hand you’re grateful to have the drink after the day you’ve had.

The sip is calming, cool and crisp, and you sigh as you swallow, not realizing the way you’re being watched by both men.

Wooyoung’s words nearly knock you sideways, and a tiny piece of you is grateful he waited until you finished sipping your drink, “So, how was your heat?”

You cough anyways though, just the idea that someone would say it so brazenly, and in public, “What?”

“Youngie,” San slaps him with the back of his hand, “you can’t ask her that,”

Wooyoung ignores him, leaning forwards with his elbows on the table now, “The perfume isn’t helping as much as you think,” he says and you blanch, “and I’ve never seen Yunho stare at someone for so long in my life, so,”

He barely met your eyes all day, and your head snaps up, “He was staring?”

His mouth quirks up on one side and San swivels his head towards you. Wooyoung nods, “Like a puppy,”

“Fuck,” You breathe.

Both their eyebrows raise.

“Sorry, sorry,” You lean back in your chair, hiding your face in your hands. So much for a convenient story about them having the flu.

“You can curse,” Wooyoung laughs, “I just didn’t expect you to admit it that fast, I thought I’d have to pry it out of you.”

“Oh, this is so bad,” You groan.

“Why bad?” San asks, “Yunho’s nice,”

You sigh, still hiding your face.

“He’s easily one of the best guys I know,” San continues, “and there’s nothing that says we can’t date within the company, we’re not idols,”

“Oh god,” You groan again.

“Is it so bad he has a crush on you?” San asks.

Wooyoung breaks into hysterics and your hands fall away, a blank, open expression on San’s face as he tries to pick up on the joke. You wince, shaking your head, “It’s worse than that,”

“Worse,” San repeats, still slow on the uptake.

“Woo,” You find his eyes with yours, “please don’t make me say it.”

He sobers quickly, and takes a swig of his beer, “Right,” he faces San, “Yunho had the flu, but it wasn’t really the flu. They were heat partners.”

“Oh,” San says, “oh,”

“Exactly,” You sigh.

There’s a beat and then San’s brow screws up in confusion, “Didn’t Mingi have the flu too?”

Heat tints your cheeks pink instantaneously and you look down at your glass, suddenly focused on the tiny bursting bubbles at the top of your beer. You brace yourself for their reaction.

“Holy shit,” Wooyoung breathes, “y/n, you’re a god,”

“What?” Your head snaps up.

“Both of them?” Wooyoung shakes his head, “Tell me everything,”

“You don’t have to do that,” San interrupts him again, smacking the back of his arm, “he’s needlessly curious, but you know, you don’t have to share if you don’t,”

The words flood out of you, a small piece of you thankful that you don’t have to hold this whole thing inside yourself forever, “I went into heat at the studio,”

“What?” Wooyoung’s face softens, and you know that he understands just what that means. The anxiety, the fear, all of it.

“This is embarrassing,” You sigh.

“Then you don’t have to,” San tries again, wanting badly to save you from any further humiliation or pressure.

You ignore him and hold Wooyoung’s eyes, “Friends, right?”

He nods.

You swallow hard and then take the leap, “I can’t afford my suppressants right now,” you start and his eyes soften more, “I thought I had rationed them right, but after the recording it hit me like a truck.”

“I knew you seemed off,” Wooyoung says softly, “then what?”

“Mingi found me in the locker room, and then he got Yunho, and they made sure I got out of there okay,” You lean back, crossing your arms and biting the inside of your lip.

“Sharing your heat was unplanned?” Wooyoung clarifies.

“Yes,”

“And it was,” He searches for the right words, “I mean… were they okay? Everything was okay?”

You know what he’s asking without asking, and you nod, “Completely, it was more than okay, they were…”

“They’re both good guys,” San says, “it’s good they were there.”

“Yeah,” You breathe, before snapping yourself out of own head and reaching for your beer again, “anyways, yes, so they took me back to their place and now it’s four, five days later and everything’s so fucking awkward,”

“Hmm,” Wooyoung murmurs, “and it was good?”

You nod, lips pressed tight together in a line.

“Oh, it was too good,” Wooyoung grimaces, “yikes.”

“Right,” You sigh, “and Yunho and Mingi both made it pretty clear that this was a one-time casual sex thing, which is fine, but also you know how heat goes. Everything is all jumbled up now,”

“Mm,” Wooyoung nods, and then his eyes shift to above your head and he grins, “Hwa, right here!”

Park Seonghwa appears a moment later, a warm smile on his angular face and he pushes a lock of dark black hair behind his ear as he finds an open seat and slides into the table, “Hey,” he greets, and then turns to you, “hi, y/n, nice to see you outside the studio,”

“You too,” You smile.

San once again repeats his process for getting Seonghwa a drink, and your stomach tightens as you think about what Wooyoung might say in front of this man you barely know.

“It looks like I interrupted something,” Seonghwa says a few moments later when everything is still quiet and hanging still.

Wooyoung doesn’t say it, he just holds your gaze intently and raises an eyebrow as if to say - Can I?

You sigh, catching Seonghwa off guard, and then you nod.

“y/n just got back from heat leave,” Wooyoung turns to Seonghwa to explain, “with Yunho and Mingi.”

You expect a sheepish or embarrassed reaction, someone quick to divert the conversation away from sex, but it turns out you don’t know Seonghwa as well as you thought. He merely makes a noise of acknowledgement and glances to you, “How messy are things, then? They were both being weird today,”

“I don’t know,” You answer honestly with a sigh.

“They said they wanted it to be a one-time thing,” Wooyoung says, “but is the problem that you like them? Or one of them?”

“I can see that,” Seonghwa smiles, “Yunho kind of oozes perfect boyfriend,”

“It’s not that,” You shake your head, words bubbling up as you try to make sense of it, “it probably shouldn’t have happened at all, and I’m new, I don’t want to make anything weird or uncomfortable, but we spent like four days together… it was intense, and now I just feel like I can’t not think about it when I look at them,”

“Intense, good?” Wooyoung quirks a brow, nudging you under the table.

“Woo,” You sigh, “I’ve never felt like that,”

“What do you mean?” He asks softly, the two alphas at the table going silent to watch you both.

“I don’t know what it is about them,” You confess, “but the entire time all they did was make sure I was okay, they were so tender and kind, and when I left I just wanted to go back.”

“Oh,” Wooyoung murmurs, “you’ve got it bad,”

“My hormones are just out of whack,” You shake your head, “you know what it’s like. Have an alpha tell you they want to give you pups enough times and your brain short circuits,”

Seonghwa shifts in his seat and San clears his throat, but Wooyoung just laughs.

“Anyways, yes,” You take another sip of your drink, “I spent my heat with them, had the best sex of my life, and now I’m sitting here with a stomach ache because I don’t know where they are right now. I feel like the universe is playing a trick on me,”

“Wait,” Wooyoung starts to say, but you’re on a roll now, the single beer hitting just a little harder than it should have.

“Working here, with all of you, was my dream. I just think it’s funny that I haven’t even been here for three months and I’ve already managed to fuck it up, because now everytime I look at Yunho all I can hear is me begging him to claim me, which is insanity, pure and complete insanity,”

“Wait,” Wooyoung repeats again, hands up and out trying to get you to slow down, “I thought it was casual heat sex,”

“It was,” You resurface from your own panicked rambling and realize just how shocked the table looks, “what?”

“You asked Yunho to bite you?” Wooyoung asks, and when you nod he says, “and right now, how do you feel?”

“Fine,” You knee-jerk answer, “but, a little anxious I guess?”

“I don’t know how to explain this,” He says, looking to the two alphas for help who both shake their heads.

“Why do I feel like I’m missing something?” You glance between them.

“Okay,” Wooyoung claps his hands together, “listen, I have never asked Sannie to give me pups. I have never asked him to bite me, and I have never, ever, gotten all dizzy and sick when he’s not around.”

“Hey,” San grumbles, “I think she gets it,”

“I don’t,” You manage.

“What you had is a lot more than heat sex,” Wooyoung finally settles on, and your stomach drops.

“Woo,” You shake your head again, “no,”

“I’m serious!” He insists, “How else do you explain it,”

“You’re so dramatic,” You roll your eyes and reach for your drink, but find the glass empty, “it was good, really good, but that’s all it was.”

“He’s not wrong,” Seonghwa interrupts, his deep voice still calm and easy, “sometimes connections are just stronger. Scents match better, you know, everything just clicks. It doesn’t mean Yunho’s your soulmate, but if the pull is there, then there’s something there.”

You ignore the pull and flash him a weak smile, “Not for them.”

“Them,” Seonghwa corrects, “both of them?”

“I know,” You bury your head in your hands again.

“y/n,” San’s hand lays softly on your forearm, “no matter what happened, Yunho and Mingi are both still the guys from a few days ago. They’re still good men who care about you, even if that’s just as a member of the crew or a friend.”

“Can I ask a question?” Seonghwa interrupts.

“Sure,” You sigh, lifting your eyes to his.

“How do you know they don’t want you too?”

The question makes you feel awful, and you catch Wooyoung’s sympathetic look in your peripheral vision and nearly lose your composure, but the truth of it is simple. You clear your throat softly and straighten up, “They said so,”

“Oh,” He nods.

“And I’m not even sure I want them,” You tack on, “I don’t even really know them,”

Silence stretches at the table, and San’s eyes flick from yours to Seonghwa.

“Then let’s get another drink,” Seonghwa finally says, “let’s get your mind off it, and let’s have a good night. I know things are awkward at the studio, but don’t let them be. Just focus on the work and yourself and make some friends, and this whole thing will just be a funny story,”

You nod and sigh, “Okay,”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung offers, “a month from now no one’s going to remember,”

It’s around the third bar when someone brings it up again. You’re several more drinks deep, learning so much about the group dynamics that you can’t get while inside the studio walls. Wooyoung is quick to peel back all the layers for you now that you’re actually out with them and not just pushing it off a little longer for the sake of your wallet.

Leaning across the expanse of the table Seonghwa gets your attention with a drunken tap on your arm and his eyes narrow, “What’s this about you not being able to afford your suppressants?”

“What?” For a second his words don’t compute.

“Your meds, your suppressants,” He gestures, a little beer tipping over the edge of his glass, “why aren’t you on them?”

“I will be soon,” You lean in closer to hear each other over the music, “insurance window,”

“Ah,” He nods, “so what’s your plan next time?”

“Next time?” You turn your head so that his mouth is closer to your ear.

“Next heat,” He clarifies, a little slur in his speech, “while you’re onboarding,”

Your eyebrows shoot up at his words, “I don’t really know, I guess,”

“Mm,” He nods.

“Why?” You scoot your chair closer.

“I’m assuming you don’t want to,” His voice gets swallowed up by Wooyoung shouting something over the music and you shake your head.

“What?” You squint, shifting closer, bracing your hand on the table by his glass to steady yourself.

“Go back to Yunho and Mingi!” He all but shouts, “I’m assuming you don’t want to do that,”

“Fuck no,” You groan, “I’d rather take care of it myself than deal with feeling like this,”

“What about me?” He says and you laugh, but you don’t really know why. He clears his throat and shakes his head, sobering himself just a little, “Seriously,”

“What about you, what?”

He rolls his eyes, “Help with heat, I help Woo, San and I both do,”

“Oh,”

“Only if you need a hand,” He smiles, round eyes shining and kind, “or you know, a knot in this case,”

You clap a hand over your mouth and can’t help but fall apart into giggles, “You’re serious,”

He quirks his eyebrow at you, dropping his drink back onto the table so he can draw an X over his chest with two fingers, crossing his heart.

“What are you doing over there?” Wooyoung interrupts and your head snaps to the side, “Making a blood pact? You’re both trashed,”

“I am not trashed,” You insist, even though you can feel yourself slipping off the chair you’re on inch by inch.

“You’re allowed to be,” Wooyoung pushes a shot of soju towards you, “you’re broke and in love,”

“Wooyoung!” His words strike panic through you, “Seriously, stop that,”

“Alright, alright,” He throws up his hands, “broke and and in lust, whatever,”

San’s lips curl up in a half smile at his friend’s words. His eyes are closed, and he’s swaying a little from side to side, jerking back to center every now and again when his equilibrium feels too sideways. It’s entirely possible Wooyoung is the most sober one here and that thought makes you burst into laughter. San’s eyes fly open at the sound.

“I was offering my services,” Seonghwa cuts in, like he had been thinking about what to say that entire time and finally found the words.

“Your what?” Wooyoung laughs.

“For her next heat,” He explains, waving his hand like it’s simple addition, “my services,”

“Seonghwa,” San shakes his head sharply, “stop.”

“It’s not as if I’m with someone,” Seonghwa replies, holding San’s gaze intently, and for a split second it’s obvious there’s some kind of a backstory behind them all or their friendship or just Seonghwa himself that everyone knows and you don’t, but it isn’t the time to ask.

“Yeah,” San says a little gruffly, blinking hard to shake off the alcohol, “well, this still isn’t the time.”

Wooyoung wraps it up smoothly, “We’re all too drunk for this,”

“Exactly,” You take a moment of solace in the cup of soju.

“I mean it though,” Seonghwa tears his eyes away from San and a hand drops onto your knee, “you’re pretty, I’m pretty, just keep it in mind,”

There’s almost no way he’ll remember this tomorrow, so you let him off the hook with a smile and a hand on the side of his cheek, “Thank you, Hwa,”

“That’s what f-friends are for,” He hiccups lightly, and then you watch his eyes unfocus as the dizziness floods his vision and he drops his head unceremoniously onto your shoulder, “oh, God, I’m drunk,”

“There it is,” Wooyoung grins.

You slip forward as Seonghwa’s weight drops onto you and you brace yourself on the edge of the table, but San swoops in, “Come here, hyung, stop hanging on her,”

“Hmm?” Seonghwa’s eyes look tired when San gets him off you and over his shoulder, “Sannie?”

“Yeah,” San softens, “it’s just me,”

“I think I need to lie down,” Seonghwa murmurs, his head falling onto San’s ready shoulder.

“I know, hyung, I know,” San softens, and then turns to the table, “can we go?”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung stumbles as he gets up but then straightens, tucking himself under Seonghwa’s other arm once he gets his feet under him, “y/n, you good?”

You pull yourself up too, knocking back the final shot of soju so it doesn’t go to waste and pulling on your jacket, “Good,”

In the cool night air outside the bar everything gets dizzier, more watery and hazy, and something in your gut pulls hard. For a brief passing moment you wonder what Yunho and Mingi are doing right now.

San’s saying something and you shake yourself out of your stupor, “What’s that?”

“I said, where do you live?” He lets Wooyoung take more of Seonghwa’s weight as he turns his focus to you.

You give him your address, “I can call an Uber,”

“I live kind of close,” He nods, “let me take you,”

“You really don’t have to,”

“It would make me feel better,” San brushes you off immediately, “we’ve all been drinking, you shouldn’t be alone,”

“What about him?” You nod towards Seonghwa.

“I got him,” Wooyoung assures, “we live in the same building.”

“You sure?” San checks, “We can all go together,”

“It’s the opposite direction,” Wooyoung shakes his head, “and I’m tired, this just makes more sense,”

San nods and then checks on Seonghwa once more, “Make him drink some water, okay?”

“Yep,” Wooyoung salutes, rolls Seonghwa into an Uber, and then they’re gone.

Leaving you and San alone on the sidewalk.

“Let me get a car,” He says, shaking off some of his lingering drunkenness and pulling out his phone.

Of the three men, you talked to San the least. As the night had stretched on, you found yourself sidled up with Seonghwa or talking across the table animatedly with Wooyoung, but San seemed to give you a little space. He was also the one who commented the least on your recent sexual escapades and now standing in the middle of the street with him and him alone, you have no idea what you’ll talk about.

You watch as he types into his phone, lets it search, and then his nose crinkles, “Twenty minutes,”

“Oh,” You push up on your tiptoes to see his screen, “damn,”

He thinks for a minute and then sighs, “You want to walk a bit? I need to sober up a little anyways,”

“Sure,”

“Hungry?” His brows perk up.

“Definitely,” You smile.

“There’s places in our direction,” He waves you on, and you fall into lockstep with him as you wind out of the alley and back into the city streets.

It’s quiet for a moment, and you know one of you has to break the silence, but mercifully he gets there first, “You’re a good dancer, you know,”

“So are you,” You glance up at him, and he smiles.

He’s handsome, especially like this with his cheeks tinged pink with the night of drinking and his hair falling in his eyes. He directs you forward across an intersection and then looks down to keep talking, “You pick little things up really quickly, it’s impressive,”

“I appreciate that,” The alcohol seems to be less pervasive now that you’re out of the loud club and walking some of it off and you sigh, “honestly, I was staying late with Mingi a lot of nights. He was helping me catch up,”

“Ah,” San nods, “that makes sense,”

You keep walking. Normally you can get a conversation going without any problems, but with the alcohol and the late night and the fact that you really don’t know San all that well, you’re tongue tied.

He sighs heavily and looks at you, like he had been weighing whether or not to say something and finally chose to just do it anyway. “Don’t worry about what Seonghwa said,” He manages, “he was drunk, and I’m sure he wouldn’t have wanted to make you uncomfortable.”

“Oh,” Your stomach knots up, “he didn’t,”

“Good,” San nods, looking relieved, “he’s a good man, he’s,” San searches for his words for a moment, “not the type to proposition a coworker, that’s not what,”

“Oh!” It makes sudden sense why San was being so careful, offering to walk you home and trying to keep Seonghwa in check, “No, San, that’s not at all what I thought,”

“It’s not?” His eyebrow quirks up.

“No, I mean,” Your gaze falls away from him, “it probably should be, but I know he meant well. Plus, I know you both help Wooyoung,”

“Well,” San shakes his head, “that’s a little different,”

“Because you’re all men?”

He smiles, a little sheepish, “No, I was going to say because we’re old friends, but I guess there’s that too.”

“Ah,” You turn towards him, “well, really, you shouldn’t worry about me like that. Hwa was just trying to be a good friend, and I’m sure he won’t remember it tomorrow anyways,”

He sighs, relieved this time, “Good, okay,”

“Is that what you were worried about?” You ask.

“Between that and Woo practically interrogating you,” His nose crinkles again, “that part of your life is private, he shouldn’t pry like that.”

“I would have told him to stop,” You shake your head.

“I hope so,” He says, “I wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable with us after everything you’re dealing with. We like you in the crew,”

“You do?”

“Definitely,” He twists to meet your eyes, “you have fire. I saw it in the audition tape,”

Blush flushes your cheeks, “Thank you,”

“I’m just being honest,” He smiles.

You smile back.

It gets easier the more and more you walk with San. The alcohol slowly dissipates in both your systems, and after a few more blocks the idea of street food seems even more appealing. He refuses to let you pay and you only protest once, albeit weakly, before he gives you a simple shake of the head and takes care of things without another word.

It’s a thirty minute walk, especially at this meandering pace, but eventually you make it back to your block, and you don’t know what possesses you to turn the conversation back to Yunho and Mingi and everything it means but you do. He’s less shy to discuss it now, especially after enough time getting to know each other and sinking into a conversational rhythm.

By the time you make it to your apartment walkway, your corn dog is half eaten and your previous anxiety about talking to San is gone entirely. You gesture up to your building, “This is me,”

“Nice,” He comments, and then he takes a seat on your stoop and looks up at you, expectant.

“What?” You ask at his expression.

“You weren’t done, come on, tell me the rest,” He leans back against the railing, stretching out his legs.

“Right,” You remember yourself, flopping down onto the step next to him and running a hand through your hair, “where was I?”

“Yunho reminding you of your ex,” San prompts you.

“Ah,” You shake your head, “I mean not really, my ex was an asshole, but… I guess I didn’t know that for a long time. I thought he was nice, I thought he was the right guy.”

“And Yunho’s nice and the right guy?” He smirks.

“No, no,” You wave your hands, “fuck, I’m not making sense with this at all.”

“Can I guess?” San turns his body towards you a little more.

You nod.

“When your heat was over,” San’s expression is almost a little apologetic as he addresses it directly, “did you all agree it was just sex?”

“Yes,”

“And that you could all be adults about it?” He adds.

You nod again.

“And today you were all awkward as hell and avoiding each other?”

“Basically,”

“Listen,” San rests his hand on your knee, “I don’t know what your ex did or didn’t do, but they’re not that guy.”

“I know,” You sigh.

“But I get it,” San interrupts, “it feels like you had this connection and everything was good and now they’re pretending you don’t exist, and how is that different from any other guy?”

He has you there. You manage a nod.

“Well, I don’t know how they feel about you,” He offers, “but I promise you they’re just as embarrassed as you. It’s easy to say you’ll stay friends and that the lines won’t get blurred, but they always, always do.”

You study him for a moment, at the way he’s speaking so genuinely and it dawns on you, “You speak from experience, I’m guessing?”

He looks down and away, nodding before he brings his eyes back up to yours, “Yeah,”

“Woo?” You guess softly.

After an entire night of watching them lean against each other, touch each other, talk amongst themselves in their little bubble, you’re shocked when his mouth turns up into a sad smile and he shakes his head, “No, Woo and I have figured out how to make this whole thing easy,”

“Oh,”

“Wooyoung loves me, but he’s not in love with me.” San clarifies.

“And you?” You ask softly.

“He’s my best friend,” San says confidently, “and I’ll never let him be in pain,”

“But?” You nudge him.

“It was a long time ago,” He shakes his head and for the first time all night you know he’s told you a lie, but you let it pass. He shakes off the momentary lapse and continues, “but I know how you’re feeling.”

“Then how do I make it right?” You ask him.

“Sometimes you can’t,” He says honestly, “sometimes one person just feels so much more than the other, and you try to make it work until you bend so much for them you break.”

“I know what Woo said,” You shake your head, “but I’m not in love with them. I’m not.”

“I trust you,” San nods, “you know yourself better than Youngie.”

“It’s just this thing inside me,” You confess, and maybe it’s the alcohol or the lateness of the hour but you feel safer here on your stoop with him than you have in a long, long time, so you keep confessing. “I wish sometimes so much that I could just be a beta, that I could forget all about this and just know for sure. I’ve… never known anything for real and how am I supposed to trust anything I feel if my body just decides for me.”

He’s quiet for a moment, but then he says, “Being an omega is a beautiful thing,”

“Don’t,” You shake your head sharply, “I’ve heard that one all my life,”

“It is,” He insists, “all of it’s beautiful. Every part and piece of us is, alpha, beta, omega, all of it.”

“San, that’s not,”

“I know what you meant,�� San says softly, sliding his hand into yours and giving you a squeeze, “and it would be easier to be a beta, and to not have to wonder every time. Does the person you like feel right because you like them or because something about them is a good biological match?”

“Exactly,”

“Believe me,” He squeezes you again, “I get it.”

Tears prickle in your eyes and you swallow hard to clear them, “Then how do I make this work? How do I go back to the studio and put this behind me?”

“Is that what you want?” He checks, thumb stroking along the back of your hand.

“Yes,” You sigh, “it doesn’t even matter how I feel or don’t feel, I can’t take that risk here,”

“The work is more important,” He finishes for you.

“Yes.”

“Then don’t let them in again,” San says simply, “not like before. Be friends, but keep things professional. Get some distance from this whole thing,”

“I have a feeling this is not the advice Woo would be giving me,” You smile.

“No,” San laughs, “Wooyoung would tell you to open yourself up to the great mystery of being loved or something,”

“And you’re not a romantic,” You smirk.

“No, no,” He shakes his head, “I am, but being a romantic doesn’t mean you have to let people hurt you. I’ve seen Woo get his heart broken a dozen times now, and he keeps trying. He’s the strongest person I know, and I love him for it, but it’s not the only way.”

“So what he said at the bar,” You tuck your unfinished food into the little bag and leave it to the side, “what he said about my heat?”

“I mean,” He shrugs, “y/n, this isn’t your first time. Don’t listen to him,”

“But Seonghwa,” You remember the way Seonghwa agreed, like a scent match was the stars aligning.

“Fuck them both,” San shakes his head, “just because you had a connection with them doesn’t mean they’re the only people you can connect with.”

Your eyes fill with tears again and he shakes his head when he sees your hazy eyes, brushing your jaw softly with his fingers. You swallow hard and sigh, breath hitching in your chest, “You know what’s funny about this?”

“Hmm?” He brushes your jaw again.

“I don’t even want to date right now, I just,” You shrug lightly, “I want to work. I want to have friends. I want to go out and meet people or stay in if I feel like it. I don’t want to sit on the couch pining or walk on eggshells at the studio,”

“y/n,” San steadies you, his voice low and calm, “listen to me, okay?”

“Okay,” You murmur.

“You have work to do, so focus on it. You have friends, including me, and Woo, and Seonghwa, okay? You come out with us… or don’t,” He smiles and squeezes your hand, “and the studio will feel weird for a little while, but trust yourself, it will fade.”

“It will,” You nod, “you’re right,”

He nods, holding your gaze a little longer until he gives you one more squeeze. San shifts back to give you a little space, his hands leaving you and clasping together to hang between his legs. He smiles, “Do you feel any better?”

“Yeah,” You run your hands through your hair and let out a long, tired exhale.

“Sobered up?” He checks.

“Mostly,” You nod, checking your watch, “but it’s so late I’m still going to be feeling it tomorrow,”

“Mm,” He nods, “we aren’t starting until eleven though,”

“True,”

The night is drawing to a close, you can feel it. You don’t really want to be alone with your thoughts again, but you’re also so tired you think you might drop on the spot, so you start to pull away and hope that you’ll be able to fall asleep the minute you hit the pillows.

He pushes himself up to stand and offers you a hand to help you to your feet, “Should I walk you up?”

You shake your head, “I got it,”

“I’ll wait until you get in,” He smiles and nods.

You make it two steps up before you turn back to him, “Thank you, San,” you tell him, “for everything tonight, really,”

He smiles wider, his eyes crinkling up and he nods again, “Don’t thank me, just remember what I said.”

“I will,”

“And y/n,” He calls after you as you start back up the path, “sleep well,”

“You too, Sannie,” You give him one last look before you push open your apartment door and start up the steps. He doesn’t budge, making sure you’re in the door before he pulls out his phone and starts his short walk home.

Coming home this time doesn’t hurt the same.

You hope for more of the same tomorrow.

You hope every day that it fades away, little by little.

#ateez #honeyhotteoks fics #honeyhotteoks series #this night together fic #yungi x reader #yungi smut #yunho x reader #mingi x reader #ateez ff #ateez series #yunho series #mingi series #yunho fic #mingi fic

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idolomantises · 1 year

Text

I think I’m gonna discuss this once and hopefully never have to bring it up again. Originally I wanted to talk about it on Twitter but people are very disrespectful when it comes to mental health so… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Basically, I haven’t been doing so great, mentally. Nothing bad has happened to me, I’m safe and surrounded by people I care about, and it’s been like that for months. I just, I haven’t been feeling good.

For people who do follow me on accounts like Twitter and Instagram, you may have noticed I haven’t posted anything new since January. I was struggling to feel motivated to make something for my main accounts despite having countless ideas I’d love to work on. I feel better now and do plan on getting something done in March, but that sudden lack of motivation is pretty rare for me. Art is not only my job but a big hobby for me, I just love drawing. I did get some nsfw art done at least.

I don’t know what really prompted my mental health decline, I’ve been getting a few worried messages and fanart because someone insulted my art. But that didn’t hurt me at all, it actually boosted my account and patreon.

I guess I just… got sad?

I have a really bad tendency to suppress and even ignore my trauma and feelings of guilt. And I guess one day I really sat with my thoughts and I just, lost it I guess. I have so much traumatic memories and sudden and intense feelings of self loathing, something I’ve never felt in almost a decade, that it got overwhelming. I couldn’t reassure myself, I couldn’t really talk to anyone about it because how do you confront things that happened years ago? You feel almost irrational. It’s just memories that haunt you, it’s nothing physical or tangible and yet it’s a crushing feeling of anxiety, self hatred and resentment.

I was crying almost every day, and crying so much that my eyes kept hurting long after I was done, and I could barely see my own screen. I’ve had paranoid thoughts about myself and others, thoughts I can’t get into because they’re so deeply irrational. I was feeling suicidal urges and thoughts of self harm. I don’t see myself doing it, but it’s so frequent and overwhelming it’s like I’m already planning my suicide note.

I was talking to my therapist about it, that I was starting to hate being alive. That I hated living. That I could spend the next 50 years of my life with no more conflict or trauma and I’d still be in intense misery and turmoil. They’re feelings I couldn’t really bring myself to tell friends about because what could they say? How do you calm yourself down and reassure yourself. I can’t even talk about my trauma verbally without crying. And it’s funny because sometimes minor irks started to affect me negatively. I was feeling anxious about what to draw because I didn’t want to do deal with homophobic backlash.

I went to a therapist, I talked to friends, Ive been working out more and eating better, I did everything I should do to improve my mental health and all of a sudden a single night just sitting in my room destroyed everything I was slowly building up over the past 5 years.

It’s been really difficult for me. I think also, I just felt so much guilt over not being the best person I could be. I decided to lessen my online usage, not just for my mental health but because I really wanted to work on being a better person. I want to stop hating myself and letting my trauma push me down and I want to do just be better and do better as a person. A lot of people have been very forgiving and kind to me but I don’t feel like it’s enough and I want to do more and I want to feel better about myself. I want to give everything I can to people around me. I’ve been going to therapy a lot more lately and things are getting better for me, but it’s been a very slow process.

I just want to repeat that nothing serious has happened to me. Nobody attacked me in a way that negatively affected my health. A lot of people, friends and strangers have been really nice to me these past few months. I just was doing a lot of self reflecting and unintentionally forced myself to confront a lot of my trauma. I’m saying trauma a lot. I don’t want to get into depth about what I endured because it’s my business but people who do know me know how bad things were for me. I don’t want to feel like that again. I want to feel better, and I want to do better.

Sorry for the long read. That’s just how I feel.

#txt #suicide tw #self harm tw #I was very hesitant to discuss this because whenever I talk about mental health it leans into #one side. who are super well meaning but feel obligated to make sure that I’m okay. like I’m their responsibility when I’m just a stranger #online and my thoughts and feelings should never make someone feel like they have to ‘protect’ me #and another side who sees me purposefully be vague about some of the things I discuss like trauma and regret #and just construct their own narrative and get mad at me for it #at this point I’m just too tired to care about the potential backlash of the latter #if you read all this and think I’m saying I did nothing wrong and everyone is bad except for me that’s your fantasy you get to live in #I just want to be honest about my thoughts and feelings

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lowfunctioningoptimist · 2 months

Text

Being a former Schoolteacher in the Van Der Linde Gang

Prompt: {Reader as a Former Teacher in the Van Der Linde Gang}

Fem!Reader x Various

Summary: It’s no secret that the Van Der Linde Gang brought together all sorts of misfits of all sorts of backgrounds. Hosea had been a stage actor, Bill had been a soldier, and Javier was once a revolutionary. However, with all these strange yet vibrant histories, yours always made you stand out. Far to off in the eastern side of the country, you had lived a modest but respectable life as a schoolteacher.

Note: Reader is written as being in her late twenties to early thirties. I only have Arthur, John, Dutch, Abigail, Mary-Beth, Javier, Molly, and Sean in this post. I do intend to write the others, I just didn't want this to be too long. I can also write specific imagines or romantic hcs if requested!

ARTHUR

He’s likely to be the first to develop a crush on you. Honestly.

Arthur finds you comforting. You carry yourself with a warmth and a certain air of confidence that makes him feel safe in your presence. He didn’t have much schooling, so he sometimes gets shy about talking about academic subjects. Still, you do manage to coax him into deeper conversations than just “mornin’” and “lovely day, ain’t it?”

Arthur is softer than he seems and sees more than he’s always willing to say. After cracking through the awkward small-talk phase of your friendship, you and Arthur begin to talk more on philosophy. He’s never considered himself all that smart, but you tell him that he’s insightful. Insightful? Him? It's enough to make him blush sometimes.

As he gets to know you better, Arthur starts to do small favors for you. Nothing too big. Just things like bringing back books from town or little trinkets he thought you might like. If you need help with your chores, he might just join you if Miss Grimshaw ain't around. Certain people in the gang have taken to calling him, "teacher's pet."

JOHN

He hardly paid you any mind, at first.

After you spent a few weeks with the gang, he started seeing you with Jack. Thought nothing of it, at first. Then it became a regular occurrence and despite himself, he got just a touch paranoid. You were brand new to the gang. A stranger. Why would Abigail let you near his her son? He confronted her only to find out that Abigail had asked you to teach Jack as his own private tutor. Needless to say, he felt a bit silly.

From what he can tell, you're not half-bad of a teacher. Jack's learning his numbers, writing his name, and is starting to ask for more books. While a part of him wants to be happy... it only vexes him further. Why would such an innocent civilian such as yourself be all the way out here?

John takes a while to warm up to you, but you proved to be less stuffy than you looked. You have a firm yet gentle way about you. And somehow, you can correct someone without ever making them feel stupid or simple for it.

DUTCH

He enjoys your keen mind and education, but he also resents it.

Dutch won't share with the others how he found you or how you became an outlaw. He likes to say that it's your story to tell. Really, he just like to know something no one else does. His reason for recruiting you was just as simple, he hadn't met someone like you before.

It's not everyday he meets an ex-teacher-turned-outlaw. Dutch found your situation interesting, unique. He does so like to collect outcasts. Especially one as educated and clean as you. Dutch starts to linger by you as you do your chores to initiate a playful debate. Unlike most in the gang, you disagree with some of his philosophies and have counterarguments that make him pause. That's not to say you've ever convinced him to change his mind, oh no. His pauses are more for him to steady himself so he doesn't show how bothered your resistance makes him.

As much as Dutch loves to spar with you mentally, he secretly finds offense in your obstinance. What you see as playful debate may just turn into a case against you as a traitor.

JAVIER

Now, this one may seem odd, but Javier is second most likely to develop a strong attraction for you.

When he first saw you, it wasn’t precisely love at first sight. You were new, having joined just after Charles. Javier agreed with Bill that you wouldn’t last long. Everything about you just screamed, “civilian.” You dressed modestly, wore spectacles, spoke proper English, and seemed clueless as how to survive in the west. The only reason he didn’t outright resent you was because Dutch had been the one to bring you into the gang.

The crush started around the same time you got more comfortable at camp. Sometimes you let your hair down, literally and figuratively, both of which he found very attractive. You have a mouth on you, and you aren’t scared of much. Seeing you stare down Bill for swearing in front of Jack was enough to prove that. He likes how tough but fair you are. How you’re educated but you’re not stuck up about it, unlike some he’s met.

MARY-BETH

Is shy about it, but eventually goes to you for help with her writing.

Mary-Beth finds out that you both like “silly romance,” books and she starts to talk about how she writes her own. With it being so hard to find new things to read, you jump at the chance to read her work. Mary-Beth is quite shy about it, but she lets you read a few pages. Much to her surprise, you praise the work and ask for more. She starts to use you as an editor for some of her short stories. You enjoy her writing quite a lot and encourage her to keep going.

You and Mary-Beth get on very well. You’re both bookworms and not too keen on violence for violence’s sake. Privately, you talk about what you hope your life will be like some day.

SEAN

Finds the fact that you’re an outlaw to be completely hilarious.

As he gets more used to your presence, Sean starts to come to you with questions about the world. He does this because, as a teacher, he assumes you must know the answer to at least some of these. Questions like, “Why do we call ducks and geese different things when they look alike?” or “How’d we even decide what to name things? Did we see an orange’n on a trre an’ tink, ‘Oh now that’s an orange!’ or did we already have the color all sorted out? How’d they name colors to begin with?”

Sean will sometimes follow you around camp to ask you these questions, and the gang finds it quite funny. You’ll just be doing your chores with Sean slinking behind you as his mouth runs a mile a minute. What surprises most is that you usually at least try to give him an answer. Some folks didn’t believe you were really a teacher when you first joined… They believed you after they saw how patient you can be with Sean.

ABIGAIL

First, she was suspicious of you. Then, she trusted you more than most.

Once Abigail was certain you weren’t going to sprint back into town to turn everyone in, she had a favor to ask. Jack was getting older and although Hosea and Dutch offered to teach him to read and write, they hadn’t the time to start. She asked you to teach him whatever you could when time allowed. You were excited to help, eager. Jack being as young as he was, took to your lessons fast. In little time, you were helping him sound out sentences and write his name. This started a new problem for Abigail, however. She never learned to read or write herself. Jack would try to show her his work, or ask her to read him a story, and she couldn’t.

Instead of shaming her, you offered to teach her how to read as well. Abigail refused at first, but relented when you said she could teach you how to sew in return. Through her, you start to feel more a part of the gang.

MOLLY

She only started to have a problem with you once she realized you weren’t some old hag.

When you first joined the gang, you were still dressing like a teacher. Your clothes were bulky and formless, hair all pulled back in a bun, and you were quiet. As you got more into the outlaw life, you started to dress a bit more like the other women. Started showing more of your personality. And more importantly, Dutch started to pull you aside more often.

Molly can’t help but feel paranoid about you and Dutch. When she spies in on you two, all she sees is you both reading or debating. It’s not as if he’s holding your hand or whispering in your ear… but it feels wrong. Dutch talks to you about things he won’t talk to her about. Books, philosophy, world events, the strange and esoteric. It feels like you satisfy him in a way she can’t, and Molly comes unglued thinking about it.

#rdr2 x you #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 #rdr2 imagine #arthur morgan x reader

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binniebeams · 4 months

Text

The Sweetest Drink

Pairing: Jongho x AFAB Reader

Genre/Rating: Vampire AU, Smut, 18+. MDNI

Summary: Seeing the boost your friend gets after her late night adventures at a certain club, you decided to join her and see what all the fuss is about…

Wordcount: 2.4k

Warnings: Club settings, alcohol consumption, sexual conversations, blood, descriptions of feeding (Vampire). NSFW warnings under the cut.

A/N: This is so delayed but hopefully it lives up to any expectations!! Also my app crashed mid editing and formatting so there may be mistakes I missed! I’m so sorry!

Tags: @twisted-tales-of-all @yoonguurt @kwanisms @kpop-stories-21 @stardragongalaxy

NSFW Warnings: Vampire biting/feeding leading to sexual desire, fingering, bloody make-out session, fwb-ish relationship.

---

It had only been a few years since the government released the information regarding their acknowledgment of vampires living among humans, following it with new laws and regulations to make living beside each other a safe and harmonious experience. Restaurants had to expand their menus, and grocery stores did not have to partner with blood banks or donation centers to ensure everyone was accommodated appropriately. Those are all wonderful options but once the sun sets and hunger arises, people resort to…less organized or regulated options… Underground clubs started to pop up left and right, causing a quiet stir among the more curious humans. One of them happened to be the very reason you found yourself sitting in front of your mirror and getting ready for a night out.

“I don’t know why you’re so nervous to go, I’ve been going for months” Kelly was on a whining spree again as you finished up your eyeliner. She was a regular at the club, forming a feeding pact with some guy she said was named Yeosang if you remember correctly-. A change was definitely noticed in her ever since she started seeing him, from her hair looking better, her skin being clearer, and this air of confidence coming from her every time she walked into a room as if she was commanding attention. You wanted that life so badly, you wanted even an ounce of the power she was oozing… “Oh I don’t know, maybe the idea of someone biting into me and sucking my literal blood out is just a bit nerve-wracking?” Your retort had her rolling her eyes in a playful demeanor as you both slipped your shoes on to head out. Clubs weren't really your thing, you were a homebody, and the idea of a bunch of hot and sweaty strangers grinding on each other just didn’t seem like your cup of tea…But here you were, standing at the door waiting for Kelly to pay your cover and get your hand stamped.

An intoxicating smell of alcohol and sweat filled your senses as you made it through the threshold of the building you questioned the structural safety of-. There was no time for trying to distract your mind with small worries like that, you felt yourself getting tugged to the bar where Kelly let out a sort of squeal from seeing her feeding mate “Yeosang!!” Oh boy, here we go, It's time for her to cling to this dude and have heart eyes while leaving you to the wind. “This is Y/N~ That friend I told you I was bringing for Jongho~” Jongho? Who the hell was that? Did she only bring you along to keep some guy company while she escaped off with Yeosang-. “Her? Yeah, I guess she fits his…type” What an ass, what did he mean by that? you were a catch so why did that feel so condescending? He was eyeing you up and down as if he was analyzing you, all the while he had your friend strung up on his arm.

Yeosang pulled out his phone and typed a few things, you could tell it was short and brief from the fact that his volume was on so the sound of his keyboard echoed in your ears when it should have been the blaring music attacking your drums. He didn’t seem to respond to what he had read on the screen, moving his phone to his pocket and whispering something to Kelly as you stood there like a child waiting to hear whatever mom and dad were talking about. You would never get the answer to the questions in your mind, since Kelly had pretty much begged Yeosang to escape away behind the curtain to what you could only assume were private rooms for whatever use seemed to be needed at the time. A roll of your eyes was paired with the sound of her happily being led away and leaving you there at the bar with your almost empty glass and an urge to order some shots.

“Y/N I’m assuming?” The voice that you heard beside you could only be described as blunt but buttery like he almost commanded you to look at him and that's exactly what you did. His eyes pierced into yours as he approached the bar and leaned against it in a way that indicated to you that he had definitely been here before. “And who is asking?” Your voice was laced with a tone of your guard being up, leaving you only to assume this is the ‘friend’ everyone had been mentioning… “Yeosang told me someone was coming and asked me to show you around.” Oh, he’s lying right through his teeth but your judgment was becoming slightly hazy, due to the mix of alcohol and being around him. Jongho could tell you were on edge so he went ahead and ordered a shot for you and waited for you to down it before gesturing for you to follow him. ‘Do you know what this place is for? I’m assuming you do since people don’t just stumble into a place like this”

Did he think you were dumb? Or just blissfully ignorant? If you wern’t so dead set on getting some action tonight, you’d yank your hand away and head to the dance floor. “I sort of have an idea, I just had no idea it was like…this?” There was a pause as you spoke, watching the curtains go past you as he lead you down the hall and your ears were immediately assaulted with sounds of pleasure mixed with pain and subtle cries coming from behind rows of doors. One of which was the threshold you would be stepping through and it was like the world was suddenly so quiet that you could hear your own heartbeat. “I’m not going to kill you, you don’t have to act like your ready to slap me” Jongho released your hand and moved to sit on the plush looking couch in the room, grabbing the drink menu off the small coffee table and starting to browse through as he left you to make yourself comfortable.

“I just uh, haven’t really done this before…” you slowly warmed up to your environment, deciding to make your way over and sit beside him but still at a reasonable distance to where he couldn’t immediately pounce on you. “I can tell, I’m guessing your friend convinced you, enticed you with what kind of place this was and how you would feel?” How did he know? He hit the nail right in the head-. Kelly would go on non stop about Yeosang and how the interactions felt and how it revitalized her in a way, is this just how it makes everyone feel? “She used to be more like me, I guess that’s why we became so close, but lately she’s seemed like a whole new person, like the better version of herself”. As you spoke, he kept his eyes on the menu and just offered subtle nods or small sounds of acknowledgment to your words.

“Did she explain to you how this happens exactly?” This is when he finally turns to you, eye starting to have a hint of red to them and an obvious darkness filling his gaze. “You just have to lay there and be good for me, give yourself to me and everything will go smoothly. Can you do that for me baby?” The distance between you two started to close and you had no idea what was taking over your body. Was it your growing neediness or was there something more to that tint in his iris?…either way, all you could do was nod obediently as he moved you to lay down, his body leaning over yours as he gazed over you to take a look at his…meal for the evening. “I need you to tell me this is okay, that you give consent my dear…” for someone who seemed like a predator looking at fresh prey, we was considerably cautious in the beginning. That is, until you uttered a quiet “I want this” then it was all self control out the window and his lips attached to yours for what felt like eternity but in reality was only a few moment before those plush lips of his were moving their way down to your jaw, then your neck, giving him the chance to get a hint of your sweet smell.

“Do you even realize how delicious you smell…god this is going to be fun” Jongho didn’t frequent the club much, so he made sure to take full advantage of the time he had here, fingers trailing down until the reach the bottom hem of your dress, expertly slipping it up as his attack on your neck continues and all you can do is let out the sweet song that he wanted to hear. Jongho shifted his body to where he was further down and his face was now near your thighs and burning core, exactly where you needed him as he laid kisses to your inner thigh and his fingers worked to slip your undergarments down and tossing them aside to be collected later. be collected later. They were not the primary focus, what was however, was the breath tickling your core and the fingers dancing dangerously close to your clit that was practically begging to be touched.

“Can you hurry up, it will be daytime by the time you get started..” the request, or demand rather, came out as just a whine and the flushed tone on your skin gave away at the fact that you didn’t actually want him to hurry and end this soon. In fact, this prompted him to take even longer, his thumb drawing slow antagonizing circles on your bundle on nerves as he spoke “For someone so quiet. You sure have your own way of being loud”. You could hear his smug attitude without even seeing his face with those words, his hands working expertly before one of his digits teased at your entrance, testing the waters in how you would react. Once he found a reaction from you that let him know you were ready, he slipped one finger in and let you get used to the feeling before continuing.

The cold touch of his skin felt like ice melting on you when your walls squeezed his fingers so deliciously, it brought a whole new sensation to your core and made you clench so sweetly as his lips did their job to explore your inner thighs. Was all of this necessary for Jongho to feed on you? No, but it sure as hell made it more fun. The next touch made you shift slightly, almost like your fight or flight was kicking in and your brain was in prey mode. Newer textbooks and scientific journals can do their best to try and describe the feeling of having your skin punctured by a vampire's fangs but they fall short in telling the full story. It starts with a burning sensation and what feels like a fourteen gauge needle breaking your skin but not deep enough to reach muscle quite like a vaccination or implant. Once the initial puncture was complete, his teeth receding to standard k-9s and the blood starting to flow past his slightly puffy lips and coating his tongue, inducing a groan from him that seemed so animalistic yet erotic at the same time…

The work he was doing with his fingers increased in pace as he sensed you tensing up from the likely pain you were starting to feel, adding an extra finger in and curling his digits pressing against that delicate pressure point inside of you that he knew would drive you crazy. Bloody lips pulled themselves away from your thigh. His gaze stabbed daggers into your expressions, watching the mixture of pain and pleasure overtake you as he spoke “That’s it, focus on me, not on your pain…you’re so good for me…” ironic coming from the guy that’s gripping your thigh as if you could float away and your blood painting his chin. Jongho was growing increasingly hungry but this time in a way that blood wouldn’t be able to satiate, he needed another essence of yours…that however, would take time, he didn’t want to have the whole meal right away.

A knot was quickly forming in your lower half, there was no denying that his hands were like a sculptor making his next piece of art. Pleasure washed over you as you unraveled, causing a smug smirk to decorate his mouth and make his features look all that more proud. The bit of your blood staining his lips was just a cherry on top of the overall look he had as you started to sit back up but your body felt so weak from the feeding and the end of your dry spell. “See, wasn’t so bad was it?” He prided himself in the fact that you wernt crying in pain and still managed to look fucked out from his fingers alone, wiping his mouth and helping you sit up and collect yourself. This rush of dizziness but satisfaction was all you could feel as you reached to grab your panties and slip back into them as he settled himself into the couch, watching your every move but also going back to that damn drink menu. Is this how all the interactions always went or was this only for the first one?

“Do I need to sign anything or is there anything else involved?” This was your way of trying to hint to him that you satisfied but also this lingering sense to be around him, almost like you two have bonded… “No but next time don’t wear lotion, it messes with the taste when I need to bite”. That damn smirk was going to be the end of you but you couldn’t help but smile to yourself mentally at the idea there was going to be a next time. Was it already having an affect on you? Only time will tell but one thing was for sure, this wasn’t going to be the last time you stepped behind that curtain. Now to find Kelly and actually get a club experience in before you needed food to replenish-. Hopefully she was done already, but if she wasn’t, you knew where you could turn…

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