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luminnara · 3 years

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Goddamn, Shit-Sucking Vampires | Lost Boys x OC CH 1

Summary: Vera is an unusually vicious bloodsucker who's never stuck in one place for very long...until a mysterious feeling pulls her right to the murder capital of the world: Santa Carla, California. Now, she needs to figure out why exactly she's there, where she fits in amongst the boardwalk's nighttime denizens, and how to cope with her own personal vampire-related problems. Poly Lost Boys/OC, starts just before the movie

Also posted on AO3

My requests are open!

Chapter one | Chapter two

Warnings: Blood, gore, smut, all that good stuff

Vera had been to a lot of cities, some of them twice, some of them three times, some even more, but none of them were quite as unique as Santa Carla. The boardwalk was crawling with lost souls, kids with nowhere else to go, and she was one of them; no family to call her own, no real friends, barely any possessions…Vera was a wanderer, a lone soul, a lost girl. She drifted from town to town, hanging around for a day or two if nothing interesting happened before moving on...and honestly, nothing very interesting ever happened.

Sometimes she took the bus, if she had the money from odd jobs or pick pocketing her meals, but for the most part, she was left to her own devices. She traveled on foot when she had to, avoiding major highways unless she was feeling up to a fight. During the day, she took refuge under bridges if she was broke, or motel rooms if she had a little cash. If she felt particularly frisky, sometimes she even managed to seduce locals into helping out, but for the most part, she only had herself as company, traveling by night for no reason other than an insatiable wanderlust and nobody else to spend her time with.

Nothing had ever held her in one place. She had started traveling a long time ago, when she realized she had no reason to stay in her hometown. Plus...people started to grow a little bit suspicious when they noticed too many bodies cropping up. The world was changing, and for someone like her, it was best to stay on the move.

After that, it became a habit, and she got used to wandering and never having a place to call home. Did it ever bother her? Sometimes, when she was resting, it did. She could stop and look at the stars, with some kind of foreign aching in her chest, but it was rare that she thought about it. It had started up years ago, and she had forced herself to get used to it. She had never found any cure, and while she lingered around the east coast, it had finally dulled to a strange, quiet pain. A constant throb in her chest, next to her heart, some kind of strange tightness that she was happy to forget whenever she could. It was becoming more frequent, though, as she neared California, and she chalked it up to the fact that she had been alone and hungry for far too long.

She would have to do something about that soon. She hated feeling hungry.

Vera hopped off the bus when it stopped in Santa Carla, a coastal town that boasted a crowded boardwalk and just the kind of nightlife she needed. From the road, she could see the bright lights of a Ferris wheel and even a roller coaster, and she couldn’t help but smile. She had always liked fairs and carnivals. They were fun and exciting, and good places to pickpocket. Plus, the chaos made it easier for her to go unnoticed.

At the bus stop, she was greeted with boards and telephone poles covered in missing persons ads, and it was an oddly comforting sight. She would fit right in.

“Murder capital of the world, huh?” she said to herself, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. She had seen the graffiti on the back of a big WELCOME TO SANTA CARLA sign on the way in, and the flyers only added to the town’s reputation.

Yeah, this place was worth checking out.

The pier was bright, neon signs and carnival rides lighting up the night. Kids and adults alike were enjoying their summer, stuffing themselves with treats or screaming their way around the roller coaster. It all looked fun, she had to admit, and maybe once she had a chance to grab some cash she could hang around and enjoy herself. She could use a break from running constantly, and she was finding that the boardwalk was already making her happy.

As she walked through the crowds, Vera spotted every kind of person, from middle aged parents toting along a family of four to dirty vagrant children to punks to a couple of weird kids lurking around the comic book store. There were pizza places, cotton candy carts, all sorts of dine in restaurants and bars...Santa Carla seemed like it had everything, but mostly, it was a good place for someone like her to spend some time.

She sat herself down on a railing, trying to ignore the hunger pains she was feeling as she people watched. Beyond the homeless kids and the weirdos, the boardwalk was full of partygoers, and it looked like summer vacation was in full swing. There were a million smells in the air—cigarettes, weed, funnel cakes—but none of them really caught her attention. She let out a sigh, leaning her chin on her hand. She hated being indecisive about dinner.

“Ugh, Surf Nazis,” a woman whispered to her friend as they ran by.

“Gross,” the other wrinkled her nose.

Vera looked past them to the men that were shouting about their asses as they left and she snorted.

“What’s wrong, girls?” One of them yelled.

“Come back, we’ll show you a good time!” Another cackled, tossing an empty beer can over his shoulder.

Vera rolled her eyes. Disgusting, pathetic creatures, all standing around a trash can as they smoked. They smelled awful, she realized with a wrinkle of her nose, and it wasn’t just from their smoke. They were nasty, leering at girls and laughing loudly with each other when the women they were bothering scampered away.

Well, they weren’t her first choice, but at least she had found a meal.

She hopped off the fence and sauntered in their direction for a moment before turning, giving them just enough time to notice her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw them perk up, and before long, all four of them were following her through the crowd, shouting profanities as she made her way down to the pier.

“Hey baby, where you goin’?” one yelled, jogging to keep up with her pace.

Vera looked over her shoulder. “Down under the boardwalk...unless you’re chicken.”

She heard a chorus of hoots and whistles and grinned to herself. Men were so easy.

“I call first dibs!”

“I wanna piece of that ass!” Another yelled.

They always did. Vera was a short girl, only around five feet tall, and stocky. She carried her weight in her legs, giving her thick thighs and a round butt that could never quite stay covered by the denim shorts she loved to wear so much.

Boys liked the way she looked. They liked how she seemed so easy to grab, so soft, so touchable. As the Surf Nazis followed her down the rickety stairs to a secluded spot under the boardwalk, their hands were already moving, unbuttoning pants and reaching for Vera as if they were entitled to her. She smiled sweetly as she backed into the shadows, cooing for them to follow, grinning sickly when they obeyed. They always did, like lambs to the slaughter, never clever enough to recognize her predatory gaze and dangerous movements until it was too late.

Sometimes, if they were lucky, they could catch a glimpse of her bra or panties before it was over, but tonight, Vera had little patience for the dirty fingers that tried to pull her shirt off and her shorts down. Their faces leered down at her, even in the darkness, grunting as they palmed themselves through their pants.

She gave them a second to enjoy it before her lips twisted into a sick grin and she reached for them, nails like claws and teeth like fangs. The air was suddenly filled with the sound of their screams, but the waves crashing against the sand drowned the grisly noises out. As she tore into them, she laughed, loving the way they were so terrified now that they had completely lost any sense of power over her.

Boys always liked the way she looked, until she was covered in their friends’ blood.

-o-

David was having a boring night.

His boys were under control for the time being, lounging on their bikes next to him. Paul and Marko were laughing loudly, occasionally punching each other just for the hell of it, and Laddie was reading a comic as he clung to Dwayne. Star had decided to stay home for the night, and nobody was complaining about that; at the thought of her, David growled to himself, grimacing at the reminder of the troublesome bitch. Max had wanted a daughter and a good mother for Laddie, and what had they ended up with? A mopey, whiny little cunt who refused to kill and feed like everyone else.

Feed...damn, he could go for a snack. He could practically taste blood in the air as he thought about grabbing a bite, fangs threatening to lengthen. He hadn’t even thought he was that hungry, but now that he was thinking about it, it was bugging him, and when David got the urge to feed, there were very few things that could stop him. The hunger would sometimes gnaw at him the way it did a newborn, and even Max was occasionally put off by it. It was something he expected from a younger vampire, like Marko, maybe, but David? His appetite could be insatiable, truly monstrous in a way that most others’ weren’t.

The boys picked up on his hunger and he heard a few growls of agreement before he nodded for Dwayne to take Laddie back to the cave. The kid was never allowed to go with them when they hunted, and Dwayne was capable enough to grab something for himself if he didn’t catch up with them. Ever since Laddie had gotten his pesky little hands on their bloody wine bottle, they had been stuck with him, and if Dwayne hadn’t turned out to be so good with the kid, David would’ve been irritated beyond belief.

It all worked out, though, and Laddie fit in well with the rest of the group. David just had to keep reminding himself to be patient.

“Anybody catch your eye?” Paul asked as his brother took off down the beach with their youngest member.

“Absolutely fucking no one.” David sneered.

The tall blonde straightened up to sniff the air. “Get a whiff of that, though…”

David paused, mimicking Paul. He was right. There was a metallic scent on the breeze, the sweet smell of fresh blood. It made him thirsty, and as he led Paul and Marko down the boardwalk, it only grew stronger.

“Shit,” Marko mumbled as they started down the stairs to the beach. Once they had broken free of the crowd, the scent had hit them like a train, and even David was having trouble controlling himself.

“Careful,” he warned, voice coming out with a ragged, heavy breath.

Murders happened in Santa Carla all the time, and not only because of the Lost Boys. It was a rough place, full of drugs and vagrants, and the violence only helped them blend in. Someone had probably gotten themselves in trouble under the boardwalk, and at this point David was just hoping that the killer was still around to sate his hunger. They never fed from corpses, so stumbling across them never yielded any good results unless they were in the mood to rip them apart for shits and giggles.

David was not in the mood.

He led Paul and Marko off the stairs and through the sand, hurrying now as the blood filled his senses. It was so fresh, and there was so much of it...this wasn’t normal, even for the murder capital of the world. What kind of sadistic human would cut someone up enough to spill so much blood? What the fuck was going on under his boardwalk? Sure, it was something he would do, but other than his boys, who could possibly be that brutal?

It was in the shadows of the pier that he finally got the answers to all of his questions.

Just like the blood had, her scent hit him like a freight train. He could tell Paul and Marko were just as confused by the way they stopped and hissed, fangs already out as they looked down at the bodies littering the sand. It was a gorey scene, throats and stomachs ripped open, Surf Nazis gutted with their pants down.

And in the middle of it all, she had the audacity to glance up at David, and then completely disregard him as she turned back to her final victim. She wasn’t worried in the slightest about the three males, and that pissed David off a little. When he would have snarled a warning at her insolence, he found himself distracted instead, head tilted and lips parted as he drank in her scent and checked her out.

She was wearing shorts that barely covered her bloody legs, ratty combat boots on her feet and an equally ratty denim vest over a ripped up black shirt. Her ebony hair was cut into some sort of shaggy mullet, falling around her shoulders. It was long and wavy and glossy, but tousled and messy, no doubt thanks to feeding.

He could only stare in shock at the black-haired girl that was feasting on a Surf Nazi. He couldn’t decide if he was angry at someone else hunting on his turf or happy to find a real female vampire, one that wasn’t stupid and whiny like Star, but the one thing he knew for sure as he took a step towards her was that he was just the tiniest bit turned on.

Paul and Marko could both smell the tiniest hint of their leader’s arousal, and it excited them. They weren’t used to supernatural girls, and the thought of getting a turn with her was enough to make the air heavy with the scent of lust as they followed David.

Paul let out a low whistle behind him. “Shit, first time I wouldn’t mind bein’ a Surfer. I’d take a little of that sugar right now, know what I’m sayin?”

The vampiress lifted her head from her victim and smiled, drunk on blood and high off the hunt. “I don’t usually share meals, but I’ll give you the rest of this one if it gives me a free pass back outta here.”

Paul tensed to take her up on the offer, but David stopped him. “Free pass?”

The girl sat back from the still-whimpering Surf Nazi, blood running down her chin. “Figure you wouldn’t want me in your territory. Sorry. Didn’t realize anybody else was here, else I’d have been moving on already.”

David smirked. “No need, sweetheart.”

She furrowed her brow.

“It’s feeding time, boys. Grab a snack.” David grinned, allowing Paul and Marko to surge forward and rip into the Surf Nazi. He watched with a twinge of annoyance as Paul turned from his meal and pressed his bloody lips to the girl’s, but that annoyance turned into surprise when she kissed back, albeit lazily.

She smiled as her lips moved against his, a hand moving to tangle in his wild hair. Fire tore through Paul and he growled, pushing her down until her back hit the sand and her chest touched his as her breaths turned into frenzied pants.

Hands ran down her sides, hard nails digging into her skin as Paul nipped at her lower lip. With a whine, she arched up against him, tugging at his hair until he snarled.

“Paul,” David growled a warning.

Paul sat back up with an irritated grumble, licking his lips before plunging his fangs into the Surf Nazi and leaving Vera alone.

David had to admit, he had never met a female vampire that wasn’t stuck in limbo like Star. They seemed rare, or at least they were around California, but Max had always told him that girls of their kind were a special breed. He was already feeling a tug toward her, some kind of something pulling at his chest whenever she moved, and before he knew what he was doing, he was crouching down to suck up the last few drops of blood while his boys turned their attention to the killer.

“What’s your name, beautiful?” Marko asked, playing with a strand of her hair.

“Vera,” she answered with the sweetest voice either of them had ever heard, practically a purr.

Paul sighed, leaning in again. He was head over heels already. “What brings you here to our little corner of the world, Miss Vera?”

She blinked, and they were fucking mesmerized by those lashes and those hazel eyes. “Just passing through, boys. Don’t wanna step on any toes.”

Paul groaned. He wanted her to stay. She smelled amazing, and when she had returned the kiss he hadn’t even realized he was giving her, he felt jolts of electricity shoot through every part of his body.

He wanted more.

“Damn, babe, you’re breakin’ my heart,” he said, holding her face so that he could lick blood off her chin.

“No fair,” Marko nudged his brother. “I want a taste…”

David looked up from the drained corpse, listening as his boys slurred with love drunk voices. Max had warned him about females, about those with foreign sires. They could trap you in a web of lust, keep you dumb and happy there for as long as they wanted, rob you blind and kill your entire family...but somehow, he got the feeling that Vera wasn’t even trying to fuck with them. There was no misty, foggy sensation that would signify magic, no eye contact, no focus. As he rose to his feet, he realized he was walking towards her of his own accord, the only spell being that strange, unspoken one that kept pulling him to her.

He had an inkling of what it could be, but he didn’t dare get his hopes up.

“Got a place to stay, darling?” He asked as he shoved his boys out of the way and knelt before Vera.

She leaned toward him, a sweet smile on those bloody lips that told him she was confident enough in her ability to handle them all. She was calm, completely in control of herself, even when faced with three healthy male vampires. Her eyes were half-lidded, long lashes fluttering whenever she blinked.

When her tongue slipped out to lick blood off her lips, David’s eyes widened at the sight of something he had never seen before. It was split in two, each side moving of its own accord easily. Paul let out an eager noise, Marko shoving him with his shoulder to try to get a better look. Vera just laughed at their fascination, pulling her tongue back into her mouth and smiling.

David could feel her breath on his cheek as she took in his scent and he couldn’t help the shiver that went up his spine. He wanted to touch her, to kiss her better than Paul had, to fuck her and hear his name on her lips. He wanted to show her how strong he was, to impress her, to prove himself for some reason. He would kill a hundred surfers if he had to, if it would grant him her favor. He would sit out in the sun and burn himself if it meant he could be hers.

He had never felt this way about anyone, and it was pissing him off.

Vera laughed to herself. She could smell his desire, and she knew that it was because of her. Just like those Surf Nazis, these vampires wanted her, but at least she liked this little pack. What’s more, that aching in her chest had stopped when they showed up, and she had a feeling she knew why.

It was a little bit terrifying, though, and she wasn’t about to stop and think about it.

“What are you suggesting?” She asked, brushing her fingers along his cheek, a smear of blood following.

“Stay with us,” he breathed, blue eyes locked with hers.

“Darling, I don’t even know your name,” she quipped, never shifting her gaze.

“David,” he said with a slight growl as he felt himself getting lost in her eyes.

“David,” she repeated, voice soft and breathy. Her hand moved to cup his cheek and he leaned into it, nose twitching as he smelled the fresh blood in her wrist. It was sweet, sweeter than any blood he had ever encountered before, and all he wanted to do was sink his fangs into her flesh and get a taste.

Vera heard a sigh and finally took her eyes off David. The other two were watching, just off to the side, staring hungrily at their leader and the new girl.

“And what about you two?” She asked, hand sliding down to the side of David’s neck to keep him in check. She was confident enough in herself to handle him, but at the same time, he put her on edge. There was no way she was going to let her guard down around him yet.

That was the thing about female vampires, though; they had the uncanny ability to always put on a facade, and Vera was no exception. David made her nervous—they all did, honestly—but she wasn’t about to let them know that.

“Paul,” the tall blonde said quickly, rushing forward as if he would die without her touch. He pressed his nose against her throat, breathing her scent as if he was starving.

“Marko,” the smaller one followed, desperately reaching out to touch her hair.

“Paul,” she purred, earning a growl. “...Marko…”

Another growl.

They acted like they needed her, all three of them, but they were behaving themselves. She had no doubt that if she gave them the go ahead, she would be naked within seconds, but for the moment, they were listening to her. She had never experienced something like this before; usually, other vampires ignored her, or threatened her until she left their territory. These boys seemed to adore her, and she had to admit, she liked it.

“Paul, Marko,” David said roughly. “Clean up so we can go home.”

With a groan, the younger two did as they were told, dragging Surf Nazi corpses into the ocean before wiping their hands and faces clean.

“You’re their leader,” Vera said, more as an observation than anything else. “Are you their sire?”

David smirked as he helped her to her feet. “Depends on how you look at it.”

She raised an eyebrow. “There’s only one way to look at that, David.”

He melted when she said his name, leaning in to catch another whiff of her scent. It was sweet, like honey, sticky and sick, and all he wanted was to drown in it. “What have you done to me, Vera?”

She smiled and took his hand, raising it to lick blood off of his fingers. “Nothing on purpose, I promise.”

“Whatever it is, I don’t mind,” Paul suddenly grabbed her from behind, arms snaking around her waist as he buried his nose in her black hair, inhaling deeply and letting out a happy sigh. The feeling of her there in his arms, pressed up against him, was enough to make his fangs slide out again, and he couldn’t help but swipe his tongue up the side of her neck.

David snarled, snapping only inches from his brother’s face. “Behave.”

“You say as if you are,” Vera snorted, giving David a gentle push and easing her way out of Paul’s grip. “But you boys are all very sweet. I don’t mind the attention.”

“Oh, you have our attention, sweets,” Paul whistled as she turned and bent over to wash her face and hands at the water’s edge, giving them all a good view of her ass. A low rumble rose in David’s throat as he appreciated the sight, and Marko echoed it.

“So greedy,” Vera mocked as she straightened up again. “Are you this nice to every bloodsucker that hangs out on your boardwalk, or is it just me?”

“Just you, that’s for sure,” Marko said, almost cackling.

“The others aren’t so delicious,” Paul cooed with that signature laugh.

“Oh, aren’t you a charmer?” Vera said, walking back to them. Now that her arms and legs were clean of blood, they could see that she was covered in tattoos, and David wondered if she had them as a human before she was turned, or if she had found some way to make the ink stay in her regenerative skin.

Paul gave her a cocky grin and David rolled his eyes. His brother was such a flirtatious bastard. He was a lady killer, literally, even more than David was, but Vera didn’t seem to mind his advances. She seemed comfortable with Paul, taking it all in stride.

It made David just the tiniest bit jealous.

“Come with us.” He said it more as an order than an offer, extending his hand out to her.

“Unless you got somewhere better to go,” Marko joked.

“And there ain’t nowhere better,” Paul snickered.

“There aren’t too many places to hide from the sun on a boardwalk,” Vera snorted. She was finally coming down from her high, the thrill of the hunt fading again and giving way to her less monstrous personality. “I was going to have to find a good spot anyways…”

Now that she wasn’t operating solely on instinct, she could take a moment and think about her situation. Three male vampires, none of whom had tried to kill her for stealing prey in their territory, seemed to be absolutely obsessed with everything about her and wanted her to go home with them. One had even kissed her and she had kissed him back, because it had felt so right. She allowed them to touch her, to taste her skin, to share her meal. They were stronger than her, and they outnumbered her, but she still felt like she was...in charge?

David, the definite leader of the little pack, was looking at her hopefully. His face was stony, but she could see excitement in his blue eyes, and when she smiled, there was a spark of something in those irises.

“Just don’t kill me in my sleep,” Vera joked as David took her hand and began leading her back up to the boardwalk.

“No promises,” Marko leered as they followed.

“You look good enough to eat, babe,” Paul growled playfully, lunging forward to cop a feel of her ass.

Vera only laughed, but David snarled dangerously at his brother, moving his arm to Vera’s shoulders and pulling her against his side.

“Relax, you big angry beast,” Vera said with a grin, raising her hand to his chin and giving a teasing scratch.

David huffed and Marko hooted with laughter. “Damn, she’s way more fun than you, David!”

“I dig this chick,” Paul snickered.

“You better share her,” Marko whined.

David smirked as they climbed the stairs back up to the boardwalk. Could he manage that? He only ever shared things with his brothers, but even then, he was terrible at it. Vera had some kind of magnetic pull on him, yeah, and his mouth watered at the thought of keeping her around, but Marko and Paul were both obviously into her...and she was into them.

She was into all of them.

He needed to talk to Max. He honestly hated having to ask his sire for help or advice, and he avoided it whenever he could. Max had never been very nurturing, despite wanting everyone to act like a big family. It worked out for the boys, sure, but Max was…not a great father. A patriarch, yes, always seated at the head of the metaphorical table, but he was cruel and cold towards David, and he had been from the very start. He thought they all needed a stern hand to keep them in check, and David didn’t like that.

Still, Max let them run free, and he knew more than David did about their own kind. He was helpful, sometimes, in his own way, and his son was going to have to defer to him. He had questions about Vera, about the pull he felt toward her, and Max was the only one with the answers.

As they returned to the boardwalk and joined the crowd of humans, Vera was pleased to see that the sea of people parted for the boys. They stepped aside, glancing with mixtures of emotions at the little pack. Girls looked dreamy, parents grabbed their children, Surf Nazis raised their lips in sneers. Was it because of their reputation, or did the humans somehow know that they should be afraid of the predators that stalked Santa Carla? She hoped it was both. She hoped that these boys were wild and rowdy enough to rule this boardwalk, and she hoped that they liked her enough to keep her around.

She glanced up at the sky, a few stars twinkling despite the light pollution from the city. For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t itching to hop on a bus or hitch hike to the next town. For once in her life, Something was occupying her mind, and the wanderlust was giving way to another, completely foreign feeling. The ache in her chest was gone, but it was replaced by a strange, burning, almost longing that she had never felt before. It was almost similar to the emotions she experienced during bloodlust, but she was in control of herself. Her fangs weren’t poking through, her eyes weren’t shining...she was happy and her hunger was sated, so where was this coming from?

She was still avoiding the one train of thought that would bring her to the right conclusion. It was just too much to consider, especially with everything happening so quickly all of the sudden.

They came to a halt when they reached their bikes, Dwayne already back from dropping Laddie off. From the looks of it, he had grabbed a bite on the way, jeans stained with fresh blood that the humans would just assume was from a fight.

Vera stopped. There was another male here? She was finding it hard to believe that she had stumbled across a pack of four males without any females, but she couldn’t smell much in the way of estrogen on them. It was just odd; vampires didn’t usually live in bachelor groups like these, but she supposed it wasn’t entirely unheard of. It was just strange that they hadn’t found any girls they wanted to keep around for all eternity.

Most people got lonely eventually. Maybe these four were all actually lovers...but she hadn’t seen any marks that would mean they were claimed, and she hadn’t smelled or sensed anything that would lead her to believe that they were serious.

Odd.

The one leaning against the bike was tall, long dark hair falling around his shoulders and a curious, but serious, expression on his handsome face. She felt frozen under his gaze, uncharacteristically nervous, like a deer in the headlights. It was like he could see right through her, and she didn’t know if she liked that or not.

“Dwayne, this is Vera,” David said as he tugged her along. She found a way to make her legs work again and followed, letting a smile curl its way onto her lips when Dwayne bowed his head to her.

“And she’s tough,” Marko said, bouncing over to his bike.

“And she’s gorgeous,” Paul took her hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss as he passed her.

“I can see that,” Dwayne said, his voice deep and smooth, a seductive smile on his lips.

David narrowed his eyes, but tried to hide the movement with a smirk. “Keep an eye on her. I’m going to visit Max.”

“Oh, I’ll keep both eyes on her,” Paul winked as he beckoned for her to sit behind him on his motorcycle.

David rolled his eyes, desperately trying to not make a scene. “Control yourself. I’ll be back.”

He pressed a kiss to Vera’s head, inhaling deeply before leaving her side and stalking off down the boardwalk. He could already feel his sire tugging questioningly at his consciousness, curious as to why David was so eager to speak to him. His son had always been good at blocking him out, keeping his mind locked down unless he needed something or there was trouble that called for Max’s attention. The others were more open, but Max didn’t have as strong a link with them, and while David was supposed to be his prodigal son, he was so...secretive. Private. Closed off. For him to be willingly heading to the VideoMax store for anything other than annoying him or hitting on Maria out of boredom, something very important had to be going on, and Max was beyond itching to know what it could be.

“Who’s Max?” Vera asked, joining Paul to perch on the back of his bike.

“David’s sire,” Marko answered.

“A grouchy old bloodsucker,” Paul grinned.

“He runs the video store. He hates it when we crash.” Marko laughed.

“But...that cashier is pretty cute,” Paul said, thinking of Maria. “I’d love for a bite of—”

He was cut off by the breath leaving his body when Vera wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head against his back.

Marko hooted with laughter at his brother’s reaction and Dwayne let out a chuckle. Paul was absolutely speechless, and Vera wasn’t even making skin on skin contact with him.

Until she felt him tense, smirked against his back, and slid her hands under his mesh shirt.

If Paul could blush, he would have. He would have been a shade past tomato red. The feeling of her fingers running over his abs was all he could focus on for a moment, and all he wanted was to kiss her again, feel her again, maybe get a little tongue action...

“You’re supposed to behave yourself, Paul,” Marko taunted as he caught a whiff of the lust in the air and felt his brother’s excited thoughts.

“Yeah, yeah,” Paul snarled. “I don’t need this shit from you.”

“I’m just repeating what David said,” Marko said defensively. “You’re the one who can’t keep it in his pants.”

“Well, aren’t you just the perfect little angel?” Paul shot back. “I’m the one with a goddess on his bike, might I remind you.”

Marko scoffed, lip raised in a nasty little snarl. “Not for long, Paul!”

Vera smiled as they bickered. Paul’s arousal hung in the air, but she didn’t mind; in fact, she liked it, and she hugged her arms around him tighter as he squabbled with Marko. She was eager to get back to wherever it was that they called home, and she was eager to sleep surrounded by them and feel truly safe for once. She was used to being alone, and she wasn’t scared of it, but she was always on edge, always ready to run or fight. It made her a light sleeper, and the concept of not having to worry was more tantalizing than any of these boys were on their own.

#goddamn shit sucking vampires #the lost boys #lost boys x reader #lost boys x oc #david lost boys #dwayne lost boys #paul lost boys #marko lost boys

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cateyemoons · 4 years

Text

play nice. (a little blurb)

pairing: nate jacobs x oc

warnings: a little smutty

note: first time publishing anything that i’ve written so i’m nervous af. this little blurb came from a little fic that i’ve been fiddling with. hope you enjoy.

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They say that Chris McKay’s parties were always the biggest and baddest parties, especially the one signalling the end of summer.

They also say that it was tradition for everyone to attend.

Well, she didn’t want to start off her first year at the new school by breaking tradition.

She had her reservations about having to start over in senior year but what could she do? She was still under her parents’s control but she swore to herself that once she was finished with school, she’d pack up her things and head back to the city, back to everything that she knew and loved.

For now, she decided to have some fun and this party seemed to be the first step.

The rumors were true-- this party was massive and wild, just as wild as the parties she attended in her old hometown. As soon as she entered the place, she was ushered into the kitchen by a bunch of strangers-- just kids who wanted everyone to have a good time. She downed the shots that were handed to her. Some of the guys tried to coax her into hanging out with them but she brushed them off with a laugh. One in particular, named Daniel would not stop. His hands were all over her.

“C’mon, don’t leave me hanging with blue balls.”

She smirked at him, grabbing the bottle from the table. She was ready to move on from him-- what a drip.

“At least you got your right hand to keep you company.”

She slipped away from him, taking a swig of vodka. She observed her new surroundings, the new people that she would soon attend classes with. No one noticed her. They were too involved in their own little world of drugs, alcohol and sex. Already she could see a number of hands down pants, tongues in each other’s mouths only to take a break to consume some more alcohol. She saw a number of people hand in hand and going upstairs, downstairs, outside and into other rooms.

It was like she never left home.

She turned a corner, bumping into people as she tried to squeeze through. Going down this route led her to another guy practically devouring another girl’s face. He was a massively tall guy-- was he part tree or something? Chiseled jawline, muscles in all the right places. His hands were all over the girl, sliding down to her ass as she finally pried her lips off his and started to kiss his neck.

She caught his eyes on her, a smirk on his face. He winked.

She felt a little bit of heat forming in the pit of her stomach. He was definitely attractive and she could tell with the look on his face that he knew that about himself. She liked confidence in a guy. She wouldn’t mind having him in her bed for a night.

She winked back with a smirk of her own. But she went outside, not really wanting to have a reputation of a pervert that likes watching other people get down and dirty.

Another swig of her bottle and her vision was starting to blur. But she managed to make out the big swimming pool, the pool lights lighting up the water and in the pool were a blonde guy and a girl that they were calling Maddy. And by the looks and sounds of it, they were having the greatest time in the pool.

“Ohhhh man, Nate’s not going to be happy about this.”

“Didn’t they JUST break up?”

“It’s like the millionth time.”

Smells toxic to me, she thought to herself.

“Jesus, she’s so fucking hot, Tyler is so fucking lucky to be fucking her like this.”

“Lucky?? Nate’s gonna murder him.”

“At least he’d die a happy man.”

She snorted, watching Maddy fuck the guy in the pool before averting her eyes. She didn’t know Maddy, this Nate guy and their relationship but it was clear that they were not good for each other. It was also clear that they broke up and made up quite often. But she had to hand it to Maddy- she knew exactly how to mess with a guy and fuck with his head.

Fucking another guy in the pool at the same party that her ex-boyfriend was attending would do exactly that.

There was a low rumble from the crowd and she looked towards the direction with a bit of an amused grin on her face. The guy that she had thought to have some tree DNA had come outside to bear witness to his ex-girlfriend’s antics. She could see the rage slowly building up from within, his brows furrowed deeply and the jealousy in his eyes. His hand held his cup tight while the other turned into a fist.

She guessed that this was Nate Jacobs.

“Yeah, that’s real classy, you fucking whore,” he spat out maliciously.

Maddy and the guy stopped their pool sex session and Maddy had a shitfaced grin on her face. Her eyes cried out, “WINNER!” as she looked up at her angry ex-boyfriend.

“Suck my DICK.”

With a snarl, Nate threw down his cup and turned back around. She tried to get out of his way but he ended up shoulder-checking her as he made his way back inside. He didn’t even bother to look at who he had knocked into. He kept walking, his temper rising with every step he took.

Any sort of attraction she had towards him disappeared. “Prick,” she muttered.

Her stomach decided to grumble. She knew the alcohol was doing its work when she had the munchies. She decided to head back inside and maybe find something to snack on. The kitchen wasn’t too crowded this time and that guy Daniel was nowhere to be seen. She poked and peeked into each cabinet and drawer, in hopes to find something to eat, even something small. What kind of party didn’t have anything to munch on?

There was a loud crash and the sounds of glass shattering right behind her and she almost shit herself. Turning around, she found Nate in a fit of fury, slamming down the bottle and pushing off all the shot glasses and beer cans from the kitchen counter. He turned around to punch the cabinet door, screaming at everyone to get out.

“Get out! GET THE FUCK OUT!” he snarled.

She remained where she was. He hadn’t seen her and maybe she would go unnoticed. In the bright light of the kitchen, she realized exactly how tall he was and how red his face had gotten due to his fit of rage. His chest was heaving hard. She could practically see the steam coming out of his ears. He leaned back against the counter, closing his eyes to get himself back under control.

She turned back around, quietly rummaging through the cabinet. She spotted a bag of chips in the far back and grabbed it. She opened it up and started munching. God, the potato chips tasted so good in her mouth.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

She nearly jumped at the low growl in her ear and she turned around to find herself face to face with Nate Jacobs.

So much for going unnoticed.

“I’m eating,” she answered nonchalantly. She held the bag up to him. “Want some?”

She knew she shouldn’t poke at the bear like this but she couldn’t help it. She wasn’t afraid of confrontation. Even if it was against someone as tall and muscular as Nate Jacobs.

She watched his eyes darken. She knew what was going on in his head. Even without knowing him, she knew who he was. Judging by the whispers and comments that the others had made about him, Nate Jacobs was The Guy of this town. He was the popular, big time, and she assumed by his build, jock king of East Highland. Therefore, everyone else were his peasants. He was used to this social hierarchy. Everyone should be bowing down to him, including her.

But she wasn’t going to do that for him, even if she found him to be insanely attractive.

“Didn’t you hear me? I said get the fuck out,” he repeated.

“Yeah well, I’m hungry and it’s pretty loud out there. So I think I’ll hang out in the kitchen for a little bit longer, thanks.”

Nate’s face contorted just a little, in a bit of surprise. “You’re not scared of me?”

She laughed in his face. “Why should I be? I’ve seen and met a lot worse.”

She took a step back, her lower back hitting the counter top edge when Nate stepped forward, closing the space between them. He bent over just a little, his eyes roaming over her body and then her face. They seemed to be searching for something, probably searching for the reason why she was not scared of him, like the rest of them.

“You’re the new girl that people have been talking about at this party,” he simply stated, with no anger or annoyance in his voice this time.

“That’d be me,” She said, continuing to munch on chips.

She watched his tongue slip out from his mouth, licking his bottom lip. “How about you and I get to know each other? It’s tough starting over in a new place. You’re going to need a new friend. I can be that for you, you know,” he murmured, his face inching closer to hers.

“Is that right?” she asked, amused by his sudden change in mood.

The way guys changed tactics and moods when their dicks were hard. Amazing, really.

She tossed the bag of chips aside, making a big show of licking her fingers clean in front of him. She licked her fingers slowly, never breaking eye contact with him. His face was so close to hers that she could see his eyes grow wide with pleasure. She couldn’t help but smirk when she slid her finger in deeper, when she could hear him panting at the sight of it. She knew he was just picturing her pretty red lips wrapped around his cock.

She loved fucking with men like this. It was their one true weakness.

She was going to take full advantage of that.

“Yeah.. yeah, that’s right, baby,” he said softly, his lips curling upwards.

“Oh… I don’t know, Nate,” she said with a loud sigh. “All boys say that, you know? But they’re all bark and no bite.”

“You just haven’t met me yet, I’m not just any guy.” He dipped his face into the crook of her neck and she let him. She tilted her head back just a little bit, why not have a little pleasure for herself? Besides, he was very good at this. Her body was naturally heating up at his touch, especially right between her legs. His lips trailed up to her earlobe, nibbling her earlobe before speaking again. “Oh I’ll bite.”

“I bite too,” she said, pushing his face away with a laugh. “I don’t think you’d be able to handle it.”

“I think it might be the other way around,” he fired back, taking her hand and placing it right at his crotch.

If this was the reason why Maddy kept going back to him, well she wasn’t going to judge her too quick. He was a big boy in more ways than one.

She hadn’t expected that. Nor did she expect her underwear to become soaked.

When she looked back up at Nate, she saw the triumphant smile on his face. He knew the effect that he had on him.

Well, two can play that game.

“I think it’s you that won’t be able to handle me, baby,” he whispered, bringing his face close to hers once more, trying to kiss her but she pulled her head back.

She bit her bottom lip, looking up at him with very round and innocent eyes. “Oh, is that right?” Her lips turned into a sexy smirk when his eyelids fluttered and his jaw dropped open as she cupped him tight through his jeans.

“Oh fuck-,” he gasped.

She watched his eyes close tight, enjoying the feel of her warm hand rubbing and squeezing him. He had both hands on either side of her, gripping the counter top. She knew every drop of blood was flooding to his dick right now. His cock was rock hard for her. He wasn’t going to be able to form a complete sentence.

“You still sure I won’t be able to handle you? Or are you gonna change your mind?” she asked as she moved her hand faster.

Nate groaned louder at the sudden change in speed. He leaned forward and she pressed her forehead against his, watching all the pleasure wash over his face. “Fuck, I-I… I change my mind, fuck baby…” He managed to open his eyes, panting hard. “There’s a room upstairs, come with me.”

“Come with you? Upstairs? So I can get down on my knees and suck your fat cock?” she teased, squeezing him a little harder. His big body shuddered and she decided to keep putting these images into his mind. “Bet you’d like that, hm? You’d like watching your cock disappear in my mouth, hm?” A chill went down her spine at the thought of looking up at this guy while she was on her knees. It probably wouldn’t be a bad sight to see.

“FUCK YES, oh baby, please,” he begged with a growl, his entire body trembling. His hands gripped her hips tight, pulling her closer but she wouldn’t let him kiss her. Not yet. “God, I need to fuck you so bad.”

She had him by the balls now. Literally.

“Let’s go then,” she whispered into his ear, letting out a breathy moan to tantalize him even more, giving him a preview of what was to come.

In an instant, he took her by the hand and all but dragged her out of the kitchen. The sea of people parted for him and everyone whispered and pointed their fingers. She smiled at everyone and when they made it to the stairs, she pulled her hand away and headed towards the front door.

“HEY!” Nate grabbed her hand again. “Where are you going?”

“Home. Where are you going?” she feigned confusion.

“But you said-,”

She laughed, pulling her hand out of his grip once more. “Did you really think I’d fuck you?”

“Y-you-,”

“Enjoy the rest of the party, baby!”

Slamming the door on his shocked face, she laughed and started running. The adrenaline from teasing the shit out of Nate had her sprinting down the street. She could probably do a full marathon tonight if she wanted to.

She loved teasing guys like him. Teasing and riling them, playing around with them. Getting their hopes and dicks up, making them think that they were going to get it in with her. Acting like she wanted them to pound her straight into the bed, only to pull back and deny them. Leaving them with only their right hand to keep them company. Making them realize that they weren’t shit, that they were losers, that they were nothing. Doing this got her more horny than an actual guy ever could.

It’s a shame that he was such a prick. She wouldn’t have mind having him pound the shit out of her with that big dick of his. She bet that he was all kinds of fun in the bedroom. But now he was going to be left alone with blue balls and his right hand, just like that other kid Daniel.

And that’s what you get for being an asshole, she thought with a proud grin.

#nate jacobs #euphoria #nate jacobs x oc #nate jacobs imagine #nate jacobs smut #euphoria smut #jacob elordi #euphoria fic #nate jacobs fic

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valberryy · 3 years

Text

good god, let me give you my life. — kaeya

another converted oc fic!!!! yes i have many kaeya thoughts....... and i missed this oc in particular QAQ anyways please accept this word vomit its like 2k words im sorry idk what possessed me

pairing: kaeya x fem!reader

content warnings: mentions of blood/injuries + alcohol, light swearing (like, three instances max)

Kaeya had seen that doe-eyed look countless times before, but there was still something about the way your gaze burned almost incredulously into his own that made his smirk grow wider.

"Kaeya, you asshole!" you exclaimed, but your half-exasperated anger just made him laugh—by the Seven, you were even more fun to tease than Diluc!

"What's the rush?" he laughed, ignoring your hand on his chest to balance herself as you tiptoed to where he was holding your Vision right out of your reach. "Is widdle [Name] so scared of—"

You elbowed him in the gut at that, and his grip on your Vision wavered as he let out a pained oof. You pinned it back to where it normally hung, and a glance at your clothes—the buttoned up coat, the bags placed haphazardly on the ground next to your boots—was all it took for the lucidity to return to Kaeya's eyes.

"The others are waiting," you muttered, gaze downcast and cheeks flushed from the cold. Kaeya nodded. Wordlessly, you grabbed his hands and squeezed, ever so gently.

"I promise we'll come back to visit," you said. "And I'll write a lot."

Kaeya nodded again, a devious grin pulling at his lips but faltering at the edges. "When you do come back I'll ask Master Crepus to throw a party and I'll read out your letters for everyone to hear—"

"You—!"

"...So come back safe, okay?"

A sigh, then, and another light squeeze of his hands.

"I promise."

With that, Kaeya finally let you go—and already missing the warmth of your palms and the fleetingness of your touch, he watched as your back disappeared off into the horizon.

Kaeya often found himself waiting, those days, to the point that he might have called himself distracted if he hadn't known any better. The smile that graced his lips at each letter—which always started with your and your brother's neat handwriting, with little comments from your sister sprinkled all throughout, and sealed with some local flower or other—never failed to go unnoticed, to the point that even Diluc found himself sighing at the sight.

"You're an idiot," he had said, and nothing else.

Each year your visits had become a staple of summer, and for days on end Master Crepus' manor was filled with foreign music and dance. Kaeya never read out your letters like he said he would, but you two would always sneak out of the party with a bottle of champagne, and you would whisper gossip to each other like you always used to, conspiratory and scheming.

(Once, just as a laugh was about to spill from his lips, you placed your palm over the lower half of his face and kissed the back of your hand. "I thought you were bolder than that," he teased, and with a scoff you plucked the bottle from his hands.

"Oh? I'd like to see you do better, lover boy.")

One year the letters stopped, and you never came to visit. Winter came all too soon. The calla lilies in your last letter had begun to wilt.

The next year, he and Diluc parted ways. As their swords clashed for the last time, he wished it was your flames that had scorched him instead.

Two years hence, the Knights of Favonius found a young woman, half-conscious and all but bleeding out, under the tree at Windrise.

Kaeya had stopped in his tracks when he heard, his silver tongue going dry behind the calm smile he put on. "Thanks for the news," he told his subordinate. "I'll check it out."

As soon as he was alone, he let the panic sink in.

His walk to the cathedral was exceedingly brief, and Kaeya wasn't quite sure if that was a good thing. As he walked towards the infirmary he heard Barbara's voice—

"...but do you remember anything else?"

A pause, then a blunt, "No."

—And as he walked inside he saw the deaconess with her tome, and a little ways behind her was...you. You seemed a little pale and worse for wear, but when you looked at him with the same doe-eyed look as before, Kaeya couldn't help but feel the slightest bit relieved.

"You really worried me back there, love," he said smoothly. "How are you feeling now?"

You glanced almost unnoticeably at Barbara, who seemed to mouth something along the lines of, "Later."

"Alive, I guess," you responded, then paused for a good moment as you glanced at him fully. Kaeya raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry…" you said, "It's just that I've heard so much about you, but—"

But what? he thought, and felt his blood run cold again.

"—I have no idea who you are."

—

Kaeya thought it the worst of cruelties for you to be so similar to your old self, yet so wholly, horribly different. You walked with the same languid grace, spoke with the same haughtiness and pride, still tapped your teaspoon against the rim of your teacup—three times, every single time, with a resounding chime.

But you no longer looked at him the same, no longer laughed at his old jokes, no longer called him by his name. It was always captain or sir, and never what he so desperately longed to hear.

"You Knights are always so ineffective," Diluc sighed, and for the first time in years the Ragnvindr brothers finally found themselves in agreement.

Kaeya laughed self-pityingly, running one hand through his hair and using the other to swirl the contents of his half-empty glass. Another sigh, and just as he was about to speak again, the door to Angel's Share opened to the sound of laughter.

"Venti, I said no—"

"Oh, come on! All you've been doing is reading that journal of yours! I thought you—"

There was an indignant, ungraceful sounding yell, and the rest of Venti's words were muffled by what Kaeya assumed was your hand. You two whispered together some more—he even thought he heard you threaten him, if he wasn't mistaken—and with your defeated sigh, Venti began to tune his lyre.

Ah, you was going to dance, then.

Kaeya turned in his seat to the point where he could watch them from the corner of his vision, taking another drink from his steadily-emptying glass. With gentle hands, the bard began to pluck at his lyre strings, and with the same practiced, precise movements he committed so dearly to memory, your body began to sway.

He knew this one—it started off slowly, gently, only to speed up as the music did as well. One-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three-four, went your heels against the wooden floor, and as the song ended and you bowed with a haughty flourish, Kaeya had abruptly stood up and left the tavern.

Your steps were light against the cobblestone when you caught up with him, that same night.

"Captain," you said, "you've been avoiding me."

He turned around to face you, a practiced smile on his lips. He couldn't look you in the eyes, though, no matter how intensely your gaze burned into him. "Oh? What might you be doing out so late, Miss [Surname]?"

You sighed, placing a hand on your hip. "You knew me before, right? That's why you keep running away?"

Kaeya's tongue went dry as he heard you speak. Ah, what does he say to this? He watched you sigh again, but this time you brought out the musty old journal that he knew hung from your waist.

You held it out to him expectantly, but he didn't take it.

"...We knew each other," he eventually replied, soft and without any of his normal bravado. "We were…close."

Your face remained impassive, but there was a glint in your eyes that gave your suspicion away. "...I see," you said. "Then…I want to start again. I can't be the person you knew before, but…"

It was Kaeya who sighed this time, endearingly. "You really haven't changed," he said, before holding out a hand for you to shake. "Allow me to reintroduce myself, then. Kaeya Alberich, at your service."

You smiled, and he felt his heart flutter and ache alike at the sight. Taking his hand, you said, "[Name] [Surname]…a pleasure it is to finally know you, Kaeya."

—

Whenever dusk fell, Kaeya would often find you at one of the many taverns littered throughout the city, but your favourite seemed to be the Angel's Share, of all places. If you weren't dancing along to whatever tune the bard was singing, you were often talking with Diluc from the opposite end of the bar, sipping from your glass of wine.

And whenever Kaeya would walk in you would turn to him and raise your glass in greeting, crowing something or other about coincidence, and he would say something or other about fate; and then you would drink together as his brother grew increasingly exasperated at the volume.

One evening, he had lost track of how many rounds he had when his head began to grow fuzzy. He was only half-conscious of Charles' sigh, and you saying something along the lines of, "I'll bring him home."

With practiced ease—likely from your time hanging around with that drunkard bard—you lifted him up and slung his arm around your shoulders, struggling a bit from his height. "C'mon, captain, let's get you home," you said, to which he merely nodded and buried his face in the warmth of the crook of your neck.

"Y'know, it was always you getting wasted like this," he drawled. "Master Crepus used to—! He used to always scold us for stealing wine, but you were always half passed out so you never heard any of it."

You looked down, seemingly deep in thought. "It sounds like we were very close," you said, and he chuckled and hummed in the affirmative.

He began rambling again as you made the short walk to his house, continuing even as you dug through his pockets for his keys. How he still reads your letters, how you made fun of his eyepatch the very first time he wore it, how you two used to climb the tree at Windrise, hoping always, in vain, to somehow reach the highest bough. If he were less shitfaced and more sober perhaps he would have found it in himself to stem the waterfall of words spilling from his lips—honest and raw in a way neither of you were used to—but as it stood, all he could have done was bare his heart to you like this.

You were silent as you laid him down on his bed, mumbling more to yourself than to anyone else, "You need to drink water, Kaeya."

The silence between you hung heavy like a body on the gallows.

"I really loved you, you know."

Another pause, then, and then the soft caress of your palm against his cheek, and the lightest brush of your lips against his forehead.

"...Good night, Kaeya."

The next day, Kaeya woke up with the worst bitch of a migraine he's ever had in his life. As he rose to get a glass of water, he suddenly became aware of several things: firstly, the fact that he was a fucking idiot; second, the fact that he needs to get black-out drunk less often; and third, the fact that you were lying asleep on his couch, your journal in one hand and your other arm hanging off the side.

He sighed, placing down the empty glass, and walked over to you—and with your same gentleness from the night before, Kaeya brushed aside your bangs to press a kiss to your forehead.

—

"Snrk—you what?"

"Oh, yes, and then after that Jean said—"

You cut off the rest of his story by shoving a piece of meat in his mouth, and when Kaeya managed to swallow it he was met with the sight of your smug smile and your eyes still bleary from laughing.

"There's no way all of that happened because of a rabbit," you said, to which he laughed good-naturedly, followed by a sip from his glass of wine.

"You'd be surprised what kinds of things Klee can get herself into."

You laughed again, and he took another drink of wine. Ah, he missed this, he thought. Missed the way the breeze here at Windrise smelled of asters, missed the way the moonlight trickled down through the leaves of the giant tree.

(Most of all, he missed the little way your nose would crinkle when you laughed, but he'd prefer not to say that aloud, lest he be hit over the head with the wine bottle he brought along today—amnesia or not, he knew very well it was still within your strength to do so.)

Kaeya watched as you closed your eyes to enjoy the evening breeze, your hair like a wildfire in the breeze. You looked at him then, your eyes heavy with a certain lucidity that he couldn't name, but still managed to shake him somehow.

"...I'm in love with you, Kaeya."

When he smirked and said, "So I get to brag that I made you fall for me twice?" he was met with the same indignant, doe-eyed glare from all those years ago.

"I'm being serious!" you exclaimed, but he only laughed again, and covered your mouth with the palm of his hand. Before you could protest again, he kissed the back of his own hand and pulled away, a cheeky grin on his lips.

"Where'd all that bravado go, Mr. Casanova?"

Kaeya was hit with a pang of nostalgia, then. He looked at you, cheeks lightly flushed from the cold breeze and embarrassment alike, and his smile only widened further.

"Hmm? Think you can do any better, dearest?"

#genshin impact imagines #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact kaeya #kaeya x reader #bee writes

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jincherie · 4 years

Text

say so | knj & ksj [m]

! — COMMISSION — !

❥ — pairing: namjoon x reader x seokjin ❥ — genre: poly, 1950s au/rockabilly au, smut, childhood f2l, angst, fluff, musician!namjin, burlesque!mc ❥ — words: 24.5k+ ❥ — rating: 18+ ❥ — warnings: light angst, pining, smut !!!; oral (all kinds), anal, fingering, squirting, multiple orgasms, edging, light switch!joon, light switch!oc, harder dom!jin, double pentration, cockwarming, reverse cowgirl etc.... if I forgot sometihng I will add it later but for now this is it fellas. ❥ — notes: oh my god I am FINALLY ejecting this fic from my brain !!! part of the reason this took so long was, of course, the current circamstances across the world mixed in with a few personal factors, but also because I haven’t written a ‘historical’ fic before and I wanted to make sure I got it right ! of course, that somehow ended with me going way over word count so i am so sorry for that, but i truly hope you like it! I haven’t gone over it yet but i will do that later, i just wanted to post and get this fic out of my asshole

Returning to your hometown for a week is something you’ve managed to avoid for three years, but when you can finally put it off no longer you find upon arrival the very thing you were scared of encountering. When the two famous childhood friends you haven’t spoken to in years have returned at the same time as you, you can’t quite tell whether you’re going to be able to make it out in one piece or emerge with a heart more wounded than before.

Especially since it turns out the feelings you thought you were over never quite went away.

— masterlist | posted; 17.08.2020

You didn’t really expect to find yourself back here so soon, but here you are— everything in your room is in exactly the same state as it was three years ago.

The covers on your bed, the magazine cuttings, faded posters and hand-painted canvases that mark the phases of your youth hung on your wall—even the light-toned floral wallpaper and the little knickknacks atop your dresser are the same. It makes something like nostalgia rise within you, a reminiscent haze filtering through your thoughts. It has been too long since you’ve been back here, and the guilt that always lingers in the back of your mind now pushes its way to the forefront. You feel bad, not having been back to your childhood home in so long, despite the reasons you had for moving away.

You haven’t been here all that long, but as soon as you finished talking with your parents downstairs your feet had carried you here, more out of habit that anything. Absentmindedly, you brush your hand over the oak of your dresser, curious when your fingertip comes back without a single speck of dust. Your mother must have come through often to clean. The realisation both warms your heart and compounds the guilt you feel, making you frown. In an effort to distract yourself, you turn your gaze back to the rest of your old room, catching sight of a few photographs plastered above your study desk. You know what they contain, and still you can’t seem to help yourself as you draw closer and peer at them anew. They’re just as familiar to your eyes as you expected.

Of course, in this house you’d be lucky to find a photograph of you that didn’t also have these two in it.

Your eyes skip over the older ones with yellowing glaze and curled corners to focus on the most recent-looking image, drinking in the two boys you’d spent the entirety of your childhood and teen years with. Easily your best friends, until… well, until three years ago. A fond smile fights its way to your lips; you remember when this was taken. Your mother had lined the three of you up for a photo in the yard but at the very last second they’d pushed you into the pool. Both boys stand tall in the image, but you’d recognise the taller one with the goofy grin anywhere, even if his face wasn’t already plastered across newspapers and featuring on the television every other evening. Namjoon is just as boyish in the image as you recall, and next to him where they stand laughing over the pool is Seokjin, appearance every bit as neat and clean as you’ve glimpsed in recent years when he has featured in a magazine or program that is particularly popular with the youth. It was always a bit weird to you, a little hard to process, that the two boys you’ve known since the three of you were in diapers are now pretty much, well… celebrities. Something bubbles in your chest, the pressure of a sigh but the weight of something you’re not quite ready to name yet. Distantly, in the back of your mind, a tiny part of you whispers that it tastes a little like regret, and sounds a little like yearning.

Growing up, the two of them had discovered an affinity for music, and you for the arts. You suppose that small difference is what eventually led to the distance that grew between you, before you left— if not for the fact that they found the limelight so naturally and built popularity quicker than anticipated after their individual musical debuts. It really didn’t take them all that long to begin steadily growing their fanbase within the youth of your town, their songs played more and more often on local stations. Before long people even a few cities over caught wind of them, but you didn’t get to see it. By the point they had spread their wings that far, you were already gone.

You wrinkle your nose, not liking this sudden trip down a particular lane in your memory that you’ve been avidly avoiding the past three years. Taking a step back from the desk that the photographs hang above, you desperately search for something else to capture your attention. Fortunately for you, a voice sounds behind you before you can flounder too long.

“Wow, I can’t believe you actually came. How long has it been, forty years?��

You jump slightly, the familiarity of the voice and sheer amount of attitude in the words allowing you to recognise it instantly. You spin, eyes quickly locking onto the familiar head of straight blonde hair and cherubic features that belong to your sister. You’ve kept in touch with her via letter and the occasional call, but other than that this is the first time you’ve seen her in years. She’s a little bit taller than you remember, and she’s filled out a little more now that she’s no longer a gangly teen. You are surprised though to note the absence of the usual distressed denim that she favoured throughout the years. Instead she’s in a neat pair of capris that rise to the dip of her waist, where she has tucked in a bright red blouse beneath a belt. Out of habit, you look down to her feet and catch a glimpse of red canvas shoes that instantly make you want to laugh; your mother never could get her into a pair of heels, even if she managed to get her out of the dungarees that she used to love so much. Lisa smiles cheekily beneath your scrutiny, opening her arms wide. With a laugh, you throw your own around her, pulling her into a tight hug.

“You’re so dramatic,” you retort, rolling your eyes even though she can’t see it. “Of course I would come to celebrate my own sister’s engagement. I had to see it with my own eyes to believe it.”

“Why does everyone say the same thing when I talk about it?” Lisa groans, pulling back with a familiar pout that seems to have survived her transition into young adulthood. She slips her arm through your own, giving your bicep a smack as she leads you from the room. “It’s not that hard to believe that I’m getting married! Also— what on earth have you been up to all these years? Have you been attending classes? You’re in such good shape, oh my goodness—”

Unwittingly, your cheeks flush; you probably shouldn’t tell her the real reason for your current physique lest she blab with champagne-loosened lips about it to the rest of your family at her party. Sober Lisa is the only one that knows how to keep a secret, as you’ve found out through a number of shamefully scrawled confessions in the letters she would send you. A number of things you’d confided in her over the years have since been aired like dirty laundry to some of her friends, much to your mutual regret.

“Uh, yeah. Something like that,” you say dismissively, quickly returning to the previous topic as the two of you descend the stairs. “And it’s probably because of all those things you said when you were younger, like how you’d rather live in a mud hut on a deserted island than ever marry a smelly boy riddled with cooties—”

“Ah, yes,” Lisa sighs, the sound more fond and less ashamed than you were expecting. “Those were the days— I was such a badass little ankle-biter. What has become of me? I must be the one riddled with cooties at this point.”

“Probably,” you muse, catching sight of your mother behind the kitchen counter and shooting her a smile as you move past. Lisa is lucky she hadn’t spoken too loudly or else she’d be getting a light smack for her language. It never seemed to stop her when she was younger though, so you doubt it would have an effect now either.

“A skirt at the knee, y/n?” Your mother lets out a dramatic, scandalous gasp upon seeing you. “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

“These are the clothes that you greeted me in?” You give her a pained look; apparently you need readjusting to her oddball sense of humour. She’s always been a little out of place in the straight-laced, conservative society that marks this day and age; your father too, except he was just a bit more sneaky about it. Actually, now that you think about it, Namjoon and Seokjin’s parents were always a little more on the liberal side too… What an odd coincidence that the three families ended up in a row at the end of the same cul-de-sac.

You’re not deigned with a response, your mother smacking her hands onto the apron she has tied over her baby blue skirt and turning to the oven. You think you hear her muttering about ‘time’ and ‘darn apple pies always taking too long to cook’ and can’t help the way your mouth waters in response. Gods, is it bad if one of the things you missed the most while away is the apple pies your mother makes?

You turn to Lisa, about to ask her whether the apple pie is something you’re going to be able to steal a piece of, only to find that she’s disappeared into thin air. Fantastic. You’re not staying here while you’re back in town, so you’re unsure whether you’re going to be able to cash in on dinner or whether your mother will hold it over your head a little first. You wander over to the edge of the kitchen, sticking your head into the living room to peer around; you’re curious as to just how much has changed in the time that you’ve been gone. Not as much as you might have hoped, to your chagrin.

“You still have that ugly old thing,” you observe, unable to help the way that your nose wrinkles in response to the sight of the monstrosity still wearing holes into the carpet of the living room.

“My love,” you mother says, giving you an (affectionate) sharp smack on the shoulder as she slips past you, shooting you a bright grin when the thickness of her skirt knocks you slightly. Apparently she’s finished in the kitchen for now; you glance back to see a bowl of nuts joining the bowl of fruit that had been on the counter earlier. “I’d sooner perish than give up your grandmother’s armchair. Besides…. I do so adore how it never fails to draw your ire.”

“I do hate that thing,” your father utters suddenly from the kitchen behind you, his hand reaching for the bowl of fruit; he has his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, so you figure he must have retired to his study to read after greeting you earlier. He moves just as fast as you remember— your mother didn’t even have a chance to stop him before he was gone as quick as he came, hands full of whatever fruit he couldn’t fit in his mouth.

“You—!”

The sound of your father’s laughter tumbles off the walls, and you can’t help the smile that tugs your lips. You did miss this; the liveliness, the feeling of home.

“y/n, dear, darling, light of my life…”

You turn to your mother, already knowing what is coming next from her tone. One thing you definitely didn’t miss—

“I forgot when I went past earlier, but could you go and fetch some cream from Barb’s? You know, that little store on the corner, down the road from the diner you always used to—”

You’re already turning towards the front of the house, heading for where you’d left your purse with a fond roll of your eyes. “I know where Barb’s is, Ma! I only went away to study, I didn’t lose my memories!”

Your mother’s cheeky laugh is what bids you farewell as you duck out the door and start on your way.

X – x – x

You’d forgotten just how tempting the treats in Barb’s are.

When you exit the small corner store around an hour or so later (it was hardly any distance to walk, but of course Mrs. Park was keen to hold you hostage long enough to squeeze every single detail out of you she could about your time away) it’s with an overflowing paper bag in your arms that holds more than just the cream your mother sent your for. One look at the apple Danish pastries and cinnamon-sprinkled goodies behind the glass of her counter and you’d been unable to help yourself. Your mother did always say that your sweet tooth would be your undoing.

Walking through the streets that you grew up becoming so familiar with breeds a certain kind of yearning that swells in your chest and borders on painful. This, you suspect, is because most— if not all— of your memories of this place are intrinsically linked with those of the two men who used to take up such a big part of your life; and that therefore then left such a big hole when they were gone.

It’s hard not to fall into them, the memories. The candy store where the three of you would scrounge up as many coins as you could and pile them all together to get the best sweets on the shelves; the library where you spent as much time goofing off and getting scolded as you did studying in your senior years; even the drive-in cinema, where you used to take your parents cars for the evening and sit on the hood while poking fun at the latest flick to grace the screen. Being back here is making you face something that you have somehow skilfully managed to avoid up until now—

You miss them, Seokjin and Namjoon. You miss your best friends.

This is something that is hammered home further when you reach the point in your journey home where you pass the place featured most in your memories. Dana’s Dinery, probably the only thing more constant in your life than those two boys and your own family. The pink and red hues of its name and the exposed bulbs decorating the signage are something you remember clear as day, and just the sight of it alone has your mouth watering for the burgers and other fried goods they loved to serve there. The kind of food you know is terrible for you, but that you also just can’t get enough of nonetheless. You’ve spent so many nights there that at some point every single member of staff there knew you by name. Of course, since the three of you were barely seen apart at that time, they knew Seokjin and Namjoon, too.

You’re tempted to duck in and say hello, and before you can even give it much thought your feet are already angling you in that direction, short heels scuffing against the pavement. Through the window you can see the familiar shiny red booth seats and the similarly upholstered stools that line the counter; behind it is a woman with wild, dark curls thrown back in a bun, a pencil behind her ear. Ah, so Mrs. Cara still works there. A petal of affection unfurls in your chest at the sight of her, but drops to the ground in the next second as your gaze slides to the side and halts on two figures currently seated at the counter.

No way. No way.

You freeze, eyes wide as you stand rooted to the spot for just a moment. You know that logically, they can’t be here, but the profiles you can just barely glimpse from this distance are so eerily familiar to that of Namjoon and Seokjin that you think your heart skips perhaps one too many beats. For some reason, your stomach roils with the urge to flee; you just got around to admitting that you miss them, and yet the second you think you might be seeing them, you want to run away? Honestly, it doesn’t make sense—wouldn’t make sense to anyone else privy to the thoughts currently whipping through your mind.

But you’re a master at stewing in your own thoughts and feelings, familiar with dissecting them until you understand them to the best of your ability at the time. So you know why you promptly turn on your heel and begin hastily back on your way home, abandoning any plans to go inside the diner. You know why, but you’re not quite ready to dwell on it yet, so you push it to the backburner and do your very best not to think about it the whole walk back.

X – x – x

You’re ashamed.

A huff escapes you, your eyes boring into the ceiling, unfocused. After delivering the cream to your mother (and promptly having the extra sweets confiscated until after dinner, lest you snack away your appetite—you guess that answers your question about whether you’re staying for supper) you decided to retire up here for now. You’d thought that your room might feel a little alien to you after all this time away, but when you’d dragged yourself in and shucked your shoes off at the door, it had welcomed you back with an air of nostalgia and open arms. You’re sprawled across your bed now, arms behind your head as you stare at the ceiling. When you were younger, maybe fourteen, you had decorated it with little stars and planets that you’d painted. Well, it wasn’t just you—some of the more crudely decorated renditions towards the wall are courtesy of Seokjin and Namjoon. You wouldn’t say they’re bad at art, just that they have… well, a distinct style that is very them.

Wait, you’re getting distracted—back to the matter at hand: you’re ashamed.

At this point in your life, if someone had asked you why that particular emotion might be plaguing you right now, then in all honesty you would have a vast array of reasons to give them. But the answer as to why you’re ashamed right now, lies in the two people you could have sworn you glimpsed earlier.

Now that there is a little temporal distance between you and that particular moment, you can use logic to assure yourself that there’s no way you actually just saw Namjoon and Seokjin at the diner that you all used to haunt in your youth. But in the moment, when you thought you’d seen them, you fell into a bit of a panic. This, you have determined, is because you are ashamed. It’s a little harder to determine why you’re ashamed in relation to them, but what you’ve managed to discern so far is that you feel to blame for the way things went, at least partially. Or, perhaps its that you fear they blame you for the way things went. In reality, from what you remember, they first began to grow apart from each other, and then they began to grow apart from you. That, of course, isn’t something you can blame yourself for. But, what you can blame yourself for – and here is what you think may be the root of your shame – is that you were the one to up and leave suddenly. You were the one to disappear without even a goodbye, almost. You could have kept in touch if you tried, but you’d basically disappeared off the face of the earth.

You wonder if they blame you, or if they might even resent you because of that.

Well, if they even remember you, that is. They’re pretty much in the big leagues now, you remind yourself. They’re making it mainstream and they’re hot on the heels of the most renowned names in the business.

You’re not very good at comforting yourself. Not that you really attempted it this time, but usually whenever you do you just end up stewing in your thoughts a little. You don’t even realise you’re glaring at the ceiling in the midst of sorting through your mental mess until a knock at the door jerks you out of it. You turn towards it just as it opens and a head pops inside, a gleam you instantly decide you don’t like shining in Lisa’s eyes.

“Come downstairs,” she says cryptically, beginning to ease back out. She only chimes once more when she’s out of view. “If you don’t, I’ll eat all those pastries you brought back! Keep that in mind!”

What on earth… you’re left absolutely confused for a moment, before her last words sink in and you throw yourself from your bed with haste, not even bothering to put your shoes back on before you dart out of the room. The trip downstairs is treacherous in stockings, but you don’t have time to lose. You’re sister isn’t one to bluff, and you don’t want her anywhere near those pastries!

“Don’t you touch those!” you call in warning as you slide across the hardwood floor in the hall and fly down the stairs. “Lisa, I mean it! If you lay a single finger on those pastries you’ll lose it!”

There’s laughter in the direction of the kitchen, and you’re angled to follow the sound when your eyes catch sight of movement to the side and you freeze on the spot.

“y/n!” your mother cries, clearly ecstatic that you’ve come down to join her. She’s standing in the hall that leads the front door, talking to some people you can’t yet see. “Look who’s here! My, I haven’t seen these two in almost as long as I hadn’t seen you!”

Something like dread, mixed with an odd spike of anticipation, begins to trickle into your abdomen. All too suddenly you remember exactly who you thought you saw earlier, and realise she can only be talking about two people in particular.

Nervously, you smooth down your skirt and blouse, shooting your mother a look that you hope isn’t too panicked. She is, of course, oblivious, and simply grabs you by the arm to drag you around the corner.

“I haven’t seen the three of you together in so long! I missed your handsome faces around here, too. Perhaps the height as well— now there’s no one in the house that can reach the top shelf in the pantry.”

Your mother is babbling, but you can’t bring yourself to mind when it saves you from having to speak yourself. As you’d feared, there are two very familiar people standing before you, hovering on your doorstep with almost nervous energy.

“It has been a while,” a soft tone with the luxurious depth of velvet— Seokjin smiles so charmingly at your mother that you think your heart really might have stopped for a second. When his dark eyes turn to you, there is something swirling in their depths that is in such contrast to the winning smile on his lips that you almost feel your knees shake. “y/n, it’s a lovely surprise to catch you here— we didn’t know you were in town as well.”

“Oh, and what brings you two boys back here?” Your mother asks, all too excited to hear exactly what has been going on in their lives since she saw them last. Thankfully, she saves you from having to answer straight away. “Are you back for long?”

“Just a week,” Namjoon answers, bashful smile juxtaposing the beaten leather of the jacket over his shoulders and the low, rough melody of his voice. Oh dear— “We’re actually here celebrating something with a close friend of ours; we were invited to a… party of sorts, you could say.”

You think you might be safe, that he might not say anything to you just yet, when he turns to you and his eyes flick along your form. He smiles again, this time with his dimples making an appearance.

“It really has been too long, y/n. I’m glad we managed to run into you.”

You know it’s not a dig at you, but you feel your cheeks flush with shame nonetheless.

“Don’t tell me the three of you haven’t seen each other since she left,” your mother gasps, sending you a look that tells you she is going to be wringing information out of you later.

There’s a slight lull in the conversation that tells you it’s your time to chime in. Before you can, though, Seokjin speaks— still with a smile, despite the slight bite of his words.

“Ah, yeah,” he says, shaking his head. He leans back slightly, switching his weight to the other leg and crossing his arms over his chest— you try not to look at the way it makes his chest and shoulders strain against the material of his button-up. “We wanted to write, or call, but we didn’t know where she was staying to send it. Made it a little hard to keep in touch.”

Your heart squeezes; that was a dig, that was definitely a dig. And you deserved it, but damn you didn’t realise it would hurt that much. And he hadn’t even said anything direct!

“Oh, well this is perfect then!” Your mother smacks you on the back, a little rougher than necessary, making you cough. “y/n is here for the week, why don’t you all catch up? Lisa’s engagement party is on Saturday so any day other than that should be fine— oh, you two should come, by the way! And invite your mothers too; it’s been too long since we’ve all sat down for tea.”

“That would be wonderful,” Namjoon agrees amicably, nodding his head to your mother. “I’m sure they’d love to take you up on that invite— I did get an earful about how lonely she was when I got home earlier.”

You have to fight a smile at that— Namjoon’s mother does have a penchant for the dramatics. You turn your gaze to the side to find Seokjin’s own already boring holes into you— it takes all your willpower not to jump. When he sees he has your attention, he smiles once more.

“We’d love to catch up,” he says, eyes still holding you captive. “How about dinner tomorrow, at Dana’s? I miss the burgers there.”

You catch Namjoon nodding from the corner of your eye, agreeing with the idea, and swallow your nerves down to flash a smile back. “Of course, that sounds fantastic.”

The two men nod, satisfied for now, and Namjoon pipes up once more as they take a step back.

“Well, we should probably get back— if we’re late for supper today we mightn’t be alive for dinner tomorrow,” he jokes, earning a laugh from your mother. His eyes flick to you, unreadable but holding such heat you almost gasp, “We’ll meet you there at seven tomorrow, y/n. I’m lookin’ forward to it.”

“See you, boys!” Your mother waves farewell, jabbing you with her elbow until you join her. “Hurry home!”

They nod with a laugh, and you watch them retreat to their respective homes on either side of yours until your mother closes the door and cuts off your view, turning to you with a look that could mean a number of things. She’s distracted from unleashing a verbal flood on you in the next moment, however, when she catches sight of your feet.

“y/n!” she gasps, tone scolding. “Go put your shoes on! Walking around without them— this isn’t how I raised you, my goodness. You’re going to wear holes in your stockings! Go go go!”

Startled by the way she raises her arm in promise, you yelp and scamper away, back towards the stairs. “Okay, I’m going!”

You’re about halfway up the stairs, petticoat and skirt swishing violently from how fast you scaled them, when she calls after you.

“And don’t think you’re off the hook, missy! You and I are having a long, in-depth chat after dinner!”

You can only resign yourself to your fate.

x - x - x

“I’m in trouble, Mina. Oh, I’m in trouble.”

“It can’t be anything more than the trouble you’re going to be in for wearing holes into the hotel room carpet— stop that! You’re making me anxious!”

You halt mid-pace, sending your friend a pained look. She’s sprawled across the second bed in your hotel room, reading some magazine that touts the latest in makeup and jewellery from some of the more big-name brands.

“Please, just this once, let me be the one having a Diva moment,” you say, almost begging— to your own distaste. You just need someone to vent to, but she’s not exactly being helpful.

“What is this about?” she asks, closing her magazine to pin you with a borderline-grumpy look. “What has your knickers in such a— oh, I love those shorts! Are those new?”

“Uh, yeah. I bought them the other week,” you answer, looking down at the light blue shorts you’d slipped into for comfort’s sake this morning. They’re so comfortable, in fact, that you regret that you’re unable to wear them in public. You quickly shake your head when you realise you’re getting off-topic. “Hey— I told you what this is about! Did you listen to a single thing I said since I got back last night? Do I mean nothing to you?”

“You’re so dramatic,” Mina utters under her breath. “Yes, I was listening! I was just checking we were talking about the same thing!"

The look you give her is dubious at best, "Okay, then what am I talking about?"

"Those two hot cats you grew up with," Mina says, waving her manicured hand dismissively. "What about them is giving you such grief?"

"I ran into them yesterday," you say, eyes unfocused as you fall back into your thoughts once more. "They want to meet for dinner, to catch up."

"Oh, well that's fine," Mina says. "You don't have feelings for them anymore, so it should be alright, yeah?"

You bite your lip, wincing and giving her a look that could only be described as a mixture between sheepish and remorseful.

"Oh, y/n," She sounds a lot like your mother with the tone she's taken now, "Don't tell me..."

"I thought I was over it!" you say, wailing almost, as you throw your arms into the air. "They were already so distant before I left, you know? And it's been so long that I thought the feelings went away."

You huff, one hand on your hip and the other splayed over your face. "But then I saw them yesterday, and I think I nearly had a heart failure. I don't think... that those feelings went away."

When you manage to glimpse her way, Mina is wincing, teeth visible. She reaches up to scratch her hairline, almost dislodging one of the curlers she has wound in her hair. "Well, it's just one dinner... When is it? I'm sure you have plenty of time to get rid of those feelings before you--"

"It's tonight," you say with a certain level of resignation, walking over to your own bed and finally throwing yourself onto it in defeat.

"Tonight?!" Mina positively squawks, scrambling into a sitting position in her disbelief. "Uh, y/n, I do hope you haven't forgotten, but we have a show almost every night Saturday--"

"I know," you bemoan, staring at the ceiling and trying to ignore the odd marks there-- you don't have the brain space to wonder how they even got up there in the first place. "The dinner will be finished in time, I'm not worried about that. I'm just... worried about what will happen during, you know? It's kind of stupid but... what if they hate me now? I didn't even tell them when I left, didn't give them an address to write me or a number to call..."

"Yeah, that was kind of a rude move," Mina says bluntly, "But I don't think they would invite you to dinner to catch up if they hated you, y'know? They were your best friends, they probably missed the hell out of you."

You ponder her words, unable to pick them apart with logic. "Maybe," you mutter, picking at a loose thread on your blouse."... I did miss them."

"See?" Mina says knowingly, giving you a look before falling back on the bed and reaching for the chunky romance novel that she has perched on the headboard above the bed.. "And who knows— you're a hot catch, they might end up returning those feelings and you might come out of this a lucky woman! Well, probably a bit sore in certain places, but lucky nonetheless—”

"MINA!"

The pillow you threw smacks her square in the face, but does nothing to muffle the cackle she lets out after. God, she's not the first choice to come to for advice, but to her credit you do feel a bit better now.

x- x - x

Seven o’clock that evening finds you hovering nervously outside the doors to Dana's Dinery, hand outstretched to take the handle but unable to follow through completely with the movement. For the moment, you're stuck in your thoughts, and your thoughts are stuck on the same thing that had plagued them earlier in the day.

What's going to happen when you walk in there? When you're seated at the table with them and in the process of catching up? You shouldn't be as fearful of it as you are, but you can't help it. The evolution your feelings for them undertook a few years ago aside, they were still very much your best friends. Their opinion of you... well it sucks, but it still matters to you.

Didn’t stop you from doing what you did though, did it?

Huffing and deciding to ignore the nasty little voice that is attempting to make an already stressful night even worse, you force your limbs into action and simply resign to bite the bullet. If they are upset with you, then being late to dinner certainly won’t help things.

“y/n! Over here!”

With how quickly they spot you, mere seconds after passing through the doorway, a part of you wonders if they saw you hovering outside like a coward. Shame flushes across your neck and ears at the thought, but you do your best to remain at least outwardly unaffected.

Over in the booth at the very end of the diner, nestled against the window and the wall, the two men who have been haunting your thoughts for more than a day sit. You recognise the booth— it’s your Corner, you always sat there with them, to the point where if the staff saw anyone else sit there when they knew you were coming, they’d politely usher them to a new seat. It makes something shift inside you to see them there again. You don’t feel like you’re in school again, but something else feels akin to that time…

It’s probably the butterflies.

Namjoon is grinning at you widely, waving his arm; he’s ditched the leather from yesterday and is now donning a fitted black button-up that brings a nice contrast against the sun-kissed hue of his skin, though his hair is still swept into its style somewhat half-heartedly. Seokjin next to him is in a tan knit turtleneck sweater, glasses perched on his nose and hair attended to much more neatly than the man next to him. Both men are looking at you as you approach, but their stares (especially Seokjin’s) are a little too intense for you to handle, and you end up looking away as you take a seat across from them.

The booth is less squeaky than you remember, but somehow just as plush. You place your purse and cardigan onto the red leather next to you, clasping your hands together and offering a tentative smile. The soft rock tumbling from speakers around the diner isn’t going to fill the lull in conversation for very long. “Hey, sorry to have kept you waiting…”

Seokjin raises a brow, and you know in that moment that they did indeed see you hovering outside the diner. You don’t have time to process the embarrassment that follows that realisation, though, before Namjoon begins speaking with a warm smile.

“Don’t worry, you didn’t,” he informs you, eyes glimmering like he’s just happy to have you here. It makes something painful throb in your chest. “And loosen up, would you? You’re sitting like you’re at a job interview.”

To your embarrassment, a brief internal examination of your posture tells you that he is right. Sheepishly, you allow the tension to drain from your body, leaning forward onto the table slightly. “Sorry,” you mumble, offering a smile. “Guess I’m just a bit wound up from being home. I forgot how chaotic it is here…”

To your surprise, Seokijn snorts; your fears that he was truly upset with you are dispelled somewhat as a lopsided grin tugs his plush lips, eyes meeting yours levelly. “Tell me about it. My mother had my aunt and the cousins over when I got home. I haven’t felt as exhausted as I did after that night in, well, years.”

You don’t notice the smile Namjoon shoots to the man beside him when he first speaks, but you do notice when he lets out a laugh and beams so brightly that his eyes almost close and something you completely forgot about makes an appearance. His dimples have always been a weak spot of yours, and you’re slightly horrified to find that glimpsing them now has led to a skipped beat in your chest and a flutter in your stomach.

It’s not looking very good for the state of your old feelings right now…

“You never unwind properly,” Namjoon says, somewhat chastising despite his playful tone. He doesn’t pursue it further, though. Instead, he turns to you with a soft smile. “So, y/n, how was college? If you have replaced us as best friends, I will never forgive you.”

You can’t help the laugh that tumbles from your throat at both his words and his face, Seokjin chuckling to himself in the corner. Still smiling, you tell him that no, you haven’t replaced them, and sort through the events of your first year for something they’d like to hear.

Just like that, and definitely much easier and less stilted than you feared it would be, the three of you seem to sink back into something like the old dynamic you used to share, conversation beginning to flow and laughter beginning to tumble. There are some small differences, of course. Namjoon, who used to be much more clumsy and prone to blushing in his fluster, now seems to have come into his own and his presence commands your attention whenever he speaks or gestures, each movement sure and with confidence. While Seokjin used to be the more blatant joker between the three of you, now he seems to sit back a bit, observing conversation contentedly until he sees the perfect opportunity to chime in and elicit a few laughs.

And then, there’s you.

Well, you suppose you haven’t changed all that much. When Ms. Cara comes around to take your order (amongst gushing about how grown up and handsome and beautiful the three of you look), you still order the same thing from the menu, go about eating it the same way (fries before burger, being sure to leave some so you can slip them under the bun), and feel the same butterflies running amok in your stomach as you did years ago. You know that you’ve changed a lot, an almost scary amount, but sitting here in this diner with the two men who used to be your best friends, you’re only realising just how much of you is the same.

“I still don’t know how you can eat that,” Namjoon says, pausing in scarfing his own dessert down to judge you for yours. “You always used to get it— aren’t you sick of it?”

“Hey!” Seokjin intercepts, pointing his spoon at Namjoon. “The Fun Sized Sundae with the Triple Sauce Special is a respectable choice of dessert, and I won’t have you shaming it when you’re just sitting there with pudding and custard!”

You chuckle at Seokjin’s avid defence of your choice— the two of you were the only ones with a big enough sweet tooth to be able to combat the sugary monster that is your choice of dessert. He hadn’t braved it tonight, though, opting instead for apple pie.

“I actually haven’t had it since I was last here,” you say, without even thinking. Another spoonful is already on its way to your mouth as you continue, “It’s one of the things I missed most after I—”

You cut yourself off, realising your blunder too late. The looks in their eyes tell you they know what you were about to say. After I left. Ah, how could you forget? You’ve been here over an hour and this is the first time it’s crossed your mind since you entered. You left— you. Not them, but you.

Your appetite suddenly begins to fade, and you place your spoon down as gently as you can. It still tinks against the bowl, but does little to break the tension beginning to seep into the air.

You clear your throat, growing a little antsy in your seat. Even as you ask, you’re unable to meet their eyes, “Ah, what time is it? We— I got a little carried away…”

The question had mostly been to dispel some of the awkwardness, but Namjoon’s response had you shooting up ramrod straight. “It’s five-to-nine.”

“Oh, shoot,” you don’t even think about the words escaping your mouth, just that way more time had passed than you thought and if you stay any longer then you’re going to be bordering dangerously close on being late for your other very important commitment tonight. “I— I have to go. I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise how late it was.”

You hurry to gather your cardigan and purse, starting to shimmy out of the booth, when Seokjin speaks up, “Is everything alright? Where are you off to in such a rush? If you need, we can walk you—”

“No!” you burst, regret swallowing you moments later when you see how taken aback the two men are at your sudden rise in tone. “No, sorry, it’s okay. I just, um… I just have to pick up something, for Lisa’s party.”

“At nine o’clock at night?” Jin verifies, brows drawing down.

“Uh, yeah,” you say, voice small as you manage to finally get out of the booth and stand somewhat sheepishly at the end. “I’m so sorry, it was so lovely meeting you two again and catching up. I’ll, um… I’ll see you, at Lisa’s party.”

You barely allow them enough time to bid their own farewells before you’re turning on your heel and hightailing it out of there before one of them comes to their senses and offers to walk you again.

You definitely do not need one of your old best friends walking you to the entrance of a club.

A fifteen minute cab ride is what you choose instead, and it isn’t long before you’re slipping into the building from the back entrance and dashing through the halls.

“FINALLY,” Mina erupts dramatically when she catches sight of you bursting into the dressing room, brows raising so high they almost meet her bangs. “I almost thought you were going to stand us up, Miss Luna.”

Your eyes sweep over her form, alarm filling you at the fact she’s already mostly dressed, from her netted stockings to the many fluffy and feathery layers that she’ll be discarding on the stage tonight. She’s currently sitting at the dresser, putting the final touches on her makeup with small detail brushes.

“That lip colour is too orange,” you inform her, hastily rushing over to the chest that you know contains your outfit for tonight. Mina halts in her motions, staring at herself in the mirror for a long moment before she tilts her head back and lets out a loud, torturous groan.

“I knew it! Momo, you lied to me! I asked you if this colour was too orange or warm and you said—”

You shake your head, slinging the clothes you retrieved over your arm and making your way over to the screen in the corner to get changed. You feel a little bad for the girl currently on the receiving end of Mina’s whines, but on the other hand you’re now free to rush about and catch up to the rest of your co-performers.

Within the next ten minutes you’re dressed and ready to go, dropping into a seat next to Mina and reaching to begin powdering your face.

From the tingle of excitement beginning to thrum in the air, you can only assume it won’t be long now before the show begins.

x x x x

Burlesque. It’s something that you know from experience, something you’d sadly gained before you grew more skilled at hiding your profession from the judging eyes of others, has some quite divided views and opinions. Despite how open-minded and liberal as your parents are, you know even they would struggle to come to terms with the fact that their beloved daughter had moved away for college and somehow come to perform in burlesque theatres on the side.

You don’t even have a clear explanation as to how or why you’d ended up down this path, just that you had. Contrary to what a majority of the population would likely hope, you aren’t ashamed, and you don’t regret it. This is something you love, and you think part of the reason you had been so drawn to it in the first place was the promise of power nestled within a certain kind of anonymity.

Your act, after all, is a masquerade performed beneath the security of an intricate lace and silk colombina disguise.

When you’d first left, you’d felt… well, there wasn’t any other way to put it but rejected, and abandoned. You might have been the one that left, and it’s something you regret now, but at the time it was Namjoon and Jin who had grown distant from both each other and you. Coupled with their increasing popularity and the way their lives seemed to be picking up speed in the direction they’d always dreamed of, it made you realise that their world was getting a little too big for you, and in the scheme of their lives you no longer held a starring role.

So you’d packed up and moved away, and in the midst of your aimless moping in another city, you’d stumbled upon this… and from the first taste of empowerment it gave you in the wake of all you had been feeling, you quickly decided you weren’t going to be letting it go anytime soon.

And now here you are; an act with such high regard and admiration that you had been called to perform it in other cities. It was a stroke of fortune that one of the stops was your own hometown, at the same time as your sister’s engagement party no less. You had wondered at the time what the catch had to be, and now, of course, you know.

It’s that in an instance of divinely aligned misfortune, the two people you’d planned to avoid indefinitely happened to be here as well.

It’s been a few days since the night you spent catching up with them, and there is enough distance between then and now for you to have calmed significantly when thinking about it. It had been kind of weird, sneaking away from the diner to come perform that night. Even though years have passed, you’re still so used to telling them everything whenever you see them, that holding something back feels foreign, and oddly enough… you feel a little guilty. The first excuse that comes to your mind in your defence is that ‘they wouldn’t understand anyway’. You know that is baseless, though. Both of them have become popular and risen to fame not just because of their natural musical talent, but for the topics that their music so brazenly broaches.

The truth is that you know they wouldn’t judge you for anything you do, and you’re not quite sure why you’re so resistant to them knowing. The human mind is a mystery, and yours is no exception.

A slow, smooth saxophone melody brushes your ears, a lower note capturing your attention and bringing you back to the present moment. Amongst the faint tendrils of smoke that reach you from the seating area, an itch rises at your brow and you fight to contain it, not wanting to rub off the thin arch you’d drawn on so carefully earlier. It was always like this; you always got itchy before performing, for reasons unknown to you. One of your friends had theorised that it was due to nerves, or something similar. It drove your manager mad, because you’d ripped your costume pantyhose a few times while scratching your thighs in the past.

Mina’s act precedes yours, usually, and tonight isn’t any different. She’s good, and you can’t help but marvel as you watch her. Her movements are fluid, full of a certain zest and allure that mix into a single heady cocktail that has the crowd enraptured as she allows her skirts to drop ever so slowly with each smooth swing and sashay of her hips. When the ruffled fabric hits the floor there are hoots and whistles from the crowd, and Mina’s beaming face peeks over her shoulder to deliver a wink. The room eats it up.

It’s a special performance, tonight.

Due to confidentiality, none of the performers had been told exactly who was attending tonight, just that they were Very Important People, and they were to be shown the best performance they would ever see in their lives. It was an ambitious set of instructions, but you know that both yourself and the other girls in the show are some of the best in the business, so you aren’t too worried about meeting expectations. You plan to exceed them.

You always put effort into your appearance, but tonight you admit that you did try the tiniest bit harder than usual. Your hair is pulled back from your face, twisted and pinned into curls at the top of your head; the rest of it you simply allowed to hang to its natural length and shape, though you took care to make sure it was soft and silky enough to gleam beneath the stage lights. At Mina’s insistence, you’d allowed her to pin a few small glittery ornaments amongst the curls, and as you peek out and see just how full the room is, you find yourself thanking her mentally. It’s the little details that really pull together a performance and hammer home the effect it has on the audience, and it looks like a full house tonight that you’re going to wow. Though, none of the faces seem to jump out at you so far— you still don’t know who tonights VIPs are.

Even though tonight is meant to be a big, important night — as it had been emphasised to you so many times — you still find your thoughts wondering back to a certain two men and the reappearance of the feelings you’d once harboured for them. You’re conflicted, as anyone might expect of someone in your situation, but you can’t say you’re very fond of the feeling. Hence, despite your best efforts, your thoughts just keep coming back to your current predicament. Lisa’s party is tomorrow, and you know from yesterday’s visit to your home that your mother had already extended an enthusiastic invitation to both families on either side of the fence. So you know that there is absolutely no way that those two aren’t going to be there, since even if they hadn’t already expressed their intention of attending, their mother’s would drag them over by the ear.

You’re not sure why you’re still worrying about this. You already met and caught up with them! And it went well… or at least it did, until the topic of your abrupt disappearance from their lives was brought up.

Perhaps that is why you’re so conflicted still. That is an issue that has yet to be resolved.

When you tune back in to the moment and catch your manager sending you a whithering look, you shake your head and decide to try and ground yourself so that you’re not off with the fairies by the time your cue to perform rolls around. You bring your gaze back to the stage, finding that in the time you spent in your own head, Mina had managed to strip down to just her shelf brassiere and the panties and baby blue garter belt with straps that stretched over her shapely thighs and attached to the top of her stockings.

You get lost in the moment, watching as the spotlight follows her across the stage and illuminates each small gesture she makes that draws the audience further and further under her spell. Her hair is perfectly curled and with each flick of her head and bat of her lashes, the strands slide over her shoulder and bounce against her back. As she reaches for her final garment to discard, it isn’t long before the light fades in tandem with the last note of her song, and the audience gets only the barest glimpse of Mina’s almost bare form before the stage is blanketed in darkness. Cheers and applause break the beat of silence that follows, and then Mina is hurriedly rushing past you, beaming with pride and holding most of her discarded skirts bunched up to her chest. Soon, the applause fades out, the hollers nonexistent, and the stage is cleared.

Now, it’s your turn to wrap the audience around your finger.

Taking a deep breath and revelling in the light fluttering of your stomach that never seems to fade no matter how many shows you perform, you listen for the first few strumming notes of the song that accompanies your routine. When the low, bass riff of guitar finally brushes the air, you make your way slowly onto the stage and let yourself fall into the familiarity of the show.

It’s kind of ironic, you can’t help but think to yourself. Considering the events of this week, the song you’d chosen to tailor your routine to is kind of funny. For the first few years of their careers, you’d seen Namjoon and Seokjin simply go their separate ways. You thought that would be it, that your friendship had broken up for good, but to your complete and utter surprise, at the beginning of this year there had been a new record to grace the radio and enrapture young fans across the country. An unexpected collaboration between two of the biggest figureheads of the rock and rebellion movement that had started to sweep through the youth.

When you had first heard the song, you’d done a double-take. It wasn’t anything like the rapid, upbeat rock that came to be synonymous with Seokjin’s name, or the heavier, laidback tune that usually accompanied Namjoon’s records. The beat that lay beneath the lyrics was sultry, deep and dark and made your heart skip a beat and your stomach dip. However when the lyrics registered in your mind, you’d had to fight the urge to cry. They weren’t strictly sad, per se, but to you… they had spoken a little deeper. It felt paranoid to think it, but a part of you had to wonder at how… targeted… the song had seemed to be—

Was it made... for you?

You wouldn’t be caught dead admitting it aloud to anyone or even yourself, but you liked to think so. It helped, when you found yourself missing them and yearning for the way things had been. It soothed the traitorous aching of a heart that didn’t seem to remember that the choice to leave hadn’t been theirs, but rather yours.

In the version that accompanies your performance, there are no vocals. Even so, the beat is easily recognisable and as it begins to play, an excited murmur sweeps through the crowd. Something about it is a little odd, but currently your back is turned to the audience, so you don’t get to investigate the feeling. Instead, you let each note that enters the air and brushes against your skin to soak into your being, closing your eyes for the barest second to centre yourself before you feel the heat of the lights begin to grace your skin, and you start to slowly swing your hips.

It is only instruments that brush your ears now, but you can hear the opening lines of the song so clearly in your head you can’t help but mouth them in time.

We're part of the moonlight, Ain't a fantasy...

Can't breathe in the sunlight, Gotta hide your heart...

Following the rise and fall of the beat, you turn your head over your shoulder to deliver a sly smile and a wink, moving your hips all the while— a round of catcalls and surprised murmurs results. You are the only one of the performers to wear a mask after all, so you’re not surprised by the response. Turning back around, your ease yourself into the familiar motions of your routine and let the song and atmosphere carry you away.

At any other time, you would probably find it funny how second nature stripping yourself of your clothes has become. The silky gown that drapes over your shoulders and ends in faux fur ruffles that trail across the floor is the first to go, revealing the entirety of your stocking-clad legs through a sheer petticoat, and the corset and cushioned bandeau that hides a sheer, cheekily embroidered bralette beneath. The audience eats the reveal right up and at the enthusiastic response, your chest swells with pride. You’re smiling, but with a flick of your wrist you snap open a fan and use it to cover the bottom half of your face, leaving only your eyes to peer out at the crowd from behind the mask. You’d discovered early on that a little bit of mystery keeps them intrigued a little longer.

You don’t pay much mind to the audience as individuals; more often than not, when you perform they become a faceless blur. But as your routine goes on and your body follows each sultry move to the beat, one item of clothing discarded after the other, you find yourself paying a little more attention than you usually would.

It’s as the top part of your corset meets the floor and your sheer bralette is exposed that your eyes sweep over a certain portion of the room, and you realise very suddenly and abruptly who the guests of honour are tonight.

And you cannot believe the atrocity of your luck.

Two familiar faces return your gaze from the centre-back portion of the room, in one of the deluxe booths. It’s a wonder you can recognise them through the haze of smoke created by cigars and cigarettes, but you think that you’d be hard-pressed not to, at this point. Seokjin and Namjoon sit back comfortably in the booth with two unfamiliar men on either side of them, their eyes lit with a certain kind of intrigue and focused solely on you. For a heartbeat, your chest feels so tight you can’t take in a breath, stomach fluttering. Just barely, you manage to maintain your face and stop yourself from stumbling in your routine. The beginning of panic begins to bubble beneath your lungs, but in a split-second it is stopped in its tracks as something seems to snap inside you and you come to a realisation.

You’re wearing a mask. They don’t know it’s you.

It strikes you again, the way they eyes are trained on your every move, and it knocks you breathless once more, though for a different reason this time. Exhilaration begins to course through you— you feel powerful. When you were with them the other day, the weight of the knowledge of your wrongs and your guilt held you on unequal ground. But now, here in the heady allure and smoky seduction in this room, you have them in the palm of your hands and the dynamic is switched, if only for a moment.

With barely a moment having lapsed since your initial realisation, you slip right back into the next move in your dance, each shift of a limb accompanied with just that little bit more oomph than before. This is their song, the song you suspect they wrote for you, and since you don’t think you will ever be able to forget it, or them, you will make sure they won’t forget this.

One fluid movement leads to the next, the beat picking up ever so slightly as you bend, legs straight and behind pointed at the crowd, before easing your way back up and unclasping the hooks that keep your corset together. When it falls, you turn and bend once more, this time facing the audience so that they see it when you push your breasts together and wriggle your shoulders, a cheeky wink accompanying the resulting jiggle of your chest.

More hoots and hollers, as expected of an audience that seems to completely consist of men tonight, and you’re pleased to see that the two guests of the hour aren’t completely unaffected either. Namjoon is leaning forward slightly, gaze intense, and Seokjin’s eyes have narrowed in focus as they follow you across the stage.

Following each note in the song, you strut across the stage, and when there is a pause before it picks up once more, you drop to your knees and reach forward to the floor, arching your back with your behind to the audience again. Using the strength you’ve built in your thighs over the years, you slide one leg up and turn yourself around, using the momentum to slip into an abridged version of the splits. While in this position you bend backwards, one arm reaching back to unravel the ribbon that keeps your flimsy bralette up. When you feel it come loose, you bring your hands to each piece and make a faux-shocked expression, ever so slowly peeling the sheer fabric down and revelling in the way the room is watching with bated breath.

Your breasts bounce as you yank the bralette all the way down, the tassels that were hidden beneath and keep the barest remainder of your dignity intact jiggling with the movement. Using the cheers that result as a distraction of sorts, you deftly remove the bralette with one hand and discard it slyly on the floor, bringing yourself out of the splits but moving to another position on your knees, sliding your legs apart. There are a few soft gasps and sharp inhales that echo from the front of the crowd, and you can tell from the way their eyes are focused on the inside of your thighs that they’ve glimpsed the pretty picture inked into your skin there. You don’t leave their gazes to wonder too long though, reaching up to pinch the dangling ornaments of your tassels and using them to lift your breasts. You ignore the low, pleasurable tingle that shoots through you at the sensation of tugging on your nipples, fighting to keep your legs open, and release the tassels from your grip. Your breasts bounce generously once more, cheers sounding across the room at the sight. You deliver a wink, before bringing yourself off of the floor in a fluid movement, hearing the final notes of the song beginning to play and a low, sexy saxophone drawl emerging to intertwine with the rest.

The end of your routine passes in a blur, your mind slipping into a haze as you simply move, barely aware of the way you dance and sashay across the stage. A feathery boa situated strategically to the side becomes incorporated in your final moves, allowing the audience peeks at what they can’t have and drawing them further and further in until the music hits a crescendo and with it, you fall into your final pose.

The last thing you see, as the lights begin to dim and the crowd erupts into applause, is the way Seokjin and Namjoon’s eyes are boring holes into you, transfixed on the place where your hip meets the inside of your thigh and the intricate depiction of a crescent moon and a rose that are inked into the skin there.

x x x

“...sweetheart? Is there a reason why you haven’t gone outside yet? Everyone is by the pool with those wonderful finger foods your Aunt brought with her!”

You startle at the sound of your mother’s voice, almost dropping the grape that had been en route to your mouth as you stared into nothing, rooted in place in the middle of the kitchen. The day of your sister’s engagement party has come, faster than you were able to prepare for, and now that you’re no longer on the stage staring down your two ex-best friends from behind a mask, you’ve lost a lot of your gall. In fact, it could even be argued that your spine had slipped right out of your body the second you stepped off the stage that night. It’s the early afternoon, and Namjoon and Seokjin have been here for about… perhaps half an hour. You don’t claim to be perfect, but the way you’ve been skulking about and hiding in the kitchen is pathetic even to you.

It’s just… how do you face them after that? They’ve technically seen you almost completely in the nude! If your grandmother ever caught wind of the fact that a man had seen you without clothes then she’d marry you off immediately— not to mention if she ever found out Seokjin and Namjoon, of all men, had seen you like that, she would have an absolute field day!

It was bordering on disheartening, but at this point, even after all this time, you’re pretty sure most of your family loves those two more than they love you.

“I, um… just wanted some grapes?” you blink, offering a sheepish smile that you hope your mother doesn’t find suspicious. That is quickly shot down when you see her brow raise and her bright cherry lips quirk to the side, eyes flicking to the empty glass by the grapes that reeks of gin. What can you say, you thought downing a glass would help you cope, but you’d been wrong.

“Uhuh…” Your mother says, folding her arms and leaning her hip against the bench; the fullness of her skirt swishes behind her in an echo of the movement. “Well, now that you’ve eaten half of the vine, maybe go outside? Mrs Kim has been asking where you are, I think she missed you almost as much as we did.”

Your brows furrow, “Wait, which Mrs K—”

“Off you go, sweetheart!”

You don’t even get to finish whatever you were saying because your mother moves into the kitchen solely to chase you out of it. You drag your feet as she herds you out— or at least, you do before she reaches for the kitchen towel by the oven and starts twisting it.

“I’m going!” you promptly flee after grabbing a handful of grapes to-go, holding up a proverbial white flag. Your mother is a little too good at turning mundane household items into a weapon. Now she’s put the fear of god back in you, you find yourself thinking that it’s no wonder your father has always been so well-behaved compared to the stories some of your friends would tell you about their own parents.

It’s a beautiful day, really. It’s part of the reason you were annoyed at yourself for hiding inside, even if it was only for about half an hour. The sun is out, the sky is clear, and while the sunlight warms your skin there is a cool breeze every so often that keeps you from overheating. Some of your younger cousins are in the pool, and have probably been there since around ten minutes after they arrived an hour or so ago. You’d barely gotten a hug in greeting before they were off, the backyard pool held a little more favourably in their eyes for the moment than their own flesh and blood.

They’re cute, though, so you decide that perhaps just this once you will let them get away with it. You’re going to rain down a storm of kisses on them before they leave, though. No one ignores you for an inanimate object and gets away with it!

As you exit the house and step beneath the sun, the skin of your arms and lower legs warming instantly, you just barely manage to dodge as one of your cousins comes bolting past you, followed barely a second later by his mother, your aunt, who is hotter on his heels than you might have anticipated for a woman her age.

“Jackson! You better get back here with those patties, boy, or you’re gonna regret it!”

You know you shouldn’t laugh, because it will encourage the bad behaviour, but the sight is so funny you just can’t help the way you burst into giggles, shaking your head and turning in the direction of the large gazebo that is rooted by the pool and is currently sheltering most of the guests from the sun. A quick scan also reveals that the lady of the hour, your sister, is over there too. Your eyes narrow when they catch sight of the champagne glass in her hand; hopefully she’s forgotten any and all things you’ve told her in confidence recently, or else they’re about to become public knowledge.

“Ah, y/n, just a moment!”

You pause in your steps, turning just in time to catch in your arms the plate of small pastries your mother shoves into your hold.

“Wh—” you don’t get to question her, as she simply flashes you a bright grin and nods her head to the table. “Take these over there, will you? And make sure Jin and Joon get some, I made their favourite!”

And then she is off, shooting back into the house and leaving you on the grass. At the delicious smell that wafts up to your nose, you send a cursory look down at the plate and hum in recognition,ignoring the way your mouth salivates. Ah, these are their favourites. This plate probably won’t last very long when you bring it over there.

You’re on your way once more, now with the plate of sweets in tow, and the closer to the gazebo you grow you catch the sound of the radio, on one of the channels most popular with the youth and playing one of Lisa’s favourite songs. She’s dancing, dragging her friend Rose with her, giggling like a madwoman as she does so. It brings a smile to your face without you even realising.

“Oh, y/n! There you are! Where have you been? We thought you might have gotten lost!”

Your attention is drawn to the side of the gazebo closest to the pool, where a few people are lounging in the chairs there, beers and glasses with clear, bubbling contents that you can only assume is gin and tonic on the table and in hand. The older woman who called you over with such a teasing tone is Mrs Kim— well, one of them. Both the Kims are here, and you realise belatedly that of course, their sons are too. It was Seokjin’s mother that noticed you, and as you make your way over you see Namjoon’s mother next to her, and the two men in question in the lounging chairs opposite. They seem to light up at your arrival, and you try not to think about the way their reaction makes your stomach flutter. You aren’t here for them, you’re here for their mothers!

“Sorry,” you apologise, leaning and placing the plate down on the small table in the middle of the seats. Straightening, you dust your hands against the patterned skirt you have buttoned over your matching swimsuit. “I did get a bit lost, there’s so many kids here right now I thought I might have turned up in the wrong house.”

Both women erupt into laughter at your words, and you take the opportunity to smile at Jin and Namjoon, offering a timid wave. They return it, before following your finger as it points to the plate and they realise you’ve brought them their favourite baked goods.

“Cinnamon scrolls!” Namjoon croons, material of his navy button-up creasing as he hastily leans forward to swipe one off the plate. “And they’re shaped like little fish, like she always used to do! I can’t believe your mother made them today.”

“Of course,” you say, snorting lightly. “She’d do anything for her two favourite sons. She made it because they’re your favourites.”

The two of them beam in pride at that, before proceeding to consume the plate of sweets.

“Ah, and she sent you too, sweet y/n! Our favourite daughter! And even more stunning than I remember, right Soo-ah?”

Seokjin’s mother, Jia, hastily reclaims the conversation and succeeds in making you flush pink at her words. Jisoo, Namjoon’s mother, instantly nods, her short curls bouncing with the action, and shoots you a devious grin.

“It’s been so long since we saw you last, y/n. You didn’t get a husband while you were away, right? We still want you as our daughter-in-law, you know.”

This time it’s not only you that feels the embarrassment heat your cheeks— to your side, both men choke on the mouthful of scroll they’d been in the process of devouring, Seokjin’s face going bright red as he brings his fist to hit his chest and attempts to dislodge the pastry. Amongst his own struggling, Namjoon reaches to smack his friend on the back, clearing his own throat.

“Ah, no…” you say, awkward and smoothing your skirt to distract yourself; it feels like the eyes of the entire party are on you, despite the fact you know better. “I’ve just been focusing on school…”

“Oh, tell me, dear, do you still do those wonderful paintings? I still have that one you gifted me for my birthday before you left.”

Namjoon follows up on his mother’s question, shooting you a smile that somehow is a combination of both bashful and proud. It makes a dimple pop in his cheek. “She still has it displayed above the dining table, actually. She nearly killed me when I almost knocked it by accident a few days ago.”

Jisoo doesn’t even bat a lash, smiling at you brightly— though a bit drunkenly, if the almost-finished glass in her hand is anything to go by. You’re surprised— you know from all the dinner parties your three families held over the years that despite their petite stature and classy, ladylike countenance, both Kim women can outdrink their husbands and your father. You wonder just how much they must have had already to have such silly grins on their faces.

“I do!” You answer, feeling your chest warm in affection. It was silly to have ever doubted it, but it made you feel somewhat eased to know that you haven’t lost your place in their lives despite your departure. “But, actually, while away I actually took up sculpting. I’ve been doing that a bit more…”

“Oh, are you talking about your works, sweetheart? Ah Jisoo, Jia— they’re absolutely wonderful! I have photos that she brought, here let me go get them—”

You feel heat flush to the tips of your ears, greeting the arrival of your mother with an embarrassed look. “Alright, let’s not bash ears about it—”

“Oh!” Jia and Jisoo perk up at your mother's exclamation, and you shrink into your seat as you watch her reach into one of the hidden pockets in her skirt and pull out a handful of small photos that you’d printed to show her. Your hubris seems to have come to nip you in the bottom. “I forgot I popped them in my pocket to show you earlier! Here, see— isn’t she just so talented? My baby girl must have been the absolute queen of her department.”

All three parents are oblivious to the way you’re shrinking into your seat in mortification, but Seokjin and Namjoon are anything but. They’re grinning at you, relishing in your discomfort much like they used to.

“Hey, y/n, could you get us another drink? I’d go get it, but your mother actually told me earlier I wasn’t allowed in the kitchen until she’s finished with the pastries…”

You shoot him a grateful look, shooting to your feet and slipping out of the little seating area. “Yup, doing that! Getting drinks! Be right back, don’t wait up!”

Though you doubt any of the adults heard you, they didn’t wait anyway. In fact, in the time it took you to head into the kitchen and bring back three drinks on a tray, your mother has since downed her glass and has started on another topic of conversation. Thankfully, the victim is no longer you.

“Oh, Namjoon, where are your peepers?!” Your mother gasps suddenly as you return, pointing at the man beside you. There’s the barest slur accenting her words, and you resign yourself here and now to a night of loose-lipped blabbering from both your sister and your mother. “I’m not goin’ crazy am I? You used to run into things all the time when you were a kid ‘cause you were blind as a bat!”

Namjoon winces, but Seokjin bursts into laughter. Glad for the conversational shift, you take one of the last remaining chairs and settle down, your own drink now in hand. Namjoon reaches for the refill you had brought him, using the opportunity to hide his face, and only when Jin has settled down does he manage to wipe his eyes and claim his own glass.

“I’m tryin’ out something new,” Namjoon answers after a hearty gulp, clearing his throat. He reaches to scratch the back of his neck bashfully. “Lenses, I think they’re called. They’re convenient, especially when I’m performing, but they’re expensive and so dang fragile I’m gonna need to take out insurance on them or somethin’.”

“Isn’t this your last set?” Seokjin queries knowingly, laughing as Namjoon grimaces. “Don’t worry, he’ll be back in the peepers you know and love by the end of the week. If he doesn’t break them, he loses them.”

You half expect Namjoon to be irked but he just sighs with a small smile, apparently having made peace by now with the clumsiness and two left feet that have haunted him since childhood.

Your mother decides to tease Namjoon a little more, before she changes the topic and starts gushing about their career, and how she can hardly go a day or two without hearing one of their songs on the radio. All three women are beaming with pride, and though slightly bashful about it you can see Namjoon and Seokjin’s chests swell slightly.

Lisa, the star of today’s show, happens to walk by right when your mother is interrogating them about where they’ve chosen to settle down for the meantime, and eagerly joins the conversation.

“Ah, cool cats like you must be absolutely rolling in dough by now! How many mansions do you have already?” Lisa laughs, looking for a free seat and simply sitting on you when she doesn’t find one. She’s quite a bit heavier than you remember, and you feel your breath wheeze out of you at her abrupt drop onto your legs.

“Unfortunately, none,” Namjoon laughs, gesturing to his mother, “Though, the pressure is on. I think ‘Ma wants a nice place to retire before my career is over.”

Jisoo takes a sip to hide her sheepish grin, crossing one leg over the other and smoothing her skirt afterwards. Seokjin lets out a soft chuckle before he turns to your mother and answers the question she’d asked earlier.

“We have a sweet pad back in the fat city, actually. We both were leanin’ to the same penthouse with the best view but in the end decided to compromise and split it.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” you mother exclaims, eyes alight. The last time she’d looked this excited was when you told her you were staying for the whole week. “It’s so good to hear that the two of you stuck together even though you’re such big news now!”

Guilt. You bring your glass to your mouth and take a large gulp in an effort to drown it, the tart fizz of gin and tonic barely disguising the familiar curl of guilt in your gut. Perhaps if you ignore it, it will go away.

“Oh, speaking of— that latest record the two of you released together, it really does razz my berries like nothin’ else!” Lisa gushes, throwing a hand out to wriggle her fingers for emphasis. “It’s real hip and different from all your other tracks. Trust you two to be settin’ trends!”

Starting to get slightly tipsy now from the generous downing of your drink, you can’t help how you chime in with little thought, “Oh, I really do love that one. It’s perfect to dance to.”

“A dance?” Lisa queries, turning to pin you with a confused look over her shoulder. You realise your slip up in that moment, when you glance to the side and see both men looking at you with unreadable expressions. “It’s a bit slow for a dance, I think.”

“You can dance to anything,” Namjoon swoops in and unknowingly saves you, shrugging nonchalantly. The expression that was present on his face earlier is gone now, but it takes a split second longer to fade from Seokjin’s features.

Sinking into your chair as much as you can with Lisa’s weight pinning your legs down, you bring the glass to your mouth once more.

Slip-up aside, you can only hope it won’t be as difficult to get through this party as you thought.

x - x - x

The day has progressed nicely and as daylight begin to bleed into night, your father emerged to help man the barbecue and dinner was served — it was a somewhat rowdy affair, given how much alcohol the party had consumed up until that point. After eating their fill, most of your relatives and small cousins went home — they have a strict bedtime to uphold, after all. You made good on your promise to smother the little ones in kisses as they left, and it was with pink cheeks and bright grins that they bid you farewell.

It’s getting well into the night at this point, and only a few guests are left. Lisa is inside with a cluster of her friends and her fiance, your mother and the Kims are underneath the gazebo with their husbands— this has left you by the pool with Namjoon and Seokjin. They’d gotten a little bold earlier and when you’d teased them about something, you’d had an unceremonious reunion with the pool. It was startlingly similar to what occured right before your mother took that photo hanging in your room, and made an odd mixture of affection, nostalgia, and something a little bit bittersweet settle in your abdomen.

Just as it had the other time you’d met with the two, any tension and awkwardness had quickly melted away as the evening progressed. A few drinks in your systems and anything and everything is now water under the bridge. All too easily the three of you had fallen back into the same comfortable, playful air that you’d always known—

That you’d missed so much.

You’re lounging now in one of the rubber duck-shaped floaties your mother bought recently (she’d made you blow it up, gushing all the while about what a bargain she’d gotten on it and the companion swan floatie). Your head is more than pleasantly fuzzy, and you decide as you finish this glass that perhaps you’re done drinking for the night. You kick your legs lazily, feeling the heavy material of your skirt swish in the water as you propel yourself around the pool. Normally, the skirt is meant to come off before you take a dip. However given the nature of your entry into the pool, you hadn’t exactly had an opportunity to discard it.

“No, no— I remember it cleary— clearly.” Seokjin waves his hand, finger pointing at Namjoon— the man in question is cackling in the deep end, falling off the swan floatie that he was attempting to climb onto. Both men are at the point in the night where they are beginning to slur their words, and to be fair you’re not much different. You’d lost count of how many times either of them have slipped up in their words. “It wasn’t me who fell and broke y/n’s coffee table. From what I remember, it was your buttocks that hit it.”

“But you pushed me!” Any attempts on Namjoon’s behalf to hide his grin and even pretend to be angry prove to be fruitless. He has the same dumb dimpled grin on his face that you remember from your teen years. “It was uncalled for, assault!”

“You!” Seokjin’s mouth drops open, his legs kicking in the pool in his outrage. Namjoon’s eyes almost disappear as he cackles, throwing his head back. It melds into the sounds of the festivities over by the gazebo, where the radio and Lisa’s own gleeful laughter echo into the night. “y/n can confirm, it was Joon, right?!”

You put your arms behind your head, pretending to lounge back on the floatie despite how tentative your position is on the slippery rubber. “I don’t recall, suddenly I can’t think.”

“Yah!”

Your jubilant laughter means that you don’t see it when Seokjin slips completely into the pool, diving beneath the water to where you’re lounging and coming up beneath you. A scream rips from your throat as you're flipped from the floatie, tumbling backwards and into the water with a hefty splash to boot.

When you come back up, gasping breaths above the surface turning into laughter, it takes a moment for realisation to reach you through the sluggish fog in your brain that your skirt has detached. Still laughing, you catch sight of it and reach for it where it’s floating across the pool, recognising the sound of the two males guffawing behind you. When you slip on the bottom of he pool for a moment and get water up your nose, you decide that perhaps it’s time for you to call it a night soon.

“Woah, bubs, are you okay?”

When you slip again, a strong arm catches around your waist like an iron bar, holding you to the surface. Blinking the water out of your lashes, you turn to see the owner; the breath is startled out of you as your gaze meet the dark depths of Seokjin’s own. His hair is still dripping, an inky wayward mess atop his head, and the t-shirt he’d donned as he first entered the pool so long ago is clinging to each line and plane of his body.

For a moment, yearning and a feeling all too familiar takes up the space of your lungs, and you find that you can’t breathe.

“I think… I think it’s time to call it a night,” you manage to say, a new kind of lightheadedness emerging to addle your thoughts. You turn, breaking the hold Seokjin’s gaze has on you to seek out the edge of the pool. You feel his eyes bore holes into you for a moment longer, before two hands come to grip your waist and he moves you through the water to the rim of the pool.

“Probably for the best,” Seokjin says, grip tightening in a split-second of warning before he heaves you up and onto the brick that lines the poolside. Off-kilter and unexpecting of the movement as you were, you have to balance yourself with your legs, which almost end up smacking Seokjin in the side. Through your inebriation, you don’t realise the way your thighs have parted in the process, the detached skirt in your hand doing little to cover you where it is laying sopping wet on the brick.

“You’re being almost as clumsy as—” You’re also so busy trying to quell the fluttering in your stomach and find your bearings you also don’t notice the way Seokjin’s eyes move unwittingly down your form, falling to your thigh at eye-level. “...Namjoon.”

You blink, eyes finally focusing but heartbeat still thrumming in your ears.

“I don’t know if I will ever be that clumsy,” you manage to say, as comprehensible as possible. Seokjin’s hands leave your waist as you stumble to your feet, wringing out your skirt before attempting to button the drenched garment back up above your hips.

“Hey!”

At Namjoon’s outcry, you grin and bring your hand up in a wave.

“I’ll see you guys later,” you drunkenly promise, completely forgetting that in a few days, you’ll be out of this town and out of their lives once more. “Goodnight, you two.”

They return the sentiment, and you grab a towel from one of the poolside chairs, wrapping it around yourself and making your way back in. You miss the way that their eyes follow you as you leave their sight and reenter the warmth and light of your home.

x - x - x - x

The night has drawn to a close, and the two men have long since climbed from the pool and dried off with the fluffy towels your mother so generously laid out for them before she got too tispy. A sharp look from their own mothers reminded them earlier that there are still plates to clear and things to tidy, so despite being guests they do their best amongst the alcohol-induced fog clouding their minds to help clean up the aftermath of Lisa’s engagement party.

As they do so, the same thing is true for both of them: there is a lot on their minds.

Seokjin had to turn to Namjoon earlier to confirm what he’d seen, and when he saw the man in question already looking at him with wide eyes, he knew he hadn’t just drunkenly imagined it. They both saw it, the glimpse of a strikingly familiar picture peeking from the inside of your thigh. They’d seen that very same tattoo in the very same place just a few nights ago, only last time the owner had remained a masked mystery. Now, they’d glimpsed the same image on the body of their childhood friend, the girl they’d both fallen in love with and subsequently drifted apart over only years ago because they were young and jealous and stupid. But, things are different now; they’re now only two of those things, and after they made up over a year ago their friendship is stronger than ever, in… more ways than one.

But despite how much has changed over the years, there is still one thing that has remained constant; and that is their feelings for you.

Truthfully, after not seeing you for so long, they had started to think perhaps they were finally getting over you. Impossible as it had seemed, considering how smitten they were. A cold realisation washed over them the second they saw you again, though, that those feelings hadn’t disappeared like they had suspected, but simply remained dormant. Seeing you at the diner and finally getting to catch up after being apart so long, missing you so much, had pretty much cemented that. When they’d returned to their hotel room after, they didn’t need to say a word and only shared a look to know they had both come to the same conclusion.

They were both irrevocably, pathetically, undoubtedly still in love with you, even after all these years.

Then had come the show.

It was the reason they’d returned to this town, technically. An important friend of theirs had invited them both to celebrate the success of their latest record and talk about future opportunities; the location happened to be a club currently hosting a highly regarded burlesque set. They’d felt the second the final masked performer had come on stage that there was something odd, something special about her. She had used their song, on her thigh had been a tattoo that tickled something in the back of their minds, and there was something in the way she moved that had been so jarringly familiar, but neither had been able to pin where they had seen her before.

Until tonight, that is.

It hadn’t been an intentional reveal on your part, but there on your thigh had been the exact same tattoo they’d glimpsed in the club, and they’d known the second they saw it that it wasn’t a common design. At first, on the night, Seokjin thought that it might have struck them because it was drawn similarly to how you always used to doodle moons on all of your schoolbooks, and now it all made sense.

The only thing left to consider is, what do they do now that they know?

“Oh, my boys— my precious, helpful, lovely boys!”

The two men turn in tandem, easily catching sight of your mother as she stumbles her way over to them. They were in the process of moving some of the plates to the kitchen before they heard her drunken cooing, and Seokjin finds himself thanking the heavens they’d put them down quickly because in the next second your mother is throwing her arms around them and they’re being yanked down to her height from the sheer strength of her grip.

“I missed you two, we all missed you two,” she blubbers, hugging them close like she’s worried they might slip away into the night the second she loosens her hold. A second shy of suffocating them, she finally releases her grip, and they straighten with warm faces. Namjoon knows without even having to check that he’s got a real goofy grin on his mug right now.

“We missed you too,” Seokjin says, and he means it. Your family and Namjoon’s family are both pretty much his own at this point, and he’d found himself missing every single member while he was away. Each time he returned home, he was sure to visit the other two houses at the end of the cul-de-sac, though the times he’d been able to actually make his way back to his home town were unfortunately few and far between. The same is the case for Namjoon, as he knows, except likely a bit worse since he knows Namjoon has always been a real Mummy’s boy.

“But I doubt it was as much as we missed you!” Your mother argues, and it makes both men smile. The next few words to escape her mouth knock the expression straight off their faces, though. “y/n especially. Oh, I remember she was so heartbroken when you three started growing apart. I think part of the reason she left was to get away from it. The way she used to talk about you boys…” Her gaze slips to the side, eyes slightly hazy in recollection. “I thought for sure that she was going to end up marrying one of you.”

They don’t even get a good second to unpack that, before the haze leaves your mother’s eyes and she is giggling, leaning forward with a cheeky glint in her eyes that they know for sure they’ve seen in your own. She brings her hand up to shield her mouth as she whispers in a voice that is not at all as quiet as she likely thinks it is, “It’s a bit improper, but I think she used to like both of you.”

Namjoon chokes on his own spit, and Seokjin’s mouth falls slack. “What?”

Your mother merely giggles, leaning back and spinning on her heel. “Thank you so much for your help, boys, but you ought to be on your way! Your mothers are about to head home and neither of them are walking in a very straight line.”

She halts, turning over her shoulder to shoot them a wide grin. “I’m glad you two came. Thank you.”

And then she is gone, and a blanket of silence falls over the kitchen. Seokjin and Namjoon turn their heads, locking gazes.

Well, at least now they know what to do.

x — x — x

You swear there is something odd in the air of the club this evening.

It’s something subtle, and none of the other girls seem to have noticed it; they continue as always, tittering away in the dressing rooms and giggling amongst themselves when one of them makes a joke that probably shouldn’t be repeated outside the room. It’s the last night you will be performing here, and also the last night you will be staying. You were planning on making a quick visit home tomorrow morning to say farewell to your parents and congratulate your sister once more, before being on your way. You hadn’t decided yet whether you were going to go out of your way to track down Seokjin and Namjoon to say goodbye to them as well, but the idea of it… well, it sets your belly alight with nerves. You have no idea what you would say, and you know — you know— in your gut that doing it would revive the elephant in the room that you’ve all been ignoring up until now.

But if you don’t, then you’ll be doing the exact same thing you did last time, and this time around you don’t know if you’ll get their forgiveness, let alone deserve it.

By this point in the evening, you’ve already slipped into your costume and powdered your face. Since you wear a mask while on stage, you don’t really need to apply any heavy makeup around your brows and eyes; you usually settle for accentuating them naturally.

Mina has disappeared since you last saw her, which is odd since she usually lingers to talk your ear off about any handsome faces she might spy in the crowd as the room beyond the stage begins to fill. You’d started to look for her earlier, seeking a distraction from the depressing inner monologue you have running, but hadn’t managed to find her. This means that for the past half hour or so you’ve been left to your own devices, fiddling with different parts of your dress and costume like a child twiddling their thumbs in the principal’s office. Part of that time, you spend trying to ignore the events of last night and any feelings that may have resurfaced as a result of your return to this town. For the rest of it, you attempt to think about what you’re going to do tomorrow when the rapidly-approaching hour comes when you have to leave again. God, where on earth did Mina get off to? You’re going insane here.

Oddly enough, it’s her that finds you a few minutes before the show is set to start. By this point, it’s a wonder you haven’t torn your hair out of it’s meticulous styling.

“Where did you pop off to?” you ask her before she even has a chance to say hello. She raises her brows, laughing at your rapid questioning.

“Big boss wanted me for something,” she supplies, cocking her hip and resting a hand there. “Actually, I was asked to pass on a message to you.”

The confusion must be evident on your face, because Mina is quick to wave her hand. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad— though it is a bit odd. He just asked me to tell you to meet him in one of the private rooms in the VVIP section. I think it was the very last one…?”

That is odd, considering she’d apparently just come from meeting him. Private shows aren’t something you do, so you can’t think of a reason why the big boss would ask you to meet him there.

“Huh, ok. So soon before the show…?” you ask, just to be sure. You don’t have your mask on you right now, so you need to calculate how long it’s going to take you to return and get it. Mina shrugs, nodding.

“I suppose so. Don’t worry,” she smiles, something indecipherable yet oddly devious entering her gaze. “You won’t be there long enough to mess anything up. The show will go on, Miss Luna.”

You could almost swear there is something hidden in her words, but don’t have the time or the thought to dwell on it. Instead you return her smile and turn to be on your way; the VVIP rooms are on the other side of the establishment, and you don’t want to keep the big boss waiting. You’d only met him once, the owner of this club, and he didn’t strike you as anything in particular. The only thing you’d thought to note is that he smoked perhaps a few too many cigars, because his office was almost always filled with curling, coiling smoke that leaked into the hall each time you moved past. But he was quite mild-mannered and polite as far as men in this business go, so you’re not particularly concerned for your wellbeing as you make your way to meet him.

It takes a little longer than anticipated, since you ran into one of your co-performers and they cornered you for help with their outfit, but finally you’re arriving in the second-floor wing that houses the VVIP rooms. Instantly, it’s evident where you are. The carpet is a little more plush, the wallpaper a little more maintained, and the hall decorated a little nicer than the rest of the place. Spotting the room on the end, you make your way down there and knock on the door thrice before grasping the handle and easing it open.

“Mr. Leigh? What did you want to t—”

The rest of your sentence dies in your throat before it even has a chance to reach the tip of your tongue, feet freezing mid-step as your eyes fall upon the occupants of the room. For once, you don’t have any sort of instinct that kicks in to save you; you simply stand and stare with wide eyes.

“Took you long enough, bubs.” Seokjin straightens from where he had been leaning back against the plush crimson leather of the circular lounge. “We were beginning to think you weren’t going to show.”

A myriad of thoughts suddenly flood the blank space in your brain, all in contention with each other. Oh no, they’ve seen you— no, you have a mask, they don’t know who you are— no, you don’t have your mask—

Dressed in your performing attire and standing before Seokjin and Namjoon, in one of the VVIP rooms in the club where they attended your show, you aren’t a faceless dancer. You’re y/n, and it feels like they can see every single bit of you there is to see.

You don’t even know where to begin.

“I…” You attempt to say something, anything, but your tongue has suddenly turned to lead in a pact with your stomach, sinking down and refusing to dance for your words.

It takes you a moment to realise as you watch them straighten, but neither of them look surprised. It leads you to believe that somehow they figured it out on their own, though you have no idea how. You don’t really have the presence of mind to ask them right now, either. In fact, it could even be argued that you’re almost panicking.

“We have a lot to talk about,” Namjoon speaks up, offering you a smile that holds neither judgement nor disdain. “We wanted to catch you before you inevitably skipped town without saying goodbye.”

That stung, just as much as the guilt that struck you for the truth of his words. You’d been contemplating it, leaning towards it even, but suddenly you feel you have to defend yourself.

“I hadn’t decided that yet,” you say quietly. You let the door fall shut behind you, silently acquiescing to the unspoken demand weighing heavy in the air.

“Don’t lie.”

Your eyes shoot even wider, if possible, at the sound of Seokjin of all people snapping at you. His tone was sharp, and you half expect him to look furious, but when your eyes flick to his face it gives nothing away. When he continues in the next second, though, you see it in the depths of his eyes. Hurt.

“We used to tell each other everything, back then.” It could have been a trick of your mind, but you swear you heard his voice break slightly. “I don’t want that to change. So no lies tonight, y/n. We’re going to talk as adults, openly and honestly.”

For reasons beyond you, something about the promise woven through his tone makes you nervous. A tremor fights to shudder its way down your spine; for a moment, you feel akin to a small, cornered forest animal, even though they are the ones sitting against a wall and you are in the open. You don’t know what to say.

Namjoon steps in, saving you from fumbling for a response as he always seems to do. “You don’t have to stand there, ready to bolt, you know. You can come sit down.”

You shake your head, suddenly recalling your commitments outside this room and feeling relief flood you at the realisation that you have an excuse to remove yourself from this situation you’d tried so hard to avoid. “I can’t. I have to go p—”

“We already talked it over with your boss, he was happy to take you out of the performance tonight. It’s okay, the others know too.”

You deflate, looking at Namjoon with a sinking feeling in your stomach. He doesn’t hold your attention all that long, though, before the sound of Seokjin’s voice brings your gaze to him once more.

“Why did you leave? Without even saying goodbye, or telling us where you went?” You feel rooted to the spot, pinned first by the weight of Seokjin’s gaze and then his words as they slam into you, unfiltered.

“Hyung.” You think you hear Namjoon murmur softly, giving the man next to him a pointed look. Seokjin is unphased, looking at you expectantly, “Be honest.”

It’s just as panic begins to seep into the bottom of your lungs that anger sparks and sets it alight, transmuting it to something red and hot in your chest.

“You want me to be honest?” you ask, heat beginning to colour your voice and sharpen the tip of your tongue. “I left because of you— both of you. I don’t know if something happened between you or if I just wasn’t enough, or you felt I was holding you back, but you drew away and you left me. You both left me before I ever left you.”

You see it the second your words enter the air like a whip, the hurt and guilt slipping across their features. Anger bubbles in your throat, stings your eyes, and urges you to let loose everything else rising to the tip of your tongue, “I left because I couldn’t handle the pain of my two best friends slowly easing themselves from my life, like— like I was old news. Like I no longer had a place in that shiny, brand new world they’d stepped into.”

More rushes to escape, feelings kept bottled up tight for three years suddenly flooding forth with the force of a tidal wave, but you bite it down, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath that rattles through your chest. When you’re sure you have a firmer grasp on your emotions, you allow yourself to speak once more. “If an apology is what you want, then I’m sorry. I’m sorry for leaving without saying goodbye. I’m sorry for my part in hurting you. But you… the two of you hurt me, too. You meant the world to me and when you pulled away you made me feel like nothing.”

Your eyes remain closed, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you will yourself not to cry; silence sinks over the room, only broken as your ears adjust to the thin buzz of electricity thrumming through the walls. One moment, another-- you try and focus on breathing in, and breathing out.

“Something did happen between us, you know. We fought over you.”

Your head snaps up, eyes locking onto Namjoon. He stands, dusting his legs as he straightens and adjusts his jacket. Slowly, like he’s worried he will spook you, he begins to step closer. “I’m sorry, y/n. We never meant to hurt you, and didn’t realise the way our immaturity was hurting you, too. You took up such a big part of our lives, and after you left it was painfully empty… when we saw you again this week, it was the first time we’d felt whole in years.”

Stunned, you’re rooted to the spot and can only watch as he comes close enough to touch, hands reaching for your own; faintly, you register the sound of Seokjin getting up from the couch as well. When he reaches your side, you risk a glance to his face and are surprised by the soft, remorseful expression resting upon his handsome features.

“I’m sorry, bubs, for hurting you.” He lifts a hand, the warmth of his palm cupping your cheek. “You are irreplaceable to us, and we will always want you as a part of our lives. No one meant as much to us as you did then, and no one means as much to us as you do now. The two of you are my world, and I know the same goes for Joon.”

There’s something different hiding in the depths of his tone that makes your heart patter faster against the confines of your chest, something in the way they share a look so full of something warm that your own cheeks heat in response. Both of them… with each other, too?

“Why are you saying this?” Now, you meant to tack on. Why is he saying this now?

Namjoon’s eyes are warm as they meet your own. “Because we should have said it three years ago. Plus… we got a tip from an anonymous source that our feelings aren’t as unrequited as we once thought.”

You don’t even need to wonder who it was that could have exposed such a thing; your mother had been mysteriously avoidant of your gaze this morning, almost knocking a few things off the bench in the extent of her effort to evade meeting your eyes.

“If nothing else, please just tell us before you go,” Seokjin implores, voice a low murmur. “Whether it was true then, or....”

You have a feeling you know what he was going to say: or even now. You’d known it the second you glimpsed them back in this town that those feelings you’d harboured for years and years weren’t ever going away. Even seeing them a handful of times has made your heart ache with the revival of your love and the magnitude at which it had bloomed once more in the tender soil of your being. The words rush to the tip of your tongue, but even now when the two objects of your affection have all but confessed to you, fear barrs them from leaving your mouth. Because it’s not appropriate, a voice murmurs it’s familiar tune, It’s so unlikely— what if you are just reading too much into it and are mistaken?

Honesty, Seokjin had requested. You take a deep breath before admitting the words that will seal your fate, for better or for worse.

“I did love you, then,” you say, catching it as they both seem to tense. “I should have known better than to think those feelings would just go away.”

It takes a moment, but soon both men are erupting into bright grins. In his glee, Namjoon folds you into his arms, smacking a soft kiss to your forehead, your cheek, and finally your lips— the suddenness of the action brings a gasp to your lips, but you’re definitely not going to complain. Especially not when the way his mouth moves against yours lights something bright deep within you.

You don’t get to enjoy the sensations for longer than a moment before Seokjin’s voice is parting the air, a completely different tone underlying his words than what you expect from seeing his stupid grin earlier.

“Ah-ah-ah, don’t think you’re off the hook just yet, little miss. “ You meet his gaze over Namjoon’s shoulder and a shudder shoots down your spine at the look in his eyes. “We have a lot of lost time to make up for, wouldn’t you say?”

x - x

Barely ten minutes and a private car ride filled with scandalous touches and even more scandalous noises later, you’re being pressed against the wall in the bedroom of the penthouse suite in the most expensive hotel your town has to offer. Namjoon’s mouth is on yours with a kiss so impassioned that it pulls the air from your lungs and the strength from your knees; you don’t even realise that the lights hadn’t already been on when you entered and it was Jin responsible for illuminating your path into the suite.

A part of you expects some internal resistance — it had been three years since you’d last seen them, before this week — but instead you’re simply overwhelmed with how right it feels. Soft, fluttery warmth like sun rays on a winter’s morning fills you up to the brim, the feeling so foreign you’re worried your heart might actually burst.

Namjoon’s hands come to your hips, pressing them to the wall before sliding up to the dip of your waist. He isn’t overly bold in the way he moves his mouth against yours, but it makes a whine build in your chest nonetheless. A part of you disagrees with it, and when you recall that you’re still here dressed in the costume that usually gives you the power over men, you push back and turn the two of you around.

When his own back meets the wall, the softest gasp escapes Namjoon’s mouth and you swallow it down, your hands coming to cup his jaw. You take the lead in the kiss and he doesn’t put up a fight, grip tightening on your sides as he holds you closer.

“Ah-ah, bubs.”

An unwitting squeak escapes you as two large hands find purchase on your waist and you’re pulled apart from the man panting against the wall. You blink and before you know it Seokjin has you falling onto something so plush and soft you know immediately it’s a bed. Your eyes are quick to find Seokjin’s, and the raven-haired male shoots you a stern look that is only contradicted by the heady mixture of affection and lust in his gaze.

“You don’t get to call the shots tonight,” he informs you simply, striding closer to where you’re laying on the bed and tugging on the string that holds your silken gown together. It’s designed to come undone, and so it’s no surprise that at the lightest pull the silk is sliding off your body, revealing the outfit you’d paraded on the stage before them barely a few nights ago. Faintly, you register the bed dipping behind you, but your attention is otherwise occupied when Seokjin reaches for the bedside table and retrieves something long and black.

“Her wrists?” Namjoon asks, unknowingly answering the question you had forming in your head. Seokjin nods, tossing the tie to him. Your gown is slipped from your shoulders completely, sheer petticoat ruffling as you’re scooted backwards until you feel the firmness of Namjoon’s chest against your back and Seokjin is sliding between your legs, in the midst of unbuttoning his shirt.

“Do you know what you did to us when we saw you that night?” Seokjin asks, voice smooth as honey. It’s a struggle to remain focused on his words when Namjoon brings your hands together in front of you where you’re propped against him, beginning to bind them a little too expertly with the tie Seokjin had passed him. Your heart beats a little faster, thighs trembling as heady anticipation whirls within you. “What you do to us?”

“Just seeing you was already dangerous enough,” Namjoon murmurs, husky tone brushing the shell of your ear. “But you danced to our song, the song we wrote for you. It’s like you knew what it would do to us…”

It makes something swell in your chest, the confirmation that they had written that song for you. You catch something fond flick through Seokjin’s gaze before he tuts, shaking his head. He pushes your now-tied hands up and over your head, back until you feel the side of your thumbs grazing the back of Namjoon’s neck. Lips brush your neck, eliciting a shiver that Seokjin eagerly drinks in. Long, deft fingers work to undo the top part of your corset, the cushioned bandeau, and slip it from your form. You can visibly see it as his eyes darken, drinking in the sheer bralette barely supporting your breasts. You also know the second he glimpses the tassels pressed beneath, because his teeth sink into his lip and he takes in a sharp breath.

Namjoon’s wandering hands come to trace the underside of your chest, breath catching in your throat when he takes their weight into his hold and kneads. Warmth shoots to your core, the hints of pleasure curling your toes. You feel breathless as they work in easy tandem, Seokjin slipping your petticoat over your legs and Namjoon removing your bralette. You shiver once your chest is bare, not from the cold but from the intensity and the weight of their gazes as you feel them fall upon you.

“Leave her corset,” Seokjin instructs, flicking one of your tassels and eliciting a yelp. He settles back further between your legs, wrapping his arms around your thighs; his gazes falls upon the tattoo on the inside of your leg and the corner of his lips curls up.

The plush of his lips presses against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, the sensation tingling along your nerves. He doesn’t comment on the picture, but when his mouth touches where it is inked into your skin you feel your heart skip a beat nonetheless.

Your mind is pulled from the sensation of fingers slipping beneath the edge of your panties when Namjoon’s fingers play with the tassels attached to your nipples, tugging and pulling and eliciting all sorts of heady sensations that make your thighs shake. “Joon,” you breathe, something else resting on the tip of your tongue only to be replaced with a whine when Namjoon pulls a little harder, soft open-mouthed kisses pressed to the sensitive column of your neck.

It’s like all of your nerves are alight at once, each touch and brush of their skin against yours heightened and making your heart race and your breath come a little quicker. Seokijn quickly slips your panties off, but leaves the pantyhose and garter belt. His eyes drag a trail of heat up your body, halting where Namjoon has begun to suck marks onto your neck like an artist decorating a canvas. For a moment he is mesmerised, and you can’t help the words that slip from your lips.

“You like what you see?” You ask, curving your back ever so slightly to emphasise your position. Seokjin pins you with an unreadable look, jaw ticking for a moment.

“Very much so,” he answers, pulling away from you for a moment. He reaches behind him, retrieving something you hadn’t even noticed before now, and when you realise what it is he has in his hand you feel your stomach simultaneously drop and flip in excitement. His eyes meet yours for a moment, an unspoken question whether what he is about to do is okay, and had it been anyone else you know you would have refused, but you trust him. You trust them. You offer him a small nod and you receive the smallest smile in return before he is bringing the camera up to his eye and lining up his shot.

Flash. Click. The camera isn’t as bulky as you’re used to, and you figure it must be one of the newer models you are far too poor to afford. One picture seems to be enough for him for now, but you know as he places it well to the side that it won’t be the only appearance it makes tonight.

“Just in case you decide to fly the coop on us again,” he says, a sly look on his face. You scoff, knowing that he’s joking, and hold up your hands, still bound.

“Like this? Not likely.”

He chuckles, and you feel Namjoon’s chest rumble with a soft laugh against your back as well. The lighthearted moment is over as quick as it arrives as Seokjin settles back between your legs and hardly waits for you to orient yourself before dipping his head down and delivering a broad swipe of his tongue up your slit.

“F— Jin!” you yelp at the sudden shock of pleasure, wriggling in Namjoon’s arms slightly; he nips at your skin in light reprimand, and Seokjin lifts his head only for a moment to scold you with a cheeky gleam in his eyes.

“Careful now, bubs,” he cautions, delivering a small kitten lick to your clit between utterances. “We might have the penthouse but there are still people below us.”

Surprisingly— or perhaps unsurprisingly, when taking the rest of your life and profession into account — the idea of being heard has the opposite effect on you than one might expect. You bite your lip, tipping your head back as Namjoon’s fingers begin to play with you once more and Seokjin begins to bury his face between your legs in earnest.

It gives you a bit of whiplash, when you think about it; you don’t think you ever would have expected to end up here, in this situation. Crushes or no crushes, you hadn’t even expected to see them again let alone become the meat in a famous musician sandwich.

It’s almost shameful how quickly the heat and pressure builds within you, Namjoon managing to tug the tassels off completely to roll your flushed buds between his fingers. The noises that sound from Seokjin’s ministrations between your legs are so downright lewd you can feel your face flush with heat, your thighs trembling either side of his head. You attempt to keep your own moans and whines in until Seokjin delivers a smack to your thigh and sends you a warning look.

Just when you think you might be about to reach your peak, Seokjin stops, pulling back and licking your cream from his lips. The look you send him must be devastated, because he looks absolutely smug.

“Now, this isn’t just about you,” Seokjin says, carding a hand through his hair before he finishes undoing his shirt and slips it from his form. Your breath catches at the sight of his sculpted torso, and the ink that decorates it in pretty splotches of imagery. You feel so ridiculously naughty, finding the tattoos on him as attractive as you do, and you’re aware of the irony but you just can’t help it. Seokjin could manage to make a potato sack look good. “Hasn’t Joonie been good? Been making you feel so good, with nothing in return? I think we should pay him back.”

It’s all the warning you get before you’re flipped over, braced on your elbows and knees. There is rustling before something plush is slipped beneath you, and Seokjin lowers you down between Namjoon’s legs with the pillow propping your hips up for him to continue where he left off.

Dazed from the sudden shift and beginning to lose yourself to the feeling as Seokjin returns his mouth to your soaked centre, you tilt to meet Namjoon’s dark gaze and offer him a brief smile. You can’t deny, the angle you’re viewing him from is nice, especially as he wrangles his shirt off and you catch glimpses of firm abs and chest. Namjoon, too, has decorated his skin, and it’s somewhat ridiculous how viscerally you’re reacting to it but you really think you might be about to drool.

The pleasure quickly beginning to build in you once more from Seokjin’s plush lips and agile tongue leaves you no room for pleasantries, “Can I suck you off, Joonie?”

You hear his breath catch before he tips his head back and lets out a soft groan. “Do you even have to ask?”

His response only fuels your eagerness, mouth beginning to feel empty when your face is so close to his crotch you can feel the heat of his body. Considering the state of your hands, Namjoon makes quick work of his belt and slacks for you, shimmying them down with his briefs just enough to let his member spring free, almost completely hard at this point.

“Holy shoot, Joon,” you curse, eyes wide with a mixture of shock and lust. God, you don’t think you’ve ever wanted anyone as much as you want these two men. Namjoon shoots you a cheeky, if somewhat dazed, smile that makes his dimples pop out.

“It’s not just me you have to worry about.”

Well that’s a condemning statement if you ever did hear one, considering how you’re hoping this night will go. One of the more open and liberal girls that worked the show with you had once said “god gave me two holes for a reason, girls!” and right now you find you couldn’t agree more.

You’re sick of your mouth being empty, you decide, and so you forego further foreplay and simply reach for his cock, taking the length into your hands and promptly enveloping his tip in the heat of your mouth.

“Fuck!” Namjoon swears loudly, thighs tensing against your shoulders. The yelp that escapes you as Seokjin smacks your ass melts into a moan that elicits a throaty noise from Namjoon, as well.

You press and drag your tongue along the underside of his length, gradually working your mouth lower and lower until your nose is brushing the dark patch of curls across his pubic bone, a surprisingly pleasant mixture of musk melding with his cologne and brushing your senses . Even without the pleasure flooding your nerves from Seokjin’s tongue and the way he latches his lips around your clit, the deep, throaty noises tumbling from Namjoon’s mouth are reward enough. Since your hands are bound, your mouth has to do most of the work; when you sink down enough that his tip bumps the back of your throat, you do your best to fight your gag reflex from kicking in fully.

Namjoon swears once more, just barely stopping himself before it gets too reminiscent of a sailor’s vocabulary. The sensation of your throat constricting around the head of his member makes his hips twitch and buck up ever so slightly, his hands winding into the hair at the nape of your neck. Struggling to keep on task through the haze in your mind, you do your best to build up a rhythm that has Namjoon’s abdomen trembling from the effort of keeping his hips still.

In tandem, the two of you seem to be rapidly approaching your highs— unfortunately for you, that same attention to detail that makes Jin’s ministrations so mind-numbingly good is what alerts him to that fact. Right when you feel yourself tense up in the prelude to your orgasm, Seokjin rips his mouth away, the bed shifting behind you. “Not yet, bubs.”

You can’t help the whine that sounds from your throat, the vibrations making Namjoon jerk.

“Fuck, I’m—”

Flash. Click.

Another whine, different in tone this time, escapes you at the knowledge that Seokjin has added another filthy memory to his collection.

“Joonie, you better not cum until I say so. y/n, off.”

Namjoons nails scratch lightly against your scalp, almost making your eyes roll back as he whines lowly in protest. You know you should listen and do as Seokjin says, but you can’t help but push a little, taking your sweet time as you pull your mouth slowly from Namjoon’s length, sucking all the while. The noises that tumble from Namjoon’s mouth as a result are incriminating enough, and even though you knew Seokjin wasn’t going to let it slide it still comes as a surprise when there is a sharp, painful smack against the globe of your ass. It’s hard enough and loud enough that your back arches slightly, mouth leaving Namjoon with a pop so you’re free to cry out.

“Jin!”

Seokjin’s hand is cool against the smarting flesh of your behind as he rubs soothingly over it, raising an eyebrow as you meet his gaze over your shoulder. “I told you off, bubs. Let’s not make me repeat myself.”

Somewhat petulant despite the giddy butterflies in the pit of your stomach, you allow him to grab you by the hips and yank you back with a pout, breathless with anticipation when you feel his fingers drag over the dips and curves of your body as though mapping them out. He makes you sit up, your back against his chest as he explores your front, drinking in each gasp and whine as he pinches and tugs your nipples and rolls them between the pads of his fingers. Down, down, down he goes— when his finger drags along your slit and slips over your swollen clit you cry out, unable to help the unwitting buck of your hips.

“After all the effort I went to to clean you up, you’ve gone and made a mess again,” Seokjin murmurs, pillowy lips brushing the edge of your ear. You quiver in his hold as he rolls a lazy circle around your bud, thighs threatening to close around his hand. You’re suddenly aware of how empty you feel, surprised that you’ve almost orgasmed twice without even being penetrated.

You try and cant your hips up, not above whining and begging at this point— if he denies you your high one more time you just might go insane. “Please, Jin, please—”

Namjoon, who had taken a moment to recover after almost blowing his load earlier, shifts forward on the bed to join the two of you. His lips find your neck, your jaw, until they finally meet your lips once more and he swallows your sinful noises down.

“What, you want more? You want my fingers? Look at you. You want to be filled so badly you’re willing to rock against anything with a pulse...”

Heat flushes up your neck to your cheeks, Namjoon’s kiss muffling your whine; you hadn’t thought you would be one to fancy this sort of thing, but if the wetness gushing forth at his words is anything to go by then apparently you do.

Namjoon parts from your lips, waiting until your eyes focus on him so that he can hold your gaze. “Baby girl,” he murmurs, voice rough. His hand slips down to join Seokjin’s, finger dipping ever so slightly into your slit. The true meaning of his question isn’t lost on you. “Who do you want?”

You feel almost unhinged with how much raw, restless desire is coursing through you right now— you couldn’t have stopped your answer even if you’d wanted to. “Both… both of you…”

There is a moment of silence following your response, but you don’t have time to wonder whether you said the wrong thing. In the next second Seokjin is swearing lowly under his breath, pressing his lips to your throat to hide his groan.

“Joonie, bedside table. You’ll have to prepare her.”

You’ve never seen Namjoon move as fast as he did the second Seokjin spoke, flying from the bed; he’s back within seconds after retrieving something from the drawers to the side, placing them on the covers. A small rectangular tin and a slim bottle.

When he sits, waiting eagerly with his cock still flushed and hard and bobbing from the movement, Seokjin turns you around in an abridged version of the way you were before. Taking note of the uncomfortable angle of your arms, he undoes the tie, but doesn’t discard it after slipping it from the reddened skin of your wrists.

With your ass now pointed in Namjoon’s direction, it isn’t long before his hands find purchase and your most intimate area is revealed to him.

“Fuck,” he swears, “You’re so wet, baby. We might not even need the extra help, hyung.”

“Use it just in case,” Seokjin instructs, before turning his attention to you. “Now, if you want to cum later I think you should earn it now, hm?”

Your hands were already moving towards his belt and fly before he’d started talking, but his words renew your vigour. When you free Seokjin’s crotch from the confines of his slacks and briefs, you quickly understand just what Namjoon meant earlier. Namjoon has length, but Seokjin is thick. You wrap your hands around him and can’t help but marvel at his size— you’re a little ashamed of how excited it makes you.

“Ah!” Your plans to engulf Seokjin’s cock in the heat of your mouth are interrupted by a sensation at your rear. You wiggle slightly, unable to help it. “That’s cold!”

Namjoon places a featherlight kiss to your cheek, thick, slippery finger beginning to ease into your hole now that it is sufficiently lubricated. Suddenly aware that your attention is in the wrong place, you do your best to hurry back to what you were doing before you earn yourself another smack.

“Perfect, bubs.” The groan that rumbles from Seokjin’s throat in praise is so raspy and low that it makes a shiver roll down your spine. As teasingly as you dare, you’re suckling around the flushed head of his cock, feeling it twitch and throb in your hands in response. It’s already a tight fit in your mouth, you can feel your thighs quaking in anticipation as you imagine what it would feel like filling you up. The thought takes you by surprise.

Since when did you start thinking like such a wanton whore?!

Well, you suppose, there is no time like the present.

Seokjin’s hand threads through your hair, his hips rocking ever so slightly; you watch the way the muscles in his abdomen undulate at the movement and fight to keep your saliva in your mouth as you begin to bob your head down his length. Considering his girth, it’s hard to keep your teeth tucked behind your lips, but you somehow manage; when the time comes that he reaches your throat you’re in a better condition than you were earlier for it, but it’s still a bit of a shock to the system.

“Oh my god,” Seokjin’s thighs quake for the slightest second against you. “Fuck. No wonder Joonie almost blew his load. Look at you. You do this often, huh? Look how well you swallow my cock…”

You moan around him, his words and the oddly pleasant sensation of Namjoon working his fingers in and out of your asshole melding into a pool of heat in your abdomen. Your eyes flutter closed as you try to focus on making Seokjin feel good, and you’re only distracted by a muted flash behind your eyelids.

Click.

Another shot saved. You take Seokjin further into your mouth, trying to go as far back as you can without gagging. He doesn’t seem to mind the way your throat constricts around his length though, if the noises escaping his plush lips where they part are anything to go by. Namjoon gradually adds one finger after another, making sure you’re accustomed to the stretch at least a little before the next joins. By the time he has squeezed in three fingers and scissored them a few times, you find yourself shaking a bit from the sensations. It’s odd, different to what you’re used to, but oh even with the light burn that accompanies each finger it still feels so good.

You’re so focused on the sensations that you don’t even realise the attention you’ve been giving Seokjin has strayed, lips sucking a little harder and your hand stroking a little tighter. The salty taste of precum coats your tongue and you have half a mind to be ashamed of the way it makes you long for more. It proves to be a little too much for Seokjin at once, though. His hand tightens in your hair, pulling you gently off of him as he struggles to catch his breath.

“Not yet, bubs,” he says, voice rough. His eyes are like magnetic pools as they draw you into their depths, their hold only broken when Namjoon slips a final finger in and you shut your eyes on instinct, mouth dropping open at the sensation.

“Are you ready, baby?”

Namjoon’s voice makes your stomach flip, his free hand smoothing over the curve of your ass. You find yourself nodding before you even have the thought to do so, and with that Namjoon shifts on the bed behind you. Seokjin helps you move backwards, your eyes trained on his length somewhat longingly. There is the sound of something tearing softly behind you and you find yourself thankful that they took the initiative and you don’t have to ask them about protection.

You’re moved so that you’re straddling Namjoon’s hips with your back to him, still facing Seokjin. The two of them have since discarded their slacks and briefs and are now presenting themselves in all their naked glory. Namjoon mutters a tender warning, informing you it might burn a bit, and you’ve heard of that but aren’t about to turn tail when you also know it’s going to feel so good after. You feel his tip press against your ass, alarmingly bigger than his fingers, and Seokjin helps ease you down slowly, inch by inch, with a firm grasp on your hips.

True to the warning you’d received, it does burn; Namjoon had made sure there was more than enough lubrication for an easy glide, though, and by the time he has seated himself fully in you, you’re making noises you don’t think you ever have before. The line between heady pleasure and light pain is so blurred that you’re worried you might have fried your nerves at some point tonight.

“Oh—” you take in a shuddering breath, shifting your hips ever so slightly and moaning in tandem with the man beneath you. “Joon…”

“Ride him,” Seokjin instructs, hands leaving your hips to reach for his camera once more. “Let’s make him feel good, hm?”

Who are you to say no?

You pride yourself on having a lot of strength in your limbs, thighs especially, but still they tremble as you roll your hips up until just the tip of Namjoon’s cock remains in you, and then ease back onto him again. It takes a second before you realise the low moan you hear is coming from you, mind so addled with pleasure at this point you almost feel like you’re floating. Bracing yourself on your thighs, you do your best to set a rhythm and maintain it, ignoring the fatigue of your muscles and focusing on how good it feels and the noises tumbling from the man beneath you.

When there is a sly touch against your swollen clit, you cry out loudly— Namjoon almost shouts at the way you clench around him, his hands flying to your hips to hold you in place for a moment. You look to Seokjin with wide eyes, panting slightly.

“Didn’t you wanna cum so badly, earlier?” he queries, fingers slipping down to slide through the slick mess around your entrance. You moan as he easily sinks two fingers in, pumping lightly. “Don’t stop, fuck yourself on my fingers, bubs.”

It feels so good you think you might tear up; obediently, you resume the pace you set earlier, now riding both Namjoon’s length and Seokjin’s digits. Each time you sink down he curls them, and you don’t know how much longer you can keep this out before your legs become too akin to jelly to support you.

The answer is: not much longer. Seokjin quickly grows tired of it when your movements slow, thighs trembling from the effort. With a hand to your stomach he pushes you back, shifting your legs so they’re folded with your feet flat against the covers. You scramble for purchase, Namjoon quickly supporting you from behind.

Seokjin tuts, muttering playfully about having to do everything himself, and it’s all the warning you get before he adds another digit and begins to finger your sopping entrance so hard and good that for a moment your vision goes white.

“S-Seokjin!” you drop your head back, nails sinking into the bedding as he begins to curl his fingers into that delicious spot inside of you with each pump. You had been slowly but steadily climbing back up to the precipice of your orgasm earlier, but now you’re heading there at breakneck speed. Before you know it the coil of pressure is snapping inside you and you’re shaking, pleasure numbing your limbs and making you whine.

By the time your high fades and you tune back in to the moment, you quickly become aware of two things— one, that you’ve somehow managed to coat Seokjin’s whole arm in your fluids, and two, that Namjoon has gone so tense and still beneath you that you think you might have almost killed him.

“Good girl,” Seokjin praises, sucking your cream off the tip of his fingers before wiping the remaining excess on your thigh so he can reach for his own rubber. “Do you need me to wait another moment?”

Assessing your current state, you find yourself shaking your head. You might have thought you would be too sensitive to continue, but Namjoon is still fully seated in your ass and now your pussy feels too empty for you to bear. Seokjin is only too happy to fill that void.

Nestled between your legs, when he lines his cock up at your entrance and begins to slide in, you all but lose the ability to think. You clench unintentionally from the sensation of being filled so completely, making both men groan and Seokjin halt in his movements. He waits until you relax again before continuing his motion.

When both men are fully sheathed inside you, you think this really might be what bliss is. Soft, panting whines and moans tumble freely from your throat as Seokjin pushes your thighs to your chest and begins to set a mind-numbing pace. It’s borderline brutal, the way he slams into you and splits you open so hard and good; each time his hips hit home you feel your whole body jostle.

“You can move, Joonie,” Seokjin somehow manages to articulate, sweat beginning to bead across his forehead and dampen the strands falling over it. You don’t know how he can talk, because you know if you tried at this moment you’d likely end up biting off your tongue.

You feel Namjoon shake his head, hair brushing the space between your shoulder blades. “‘m close,” he mumbles in explanation, a short moan following his words. “Wanna cum together.”

It’s such a sweet desire in the midst of such a lewd situation that you almost get whiplash between the swelling of your heart and the pleasurable ache filling your insides. You feel that he will get his wish soon, because despite your recent high you’re already well on your way to reaching it again— Seokjin’s hips have begun to stutter, too, and you know he isn’t far behind.

It all reaches its peak when Seokjin slips his hand down, following the angle of your hip bone to your core and rolling your bud with his thumb. It proves to be too much for you, because in the next moment you’re letting out a loud train of expletives and clenching tightly around them as pleasure floods your system once more, mind absolutely blank. The tightness of your heat around them is their undoing and barely a moment after you reach your high they follow suit, the sounds tumbling from them borderline sinful against your ears.

It takes a bit longer for you to come back to earth, this time. By the time you do, Namjoon is winding his arms around your waist and rolling to the side, taking you and Seokjin with him. You let out a noise of surprise that curls into a laugh, hands gripping his arms as you hit the bed; both men are still inside you, and while you secretly wish it could stay that way for a bit longer, you know you should probably clean up.

“No,” Namjoon says before you even go to move, a pout in his tone as he buries his face in the back of your neck. Seokjin nestles closer, pressing his lips to the hollow of your throat. “Stay, just a bit longer.”

That’s a dangerous request, especially considering the way your eyelids are beginning to feel heavy after the events of the night. For them, too, you can hear the way their breathing has already begun to even out. You couldn’t be mad if you tried, though, because just being here in their arms feels so right that you don’t ever want to feel anything else.

“I guess we can nap…” you say, sounding tired enough that it elicits a chuckle from Seokjin. You let your eyes close, nestling your cheek against the top of Seokjin’s head and enjoying the light scent of his shampoo and cologne. You let out one last warning before you let yourself fall into the abyss, though. Just so they know who’s boss.

“If I see those photos anywhere near my house, Seokjin, it won’t just be me getting disowned.”

The laughter that tumbles forth in response just adds to the warmth flooding your being, and you let yourself relax, contented and truly happy for the first time in three years.

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koulakoukoula2003 · 3 years

Note

are you going to have a part 4 for the Missing you story?

Of course! Sorry, it took me long to answer. I'm in Greece and things had been insane here lately, but I've had this in my drafts for a while, so, here it is ❤

Missing You: Pt. 4 (Levi x Reader)

Pairing: Levi x Y/n, Levi x You, Levi x OC, Levi x Reader, Zeke x Reader (mentioned), Hange Zoe x Moblit Berner

Genre: Plot, Action, Angst, Drama

Trigger Warnings: Mention of Past Rape/NonCon, Mention of Human Experimentation/Torture, Canon-Typical Violence

Summary: After being brainwashed and experimented on and turned into Marley's best soldier, Levi, your husband, and his squad finally find you and bring you back home.

You have no memory of him, your marriage, the brats of his squad that before all of this, you had raised them like a true mother should. He finally found you, but you're so close yet so far.

Word Count: 6,110

A/N: This mini-series is an arc from an original Levi x OC fanfic on mine that you can read here. This is the Abduction Arc that you can read the entirety of it here. Feel free to reblog and comment below. There's going to be a final Part 5. It takes place in an AU where everything's the same except nobody died in the Battle of Shiganshina.

Part 1 >>> Part 2 >>> Part 3 >>> Part 4 >>> Part 5

Everybody had somebody waiting for them at the train station. Worried wives trying to desperately make sure that their husbands were alive. Those brats in the warrior unit had their parents. Zeke had his grandparents. Braun had his mother. The other warriors had their other relatives and so on.

Y/n had no one there, waiting for her. She looked around her, at the wounded men that resided in a nearby hospital. She raised an eyebrow when she locked eyes with a man that somehow felt familiar. No. He was no man. He was a boy. A nineteen-year-old at most. He had green piercing eyes and long hair. She could have sworn, she had seen those eyes before.

She snapped out of it. Fuck this. She didn’t give a single fuck about who that boy was. Her ride to hell had just arrived. A car with an Enhanced driver that was going to make sure she wouldn’t resist. Y/n left the train station after tossing her suitcase beside her in the backseats of the car and she stared out of the window. She crossed her legs and she focused on the passing buildings. It was only a few minutes away that they were out of the City. The car now, heading to the familiar forest where the underground Research Facility was. That cursed place she had spent one year in.

She swallowed all the breakdowns that she wanted to have. All the panic attacks. She silenced her quickening breathing and she faced her uncle like she had to. Call it another enhancement. He had promised it to her.

She hated every single second he had her tied down. Don’t scream, don’t shout, don’t show they’re hurting you. There’s no room for weakness. She hated every single chemical he released into her body once again. It burned beneath her flesh. Lancets dug deep into her skin, but Y/n had learned to be quiet. Don’t scream, don’t shout, don’t show they’re hurting you she repeated this to herself and no struggling showed on her face. No shouting, no screaming, no wincing, no whimpering, no begging. She was an obedient, cooperative little test-subject. She didn't really have a choice. There’s no room for weakness. If she showed weakness, they’d keep her in this hell for another week or a month.

She didn’t want any more enhancements. She was enough of a monster, she didn’t want to lose that little humanity left into her. Who am I kidding? There was not even a single ounce of humanity left into her. She wished she had died. Yesterday on that beach. She wished she had died. But death was a luxury that she couldn’t afford. Not there.

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

Alarms resounded. A loud and piercing repeated sound. The lights switched to a dark red and suddenly it was dark to see. The scientist recognised the protocol of the building’s current state. Somebody had breached. An enemy. But who? Could it be spies from the enemy alliances? Everything he had in this base were precious test subjects and precious chemicals and techniques that the world had yet to see. Malcolm would not be surprised if the spies had finally decided to make their move and steal his precious discoveries.

Alas, no other government was going to ever fund such a research. Marley’s thirst for dominance over the globe was exactly what started this war anyway. It earned him respect and money and reputation and all he had to do was feed Marley’s greed and in return Marley gave him the chance to experiment on magnificent test subjects and make a research unlike any other.

No. If someone could break into this base, they weren’t human.

The shrieks of his fellow scientists were what made him flinch in his place beneath his precious large lab counter. A man grabbed him by the shirt. Strong arms lifted him up from beneath his lab counter and held him in the air as if he weighed nothing. He looked down at the man who was holding him so tight with that furious look on his face that he instantly recognised. The deadly look of an Ackerman.

Malcolm laughed as he caught the man’s hands that were both clutching on his shirt. “An Ackerman! Yes! An Ackerman!” He said excitedly, completely ignoring the fact that he was the prey, and the man holding him was the predator ready to cut off his limbs one by one in the vilest, most painful ways he could think of. Malcom was absolutely certain he had a syringe there somewhere, on the counter behind him. His arm searched for it maniacally. “A sample! All I need is a small, little, tiny drop of blood! Yes…! Yes! A sample!”

Levi clicked his tongue. “You’ll get nothing from me,”

He growled as he tossed the overweight man to the other wall. Guards would be rushing there soon, but his and Hange’s squads would take care of that. The man was slammed against the wall and landed down on the floor. He stood back up right away and tried to run, but a dagger found his palm and pinned it on the wall. The man screamed in pain.

“I’ll make it fast and clear,” Levi grabbed another dagger from his outfit and approached the man with heavy footsteps. He grabbed the man by those greying black hair and slammed his head against the wall. Levi stabbed his other dagger on the man’s shoulder, pinning him on the wall, and the man cried out again. Oh- but Levi was going to be generous today and he was going to use all the daggers he had gathered from the HQ.

Malcolm chuckled, ignoring his bleeding palm, and his bleeding shoulder. A fist landed on his face. Head fell on the side but Levi grabbed him by the shirt again and punched him again, and again. His knee found his stomach with a harsh strike that left him breathless. Levi grabbed his other hand and grabbed another dagger from his belt.

He pressed the sharp blade against the man’s thumb. “One finger for a wrong answer. I’m going to cut all ten of your fingers, and then I’ll head for the eyes, the teeth, the ears. You won’t need any of them by the time I send you to hell,”

“Perfect… such a perfect specimen you could be-”

The man shrieked in pain when Levi cut off his thumb. “Where is Y/n Ackerman?! Where is my wife?!” Levi growled as he slammed the man against the wall again.

Malcolm chuckled. “Ackerman? You’re Levi Ackerman, her husband, aren’t you? I see now… this is how I mistook her to be an Ackerman and took her in. Though, I have no right to complain… she has been such an obedient little rat. There’s not many chances for a scientist to experiment on a L/n,”

Levi couldn’t believe this. They thought Y/n was an Ackerman. They thought she had Ackerman blood and that was exactly why they had set out to abduct her. They needed to experiment on an Ackerman if they were to make a soldier stronger than an Ackerman. It was his name that had doomed his Y/n to become a test subject. It was his name that got her in this god-forsaken base where she knew nothing but pain and despair. Levi felt guilt and regret unlike he’d ever felt before.

There was no way he could contain any of his anger now. Levi cut off his fingers. One by one with rough movements that left the man screaming at the top of his lungs. Levi grunted as he stabbed his dagger on the palm of his fingerless hand, pinning that hand on the wall as well. Bastard.

He took out another dagger and pointed it on the man’s one eye. “Last chance,” He threatened.

“W- Wait! She’s here! She’s here! On the next lab from this one! A- And I have her files! It’s all detailed! Subject #7305! You’ll find her files in that bookcase!” He pointed weakly at a bookcase across the room with the hand that still had fingers on.

Levi rushed to the bookcase and read fast on the labels of all leathered black folders. Subject #7305. He pulled out the folder and found her picture on the first page. That bastard wasn’t lying after all. Subject #7305. Levi gritted his teeth. It was repulsive to think that they had set a number to discriminate his beloved, precious little Y/n. Levi tossed the folder in his bag and he approached the man who was now bleeding on various places. He pressed a dagger to his throat.

“Now, you’re gonna tell me exactly how to burn this place down and everyone in it,”

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

He moved fast. The self-destruction protocol was about to go off. Hange had set off to bring the blimp with Onyankopon. They were their only way out of here. Levi kicked a door open and rushed in. And there she was. His eyes widened. He barely recognised her. Her skin, pale and filled with cuts and bruises and some parts replaced with a material that he couldn’t recognise. His heart thrummed hard beneath his chest and he felt numb, but he knew he had to hurry.

She was tied down on a metallic table by leather. She was unconscious. There were bowls filled with blood and samples, and lancets and utensils. It looked horrible. He didn’t even want to imagine what they had done to his precious Y/n. But it was alright now. He had found her. After three whole years. He had found her. She was safe now.

He unbuckled the leather cuffs from around her swollen wrists and he unhooked the cables from her body, before he picked her up. She was so thin, so much weight she had lost, her wrists were so small, her fingers, so thin, her face pale. Her skin, cold to the touch. It terrified him. He cupped her face. She was limp.

He carried her out of there, fast.

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

Levi hated it. He just hated it. His Y/n wasn’t some rat to tie down and lock in a cage with no chance to stand up or walk out until she was given the permission to. He stared at her through the large window that showed what was happening in the room that they currently had her in. She was still unconscious. Her wrists and feet were cuffed to the bed. Mikasa and Sasha had helped him change her clothes to one of her white baggy gowns that she’d usually wear when she’d go to sleep. They had managed to reach the Survey Corps HQ just in time.

Hange and Moblit had just finished taking blood samples and they walked out of the room finding the Levi Squad, Erwin and Levi waiting outside.

“We got all we could,” Hange said. “We’ll run tests and let you guys know,”

“I know you’ll hate what I’m about to suggest, but…” Moblit sighed. He hated it too. “…we don’t know whether those cuffs can keep her restrained. I’d suggest we keep her locked up for now,”

Erwin nodded. “Absolutely,”

Levi’s eyes widened. “What the hell?!” He cried out as he turned to his Commander.

“I don’t think we should lock her in, I- I mean, she’s already cuffed, right?” Connie said as he turned at Erwin as well.

“I hate it as much as you do,” Erwin sighed heavily as he turned and looked at her through the window. She was covered in the white bedsheets of the bed and she was cuffed against it, and he hated it. “But according to our intel, she has been fighting in Marley’s wars two years now, which means her loyalty lies to Marley. Which makes her our enemy,”

Sasha’s, Connie’s, Mikasa’s and Jean’s eyes widened. Levi clicked his tongue. “We do not differ from those damn Marleyans if we lock her up in a cage and run tests on her,” Levi reasoned.

“I know,” Erwin admitted.

“But, guys, think about it,” Armin caught their attention. “The first thing they do to this type of soldiers is wipe away their memories. She does not recognise us. She does not remember us,”

“Which is why we need to run tests on her,” Hange reasoned. “We’ll read her files that Levi brought and figure out some way to bring her memories back,”

“How can you be so sure you’ll be able to do that?” Mikasa asked worriedly.

“We’re not sure,” Moblit sighed. “But we ought to try,”

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

He didn’t know how long it had been since the last time he was sitting there like this. Levi had settled a chair nearby her bed and he was sitting down. He had taken a book to read to spend the night, but he just couldn’t pay any attention to the words that were laid down on the pages. All he could focus on, was her. Her black hair were messily smashed between her head and the white pillows that Hange had settled beneath her head. Soft breaths escaped her nostrils. Her eyes, closed.

Levi had seen the scars when he changed her into her gown. He had seen the bruises that were undoubtedly laid down on her skin by injections and needles and tubes. Parts of her skin were cut and scarred and replaced with a material that he had never before seen. She had more scars than he had. Her wrists were bruised. Her legs were bruised. And yet, they were still putting cuffs around both wrists and legs, only deepening the bruises and creating a dark purple mess on her white skin.

She was paler than before. Her body, too thin. She had lost so much weight, it genuinely worried him. Did she not eat at all during her time in Marley? And he’d never forget that look in her eyes. She was so determined to kill him just a few hours back. Her eyes were no longer that bright blue that he had fallen in love with. It was a terrifying dark crimson that he had never seen before on anybody. She was so strong. Her body may have looked so small and thin and weak but she was so unnaturally strong. They had really made a monster of her.

Levi pressed his elbows on his lap and buried his face in his hands. He rubbed his aching forehead. He was tired, but he couldn’t afford to sleep. Not now that he had found her. He had refused to leave her side. If they were really planning to lock her into a room like an animal in a cage, then he’d stay in that cage too. There was no way he was leaving her alone in there. So he was right there, locked in that room with her till morning would rise. He had barely convinced Hange to give him a spare key that he had tucked in his pocket. The lights were on and he had decided to keep it that way.

Hange and Moblit had been working on her all day, trying to do anything they could to bring back her memories. She could either wake up and attack him any moment, or she could wake up and be his sweet Y/n. He kept his guard up, but part of him refused to believe it. His Y/n probably would wake up and would want to kill him. She wanted to attack him and slice his throat and she would laughat the sight of him bleeding to death.

He didn’t want to believe that his Y/n wasn’t there. After three years of being utterly desperate to find her. He had found her now, but she wasn’t really here. She was right there on the bed just a few inches away from him. But she wasn’t there.

So close yet so far from his reach.

It broke his heart. It really did because he didn’t know whether she’d be coming back. He didn’t know whether Hange and Moblit were going to bring her back to him. His hand reached for his shirt. He pressed his fingers on top of that bump that her ring made beneath his shirt on his chest. He had it tied on a rope around his neck for so long. He didn’t know when he’d get the chance to push it up her finger. He didn’t know if he’d ever get that chance. He had never taken off his own. Not even when everybody was positive that she was dead. Even if she had died, he would still refuse to take it off. And he hadn’t, not once ever since the day they got married.

He thought back to that day. It was a wonderful warm morning. No dresses, no suits. Just you, me and our brats he had told her. He was so happy back then. He had broken her heart so many times afterwards, but she never left him. His Y/n loved him. His Y/n longed for his touches, his kisses, his arms around her.

He wanted to lie beside her. He wanted to pull her in his arms and have her nuzzle right there. He wanted to feel the tip of her nose tickling his neck. Her warm, soft breaths would brush down his skin and her arms would be so tight around him. Her fingers and her short transparent clean nails would clutch on his clothes and she’d only want him closer.

Alas, now if he tried that, she’d snap his neck.

“So, it’s you, isn’t it?”

Her voice snapped him out of it. Levi tensed up, but did not show it. His eyes snapped back up at her own. He was surprised she wasn’t trying to break free.

“Levi Ackerman…” She sighed and she looked up on the white ceiling. “…you were her husband, right?”

You were herhusband? He raised an eyebrow. “I still am,”

She laughed. Her head rolled back against her pillows as she sighed and closed her eyes. Her smile did not fade. “You can’t be the husband of a dead woman,”

“She’s not dead,” He persisted and she opened her eyes looking back at his own.

That man looked so damn indifferent. So damn strong and ruthless. A small smirk spread on her lips. Was he the one who scared people around here? There was always a scary one in a place, wasn’t there? She wasn’t surprised that Y/n Ackerman had married him. He was a handsome man. Short, but she was shorter so she couldn’t say she minded that.

“Come closer,” She said, confident that he would comply. She groaned in irritation when he didn’t. This man radiated with power and authority. There was no way he could be as obedient as Zeke had been. She rolled her eyes. “I’m cuffed, I can’t snap your neck, even though I’d love to, I promise,” She laughed to her own sick little joke.

Levi ignored her and he turned his attention back on the book that he had settled in his lap which he had neglected for far too long. She huffed in utter irritation. It was getting boring. She needed something occupy herself with or else her mind would start to wander on things that she didn’t want to think about.

“Is that book more interesting than me?”

“Quite,”

She groaned. This man was unbelievable. She just wanted a nice fuck. Is that too much for a poor woman to ask around here?

“Alright then, if you don’t come to me, I’ll come to you,”

Y/n jerked her feet and hands off their restraints. The cuffs broke easily with a soft click. She knew she could break free. The metal wasn’t thick enough, and even if it was, she’d just have to add a little more strength. She pushed off the bedsheets and stood up. She looked down at that lame gown with a frown.

“I loathe gowns and skirts and dresses. They disgust me,” She growled.

Hands caught her own before she even knew it. Her back was slammed against the white cemental wall and the air was knocked out of her. Her wrists, pinned on the wall at the level of her eyes. His fingers were tight around her wrists. His eyes looked down at her with that same indifference -oh- but she could tell, there was so much more that he was feeling and he was trying to keep hidden. His breath brushed warm down her chin.

She laughed amusingly. “Look at you, being a good obedient little boy and doing as I ask,”

“Shut your shitty little mouth before I make you,” Levi snarled. He was furious. A good obedient little boy. Nobody had ever had the guts to call him that. It set his nerves on fire.

“Make me?” She asked mockingly. She leaned closer till their lips were touching.

Those silver, sharp eyes were captivating, she had to give him that. What wouldn’t she give to watch them flutter closed whilst he’d beg for her to ride his cock. Oh- this one would be very sexy whilst begging. She leaned closer till her lips found his ear. Her teeth caught his earlobe and Levi gritted his teeth to hold back any sounds. He tried his best to hold back any indication of how much he was enjoying this. He hadn’t allowed himself to get this close to a woman ever since she had been abducted,

She tugged on his earlobe with her teeth before she let it go with a soft pop. “As far as I’m concerned, I’m the one pulling the strings here,” Before he could react to her words, she caught his lips in her own.

Men were all the same. All men wanted one thing. It was one very deep and unseen, craftily hidden desire. They wanted to be dominated. They wanted to be taken care of. And once somebody shows up to take care of them, they cling onto that someone like a helpless little vine searching for a pole to wrap itself around on so that it can stand.

Oh darling- this one was no exception.

She tasted the whiskey on his tongue. The liquor was heavy in his breath, his lips. It was intoxicating. His taste was familiar and she knew she shouldn’t be surprised. Y/n Ackerman had probably explored that pretty little mouth with her tongue way too many times.

Levi groaned as her tongue lapped boldly against his own. He had missed this. Oh God- he had missed it more than he could fathom. Her sweet taste spread on his tongue and he sighed. There was something else too though. It was a familiar smell that would fill his nostrils whenever he entered those pubs back in Marley in search for intel. Cigarettes.

Levi snapped himself out of it right away. Their eyes met and a string of saliva was connecting their lips from the messy kiss that she had just pulled him in. His Y/n had never kissed him that boldly. She would always be the one to submit in that little battle for dominance that their tongues would be locked at. But this was the first time she had stood her ground. She had stood her ground against him so damn easily.

Levi pulled back from the kiss right away. His grip around her wrists had slightly loosened but he tightened his grip on her right away. “You’ve been smoking,” He pointed out as he looked down at those bright red eyes, but for a moment, he could have sworn he saw his Y/n in the slightly hazed look that she gave him. It was the look she’d give him after every single kiss they’d share. He had missed it. Oh God- he had missed it.

“You’ve been drinking,” She pointed out for him. She chuckled. “Haven’t had a little bit of alcohol in a while,”

She needed more. She was kissing him again before he knew it. She groaned in his mouth. He was a feisty one. Trying to take the dominance from her. She was going to fight for it. Her tongue stood its ground and he groaned in her mouth as well. Good. She wanted to elicit all kinds of sounds from him. She suckled on his tongue, trapping it between her lips and gathering all the liquor that lingered there. It was like chugging down a bottle of a thirty-year-old whiskey and it tasted exquisite.

His arms let go of her own and slipped around her. He picked her up before she knew it. His arms slipped beneath her rear and her legs wrapped around his waist, pressing her wet heat against this crotch in just the right place. He hissed against her mouth, but she continued kissing him and there was something so intoxicating about the nicotine on her tongue, in her breath. Her fingers found his hair. Long black nails scratched a little harsher on his undercut. Fingers clenched painfully in his hair knocking another groan out of him that vibrated through her mouth.

She rolled her body against his crotch once, twice, thrice. Her needy core rubbed against him shamelessly whilst they kissed wildly and he knocked her body against the wall once more.

This was wrong. This was so damn wrong, he had to snap out of it. She was the enemy at this point. He shouldn’t be right there, trying to fuck the enemy. But damn her for those little mewls and whimpers and moans that she let out against his lips with every single stroke that she made with her body against his aching bulge. He was as desperate and as needy as ever. Three years now, he hadn’t allowed himself to do anything with anyone until he’d find his wife. And there she was, being such a fucking brat. She knew exactly how to make a man needy and desperate. And this one- this one… she was going to make this one beg. She was hell-bent onto listening to those little pleading sounds spilling out from those pale lips that she had suckled on so insatiably.

But Levi Ackerman wasn’t one to submit. He wasn’t one to give in to a woman no matter who that woman may be. He just had to teach this brat a fucking lesson. His wife had been away from home for far too long. It was time he reminded her who the fuck was in charge here. It was time he let her know, that the one on their knees, begging for stimulation would be her and her alone. He had the upper hand. He always had it. His Y/n had always been beneath him.

She was going to be beneath him once more. And she’d have no choice but to take it and like it. I’m the one pulling the strings here. Oh darling- if she thought as much, then she wasn’t as smart as he thought she was.

He slammed her body back down to the bed. Y/n gasped. He had done this far rougher than he was intending to. The bed creaked and its legs nearly threatened to break right then and there. But it wiped that infuriating little smug smirk off her face, and he did not regret manhandling her like this one bit. He climbed on the bed on top of her, slipping between her legs. His hands found her thighs, her waist, her hands.

She laughed in amusement. It drove him insane. Her hands reached down to rub his cock from above his pants, but he caught those damn hands with one of his own. His other arm reached for his belt, unbuckling skilfully and he jerked it out of his pants. He tied the cold, black leather around her wrists, tight enough to hurt. She squirmed.

This wasn’t so fun anymore. She hated leather restraints. They were far too difficult to break out from. That belt, she could break free from it easily, but her uncle used leather whilst he’d tie her down. And the pressure was just as tight. She chuckled but this time, it wasn’t amusement. It was bitterness.

“Is this how you treated her? She was your sweet little submissive Y/n, wasn’t she?” She asked, trying her best to keep her composure and that smug little smile on her face, but the tighter he held her, the more she failed.

He pinned both her tied wrists on top of her head with one arm. The other was digging bruises on her thigh, pushing up on her gown and revealing more and more of the scarred, imperfect flesh. She winced beneath his bruising touch and her smile threatened to fade away. It was coming back to her all over again. Those soldiers guarding her cell would hold her down exactly like this. One would keep her restrained while the other… the other-

She was breathing hard now. She was panicking. Stop! Her mind screamed at her. Say something… stop him! And then it all started to come back to her. “Well… no wonder she died… she was too tired begging for you to come rescue her,”

Her voice cracked and Levi’s eyes widened. He pulled his hand away from her thigh and he looked up at her with wide, shocked eyes. She had flipped them over before he knew it. She grunted at the excess effort she put into untying the leather from around her wrists. She tossed it away immediately and she straddled him. She caught his hands and made sure she kept them away from her body as she hovered on top of him. Warm, salty tears spilled down his cheeks from her eyelids.

“Please stop, she begged them. She begged and begged, and in the nights, after her guards would be finished having their way with her, she’d lie on the cold floor of her cell and she’d imagine it was you,” Things were coming back to her. Oh God- it was painful. No wonder she had shut everything out. “Please, Levi, please come take me out of here she’d say. But you never came, and she died, can you blame her?! She couldn’t take any more of it and she died and she left mebehind. She left a monster behind, forced to do unspeakable things the past two years all for the sake of protecting her, but can you blame her?!”

She was burying her face in his chest now. Her fingers clutched on his shirt and she wept loudly against it. She had lost the count of tears that streamed down her cheeks and wettened his shirt and made a mess on the black fabric. Her sobs threatened to leave her without air.

“Can you blame her?” She asked again but it came out in a silent whisper this time and she wasn’t addressing it to him. Rather, she was asking this to herself. No. She couldn’t blame Y/n Ackerman for losing the will to be good.

She couldn’t blame Y/n Ackerman from abandoning her adoration for children, and skirts, and forgetting the precious family that she was torn from, and forgetting the husband that she had so much cherished. She couldn’t blame Y/n Ackerman for forgetting the fact that there were people who loved her on the other side of the sea. She had Eren, Mikasa, Jean Connie, Sasha, Armin, Historia, Hange, Moblit, Levi, Erwin. She had forgotten these all because they never came for her. She forgot them, because for three years, they had let her suffer through this all. They had let her become the monster she now was, and it was too late to come back from that.

“You abandoned me…” She whispered shakily against his chest. “…all of you,”

Pain. Regret. That’s all that Levi felt.

“…after her guards would finish having their way with her…”

Pain.

“…she’d lie on the cold floor and pretend it was you…”

Pain. Pain. Pain.

Tears slipped down his cheeks.

“But you never came, so she died. Can you blame her?”

“Can you blame her?!”

He had nothing to blame but himself. It was all his fault. They had used his Y/n. They had used her for their experiments. They had used her for their pleasure. They had used her for their wars. They had used her for her mind, for their plans and they had stolen it all from her. They had stolen her freedom, her dignity, her pride, her humanity. They had stolen the fact that she was his.

And he was to blame for that because he was so damn weak to protect her that day. Because it had taken him so damn long to find her. It took him so damn long take her out of the depths of hell where she became a devil. She was his sweet, little innocent angel, and now she had become a devil, and he was to blame for it all. Those nights she spent crying and begging for her torment to stop. He was never there to stop it and pull her out of there. He was never to pull her into his arms and hold her safe and warm.

Levi pulled her now in his arms, but he knew he was too late. There was no changing anything now. He just buried his face in her hair and he parted his lips to apologise -even though he knew that an apology wasn’t near as enough- but she pulled away from him right away.

“No! Don’t touch me!” She shouted and she made a couple of steps away from him till her back found the wall and she slipped down on her bum. She gathered her legs against her chest and she sat there, weeping and crying against her arms. “You’re no different… than those soldiers… guarding my cell,”

Her words felt like daggers digging through his skin and tearing out his heart and cutting it to pieces. You’re no different than those soldiers guarding my cell. She thought he was no different from the sick men who had been taking her against her will every night.

Levi felt like breaking down. He wanted to crash onto the wall and pull his hair out and start crying hysterically. They had done terrible things to his Y/n and it was his fault. They had treated his sweet little Y/n like this. He wanted to pick her up. He wanted to take her out of there and back into their room. Into the bed that they once shared and he hadn’t used ever since. He wanted to pull her in his arms and speak of all the apologies that he could muster even though he knew they wouldn’t be nearly enough to make up for everything that she had been through.

But she wouldn’t let him touch her. Don’t touch me! She had shouted at him and he knew she was terrified. She was terrified of men touching her. General Y/n Burgess didn’t have any problem with that. She would have jumped his bones if it was her, but now it wasn’t. Now it was his Y/n, seated and curled up on the floor. And he wouldn’t dare approach her. He couldn’t because she’d push him away, and having her pushing him away, was more painful than the entirety of those three years. Having her telling him these all, and having her shouting at him like that, was far more painful than the vilest of injuries that he had yet to endure.

Levi let her. He let her cry till she passed out. Till her head had rolled on her shoulder and her sobs died down. The tears on cheeks had dried off and her body relaxed against the cold marble floor. Levi approached hesitantly. He picked her up as gently as he could. As silently as he could. He didn’t want her to wake her up and have her push him away from her. He didn’t want her to squirm in his arms and beg him to let her sleep on the floor.

He settled her gently back down on her bed and covered her beneath the bedsheets. He wiped whatever remained of her tears and he looked down at her. He looked down at that tormented expression on her face. He leaned in and pressed a kiss on her forehead. He was going to take care of her now. Now that he had found her, he was going to protect her, and take back her pride and dignity for her.

A/N: Here it is! Please leave likes and comments below! Reblogs are welcome and appreciated!

#levi attack on titan #levi x you #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman x reader #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #aot #aot fic #levi x oc #leviackerman #levi x y/n #levi x reader

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winchesterbrotherstan · 3 years

Text

Altered Carbon- Out of the Past (1.01)

Pairing: Nova Griffiths (OC) x Takeshi Kovacs

Summary: When Nova is contracted for a new job, she's introduced to a part of humanity's past. The job seems to be a bust, but it becomes clear that it's anything but.

Warnings: mentions of suicide!, cursing, guns, rebirthing(?), sword+knives, blood, mentions of shitty parents

Word Count: 6441

“Just…” I sighed, looking out through the droplets of rain on the windows of the bus stop, “I just want you to be safe, E.J.”

“I know. I will be, Nov. I promise.”

“Alright, good. Look, bug, I’ve gotta run.”

“New job?”

I snorted, looking at his grin on the holographic screen. “Possible new target, yeah.”

He nodded. “Promise you’ll be safe too?”

I nodded right back, a smile on my face. “Promise, E.J. Love you, bud. Talk to you later, yeah?”

Another nod. “Go.”

I sighed as I checked the time.

Shit.

I was going to be late if I didn’t haul ass. I flicked the display of the watch away and pulled my helmet on. I straddled my bike and kicked the stand up. Hopefully, this payout would be worth it.

***

“Justice! Let the dead speak! Justice! Let the dead speak!”

The chant became static as I pushed my way through the crowd, and up the steps of Alcatraz prison. Lieutenant Ortega from the local police department had reached out and told me she would give me a ride up to the Bancroft residence.

“Griffiths!”

I popped onto my toes and saw the lieutenant waving me down. A blond man stood next to her, his face angry, but eyes seeming disoriented.

“Ortega, hey.” I held a hand out for her and she gave me a firm shake. “I’ve been trying to find you for the last twenty minutes.”

“These people are something else. Nova Griffiths, you’ll be working with this gentleman here.”

“Nice to meet you.” I stuck my hand out, and he did the same.

“You shouldn’t have come back!” A man shouted over my shoulder, cutting my new partner off before he could start his sentence.

The crowd’s chant changed, “No resleeving!”

“Well shit, let’s get outta here.” I gave Ortega a grimace, letting his hand drop.

We began to push our way back through, dodging the picket signs and the face painted protestors. A man with white and black markings on his face took a step towards us and pushed me out of the way. I stumbled backwards, and my partner reached out, preventing me from falling off my feet.

“You will not be forgiven!” The protester spat in his face.

I used the existing grip on my arm to pull myself back in front of him. I spat in the protester’s face and shook my partner’s grip loose.

“Well, that’s gonna keep him busy a while.” My partner guided me to walk in front of him as we continued to push through the crowd.

***

“Spirit savers and Afterlifers. 653 failed, and still they can’t stop yelling.” Ortega spoke.

“What is 653?” He asked, looking up from the paper.

“Something about spinning up murder victims to testify who killed them.” I kept my eyes on my feet, feeling nauseous.

“Why wouldn’t you spin them up if they’re witnesses to their own murder?”

“Archdiocese says you only get the sleeve you’re born with. Once it dies, they spin you back up for anything, even to identify your killer, your soul goes to hell.” Ortega looked in the rearview mirror. “What do you think?”

“I think no one in the archdiocese has ever been murdered.” He looked out the window, and then to me. “Nova?”

I snorted, finally looking up. “I think they’re all full of shit.”

He fell quiet as he observed the city. I studied his silhouette as he stared. The sleeve was handsome. Strong features, a strong jawline, a deep voice. Light colored eyes and swept-over hair.

“So what were you in for?” I asked, trying to get a sense of why he was so silent.

“Ah, little bit of this, little bit of that. Blew some shit up and killed some people.” He caught a look from Ortega in the rearview. “Some people just need killing.” He grinned.

I felt a grin rise on my own face, but Ortega didn’t seem to share the amusement.

“And how do you decide who deserves to die?”

My partner shook his head with a small sigh. “Depends on the day. I mean, anything can set me off. Interstellar dictatorship, genocide, people who talk to much.” He looked over at her for the last part before letting out another sigh.

I giggled, and Ortega shot me a look.

“Right now I’m feeling pretty hostile towards Laurens Bancroft, whoever the fuck he is.” He pulled something from his pants pocket.

“Oh, come on. Everyone knows Bancroft, he’s one of the first founding Meths.”

“What’s a Meth?”

“You don’t know what a Meth is? How can you not know?” Ortega chuckled. “You're dressed like one.”

“Like I said, I’m not from around here.” His demeanor changed.

I eyed him. He was fidgeting with his hands. Ortega went on, reciting something from the beliefs of the Meths. I decided to unbuckle myself and slide into the middle seat. He took notice and looked down at me, eyebrows furrowed.

“How long have you been under?”

He looked away, sighing again.

“How long, man?” I whispered again.

“Two hundred fifty years.” He didn’t look my way again.

“Shit.”

We busted through the clouds, and I slid forward, still unbuckled. He caught me by the hood of my jacket before grabbing my upper arm, pulling me back into my seat. I swallowed my pride and buckled back up.

“They call it the Aerium.”

He leaned forward, eyes wide.

“Guess they don’t have this where you come from either, huh?” Ortega gave a teasing smile.

She guided the car to hover over the property as we sat in silence. He readjusted himself back in his seat, and Ortega seized the silence once more.

“So, where were you born? Home planet, that kinda thing.”

“Not here.” He was dead-pan.

“That’s a little vague.” Ortega chuckled.

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“That’s my abuela. She always said, Kristin, you can find a way to talk to anybody.”

“Especially when they’re trapped in a car with you.” He shot back.

She looked forward with a sigh, and I stifled another giggle.

“Our quick and messy little lives are so small to them. They build their homes up here so the clutter of our existence is out of their sight.”

We only shared a look in the backseat.

***

The landing of the hover-car was rough, accompanied by various quick remarks.

“Come on, last chance. Just give me a name.”

“Takeshi Kovacs.” He got out of the car and straightened out his clothes. “Look me up.”

Ortega immediately did so while I scrambled out of the car after him.

“Holy shit. Is that why…”

Kovacs glanced at me over his shoulder. “Yep.”

“You can’t be who you say you are. All the Envoys died.” Ortega tried to catch up with us as she shouted.

“All except one.” Kovacs caught me by the arm, pulling me to stand behind him.

I peered around his frame, only to see Bancroft’s multiple goons with their guns pointed toward us.

“Not another step, Ortega.”

“Aw come on. I’m Bay City PD and you know it, Curtis.” Ortega continued to walk toward them. “So lower your weapons and tell me where your boss is, because I really would like a fucking word.”

“Lieutenant Ortega, you’re trespassing on private property. Apparently, you’ve stolen one of our limos as well. I could have you shot.”

Ortega snorted. “Yeah, go ahead. Try.”

A police vehicle landed to our left, and Kovacs covered me a bit more with his own body.

“Why did you drive the Envoy? Isaac was supposed to do that.”

The police car door opened, and a man in a suit dragged a boy out.

“Look, I’m not drunk, okay? I was just loosening up a little. Let go of me.”

“We picked him up on a DUI.” The man explained to Mrs. Bancroft.

“Which is how we came into possession of your vehicle.” Ortega explained.

Mrs. Bancroft whispered something back and forth to, presumably, her son. She turned back to face us. “This is police harassment.”

“Yeah.” Ortega scoffed again. “There’s your kid, there’s your car, here’s your mercenary, and there’s your… new pet terrorist.” She gestured towards Kovacs, annoyed. “You’re welcome.”

“Bounty hunter, not a mercenary.” I scowled.

She walked past us, and Kovacs scoffed this time. “The terrorist can hear you. I’m standing right here.”

“Yeah, good. Cause we’re not done, you and me.” Ortega snapped at him before getting into the police car. I inched my way out from behind Kovacs until I was standing next to him.

Mrs. Bancroft chuckled as she walked toward us. “Forgive me. I’m Miriam Bancroft. We’ve not been properly introduced.”

She gave Kovacs a weak handshake, followed by a snake-like smile my way.

“Welcome to Suntouch House.” She turned on her heel, and we followed.

***

“Shouldn’t that be in a museum?” Kovacs asked as we walked under the branches of a large tree.”

“I have a weakness for Elder civilization artifacts. I collect them, among other things.”

“This must’ve cost a fortune to ship here.”

She hummed as Kovacs reached for one of the lower-hanging tendrils.

“A few lifetimes, as well. But cost was no object. This is the only Songspire tree on Earth. No one really knows what they are. They could’ve functioned as part of Elder civilization architecture. The largest ones ever recorded are thousands of meters high.”

The look on Kovacs’ face was one of recognition. “I know. I’ve seen them.”

“Stronghold. Of course.” She nodded. “Laurens is in his study. I’ll show you up.”

As if voice-activated, the elevator doors to her right slid open. Kovacs and I eyed each other before following her into the small room. Something felt off. We stayed silent as the elevator began to ascend. I kept myself tucked in between him and the corner, and Miriam stood opposite of him. She continued to eye him before beginning to play with her necklace. The metallic clicking caught his attention, and he looked up.

“Is it true you can look into a person’s eyes and know exactly what they’re thinking?”

Kovacs hummed. “No, Envoys don’t read minds.”

“What a pity.” She smiled.

Kovacs seemed uncomfortable, and the elevator dinged before anyone could say anything else.

“Good luck, Mr. Kovacs, Ms. Griffiths.”

Kovacs gestured for me to exit first, and he followed close behind. We let out simultaneous sighs as we heard the doors close again. We began to walk down the long hallway, trying to keep pace with each other. The study was silent when we walked into it, and I began to feel sick to my stomach.

“Mr. Kovacs, Ms Griffiths.”

We looked up to see Bancroft on the balcony of his study, drink in hand. “My apologies, my son failed to drive you here. You have to forgive my endlessly misplaced optimism.”

“That’s alright.” Kovacs looked back around the study. “The ride was very instructive.”

“Hmm, yes, I’m sure it was. Details are, after all, an Envoy’s stock-in-trade.” He began to walk down to the level we were on. “Or were, I guess I should say. Immersion and total absorb. Wasn’t that the term, hmm? Whatever answer you may seek, it is precisely where you are not looking.”

“You’ve read Falconer.” Kovacs finally spoke, eyes on me as I kept my own on him.

“I was alive during the uprising, yeah.”

“Yeah?” His eyes didn’t stray from mine. “So was I.”

“Oh, y-yes, my apologies. It’s all in the distant past for me, but for you, of course, it’s all rather different. There are very few of us now, who saw firsthand what the Envoys could do. Ah-ha. Yes. A-And I have to admit that I had a grudging admiration for you. Trained by Quell herself to be the most formidable fighting force that the galaxy had ever seen.”

“Well, that would sound better if we hadn’t lost.” Kovacs quipped.

“Although this might, might interest you.” Bancroft handed Kovacs a small leather-bound booklet. “Oh, it’s all corneal streaming now. There’s something about the simplicity of holding the written word in your hand. The very-very heft of it. As men have done for countless centuries before us.”

Kovacs seemed to leave the current plane of existence as he flipped through the book, fingers gingerly running over the pages. “Where did you get this?”

“I bought it at an auction. Supposedly, it is written by Falconer in her own hand. Judging by your reaction, it appears I might have got what I paid for.”

Kovacs snapped out of it, bundling the book back up and clearing his throat.

“Listen to me. I spent this entire morning being well and truly fucked around with, so, uh, let me be painfully clear. Some things can’t be bought. I’m not sure about Ms. Griffiths here,” he glanced down at me, “but I, for one, cannot. Now, I didn’t ask you to bring me back into this world. In fact, I fought a war to stop people like you from happening.” Kovacs began to step closer to Bancroft. “So, if someone doesn’t tell me right now what the fuck this is all about… I might very well lose my temper.” He smacked the booklet into Bancroft’s chest, and I felt my cheeks begin to grow flush.

“Understood. Now, this is a full pardon, signed by the president of the Protectorate.”

Kovacs only gave a look of disbelief. “Power is a matter of influence, Mr. Kovacs. And I have had a great deal of influence at the UN. If you agree to my terms, your sentence will be reduced to time served. And then I will open up a very generous line of credit in your name. DNA trace accessible. And when the investigation is over, you may keep this sleeve or choose another. To your own specifications.”

Kovacs said nothing, and I hung back. Bancroft turned to me.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, Ms. Griffiths. Your parents will be pardoned as well.”

My heart immediately felt like it was going to blow a hole through my chest.

“Finally, I will pay you both a salary of 50 million UN credits. That’s a fortune. You can have any future you want.”

Blood kept rushing to my head, and my ears felt red hot. My vision blurred, and my body began to shake. I felt ready to pass out. Bancroft began to speak again, walking away this time. Kovacs gently put a hand on my waist and guided me to follow, sensing the loss of equilibrium within my body.

“All I ask is that you solve a murder.” Bancroft pulled a white sheet off a wall.

“Whose?” Kovacs stopped us both in front of the blood-splattered wall.

“Mine.”

“This is where I died. When Miriam found me, my head had been vaporized.”

Kovacs’ hold on me had grounded me enough for him to let go. He began to pace the room, and I looked over the brains on the wall.

“It’s an energy weapon?” Kovacs asked.

“Yes. A particle blaster. I keep one for personal protection in a biometric safe that only Miriam and I can open.”

Kovacs and I immediately shared a look, and Bancroft caught on. “Go ahead. Say it. Everyone else has. Either I committed suicide, or my wife murdered me.”

“But you’re still here, meaning your stack is intact, so… you must remember what happened.” The light hit Kovacs in a new way, and I noticed the scar on his sleeve’s eyebrow.

“I’m afraid it’s completely destroyed. RD’d, as they say.”

“So how?”

“Full-spectrum DHF remote storage backup?” I asked.

Bancroft nodded and Kovacs looked at me with a scowl on his face.

“Do you know what that is?” Bancroft asked him.

“Yeah. Just never met anyone filthy rich enough to afford it.” Kovacs scoffed.

Bancroft seemed like his pride was hurt, but he shrugged it off. “Well. I need to show you two something.”

He led us up the stairs to where he had been lurking when we arrived. Kovacs and I shared a look as we followed. I had to double my pace to keep up with Kovacs, who was more likely than not over a foot taller than me.

“Sometimes I come up here when I have decisions to make or difficulties to face.” Bancroft began. “I think about the ancient explorers, back when one could spend a lifetime pursuing the possibilities of the Earth, the oceans, the stars.”

My eyes flickered around the maps and old news articles framed up on the walls. Humanity had landed on the moon for the first time over 400 years ago. These artifacts must’ve cost fortunes.

Bancroft sighed. “I was born in London. When I first moved to what was then, of course, known as the United States, it still had the faintest echoes of the new and brash culture that it once was.”

I glanced over at Kovacs, who was tinkering with something on one of the multiple desks. Bancroft said something about the age of adventurers, and I heard the beeping of a screen. I pulled my eyes from Kovacs and followed his line of sight. A telescope spun our way, and Bancroft gestured toward it.

“Take a look. Tell me what you see.”

Kovacs and I shared another look, and he sensed my hesitation. He placed a reassuring hand on the small of my back before taking a step forward, peering through the eyepiece.

“It’s a Protectorate satellite. Military grade.”

Bancroft hummed. “It is military grade, but it’s not the Protectorates. It’s mine.”

Kovacs’ face took on an unreadable expression as he straightened up, making a subtle effort to keep himself between Bancroft and I.

What had I gotten myself into?

“Every forty-eight hours, my stack is automatically needle cast to it.”

“So your current self has no memory of what happened?” I peeped up from behind the six-something, two hundred-something slab of muscle in front of me.

“No, whoever killed me pulled the trigger ten minutes before my backup went through.”

“Which means all of your memories from those forty-eight hours are gone.”

“Completely. There was an attempted hack on my satellite feed moments after my death. Somebody wants me dead.”

Kovacs peeked back at me over his shoulder. This time, I understood the look in his eyes. Who wouldn’t?

Kovacs took a breath before beginning to slowly circle Bancroft. “For all we know, you did try to kill yourself.”

“You just botched the job.” I deadpanned.

“Mr. Kovacs, Ms. Griffiths, I am not the kind of man who would take his own life. And even if I were,” his eyes turned toward me with a menacing glaze over them, “I’d not have bungled it in such a fashion.”

Kovacs noticed and, once more, took a step in front of me.

“If I’d meant to die, I’d indeed be dead.”

Kovacs chuckled. “I don’t want your money. Or your pardon. I’m not sure about Ms. Griffiths here, but I’ll take eternity on ice. Thanks.” He turned on his heel, and I scurried to stay at his side.

If he was out, then so was I. I didn’t trust Bancroft and I sure as shit wasn’t gonna be stuck in this alone.

“You should take the day, Mr. Kovacs. Go into the city, remember what it is to feel alive. And then, give me your answer. O-oh, and please do take the book. Like everything else I’m offering you, it’s yours if you want it.”

Kovacs looked down at me, and I nodded up at him. Without another word, we made our way out of his study and, with the luck of Miriam not being around, out of the house.

***

In the car, Kovacs stared at his hands. He was beyond deep in thought. It seemed like a flashback that he was struggling to fight his way out of. He was adamant in his decision to be put back under. The driver was going to drop me off on main street in Bay City. I was going to see E.J. for the first time in almost a year. Kovacs would, as Bancroft had suggested, take a night in the city. After that, he would return to Alcatraz, and I would never see him again.

“Ms. Griffiths.” The driver caught my attention.

I looked up, seeing that we were pulled over on the main road. I blinked, and looked up at Kovacs.

“Guess this is goodbye?” I grinned.

He chuckled, but his own grin fell and he shook his head. “Don’t get involved with Bancroft again. I’ve been around long enough, and people like him don’t change.”

I nodded, watching his eyes as they deepened while he thought. “I won’t. Don’t worry about me.”

He met my eyes, and his grin returned. “Stay safe, kid. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, I suggest you keep it.”

I nodded. “I will. Be safe, Kovacs.”

“Takeshi.” He spoke as I opened my door, ready to get out.

“What?” I looked back.

“Call me Takeshi.”

I smiled, knowing I’d never see him again and that it wouldn’t matter what I called him.

“Goodbye, Takeshi.”

“Goodbye, Nova.”

***

I ran through the rain, dodging the group of teenagers doing the same. I shouldered the metal door open and ducked in, out of the weather. The air inside was stale and there were cobwebs in each corner of the lobby. After it had begun to pour, E.J. had called and asked me to meet him here. It looked like the hotel hadn’t been touched in a few years, give or take. More likely give.

“Eli?” I called out, clutching my bag over my shoulder.

“Ms. Griffiths, welcome.”

“Holy shit, it’s still you?” I turned to Poe, the AI that ran the place.

“It’s not like anyone stays here anymore. No need for an upgrade.”

I turned on my heel and saw E.J. sitting at the bar, drink in hand.

“Dude, you are nineteen, put that shit down.” I made my way over to him, stealing the glass of liquor and downing it. “Poe, stop giving my little brother alcohol.”

“He’s a paying customer, Ms. Griffiths.”

I rolled my eyes and held my arms out. E.J. stood from his seat and embraced the hug, rocking me back and forth from side to side. We had stayed at the Ravel Hotel on one occasion, for two months straight. Our parents were off-planet for a racing event, and they had left us with our uncle. He died in a gang-related shootout two days into our parents’ trip. After a week on the streets, we found our way into The Raven. We had gotten in contact with our dad, and he sent the money to Poe.

“How’ve you been?”

I sighed as he finally let go of me. “It’s been kind of crazy.” I sat down next to him.

“Tell me about it?”

I took a deep breath. “Hey, Poe?”

“Yes, Ms. Griffiths?”

“Nova.” I corrected him. “You’ve known me since I was 12, you can call me by my first name. Can I get a-”

“White Russian, White Russian!” E.J. shouted.

“Eli, stop.” I giggled before looking back at Poe. “Fine. Two White Russians please.” I grinned.

I held my finger to the pay-spot on the bar, pulling it away once it clicked. Poe shuffled our drinks out, and I handed one off to E.J. The door opened, and Poe fluttered over to the front desk. E.J. and I didn’t bother looking over. Probably just some sick freak who needed to get his rocks off. He grinned and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. I rolled my eyes as he held the pack out to me.

“You can’t say shit, I’m 19.”

“Stop being cocky.” I pulled one between my lips and held it up to the lighter he held in his hands.

“Never.” He grinned again as he took a drag of his own cigarette. “So. Who’s the target?”

I scowled. “It fell through.”

“What?” He raised an eyebrow. “You? Lose a target? What happened?”

I rolled my eyes and leaned in. “You know Bancroft?”

E.J. snorted, blowing his cigarette smoke in the other direction. “The fucker who thinks he’s god?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Made this whole big deal about how his last sleeve got his brains blown out but his stack stayed intact.”

“Sounds like he just fucked the job up.”

I grinned. “Exactly what I said. So we split.”

“We?” He repeated, again raising an eyebrow. “Since when do you play well with others?”

“Shut up.” I shoved his shoulder. “It was gonna be a special case. Turns out god is just a fucking moron.”

The door opened again, and this time we looked up. There was no way that many people were just coincidentally here. I immediately rose and pulled E.J. along with me as four men and one woman, all with guns, barged in. I looked toward their intended target.

Takeshi?

“He won’t be needing a room. So much for Envoy Intuition. Voodoo bullshit.”

“Envoy?” E.J. hissed at me as I pulled him to duck behind the bar.

“Just shut up. Do you have anything on you?”

“What?”

“Weapons, Eli.” I hissed back.

He patted himself down, and I pulled my blade from my bag and flicked it open. It was the only good thing my father had left me with. A dagger that transformed into a sword with the flick of a wrist. Eli twisted a silencer onto his gun and matched my position.

“Pardon me, wayfarer, we’re in the midst of conversation.” I heard Poe.

“Shut up, you piece of digibrain shit. My microwave is smarter than you.” The man with his gun on Takeshi’s neck snarled.

“I just want one thing to go right today.” I heard Takeshi’s gruff voice.

“Clearly.” Poe sighed.

“Too bad.”

I began to creep up from my toes, onto my knees. Takeshi turned to face the first man, holding his hands behind his back.

“They said you’d be dangerous. I thought you’d be bigger. They made me bring all this backup. What a waste of my time. I don’t need them.”

By now, I was on my haunches, peering up over the counter of the bar. Poe made eye contact with me and gave the slightest shake of his head. Although he was just a bundle of code, Poe had become more human than some people. He cared about E.J. and I, in his own strange, AI way.

“Fuck you, Dimi.” One of the men hissed, only to earn a bullet to the head.

Dimi? I had to take this fucker down for sure. I’d never have to work another day in my life.

“I have to clean that up.” Poe sighed.

“What?” Dimi growled.

“Uh, he had it coming.” Takeshi nodded. “He was rude.”

E.J. had made his way up next to me, gun held tightly. Poe shook his head at us once more.

“I could take you myself without even breaking a sweat.” Dimi got in Takeshi’s face. “Move.”

He shoved Takeshi to the middle of the group, which meant that they all now had their backs to us. Takeshi caught my eye over the counter, and his eyes widened. I gave him a cocky grin, and E.J. looked between the two of us, confused.

“Good sir, I cannot assume host prerogatives without payment.” Poe urged Takeshi.

“You want to get him a hot towel?” Dimi taunted. “You’re some kind of moron, staying in an AI hotel. Possessive like a crazy girlfriend. No one stays in them anymore.”

“Really? I hadn’t heard that.”

Dimi hit the top of Takeshi’s spine with his gun, and the Envoy crashed to the ground with a grunt. I made my choice. I tapped Eli’s gun and pointed my sword toward the woman, who was the closest to us.

“For guest amenities, please, touch the screen.”

Dimi hit Takeshi in the face this time, sending him sprawled onto his back. Eli and I stood slowly, boots silent against the wooden floor. He was taller, and by now, far stronger. We nodded at each other, and he clapped a hand over her mouth. I knocked her gun out of her hand with my sword, catching it in my hand before it could clatter to the floor. The others were too distracted with beating Takeshi up to notice.

Poe’s cold eyes flickered between Takeshi getting his shit rocked and us. The woman struggled, and I made another quick decision. I cut her throat, and Takeshi began to speak at the same time, covering the gurgling sound. E.J. grabbed her now limp sleeve and dragged her to the side.

“It’s not voodoo, which, by the way, absolutely is bullshit. It’s a form of subliminal pattern recognition.” Takeshi began to explain, keeping his eyes ahead as he crawled back toward Poe.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Dimi grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him up, putting his gun to Takeshi’s face.

As Dimi continued to threaten Takeshi’s sleeve, if not his stack, E.J. and I continued our quiet routine. Another man down, another sleeve thrown aside.

“You know, it’s about the details.”

Another hit, Takeshi landing back onto the coffee table. I flinched, surprised it hadn’t broken under his weight.

“Where’s the big bad boy Envoy killer from the past?” Dimi shouted.

“Twenty seconds.” Poe reminded him.

I grimaced. I couldn’t make my way to the front desk and do it for him without being noticed.

“Fight, goddamn it! What, you lost your balls? Did something change while you were down?”

Takeshi got back to his feet, staging himself between the back desk and Dimi. “Nothing changed.”

Two kicks to the stomach. I had enough. I looked at Eli and gave him a nod.

“People like you are still stupid.” Takeshi ended up at the front desk, finger in the right place.

E.J. took his first shot, and Dimi turned at the small noise. I thrusted my sword through another man’s chest. Poe lowered the machine guns from the ceiling, and I dropped to the ground, ducking behind a column to keep myself safe. I watched as E.J. did the same. Poe cocked a shotgun and began to shoot people down, and Takeshi began to pummel Dimi.

One of Dimi’s people tried to back behind a column, having the same idea we had. I counted the rounds that Poe’s machine guns fired, finding the right timing. I ran from the safety of my cover and plunged my sword into the man’s chest, dropping his sleeve down into the open fire. The men dropped like flies, and I kept my eyes on Takeshi. He round-house kicked Dimi in the stomach, and I swallowed hard. It was rather difficult to deny just how attracted to him I was becoming.

“Nova!”

I turned toward E.J.’s voice, only to see a man much bigger than me coming my way, a knife in his hand. I struggled to scramble to my feet, slipping in the blood of the sleeves I had killed. I fell flat onto my back and held my sword up, hoping I had enough coordination to shield myself from his knife.

There was the sound of Poe’s shotgun, and the men fell down on top of me. I groaned as I felt his knife slice through the skin of my thigh. The only person left was Dimi. Takeshi had him cornered against a sofa, fist raised.

“Who sent you?”

Dimi laughed, and I coughed, spitting blood aside as E.J. came running, pulling the sleeve off of me. I felt my consciousness begin to slip away, and I struggled to stay awake. E.J. pulled me up to sit, letting my back rest against a column. I watched from behind heavy eyelids as Takeshi put Dimi in a chokehold.

“Who sent you?”

He squirmed his way free, putting himself in the direct way of the machine guns. Takeshi urged Poe to hold back, but Poe didn’t listen. Dimi went down, and Takeshi sighed heavily.

“Ask this of your microwave, miscreant.”

Poe became quiet once he sensed that he had done something Takeshi didn’t like. “Apologies. Your room beckons.”

“Bite this.” E.J. shoved his leather belt between my teeth and didn’t give me time to react before pulling the knife from my leg.

I couldn’t help the scream that tore through my throat. Takeshi’s eyes went wide and he scrambled to our sides, hand immediately coming to my shoulder. He ripped a sleeve off and immediately began to tie it around my wound, flinching when I did.

“Nova, what happened? Are you okay?”

I coughed, and blood speckled onto his white button-up. E.J. brushed my hair out of my face and I winced.

“Sorry, Takeshi.”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Fucker nailed me when he dropped.” I pushed out, feeling light-headed once more.

“I can stitch her up.” E.J. grabbed my hand, squeezing it to try and keep me awake.

“No.” I hissed.

E.J. knew what he was doing, but it always hurt like a bitch. Takeshi looked me over and sighed, pulling me off the column so that he could hoist me into his arms.

“I’ll help you hold her down.” He adjusted me bridal-style and stood.

“God, fuck you both.” My voice was scratchy, and the lights began to look spotty.

“Just rest, Nov. We’ve got you.” Eli whispered, and I let the darkness consume me as my sleeve went heavy in Takeshi’s arms.

***

“What happened to a meal, getting laid, and restacking forever?”

I looked up from my plate to see Ortega walking over to us, hands on her hips. Takeshi took a drag of his cigarette before looking her way.

“I got interrupted.” He downed a shot.

“Who the fuck are these guys?”

“I don’t know.” Takeshi shrugged. “But they knew me.”

“Di-”

“They called you by name? Are you sure?” Ortega cut me off and I sighed, going back to pushing around the pasta on my plate.

“Eat.” Eli urged me.

I sighed again. “I really don’t want to.”

“Kristin!” The man Takeshi and I had seen drop off Bancroft’s son was there, working on the scene. “Four of them are just local muscle, but this sleeve is registered to Dimitri Kadmin. Ulan Bator registry.” He showed Ortega the tablet in his hands.

Ortega punched his arm, excited. “We got him.”

“Got who?” Takeshi looked over at me.

“Dimitri Kadmin, hitman out of Vladivostok.” I cut Ortega off this time. “Otherwise known as Dimi the Twin. Does a lot of work for the yakuza. Bastard doesn’t trust anyone, so he double-sleeves.”

“Isn’t the penalty real death?” E.J. asked.

Ortega’s partner nodded. “We hold onto his stack, and sooner or later we catch the other version of him out there, and then he’s done.”

Ortega let out a string of curses, and her partner looked her way. “What, what’s going on?”

“Stack is fragged. Not enough left to spin him up to interrogate. Fuck.”

“You couldn’t just disable them?” Ortega hissed at Poe.

“I was coming to the defense of my first guest in about a decade.” Poe took a shot of his own.

“With enough firepower to bring down an airplane.” Ortega spat back.

“Hey, Poe is fully licensed for customer protection. You know that. Not to mention, I got fucking knived.”

“You’ve shot people for less.” Her partner reminded her, and she brushed him off.

“So, Dimitri’s a high-end hitman?” Takeshi spoke up.

“Yeah, top of the line.” Ortega scowled.

“Then Bancroft’s death wasn’t a suicide.”

“Of course. Because who would wanna kill an asshole like you?” Ortega’s partner scoffed.

“Plenty of people. A few centuries ago.” Takeshi lit another cigarette.

Resleeved in the body of a hard-core nicotine addict was how he had put it.

“Kovacs doesn’t merit this kind of hit unless they wanna stop him from looking into Bancroft’s death.” I put together what Takeshi himself had been getting at.

“Instead of blaming us, how about you apply your impressive policing skills.” Takeshi scoffed at them.

“Less than eight hours out of the tank, and you’re already up to your eyes in organic damage and real death.”

Takeshi grabbed his unicorn backpack, which I had learned an hour ago was full of illegal street drugs, kissed the top of it, and slung it over his shoulder. He held his hand out for me, and I looked between him and E.J. My little brother nodded at me, and I took Takeshi’s hand, letting him help me off the stool.

“I could find a way to arrest you two for this.” Ortega threatened.

“Yeah?” Takeshi taunted as he led us past them. “You make up your mind, we’ll be upstairs.” He helped me stay steady as we wove through the sleeves strung on the floor.

Ortega tried to come after us, and her partner grabbed her, pulling her back and telling us to leave it. My foot slipped over a piece of glass, and I winced, grip on Takeshi’s hand tightening.

“Here.” He held my hand with one of his and grabbed my waist with the other, letting my weight rest against his side.

I felt like I was going to faint as his muscles moved under his shirt, rubbing against my own body. He hit the button to our floor and closed his eyes. I felt his body relax, but his grip on my waist stayed firm.

“Takeshi?” I whispered, looking up.

He met my gaze.

“I need to take the case. These people know who I am. I can't put my brother at risk like that.”

He only nodded and looked forward once more. His eyes fluttered shut, and he seemed to be absorbed into another flashback, like he had been in the car after we met Bancroft. It seemed to entrap him even as he led me to my room. He was fighting hard, his fingers beginning to bunch up the material of my shirt. I said nothing, returning the reassuring hand on his back. He helped me get to my bed, and, without a word, tears forming in his hazel-green eyes, turned and walked out of the room.

I laid on my back and sighed. This man was torn apart beyond belief, but he was a force to be reckoned with. This would be, by far, the most intense job I had ever and would ever work.

#altered carbon #altered carbon fic #altered carbon oc #takeshi kovacs x oc #takeshi kovacs x reader #takeshi kovacs #nova griffiths #junowrites

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clearlydiamondz · 3 years

Text

Make Up For It

Erik Stevens x OC

Part ONE

p.2

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

After a year of not seeing Erik, Jada has been faced with him in a sticky situation.

Warnings: Blood, Mention of Medical Procedure

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

Jada laid back into the bathtub, letting the smell of the sweet candles fill her senses. She needed this.. in so many ways than others. After working 12 hours all week this week in the ICU, she was finally off for the next three days. She spoiled herself with some crab legs and dirty rice. She caught up in some of her reality T.V and her favorite anime (7 Deadly Sins), and now she was relaxing in her bath tub.

She was dozing off until she heard the noise coming from her downstairs. Instantly she jolted up. At first she just thought it was her imagination until she heard whispers. She got out the bathtub before walking into her bedroom and grabbing her pistol that her brother King, got her to protect herself. She wrapped the black robe around her body before slowly opening her door.

She walked down the stairs, holding the pistol taking it off of safety. She turned the corner to hear the talk get louder. “I thought you said she was off these days?” She recognized that voice. It was her brother.

“I thought she was here.” She recognized that voice too. How could she not? That was her ex-boyfriend. Erik Stevens. Gosh she missed him. How could she not? They’ve been together since high school. She was his right hand women while he ran his empire. But after a really bad break up, she cut all ties with him. Now it’s been almost year since she last seen him.

“Bruh let’s just dip.” That was a voice she did recognize.

She turned on the lights before saying, “Give me a reason why I shouldn’t put a bullet in each of your knee caps.” she said. That was until she saw Erik and the other boy holding her brother up. “What the hell happened to him?” she said putting the gun on safety and placing it on the side table.

“We were at the club, next thing you know gun shots were being ring. He got hit.” Erik said as she closed her eyes. He was lying out his ass.

“Lay him down on the couch.” he was laid down as he groaned. She unbuttoned his shirt seeing the wound. “What time did this happen?”

“Not even 30 minutes ago..” her brother said as she nodded licking her teeth.

“So you guys think I’m stupid.. right?” she said looking at the two of them.

“What are you even talking about?”

“If this happened 30 minutes ago, why is there brown dried up blood already around the wound. And you can see around the area where the skin in starting to die.” she said pointing it out. “I know you like the back of my hand, you’re lying to me.” she snapped standing up pointing at Erik.

“We ain’t lying it’s-”

“I’m sorry.. who are you?” she asked the random man.

“Oh, I’m DJ.” he said as she looked between the three of them. She stood up.

“Tell me what happened.” she said looking at the three, as Erik rolled his eyes.

“Bruh we’re not fucking lying.”

“Okay.. play dumb then. I’ma play along with ya ass.” she walked to her kitchen, grabbing her house phone dialing 911. “Wait wait, don’t call 911!” King exclaimed. He looked at Erik nodding his head.

“We were doing a raid between one of the rivals, it went left. They hit him and we just came back into town.” Erik said as she closed her eyes.

“Why didn’t you guys go to a fucking hospital!” she yelled at him as King scoffed.

“And risk going to jail. No thank-”

“Shut up King! Do you not understand that you could have died! I don’t give a fuck about none of that shit!” she snapped at him. King sat back, listening to his sister. “And the fuck am I suppose to do? I don’t have supplies here?” she asked Erik tilted his head in confusion.

“What about the emergency kit we had.”

“I threw it out. Supplies in there was expired. And why would I keep knowing that you-” she stopped herself before looking at her brother. “You need to take him to the hospital. The wound is already getting affected.” she told them as King groaned.

“Jada look, I understand you’re mad at us but-”

“This does not have anything to do with being mad, look at my fucking brother Erik.” she snapped at him.

“Jada… please. I can’t go back to jail man.” King said to her. She saw the tears building up in his eyes as she scratched her forehead. “Someone stay here with him, we can go to the pharmacy up the road to get supplies.” she said turning around. She walked back up the stairs to get dress.

“I’ll go with her.” DJ said as Erik scoffed.

“Nah nigga.. I see the way you lookin at her and that shit ain’t happening.” Erik said. DJ stared down at Erik crossed his hands over his chest. “You tryna fuck my-”

“Aye.. first of all that’s my fucking sister you’re talking about. And two, I’m right here.” King said as Erik rolled his eyes. Jada came back down with grey stacked sweatpants, a black tank top, and black flip flops. She had a white rag in her hand before walking to King. She took off the button up as he winced out.

“Hold this on his wound. I don’t know how much blood he lost so let’s try and keep what he has in his body please. Put pressure on it.” she told him. He followed her instructions before grabbing her keys and her gun placing it in her waistband.

“Nah, we are driving my car-”

“Do you really think you’re in the position right now to make any decisions?” she cuts him off. Erik smacked his teeth listening to her. He’s not even going to lie, he miss this. She was the only one on planet Earth that he allowed to talk to him like that.

“Plus, if what you said is true, there are people from the raid all over this city looking for you. You’re car is probably being searched for as we speak.” she said making her way to the garage. They got into her car, as she backed out of the driveway. They rode through the dead city, the car silent.

“You know I didn’t mean for him to get hurt.. right?” she gripped the steering wheel, before nodding.

“Erik I know..” she said looking at the road. “But you didn’t have to lie..” she reminded him.

“I just know how you get when it comes down to him..”

“Yeah but you also know that I don’t like being left in the dark.” she said pulling into the parking lot. She found a close parking spot before stepping out. He followed her inside seeing her grab the things she needed.

“We need to stop by the hospital. There’s a couple of things that we need to get that they don’t have in here.” she said.

After paying for everything, they made their way to the hospital. “Stay here.” he instructed her. “No I need to come with you.”

“Erik It’s fine.. I got this,” she walked into the

“Excuse me, who are you?”

“Oh I’m the lead for the ICU unit. I left my charger in the break room and came by to pick it up.” she said as the nurse looked her up and down.

“Yeah. Hopefully it’s still in there.” You know how people can get with their sticky fingers.” she joked as Jada chuckled. She went to the supply closet before grabbing some of the items she needed. She made her way out to the car to see Erik sitting in the car.

“You got everything.”

“Yeah, let’s head back.”

After this little procedure, she had them put him in one of the spare bedrooms she had in her house. She told them to leave the room so she could have privacy with her brother. She sat on the floor on the side of the bed as he looked at her. “I know this isn’t how you wanted to spend you day off.” he said to her as she nodded.

“I’m so glad you know so..” she said to him as he chuckled.

“I’m sorry that I lied to you..” he randomly said as she chuckled.

“I’m just glad that you’re alive...” she told him as he nodded. There was silence before he spoke up. “You know Erik still wants to be with you.” he said as she scoffed.

“Erik is the least of my worries right now, no offense.” she told him as he chuckled.

“I’m serious, give that nigga a chance. Do you know how much he’s obsessed with you? Asking me every other day are you okay? Do you need money? Like damn call her your damn self.” he mocked him as he chuckled. Jada looked down on at the ground playing with her hands.

“You need to rest. I’ll be back in a few hours to refill your IV.” she told him. She kissed him on the forehead before turning the lights off and walking out his room. Erik stood on the other side of the hallway.

“How’s he doing?”

“He’s fine, he didn’t loose that much blood thankfully.” she said.

“That’s good.” he said putting his hands in his pockets.

“I need to talk-” “Can we talk?”

They both said at the same time. They both laughed before she said, “Let’s go to my bar and have a drink?”

They walked to her bar as she grabbed two whiskey glasses, pouring some Hennessy into each one. He grabbed it before taking a sip. “I miss you..” was all she said before he looked at her leaning against the counter. He smirked bringing the glass to his lips.

“That must’ve been really hard to admit.. huh?” she hit him in the arm as he chuckled. He placed the glass on the counter before looking her up and down.

“I missed you too... that whole situation spiraled outta control honestly. And it’s a shame that shit had us to stubborn to not talk to each other for almost a damn year.” he said as she sighed looking down.

“What does that mean for us?” she asked him as he walked closer to her closing the gap. He basically towered over her making her weak in the knees.

“I feel like we both know.” he whispered to her. “I don’t know about you, but I got a lotta of making up to do.” he said hooking his index finger along the strap of the tank top. He let it hang off her shoulder as tilted her head over. He placed soft kisses on her shoulder as she sighed in pleasure.

“I have to makeup for a birthday, valentines day.” he whispered. He undid the other strap.

“Erik..” she whispered as he pulled away from her.

“Can I make it up to you?”

#killmonger fanfiction #eriksteven #erik kilmonger #killmonger

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haliyam · 3 years

Text

interim (iii)

zeke x reader/oc

summary: You return to Liberio not long after the Warriors arrive home from their failed mission in Paradis and discover that things have changed. (Or they will, and maybe a little more with Zeke than you expect.) [Season 4 and manga spoilers ahead]

AO3 link | Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4

Hello! This came out longer than I meant it to be, but I enjoyed writing it. I admit that the chapter couuuld have gone without the middle bits, and I trimmed out a lot already, but this is purely self-indulgent fanfic and I love writing about the Warriors/the candidates, so I hope you enjoy it too.

Reminder that the Reader/OC is a cis-female Eldian character with a set background/surname, but please feel free to set the substitution for the Reader to your chosen First Name using the InteractiveFics browser extension if you’re reading through the browser! So on the browser extension that would be: Lucy = Your chosen First Name.

Chapter 3

If Zeke is going to shut his door in your face as soon as you try to enter, he gives no indication of it. Eyes to the ceiling, fingers barely grasping his doorknob, he doesn’t even look at you as you take one step closer, then two, only urging you to hurry up with a flick of his fingers. As if anyone else is still awake. With nothing for it, you step inside.

Zeke’s room is lit a warm yellow from the lamps standing next to his desk and sitting at his bedside table. It hasn’t changed much, save that he’s replaced his old bed with a much larger one. That makes sense, even though you hadn’t imagined he could get any taller as a child. The only other addition apart from his much fuller bookshelf is a pack of cigarettes on his desk.

You can’t help but pick it up. “You smoke now?”

Closing his door behind him, he snatches the pack from your hands and walks past you, tossing it back by his desk lamp on the way. “Problem?”

You shrug. You’re surprised, but you suppose that sort of thing doesn’t really matter when you’re a Titan shifter.

He pulls out the chair by his desk and takes a seat, crossing his arms at you with a brow quirked. Somehow, he manages to be intimidating in his pajamas—though that could very well be your guilt. “You wanted to talk,” he says. “So talk.”

The indifference in his voice makes your throat catch, but you steel yourself. “I’m sorry,” you say, one hand scratching at the other’s wrist. It seems your courage fell apart at his door. “I’m sorry I didn’t write for the last five years.”

“Why?”

“Because—because I should have.” You wrap your arms around yourself, tucking your hands under your elbows. “We were friends. You and Pieck were—are,” you hope, “my closest friends, and… and I left you hanging like that. Even knowing every year that the others hadn’t returned, how worried you must have all been… I didn’t write. I’m sorry.”

“No,” Zeke says slowly, irritated. His lip curls, and you feel nauseous. “Why did you stop writing back?”

Your nails dig involuntarily into your arms. “I was a stupid little teenager. I was upset.”

He scoffs, like he can’t bear the sight of you. “What did that have to do with me? ...With us?”

You swallow, eyes downcast, though they briefly flicker to his. “Am I secure here?”

Zeke glares at you. “Of course you are.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

His gaze softens just a little before the walls shoot back up. “Yeah.”

You nod. And then, after a long moment, you reluctantly begin. “Willy sent me to boarding school once I caught up with the necessary schoolwork. It was… well, you know. Boarding school was an entirely different world.” He does know - you had written them until the end of your first year. “And then summer came. Willy wanted me to spend it with them at home, and I did. The first week or so. But he had business to attend to, as always, and Mila invited me to her tour for the Foundation instead. Willy thought it would be nice for us to bond, and I thought…” You gnaw on the inside of your lower lip in embarrassment. “I thought she was finally giving me a chance.”

“Lucy,” Zeke murmurs. You can’t tell if it’s pity or disappointment, and you don’t want to know. You’re staring at his lamp, as if doing so long enough will burn out the memory from your mind.

“We visited Marley’s new southern nations at first. It was strange to be treated so well again.”

Zeke shifts in his chair. He has his cigarette pack in his hands now, fingers idly folding and unfolding the lid. “What did you expect? You’re Lucy Tybur.”

“I meant by Mila.” When he falls silent, you continue. “And then we visited Ulodana.”

Your eyes meet at that name. No reminder needed for that—Ulodana was the first country to which the regime deployed its new Warriors only months after they inherited their Titans. By then the rest of the unit had been informed of your true identity, and it was the brass’s idea to bring you along as a spectator. Imagine what more the motherland might achieve if the War Hammer were to join the fight, then-Commander Bruning had whispered to you, the mushroom cloud of Bertholdt’s transformation setting your eyes alight.

“The nations in the south had had time to recover. Grow accustomed to Marleyan rule. But Ulodana was still... bleeding. For the most part, we stayed in the cities which had already begun to rebuild; ones with budding military bases and an increasing Marleyan population. But Mila insisted on bringing us further from the coast—places you and I had last seen as smoking rubble. The people there were… They were still so afraid. Many of them…”

You gulp, pressing your lips between your teeth to regain your composure as you remember the survivors. You can still see them, hear them, smell them. Feel their hands in yours. Mila had pulled you aside and scolded you when you first shed tears before them, saying it was not you who had a reason to cry. And she had been right.

“So many of them were Eldians; others non-Eldians too poor to join the earlier evacuations. They still saw us coming that day, and with no aid forthcoming, they thought the Foundation had returned to deliver the finishing blow. They were terrified, Zeke.” His fingers fall still around the pack as you say his name, but he wears no expression, only studying yours even when he reveals nothing. Even Mr. Ksaver had been unable to read him when he was like this, so you know better than to try.

“Mila spoke with the people there, comforted them. It was jarring to see her so kind, but she was. And even then, it was hard. They aren’t exactly the regime’s priority, and the promise, even the swift arrival of aid with the Foundation’s help, could only do so much.”

Zeke’s gaze stretches far beyond the walls of his room, but he brings it back to you when you pause. “So,” he concludes, “you hated us for doing that to them.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is that simple. You saw what Lady Tybur wanted you to see.”

Appalled by the lack of sympathy in his voice, you square your shoulders at him. “Mila didn’t conjure those victims out of thin air, Zeke!”

“That’s right, Lucy.” Zeke rises out of his chair back to his full height, reminding you that he only lets you glare down at him. “The Warriors destroyed their military, their cities, and their homes. And if there were civilians who were too slow, Bertholdt and I destroyed them, too. The ones you saw just weren’t lucky enough to die.”

He advances toward you as he speaks, stopping near enough to barely graze your chin with his chest, and it takes all of the girl from back then to stand your ground. But you can only bear so much, and the sound of the boy you once trusted entirely so remorseless as a man has restrained grief ringing in your ears. “Don’t say it like that.”

“How should I say it?” Zeke asks closely, head tilted toward you. Even with the reflection of his lamp shining into his glasses, his eyes, half-lidded with what must be disinterest, bear no light in them. “Should I be crying like you, acting like you know what it was like?”

“I’m not crying.” You fix another glare at him, but it doesn’t last long. Your vision is blurry and your cheeks are wet with runaway guilt, and you wipe them with the back of your hand. “I’m sorry, all right?” you raise your voice, speaking forcefully through your shaking voice.

“I… I thought I’d seen everything here in Liberio, but that place was hell. And Mila said to me… She said it was greed back in Marley that kept things this way. The regime’s… but ours, too. To free the Eldians in the Marleyan internment zones, you… we... made things worse for everyone else in the world. I ate it up. I couldn’t bear to face those people knowing I had been a part of that, no matter our promise. It was easier to turn against the idea of you.”

Zeke is no longer looking at you. You feel like the earth swallowing you whole would feel better than the pressure crumpling at your chest, but there’s no way to go but forward.

“So I did. Held onto that for months and had nightmares about Ulodana for twice as long. By the time I realized how pathetic, how stupid I was… I was too ashamed to write back.”

The steel that has constituted Zeke’s bearing since your arrival has withdrawn. He seems exhausted, resigned as he sets his eyes upon you again. You watch each other for what feels like eternity, in the place where you first became friends, both trying to feel out whether a sliver of that bond between clean hands still remains between the two of you now.

Whatever it is he decides, he asks, “If you knew better... why didn’t you visit? We all heard about Lord Tybur making trips here over the years. He never stopped sending his gratitude to my grandparents and Mr. Finger, either.”

You huff, not at him but at the thought of your older brother, even as you sniffle. “Willy wouldn’t let me. I became… too willful.”

Zeke raises his brows at that.

“When I figured out Mila’s true intentions, I realized just how much the Tyburs were at fault. They hid it all from me when father died, but… I learned everything. Our relationship with the regime most of all.”

You’re grateful when he doesn’t ask you to elaborate, because despite everything, you don’t want to tell him the whole truth about the Tyburs. If there’s anything that might make him hate you for good, it might just be that. You know that certainly did it for you in spite of Lara’s good intentions.

“We knew. My ancestors knew about Fritz’s vow and still refused to speak out for Eldians, didn’t protest the development of the Warrior program when it happened. I mean—” Your hands rake through your hair, stopping only when they’re caught in the end of the half-ponytail you’ve been wearing. “Child soldiers? We always knew Marley was vicious, but we—Marley—sent children to Paradis on a recon mission, alone! I didn’t realize it until I saw my niece. She’s eight now. A baby. At that age we were slogging through the mud, learning to assemble weapons, to kill! What kind of monsters would allow…”

Your hands slide down your face and cover your mouth as your head shakes on its own. You’ve said this all before, to Willy, to Lara, to Pieck, and you’re exhausted. You both know the answer to that question, anyway.

“The Tybur family doesn’t get involved except to play the benevolent Eldians to the world’s devils, all to soften Marley’s image to the world. It doesn’t care that Eldians abroad are even worse off than we are here because of our Titans. It doesn’t care that Marley draws that debt on Eldia’s name,” you murmur, voice fluttering with emotion again, “not its own. Willy didn’t appreciate how angry I was and wanted to keep me at the estate until I could calm down.”

You only realize you’ve been rambling when all you hear is the cracking of your knuckles beneath your thumbs at your sides and the low hum of the lamps around you. Biting your tongue, you venture a glance up at Zeke, who has his back to you on his way back to the desk, hand in his hair. You don’t know if it’s worse than seeing what he must think.

“But I really am sorry,” you take a step, another after him when he doesn’t turn to look. “You all deserved more. I… I understand if...”

Zeke whirls just before you touch the hem of his shirt, seized instead by a thought. “Why let you choose to study here, then? Magath’s summons?”

At this point, you practically leap at the chance to respond, hands raised slightly. “No. It was Lara. She convinced him to let me, when she saw how much I’d studied. Actually studied, you know,” you chuckle, nervously when he acknowledges it with only a tilt of his head. “And by then I had learned enough of Mila’s game to pretend I had given up.”

“Oh.”

You barely just catch the disappointment in his tone.

“And I missed you,” you scramble to add, obviously. “I missed you all so much. I swore to be on my best behavior just so I could come back.”

A hint of warmth fills Zeke’s deep blues, but he glances away with a familiar eyeroll. “Good save.”

You frown. “I mean it. I just didn’t know it had to be said. You were my first friends. I didn’t exactly make many in boarding school. They were too different.”

“So you were just lonely.”

“Not just lonely,” you say, prepared to launch into another passionate speech about how much you ached to see your friends again, how much of your pride you sacrificed to pester Willy to let you go with the promise of Liberio’s impressive own medical program, when you catch the slight amusement tugging at Zeke’s mouth. “You—are you—” you sputter, embarrassment seeping in cold, before you manage to close your mouth. “You… are awful.”

Zeke smirks. “Even if I forgive you?”

It’s infectious, and you have to resist the urge to both laugh and cry at the very concept of his forgiveness. Eyes wide, you watch him carefully. “Do you?”

He crosses his arms again, sitting back against his chair. “I can put you through more hoops, if you’d like.”

“No!” you gasp, the heat of indignation taking over the chagrin, only to sigh when you realize you’ve given yourself away. “Well, I wouldn’t blame you. You have all the right to be angry.”

“...I was a pretty angry teenager too,” Zeke shrugs. “Then a spoiled little girl had to come and keep disturbing me because if she couldn’t get any sleep, then neither could I.”

Your jaw drops. “That is not how that went. Besides,” you raise your head, every inch the Tybur, even as you slowly make your way to the edge of his bed and take a seat, “that girl was the reason you have any friends at all. I… I bet you missed her.”

“Sure. Now where did you put her?” The full familiarity in his voice has you smiling now, or maybe it’s the grin he openly wears. “Only figured out it was you when I realized there could only be three Eldian runts Magath would ever care to acknowledge.”

You stare at him for a beat and then make to push yourself off the bed. “Anyway, I’m going to sleep now that I’ve apologized.”

“Aw, come on,” Zeke laughs, reaching for your arm, and you squint at him as you dramatically tear it from his grasp. Still, you fling yourself back upon the edge. He leaves his desk to occupy the space next to you, one knee drawn up over his sheets. “Honestly? I was more surprised they’d let anyone in Magath’s office with such a messy armband.” He reaches over and adjusts the pale one wrapped around your arm, pulling out the edges folded in. “You know you don’t need to wear this at home, right?”

For some reason, your breath catches as the heat of his fingers gently press through the cloth of your sleeve. You recover with a cough and a quick oops. “Force of habit. That was the one thing boarding school was stricter about than the military.” You smile at him, leaning away from his touch. “Thanks.”

Zeke suddenly withdraws his hands, now watching you instead of the sleeve. “...Yeah. Just make sure you check it before you leave the house tomorrow,” he says sternly. Not a tone you’ve ever heard from him in private.

Regarding him strangely, and desperate to bring you both back from this alien tension between you, you sit up straight and stiffly raise your hand to your shoulder in salute. “Yes, Warchief.”

Zeke responds with a blank look in his eye, mostly, save the tinge of humor kindled by the upward tug of your lips. You can tell he’s about to kick you out of his room.

“I’m kidding.” You lower your arm, sensing the return of that comfortable familiarity. “I haven’t congratulated you on your official promotion, either.”

His mirth fades. “Do you hate me for it?”

“No. No,” you stress, as though he has no reason to ask. “You’ve done what you’ve had to.”

After a long inhale, Zeke sighs as he nods. This time, it is he who fills the silence. “Uh—I’m sorry again about your father. So he was the...”

“Yeah.”

He gives you a once-over, as if to search for Titan marks. “Are you…?”

“No, I’m not.”

The slight bitterness in your voice draws Zeke’s gaze back to yours. You shrug before he can say any more of it and try to put it out of your mind. Those are, after all, matters for the Tybur estate. You’re here now, and Zeke has forgiven you. In spite of everything else, the thought makes you giddy with relief, and you rear your head toward him with a smile.

“So… is there anything you want to tell me?”

Zeke wonders who might have been chosen to inherit the War Hammer instead of its most obvious candidate, but mostly he’s glad it isn’t you. It’s a selfish thought he keeps to himself, but the idea of you living past your twenty-sixth year is one that does not fill him with dread.

Thirty-nine. He’s thinking about how you’ll live to be thirty-nine when your voice interrupts what he imagines you might look like by then. Your tone says you’re fishing for something, so he opens his mouth, meeting your gaze to tell you you’re not quite as much taller than Pieck as you think (he has one joke), nor is subtlety your strong suit, when the whole of you seems to come at him all at once. Your now messy hair, crinkled eyes, that expression he used to find both funny and irritating on your mouth—except the obnoxious grin that subsumes it as he lets the silence pass is suddenly... adorable.

Huh?

Sitting back, Zeke abruptly presses his palm to your face and promptly pushes it away. “Don’t press your luck, Blanchard.”

You smack his hand off, face flushed as you cry out, “Rude!”

He’s already laughing, using your indignation to overcome the urge to gulp down the breath caught in his throat when you suddenly lean back on his bed and raise your foot. You kick it into his side with a strength he absolutely remembers, sending his ribs knocking against his footboard with a groan. “Ow! You—get out of here and let me sleep already!”

You smile to yourself as you lower your legs to the floor, feet searching for your house slippers. “I chose not to go for your face, you know.”

“Are you seriously studying to be a doctor?” Zeke mutters, rubbing at his side. “You haven’t changed at all.”

You chuckle through a yawn, hand over your mouth as you ease yourself to your feet. “Okay.”

He rights himself quickly when you’re crossing his room toward his door already. “Lucy, wait.”

You stop, lean against his desk with a small smile like it’s your room. “Hmm?”

Zeke pretends to shake his head at your audacity, letting you grin a little longer before he asks, “Do you want to meet the new Warriors tomorrow?” You blink, and he starts to regret the question. “I just figured—”

“I’d like that.” You open your mouth, ostensibly to say more, when both of you hear movement from down the hall. Footsteps by the stairs. “I should go. See you tomorrow.”

He waves, content to watch you hurriedly leave his room. When he hears the door to yours open and click shut, he goes himself and catches his grandmother still sleepily making her way out into the low lit corridor. Her hands are searching for the stairway light switch.

“Grandma?” he asks, coming over to set a supportive hand along her upper back. “Why are you up so late?”

“Zeke,” she smiles in greeting, yawning. “I was just going to get some water.”

“Let me. I’ll get new glasses for you and grandpa, so go back inside.” When his grandmother thanks him, he heads for the stairs, bounding down the steps with sudden enthusiasm.

Your words will stay with him long after you’ve forgotten them, and perhaps not for the better—but for the moment, Zeke feels inexplicably light.

So do you when you awake the next morning. Of course you’re still sorry for all you did, or didn’t, do, and you know you deserved all the guilt, the anxiety, being on tenterhooks about your friendships for all that you left Zeke and Pieck hanging. But now that their forgiveness is a certainty, you feel utterly content. Now you can start making it up to them.

Then again, you are so pleased that you could lie in bed all morning and hardly feel guilty.

But you have miles to go, so you roll out of your blankets and get yourself ready for the day. Briefly, you wonder if Zeke has gone ahead again, but you find the answer you wanted as you open the door to the dining room downstairs.

He’s chewing on a piece of bread as he waves at you, the last bite in his hand. “Morning. Breakfast?”

He really has forgiven you, and everything can go back to the way it was. “Morning,” you beam, though you decline as you pass him on the way to the kitchen. “No thank you. I ate too much last night.” You pour yourself some water instead. “Did you have some of the blueberry pie?”

“Yeah. The Galliards always make quality stuff.” He dusts his uniform off as he stands and heads for the sink with his plate. “Though I could tell who cut it because she left the side with the slightly burnt crust in.”

“It’s crispy, and you know that’s my favorite part,” you huff, leaning against the counter next to him and handing him your empty glass. “That was part of my apology.”

Zeke grins, eyes to his task. “Yeah, yeah.”

You refrain from elbowing him and move to start cleaning his crumbs off the table and the floor. “Where are Mr. and Mrs. Yeager?”

“Market day. Oh—bring a book. We can drop in on the candidates come lunchtime.” He glances over his shoulder. “Or did you have other plans today?”

“I wanted to pass by the university and find the general book list for the first years, but after the line I went through yesterday... I’m not in the mood. I’ll bring a book.”

“Good.”

The two of you head out once the dining room and the kitchen are spotless. The sky is overcast this morning, so the zone takes its time waking up for the day, even with others already on their way to work.

It starts to properly stir on your way to the gate. The view of the zone coming to life is something you once enjoyed watching on break days, especially compared to the lonely silence of the estate and eventually to the rigid rush of boarding school, but you don’t get to see all that much today—Zeke purposely avoids the larger avenue coming to the gate and leads you through side streets and alleys instead. Something about avoiding the morning rush.

You don’t mind. You’re still waking up, too.

Eldians have no real hope of rising through military ranks, save those sacrificed among the Warrior unit, so Zeke’s office is quite impressive. He has his own mahogany desk, an entire bookshelf packed with volumes, yet more books and maps stacked against the wall, and his own gramophone. Not to mention the view outside the window behind his desk. He even has a cabinet to the side for his own alcohol, tea, or coffee—the latter of which he offers to you once you two arrive.

“Coffee, please,” you say, on one of the pillowed seats surrounding the coffee table at the center of the room. Sitting back, you throw an arm over the backrest to peer at the bookshelf behind you. “That’s quite a selection. I can’t believe you have your own office now.” You grin, turning back to watch him quietly preparing you a cup. “Zeke?”

“Coming right up.”

His response seems a little muted. When you question him with a tilt of your head, he jerks his in the direction of the gramophone.

Ah, you mouth. Even the Warchief can’t have his own office without being tapped. Par for the course when there are Eldians about, you imagine. That explains why the guards at the front gate delayed you with meandering conversation as soon as Zeke mentioned taking you to his office.

“So what kind of work do you do anyway, Warchief?” you continue far too seriously, absentmindedly flipping through your book for your marker.

“You know that’s top secret, Miss Blanchard,” says Zeke, who of course plays into it. “Unless you’d like to join the ranks again. You’re certainly welcome to.”

You sigh. You never win when you try him like this. “Commander Magath told you?”

Zeke chuckles, walking your coffee over. “He mentioned hoping you might still be interested in our line of work.”

“Was he mad?” Regardless of your feelings about the regime, you have always remained conflicted about your former drill instructor. There was a time you were certain he wanted you dead, and you won’t forget what he and Commander Bruning put the rest through even more than yourself, but there were flashes of kindness you saw from him that you’ve never witnessed from any other Marleyan as Lucy Blanchard. You still don’t know how to feel about him.

Zeke snorts at such a childish question, pulling out several folders from his desk drawer as he takes his seat. “Should I ask him?”

“Of course not!”

He chuckles in response, and then starts to ignore you completely for his work. Grumbling incoherently at him from behind your tilted cup for good measure, you turn to your book and begin to read.

Your coffee is long finished next to a similarly empty glass of water by the time you start yawning. You’ve read the same page thrice now, and that’s when you know you need to get off your ass and take a little walk around the room.

Zeke yawns as you start a cross-arm stretch by the door. “You’re so noisy.”

“The nerve of this man, inviting me to his office and then complaining when I breathe.”

He smiles. “Breathe more quietly, then.” Slamming the folder he was reading shut, he follows you to his feet and pulls at his sleeve to check his watch. “Almost lunch time. Want to go check on the candidates?”

Your deadpan stare at his earlier remark remains until you feel just how empty your stomach is. Skipping breakfast was not your best idea, but you prefer it that way before you have to see the poor children who will one day replace your friends. “All right.”

The two of you wind your way through the complex and out to the courtyard, where the sun remains blessedly hidden as you watch the children at the far end doing their loaded running for the day. You hear them more than you see them, panting as they do their best to earn the honor of that red armband on Zeke’s sleeve.

Zeke catches your doleful expression and lets out an exaggerated sigh. “I do not miss those days.”

You grimace at him. “My body hurts just remembering them.”

“Don’t remind me. I was dead last in my class before I built any endurance.”

You don’t comment on the real story behind that. The children are coming closer to your side of the courtyard, though they don’t appear to notice you, and Zeke points them out: Udo, a boy with glasses whose family moved to Liberio from Marley’s new southern territories; Zofia, a girl with a heavy fringe who reminds you strangely of Annie; Falco, a blond boy who—Zeke cuts himself off when the last candidate pushes past them all with a yell. That one is Gabi Braun, Reiner’s younger cousin.

“Cousin? Extended families aren’t made honorary Marleyans?”

“I was a special case, for obvious reasons,” Zeke answers your real question. “And yeah. Otherwise there would be too many of us, right?”

You frown, starting to fall into deep thought again when a familiar bark makes you nearly jump out of your skin.

“Hey! No Eldian civilians allowed on base!”

An older man is jogging over, almost comically shaking his fist at you. It’s as he comes up to the building that he notices Zeke on your other side, and now he peers more closely at your face, head cocked forward.

“You—” he starts. The years have been kinder to him than to Commander Magath, so there is no mistaking him. As his footsteps slow, his posture shifts from indignation to surprise, and then finally settles on diffidence. “Is that you, Miss Ty—”

“Blanchard,” Zeke coughs.

“Miss Blanchard?” he finishes.

“Instructor Marras.” Among the three who assisted Magath with Warrior training, he was probably the most bearable, if only because he left you to your own devices. He was much kinder when he discovered your true name, which was a shame. “What a pleasure.”

“We didn’t think we’d ever see you again around here,” he smiles widely, briefly acknowledging Zeke. “What brings you back around this end of Marley?”

“This and that,” you say, not quite in the mood to get into it when you can see the children still running. As though he’s read your mind, Zeke steps up next to you and signals toward them. “Isn’t it about time for lunch?”

Marras follows his gesture. “Ah. They got a little mouthy since I’ve been going easy on them, so training has been extended. But,” he says, attention back to his visitors, “you rarely come to check in on the new candidates, and you visit us even less, Lucy!”

Waving at you to wait just a moment, he barks at the children to come over. They’re even smaller than you imagined up close, just like your niece Fine, panting as they clutch their replica rifles for dear life. They do their best to salute Marras, but very obviously find it difficult to keep their composure when they see Zeke.

“It’s the Beast Titan,” Udo yelps.

“His name is Zeke Yeager, dummy,” Gabi nudges him with what she must think is a whisper.

Zeke raises his hand in a bland wave, “Hey, kids,” but you can’t help your delighted chuckle. Fine is a very reserved little girl compared to these excitable children. Wide with effort and at a real Warrior’s arrival, their eyes all dart to you, and Gabi’s in particular squint at your armband. “I thought civilians weren’t allowed in HQ?”

“And I don’t remember asking if you had questions, candidate,” Marras snaps in his Instructor Voice. The children straighten up at once.

“Sir, sorry, Sir!” Udo and Gabi yell out. Zofia and Falco quietly exchange glances.

“Hello. I’m Lucy,” you cut in with a smile. “I was a Warrior candidate in my time, just like you.”

You can all tell that they’re itching to ask why your armband is grey instead of yellow like Porco’s was until recently, but Marras doesn’t let them. You find yourself grateful to him for once. “It’s thanks to Zeke and Miss Blanchard here that you’ll get an early lunch in spite of all that yapping earlier. So thank them, get changed, and get your sorry asses to the mess hall.”

“Thank you, Zeke! Thank you, Miss Blanchard!” They mix up whose name goes first between the four of them, but Marras doesn’t bother with a correction and nods. The children salute, all of them a mixture of suitably chastised and utterly relieved.

“Dismissed!”

Nodding and offering you and Zeke grateful little smiles that make your heart melt, the four walk as quickly as they can to storage to deposit their load. Gabi nudges Zofia on the way, challenging her to a race, and the boys bump each other to catch up while Zofia chooses to keep her own pace, simply shaking her head.

Marras sighs, hand over his stomach. “I should get going myself.”

Zeke agrees, “Don’t let us keep you.”

“All right. But you should drop by more often, Miss Blanchard,” says Marras. “I’m sure the Commander would be pleased to see you. He worries. About all of you,” he adds, nodding toward Zeke.

Neither of you replies to that when Marras departs. In fact, you pretend not to have heard it as you both stare into the courtyard. “They seem like sweet children,” you start after a while, “though I don’t remember being that boisterous.”

Zeke breaks the mood with the most disgusting snort as he bursts into laughter. “You? Sure, Lucy. All right.”

You peer up at him, refusing to dignify such a violent reaction with one of your own, even if it does please you to see him laugh so much around you again. “You know what I mean. Maybe I was insolent, but I wasn’t boisterous.”

“Maybe, is it? Well, all I know is I’d grown out of all that by the time you and Pieck were selected.”

“Apparently not enough, Yeager, if you think Marley pays you to tour civilians around HQ.”

You and Zeke whirl in perfect sync to raise your right hands at that imposing voice, except you manage to swing yours right over your ear to pretend you were tucking stray hair behind it just in time to meet Commander Magath’s lifted brow. Behind him stand a surprised Porco and another Warrior candidate, much older than the eight-year olds you just met.

You clear your throat at once, hand falling to your side. “About yesterday, Sir...”

Magath nods at Zeke in acknowledgment before waving at you. “Don’t mention it, Blanchard. It’s a choice for a reason, and really it was supposed to be the briefing.”

That’s as much of an apology as you��ll get around the others, so you nod. “I understand, Sir.” You lean a little on your right side, trying to steal a peek around the corner. “So Pieck has already gone?”

“Not that you need to know, but yes.”

You try not to flinch at the reprimand. Force of habit. “And Braun, Sir?”

Now Magath peers at you. “His debriefing ends today, if you want to see him that badly. Yeager, I’ll leave that to you since she’s your guest.”

“Yes, Sir.”

With a nod of dismissal at all of you, he continues down across the courtyard, leaving Porco and the candidate behind.

Porco glances between you and Zeke. “Friends again, huh?”

Zeke stares at him. “Problem?”

You don’t know it, but that’s Zeke’s Warchief Voice, one Porco has never heard outside of training. He immediately shrugs. “Just curious.”

“All right. Lucy, we might as well have lunch first before you go see Reiner.”

You nod, and gesture unsurely at the two before you. “Would… you like to join us?”

“I’m good. Got errands to run for the Commander since Pieck is out and you’re too good for chores,” says Porco, gambling a glare at Zeke in jest. When Zeke chuckles, he sighs. “See you around.” Giving the quiet candidate next to him a light smack on the shoulder, he heads back the way they came.

By now the Warrior candidate looks very confused but also very familiar to you. Luckily Zeke has decided that it’s finally time to introduce you, a former Warrior candidate yourself—and then the boy, who cannot be older than fifteen. “This is Colt Grice. Falco’s older brother, and the new Beast Titan candidate.”

“Oh.” It feels like a weight has settled in your stomach when you realize that it is about time they selected the candidate meant to inherit from Zeke, who received the Beast Titan around a year ahead of the rest. Seeing the children just made you… complacent, think that there was more time. “I guess it makes sense that they chose someone a little older, too.” You smile, slightly guilty about his obvious unease after your reaction. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Colt.”

“No, it’s my pleasure, Miss Blanchard,” he says politely, shaking your hand.

“You can call me Lucy,” you insist, and then jab a thumb over your shoulder. “The children left for the mess hall, by the way.”

Zeke raises a hand to correct you. “Colt doesn’t need to know that. He’s not made to babysit them like I was.”

“Really?” you ask Colt, who nods in affirmation. “But that was half the fun.”

“She means half the torture,” Zeke says to Colt, who chuckles nervously at his superior. “No, I figured he could take on other responsibilities. Like letting the barracks know that Reiner’ll be having visitors after lunch, and then meeting us at the mess hall. Right?”

“Yes, Sir,” says Colt, clearly eager to please. He gives you another smile before he runs off.

“Falco’s older brother,” you repeat, when the boy is out of earshot. “This isn’t like Marcel and Porco. Why is Falco in the program?”

Zeke clicks his tongue. “The Grices are nephews of one of my parents’ co-conspirators. They need to prove their loyalty, for their family’s sake.”

“After all these years. Poor things.” Not that you’re surprised. Marley has a long memory, however false. “Did you have a hand in choosing him?”

“Wouldn’t that make the brass suspicious? It was the commander’s choice alone.”

“Huh.”

“They’re good kids, Colt especially. Now come on—” he nudges you forward with his elbow as he passes you, “you should eat before you see Reiner or you’ll lose your appetite for good.”

“...That bad?”

Walking ahead of you, Zeke only shrugs. You don’t know if that should worry or comfort you, so you follow suit.

Reiner is in his own room in the barracks, resting, when you visit him. He’s just finished eating his lunch when you arrive, and your shock at seeing him is a perfect reflection of his at seeing you. You last looked upon him as a boy, and though you know he only turns eighteen this year, he is now, most undoubtedly, a man. Almost everything about him is unfamiliar to you. His height, for one, his broad build, the slight stubble he’s neglected to shave for the past few days. His demeanor as he stares at you.

You thought Pieck spoke of growing up in general when she compared the two of you having become completely different, but it’s only now that you understand what she meant. Long ago, try as you might to deny it, the two of you were, with Porco, the most boisterous Warrior candidates in your generation. You left no challenge, even your superiors at first, unanswered; Reiner was certain, no matter his rank among you, that he would inherit before the Paradis operation; and Porco was quick to remind you how stupid and ridiculous you both were.

But that was many years ago. Porco failed but has remained mostly himself, and you failed and realized the sham that is Tybur pride. Between the three of you, only Reiner achieved his dream—and yet you are more similar with one another than with Porco. Even amid his utter shock, the shame in his gaze as he meets yours, though unfamiliar on Reiner to your eyes, is one you’ve intimately known for some time now.

“Lucy?”

“Reiner,” you greet.

Reiner smiles in spite of himself. You do too. You were never close, but if nothing else, you were still Warrior candidates together. “You’ve... grown.” His voice is deep now, just like Zeke’s, but his is… gentle. Another unexpected development.

“That’s an overstatement, compared to you,” you chuckle. He smiles just a little wider, almost shy, but only for a beat. He remembers swiftly enough when he is, just like you.

“How are you, Reiner?” you can’t help but ask. Wrong question. You quickly follow it up with, “I’m glad your debriefing has ended. You deserve to rest at home, with your family.”

“I…” He appears to disagree, lowering his head at once. For one heartbreaking moment, you wonder if you see a shimmer beneath his lashes, but he only seems curious when he blinks up at you again. “Thanks, Lucy.” His voice is steady. Maybe you were imagining things. “I can’t believe I haven’t seen you since you were called home.”

You don’t complain about the change in subject. “Yeah… I always wished I could have seen you all off,” you murmur, even if part of you is glad you didn’t have to witness Pieck’s sorrow firsthand. Seeing it in Reiner at the mention of the operation, though, you add, “Oh, actually—I just got back a couple days ago, not too long after the rest of you. I’m enrolling in the medical program at Liberio University.”

“Oh?” He considers your words. “So you didn’t…”

That is the question of the century about you, isn’t it? At least among the Warriors. But then who else really knows who you are? “No.”

“Ah.” Reiner nods, more times than is really necessary. You know he doesn’t know whether to congratulate you or to apologize. “The medical program, though. That’s… unexpected.”

“Why does everyone say that?” you laugh. “Is it really so strange for me?”

“Uh—no,” he replies with an apologetic rush. You realize just how much you dislike it in his tone. Zeke says you were always last to say sorry, if you did at all. The same went for Reiner. Where is that obnoxious little boy you knew? “It’s better that way. You’ll do great.”

“I hope to,” you admit, but this visit isn’t supposed to be about you. “Anyway, Reiner… I just wanted to see how you were doing. I missed you all, and I’m really glad you’re back home.”

He’s too slow to conceal his surprise this time, or the way he blinks away coming tears. He always was a bit of a crybaby. To a child who desired to live up to her family name, that was a weakness. To a woman who knows better, you wish you could have told him it was all right. “We… I missed you all, too. It was…” he swallows. “I...”

The truth is you were a crybaby too, just not in front of the others, but you can’t help it when you hear the tremble in his voice, so grown and yet still the same. The first familiar thing of his that you’ve witnessed. Flicking a knuckle at your nose, you nod when he trails off. “You don’t have to say anything. Pieck told me the little she could.”

“Yeah?” he asks innocently enough. And then his voice shifts into something just a little tougher. Maybe harder. “What did Zeke say?”

“Zeke? We didn’t really…” It comes to you as you say it. “...talk about it.”

Of course you didn’t. You were busy talking about you, and he quite literally pushed you away when you tried to ask. But that doesn’t seem to be what Reiner is searching for in the first place. Not with that look on his face—another familiar expression, but not because you know it from your own heart. It’s familiar because you saw it just last night.

“Should I be crying like you, acting like you know what it was like?”

Zeke’s eyes as he said those words were recalling a memory you can never understand, you know now, because it’s the same with Reiner. Whatever he went through in Paradis for years will only ever be a tale to you. Your shared memories ended before you turned thirteen.

Still, the resentment that you saw in Zeke remains in Reiner’s golden eyes; only this time you don’t believe it’s meant for you.

You reach out to him, clearly elsewhere as his fists clench over his knees, but stop when your hand rests on the edge of his bed. “Reiner?”

“Sorry,” he blurts out when he returns to his senses. Somehow, he seems more tired than he already did.

“That’s all right. I should let you rest.” When he nods, shoulders still slumped in apology, you put on a reassuring smile. You understand Reiner even less than you did before, but somehow he also feels more like a kindred spirit than you remember. “When you’re well enough to return, maybe we can have lunch with Pieck.”

Reiner visibly hesitates, but he nods in the end. “Yeah. That sounds nice.”

You bid each other goodbye, though you tell Reiner to stay seated when he tries to walk you to the door. When you close it behind you, glancing around, you assume Colt has been sent on another errand. Only Zeke now awaits you along the wall outside, one hand in his pocket as he smokes a cigarette, gaze once again far beyond the buildings ahead.

When he isn’t playing up his irreverence to deflect or get on somebody else’s nerves, Zeke has always been aloof in public. In that way he hasn’t really changed, but you realize now that you were a fool to think things could just go back to normal between the two of you. Not that they haven’t, on the face of it; he seems perfectly happy to return to your old dynamic, and maybe all this strangeness is just in your head, or a natural consequence of growing up.

Seeing Reiner, though… you realize maybe you were a little too hasty trying to go back. Just like you, just like Reiner, Zeke must have changed. You wonder how; wonder what he could have done, apart from suggesting the debriefing, that would make a now gentle Reiner wear such resentment. You have some idea, but you brush it aside before you can dwell on it.

“If you want to try smoking,” Zeke chuckles, “all you have to do is ask.”

You blink, cheeks tingling with embarrassment and a sheepish smile when you realize he’s caught you staring. He holds the smoke out for you, but you wave his hand away. “No thanks.”

“So?” He pushes himself off the wall, putting the cigarette out under his shoe. “What do you think?”

You fall into step with him and take a deep breath. “I think maybe he just needs more time to rest. Grieve properly.”

“Generous evaluation.”

“I think it’s more… it’s not my place to say.”

Zeke regards you with an indecipherable look, but it disappears as soon as you try to capture it. He only shrugs. “Okay. I need to get back to work. Want to stay, or will you be going home?”

You pretend to give it some thought. “I can stick around your office a little longer.”

“Good. Just try to keep it down.”

He chuckles at your eyeroll and starts to head back to the offices with you in tow. You stare at his back as he turns a corner ahead of you until he glances over his shoulder, ensuring you’re still with him. You give him a smile, brows raising with a question he answers with a shake of his head. But he’s smiling too, the one you got to know past that wall of apathy, and you know that he can’t possibly have changed all that much.

Zeke is still your best friend—the only one who knew everything about you, and the one who trusted only you with everything about him. You’re sure of it.

/////

I mean, obviously, aside from Mr. Ksaver. Do I think Zeke was the guy whose only friends were younger kids he was forced to interact with for his own survival? Yes. His best friend in canon and the only important person he trusted in his childhood/adolescence was his father stand-in, and even if as he grew up I'm sure he became more sociable (and likeable/'admirable' to Marleyan Eldians as a Warrior), Zeke's existence is a lonely one in my eyes because of the way he viewed life and the lives of others. There would have had to be certain circumstances to gain his absolute trust I think, so feel special, Reader/Lucy. Haha. I swear I love Zeke even if I see him as this sad and lonely bastard.

Also, I know it's not obvious, but I don't dislike Porco. I actually like him a lot (except when he's like -that- to Reiner) and he influenced/es Reader/Lucy more than he knows. And I know I didn't mention Bertholdt in this chapter but that would have been a sensitive topic for Reiner, so Reader/Lucy knows to avoid it for now. (I just wanted to make that disclaimer because I love Bertholdt and I miss him a lot.)

Thank you for reading! I would love to hear what you think so far.

33 notes · View notes

babeyvenus · 3 years

Text

The Wolf Among Us

Bigby x OC

Summary: Sonya Blaze, A.K.A. Hell Rider, is a half fable, half mundy girl who comes to Fabletown to learn more about her side of the folktales. She works alongside Sheriff Bigby Wolf as his newest partner and together they strive to find out who's behind the unexpected murders in Fabletown.

TW: Mentions of death, gore/blood, alcohol, smoking, drugs, sex implications, suicide, guns and ofc language.

A/N: just a little filler for now.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Chapter 19: Off Day

As they arrived, Bigby looked around, taking in the new sights. He hadn't been on this side of New York, considering he never bothered to interact with the mundane side of the city.

Sonya parked and took off her helmet, sighing as she looked up at her previous home. "Home sweet home...", she muttered as Bigby got off and dug into his pocket. "You need some time with that?", she asked teasingly.

He gave her an unamused look and lit his Huff n' Puff. He took a long drag, enough for big puffs of smoke to exit his nose before he drops the cigarette and smushes it under his foot. "Let's go.", Sonya says and leads him up to the house.

She pulled out the keys and opened the door, looking around to see a living room and smiled widely. "Pico!" She grins at the sight of a light orange fluff whose head pops up in attention.

Bigby looked over her shoulder to see a Shiba inu running toward her. Sonya kneels down and picks the excited dog up, whining and barking happily.

She set her bag on the couch and sat on the floor with the dog, Bigby followed behind and stood awkwardly in the middle of the living room. "You can sit down, y'know...", she says, making him scratch his head and sit down next to her on the couch.

Pico looks over at Bigby and growls lowly. Bigby frowns. "Easy, boy.", Sonya warns. Bigby snapped his attention to her. "I hope you're not talking to me."

Sonya chuckles and shakes her head as she pets Pico. He looks up to hear something walking downstairs and runs over to the sound.

They looked up to see a shorter woman who sleepily walked down the stairs and looked at them in surprise. She looked like Sonya, or rather a slightly older version of her. Her skin was a bit darker than Sonya's, her eyes almost a dark honey color. They seemed to light up when they caught onto Sonya's smile.

"Hi, ma.", Sonya greets, getting up. The older woman rushed to her daughter, bringing her in a tight hug. Sonya hugs her back, swaying back and forth before her mom cups her face to examine her. "Where have you been? You're a mess!"

She glanced at Bigby. "Who's he?" Sonya looked at Bigby with a smile before looking back at her mom. "Mama, you remember the place Dad kept talking about?", she asked. Her mom nodded. "Well, this is Bigby Wolf. He's practically the protector of Fabletown. and he's my... boss."

Bigby stood to shake her hand. "It's nice to meet you." Her mom smiled. "You too, I'm Theresa. I hope she hasn't been giving you any trouble."

He rubbed behind his neck. "It's actually the opposite…" Sonya rolled her eyes. "We've been through a lot."

Theresa frowns at her. "Is that why you couldn't update me on anything?" Sonya nods. She glances at Bigby, "Can I tell her?" Bigby thought for a moment before sighing. "I don't see why not. She already knows about us."

"You can tell me after we do something with this head of yours. I can't believe you let it get this bad!", Theresa complained, giving Sonya's arm a slap. Sonya frowns. "I haven't exactly had time to groom myself, Ma."

Bigby waited as Sonya was pulled away to get her hair washed. He looked at the dog who stared back at him. Be rolled his eyes but raised an eyebrow as the dog walked over to him and sat by his feet.

Bigby looked to his left to see a photo set on top of a lamp table beside the couch. He examined it to see a younger version of Sonya, Theresa and a man and a baby he didn't know. He assumed the man had to be her dad. "She looks so happy...", he muttered.

His attention snapped to his right as he saw Sonya walk out of the kitchen with a towel draped over head. She pulled the towel off to reveal her shorter, wet, coiled hair, some curls stuck to her face, some dripped onto the towel.

She gave him a sleepy look as he looked back at her in curiosity. "Did you cut it?", he asked. She looked at him with confused eyes and shook her head. "Of course not. Water just makes my hair shorter.", she says, picking Pico up and sat down by Bigby's feet. She pulled Pico into her lap and rubbed his back and his head.

Theresa comes into the living room with a small container of grease and a blow-dryer. Sonya glanced at Bigby. "If you can't take the noise, you might wanna cover your ears."

Theresa looks at him. "You have sensitive ears?", she asked. "You could say that.", he replies. "You still haven't caught onto what fable he is, Ma?", Sonya asks.

Theresa thought about it for a moment, and shook her head. "I'm not sure." Sonya chuckles. "It's in his name."

Theresa looks at Bigby for a moment before her eyes widen in realization. "You're the big bad wolf??"

He nodded, rubbing behind his neck again. "I wouldn't have thought so. I thought you would've looked a little more... hairy.", she says. "And maybe a little meaner."

He smiled awkwardly. "Yeah...I'm trying my best not to be as monstrous as I was before."

"They made him sheriff but still treat him like trash.", Sonya deadpans. Theresa frowns, while she starts to apply the grease to her daughter's head. "Sometimes people don't wanna see the change in someone because they're so stuck in the past. The best thing you can do is move on.", Theresa says.

Sonya nods in agreement. "I gave up trying to be everyone's friend. Realized not everyone deserved my kindness and just stuck with whoever accepted me for who I was rather than someone I wasn't."

Bigby took in their words and frowned a bit. He hated that they were right. He did care about what other fables thought of him, simply because he was trying to change.

It didn't help much that they kept bringing up his past in the Homelands. It wasn't fair. But he supposed he didn't deserve a better life like everyone else. No one else went around eating pigs and grandmas.

Sonya noticed his silence and tapped his foot in reassurance. RIght after, Theresa started blowing out Sonya’s hair, the sound making Pico rush up and run to his bed and Bigby wince a bit before he started to get used to it.

Moments later, Sonya started to fall asleep and Bigby took note of that. He didn’t understand how she could fall asleep with something so loud in her ears. “I don’t know what you guys went through, but y’all must’ve been working hard.”, Theresa says.

“We did solve two murders…”, he says, making her turn to him in shock. “What happened?”, she asked. He explained what happened, gently informing her about her daughter being targeted as she silently listened and did her daughter’s hair.

“She protected me… a lot more than I can say anyone has done… She’s got guts.”, he says. Theresa finally finishes, now aware of Sonya’s soft snores. “She gets her impulsiveness from her daddy. I think that’s why she got her powers. She just accepted without thinking. Expected me to just be okay with that.”

Bigby glanced at Sonya’s sleeping state. “When she rushed in to save me...she told me she panicked. She didn’t have to, but she did. I’m grateful.”

Theresa gave him a smile. “She does that a lot. Always has to play the hero. I kinda expected that out of her brother but I think he admires her for that. He didn’t get to know his dad very much… so she stepped in.”

‘That’s why she said that about T.J….’, he thought. “I think she did a good job.”, he says. Theresa appreciated him. “Me too. She took on the role all by herself. She knew nothing about being a boy, but helped him whenever I couldn’t. Sometimes I hated it and I felt helpless that she seemed so independent at such a young age.”, she frowned softly. “It hurt. Made me feel like I wasn’t doing a good job as a mother. But she always reminded me that it wasn’t my fault.”

“She does her best at everything. She can be lazy but if its something really important, especially as important as what y’all went through, she won’t stop. She’ll overwork herself until she passes out.”, she says, looking at him. He nods. “I kept telling her she could take a break. She only took a nap when we were almost close to finishing up, we just got some food last night too.”, he confessed.

Theresa sighed. “I hate that she does that. She’s gonna die quicker if she doesn’t take better care of herself.”, she says, fluffing Sonya's hair. She smiles. “She hasn't been taking care of her hair, but it got longer…”, she mutters.

She frowns again. “She’s probably gonna be out for a while.”, she turns to him. “If you can get her up to her room, that’d be helpful. I’ll cook y’all some food while y’all are here.”, she smiles. “I haven’t had to cook that much in a while.”

He nods as Theresa gets up to go wash her hands and starts on food.

Bigby leans down a bit to gently shake Sonya awake. She mumbles, frowning in her sleep and relaxes her face. He shakes her again, getting no response. He sighs and picks her up, with Pico following behind him as he carries her up the stairs and is met with a divided hallway.

There was one room on the left of the hallway that had easy access to the stairs, and another door to the farther part of the hallway.

He went to the right side of the hallway and noticed a hanging nametag on a door that had Sonya's name and he walked up to it.

He entered the room, his nose being hit with her potent scent. He was almost sure if she went missing, he could find her.

He looked around her room to see a XL twin bed covered in black and gray sheets. She had a purple rug under her bed that seemed untouched and fluffed. An empty desk with just a monitor on top and a black desk chair, and a purple dresser that blocked her window and seemed to be a bit dusty.

He saw a full body mirror that had small polaroids taped onto it, and his curiosity spiked. He looked around at some posters she had on the walls, snorting at some of them before he gently laid her down. Pico struggles to get into her bed before he finally does and snuggles up to her.

Bigby smiled a bit and continued to look around her room and sits down in the chair. He squeaked a bit from under his weight as he leaned back a bit. It was a lot more comfortable than his rustic, ratty chair back in his office. He almost considered taking it.

He closed his eyes for a moment before sighing and getting up to leave her room. He walked back down the stairs and into the kitchen where he smelled seasoned meat. He looked over at Theresa as she smiles at him. "She still asleep?"

He nodded. "Is it okay if I step out for a bit?" She nodded, saving her hand in his dismissal. He left the kitchen and left the house to pull out a Huff 'n Puff, lighting it immediately. He took a long drag of the cigarette, sighing out softly and letting out a large puff of smoke.

As he leaned against a lamp post, he almost contemplated his own mother. Theresa seemed so kind, it almost made him wary of her regardless of her knowing about fables. But her daughter's a half fable and the way she talks about her and treated him more like a person rather than a monster…

He considered letting his guard down, just a bit. He finished the cigarette, stomping it out before he walked back inside. The smell of the previous meat entered his nose dully. It smelled good, though.

He walked back into the kitchen, peeking his head around the corner and saw Theresa loading barbeque brisket into a bun. His stomach rumbled loudly, making Theresa jump a bit as she turned to him, placing a hand on her chest as she laughed.

"You scared the shit out of me.", she says, gathering her composure. "Was that your stomach?"

He nodded, scratching behind his head in slight embarrassment. "Well, luckily for you, the food's finished.", she says, smiling.

She handed him a plate and had him sit down at a table. He softly blew onto the food before taking a bite. When he took the first bite, he nearly gulped the rest, making Theresa grin. "Glad to know it was good.", she says.

She took his plate before handing him another one and smiled at Sonya walking into the kitchen, yawning. "That was quick.", Theresa says.

Sonya grumbles. "Pico wouldn't stop kicking me." She saw Bigby eating and smiled. "Finally got you some food, huh?"

She walked over to get herself some food and hummed in delight once she took a bite. After they'd finished eating, they talked for a while until noon arrived.

Sonya and Bigby stood up. "We gotta go before the princess bites our heads off for being gone too long.", Sonya says, rolling her eyes and giving her mom a hug. "Try to keep in touch, please.", Theresa says. Sonya nods and leads Bigby to the door. Sonya exits just in time to see school buses dropping off kids.

Bigby starts to follow her but is stopped by Theresa. "Please look after her.", she asks. Bigby gives her a reassuring nod before leaving. He closed the door and looked to see Sonya hugging a boy about the same height as her.

He walked over to them, catching the boy's attention. The boy frowns a bit. "Who's he?" Bigby almost snorted in amusement at his attempt at being intimidating.

Sonya turns to Bigby, “This is my brother, Eric. Eric, this is Bigby, my boss.” Eric looks Bigby up and down. “He better be.” Bigby raises an eyebrow with a soft chuckle. Sonya gives Eric’s arm a slap. “Cut it out.”

Sonya sighs, looking at Bigby. “Let’s go.” He nods, following her to her bike. She starts it up and looks at her little brother. “Stay out of trouble.”, she says, making him nod before she rides off with Bigby.

The Woodlands

She parks outside the gate, letting him off. He looks at her in confusion. “You’re not coming?” She shook her head. “Nope.” He crosses his arms. “Why not?”, he asks. “Ask your Deputy Mayor.”, she says, bluntly before driving off, leaving him in confusion.

“What does Snow have to do with…”, he muttered before walking into the apartments and made his way to the Business office, seeing the previous line had been gone. He walked into the Business Office and walked up to Snow.

“Mr. Wolf, what’s wrong?”, Snow asked. “Sonya’s not coming into work. I’d say that’d be fine, considering the circumstance, but somehow you have something to do with why she isn’t coming into work.”, Bigby says, making her pause. He raised an eyebrow. “Why is that?”, he asked.

She smoothed her hair, taking a curled strand of hair behind her hair. “Well, the case is done. I told her she can take some time off until there’s a new case.” Bigby’s eyes narrowed a bit before he nodded. “I guess that’ll be for a while… I suppose that’s fine.”, he says, and shakes his head at Bufkin drinking a tall bottle of wine.

“Do you ever get tired of drinking a whole bottle?”, Bigby asks. Bufkin drunkardly smiles. “Nope!” Bigby sighs a huff through his nose before walking to the mirror. “Hey, mirror.”

The green face appears, looking at the man stoically. “Hello, Bigby.” Bigby scratches at his stubble. “I gotta know where Sonya’s going. Can you show me her?”

The Mirror hums. “You know our rule.” Bigby rolls his eyes. “We ate, talked and parted ways, now can you, please, show me Sonya Blaze?”, he rhymed.

The mirror shows Sonya entering an electronic store he’s never seen. Bigby frowns, looking closely at the store name. “Best buy…?”, he mutters. “Where’s this at?”

The mirror hums, coming back. “5th avenue.” Bigby sighs. “Okay.”, he says and walks away. He walked out of the Business Office to walk into his own, and closed the door. He walked over to his desk, plopping down in his chair and grumbles at the paperwork that waited for his return.

19 notes · View notes

randomfandomimagine · 3 years

Text

Love’s Worth Running To. Chapter 2: Catch Up

Pairing: Barry Allen x Stephanie Williams (OC)

Fandom: Justice League / DCEU

⬅ PREVIOUS CHAPTER • CHAPTER INDEX • NEXT CHAPTER ➡

AO3

A/N: A few disclaimers about the series. One: this is a first draft and some little things may change, and also forgive any typos as I will be editing the series more during the second draft. Secondly, I’m not a hardcore DC fan so I might get some things about the characters wrong, bear with me with that.

Anyway, here’s chapter two, I hope you like it! Things are starting to really set into motion and after this chapter they get a little crazy, even more so than at the end of this one.

Remember to give this some love, please reblog and leave feedback! It would make my week! 🙏💜

His feet rhythmically drag along the ground, shuffling as he sways and snaps his fingers. The music loudly plays in his earphones, drowning out the sound of the elevator as it comes to a halt. He can’t hear the soft murmur of voices as the Justice League chats in the Batcave, reunited there one more day. The dark room feels brighter as he walks further into it and the team comes into his field of vision.

“Clap along if you feel…” Barry nods his head along to the song and points to Victor. “Like happiness is the truth”

Victor stares at him, frowning in confusion. He makes to lift his hands and clap, but ultimately doesn’t. He only glances at Diana, who chuckles at Barry’s good mood.

Bruce calmly makes a gesture, asking for Barry to remove his earphones. When he does, letting them fall and hang off his shirt’s neckline, he grins.

“Good morning!” He cheerfully says, but the group doesn’t reply. “What?”

After a brief pause and a few glances, it is Bruce who speaks up.

“Who’s the girl?”

“What girl?”

“You’re singing...” Arthur eyes the boy. “And dancing”

“So? Can’t I just be happy in this beautiful day?”

“There’s definitely a girl” His friend insists. “Spit it out”

Barry pouts and looks at each of them. The way they fondly stare at him fluster him a little, but he doesn’t really mind talking about her. In fact, it feels like a good thing to share his excitement with his friends.

“Her name’s Steph” Barry sighs with a dreamy sigh, but hurriedly corrects himself when he sees their even fonder expressions. “I-It’s nothing like that, though”

“What is it like then?” Diana asks, grinning in amusement.

“We’re old friends, but we haven’t seen each other in… like… more than ten years” Barry takes deep breath, overwhelmed by that rush again as he remembers the moment he spotted Stephanie Williams. “It was so cool to see her again”

“Why did you grow apart?” Clark wonders, crossing his arms over his chest. “Did your lives go different ways?”

“Not exactly…” Barry suddenly grows bleak, overcome with frantic memories.

That dreadful day in which all happened and he never saw her again. He didn’t even get to say goodbye, and all the things left unsaid still burn intensely inside him. Knowing that is all part of the past now and he will se her soon, he forces to forget about it.

Knowing the other noticed his brief change of demeanor, he claps his hands and changes the subject.

“But anyway! What are we doing today? Anything new?”

“Maybe” Bruce responds, even if he sends a quick look at the rest with the corner of his eye. “There have been some strange things happening around”

“Like what?”

“Glitches and minor crimes” Victor projects an image on the air, of a map of the surveilled cities with some red spots on them that mark the occurrences. “They’re all over the cities”

“Something bad?” Barry frowns, his eyes scanning the map.

“Nothing big, but we want to keep an eye out” Clark nods. “Just in case”

“Should we check it out?” The boy asks him, earning another nod from him.

“It won’t hurt” Bruce adds to, tapping the table in anticipation.

“Let’s suit up then” Barry speeds off, always bearing Stephanie in mind despite it all.

And so the Justice League prepares to exit the Batcave on a small routine mission.

When she looks at the clock, it’s already past 3pm. Stephanie clicks her tongue in mild annoyance and rushes to gather her things. She doesn’t want to be late.

“Bye, Ben!” Stephanie is almost at the door when he replies.

“Where are you going?” Ben does a double take, not believing his eyes when he looks at the clock. “You’re not staying late?”

“Do I…?” She mutters hesitantly. “Do I have to?”

“No, no” He fondly chuckles. “It’s just odd, do you have anything else to do?”

“Actually…” Stephanie can’t help but to grin, even if eager butterflies release in her stomach once more. To hide her thrill, she looks down and plays with her hands. “I’m meeting an old friend and… I’m honestly really excited to see him again”

“Oh, that explains it” Ben warmly grins. “Well, have fun!”

“Thanks!” Stephanie grins, bearing that wide genuine smile she showed the other day.

As he watches his coworker run off like a child on an adventure, Ben’s smile slowly fades as her previous presence now leaves room for a cold empty absence. A tiny pang of jealousy prickles the back of his neck.

Lazy clouds cover the sun, attempting to shadow its light. They threaten to flood the sky in darkness more and more with each passing second. Still, the day feels brighter than most. At least to Stephanie.

She rhythmically hits her nails against the glass surface of the table. Her eyes are directed to the door one more. Where is he? A heavy weight has settled in her chest. She chews on her fingernails. What if he doesn’t show up?

Soon enough, Barry comes barging in, out of breath and looking disheveled. He’s late, but he’s there. The girl stands up and takes a deep breath of relief.

“Hi” She greets him, earning an apologetic smile from him.

“I’m so sorry, Steph” He hurries to the table, nervously combing his hair with his fingers. “You wouldn’t believe the day I had”

“It’s okay” Despite his lateness, he notices, she’s smiling. Barry awkwardly chuckles as they both stand there.

Stephanie bites her lip, wondering how to act around him. Time has cooled their once close and nonchalant relationship, but she is determined to warm up to it again. Although they have known each other since they were little, they feel like strangers at the same time. They don’t know the other anymore, but they’re adamant on changing that. Besides, she still feels as comfortable with him as before, like not a day as gone by.

“Well, hi” Barry opens his arms, going on for a hug, just at the same time that Stephanie is leaning close to him in order to greet him with a kiss on the cheek. Noticing this, they awkwardly pull away between embarrassed chuckles. In the end, and after a few more seconds of stuttering and fidgeting, Barry finally holds his hand out. Stephanie smiles and shakes it.

Happily plopping down on the chair, he sighs and stares at her. When she sits down in front of him, her fingers absently trace across the edge of the table that separates them. The tension looms above their heads until he breaks it with his cheerful energy.

“Stephanie Williams” Barry says in awe, fondly tilting his head and peering at her.

“Barry Allen” She reciprocates, smiling as the name of her beloved friend fills her lips.

“So talk to me, Steph, um…” He puckers his lips in a thoughtful gesture. “How’s your day going?”

“Good, it’s good so far…” She nods, not knowing what else to say. “And yours?”

“Great! A bit frantic, but… good” He bites his lips, awkwardly lingering as well. “Good...”

“Tell me!” Barry starts. “What have you been doing? I haven’t since you since...”

“Since we moved to Metropolis...”

“Well, yeah... I never really found out why that happened”

“My parents insisted on leaving Central City” Stephanie gravely nods, averting her eyes. “They said what happened with your mom was affecting me too much”

Barry quiets, watching her with a frown. He opens his mouth to say something, but he doesn’t find the right words to express the extent and variety of his current feelings.

“I’m so sorry…” He drags his hand across the table, reaching out to pat hers as it now rests on the surface of the table. However, and after a second of hesitation, Barry decides not to touch her. “I had no idea…”

“It wasn’t your fault, Barry. You were having a hard time already”

“Yeah, but…”

“It’s okay, I just… I hated seeing you suffer like that”

The two lock gazes, and an unnamed emotion shines in both their eyes. Like a wave has washed out all the deeply buried memories, a weight settles on their shoulders. One that they had been carrying since childhood and they had nearly forgotten about. Now it has returned, just like that. In only a second.

Trying to brush it off, Stephanie smiles. Like the gesture makes him happy, he grins too.

“So how is your dad?” She asks in a friendly tone. Barry’s smile slowly fades, only to be replaced with a melancholic frown. Stephanie is hit with realization. “Oh, so he’s still… I’m so sorry, Barry… I thought…”

It had been years since that terrible thing happened, and knowing of his innocence Stephanie hoped the situation would have changed by now. She’s unfortunately wrong. The girl groans in frustration, mentally scolding herself for not having thought about that possibility before speaking. Barry shakes his head and mindlessly waves his hand in the air. He smiles again, although this time it’s obviously a facade.

“It’s okay” Barry says, but he can’t hide the sad hint to his expression. “I go see him almost every day”

“Is he doing okay?” She cautiously asks, knowing how hard the situation must be for the two of them.

“For the most part, yeah…” His crestfallen look breaks her heart, and so Stephanie wrecks her head to find a more light-headed subject to talk about.

“O-Order” She rushes to say, holding her hand up in the air to catch the waitress attention. “We should order something to drink”

Barry chuckles at her attempt, nodding his head in silent agreement. When the waiter arrives, it’s the girl that speaks for the both of them.

“Um, yeah, hi” She looks up at the blond waiter. “I’ll have a coffee and he’ll have a chocolate milkshake”

“I’m not a child anymore, Steph” He playfully rolls his eyes. “I can order my own chocolate milkshake”

Stephanie laughs out loud, surprised by his retort. Barry fondly grins at her reaction.

Their shared chocolate milkshake has nearly run out. The cream at the top has melted as the liquid reaches the bottom of the container. Their identical pink frosted sprinkled donuts are half eaten, left forgotten in their small plates for the time being.

“Oh, hey!” Barry utters, changing the subject from his criminal justice major. “Did you get your own lab yet?”

Barry lets go of his red and white straw once he’s done sipping while Stephanie absently plays with hers.

“No…” She pouts a little, soon recovering part of her usual spark. “But I’m an intern at STAR Labs”

“That’s great!” He gulps, nearly chocking on the milkshake. “That brings you a step closer!”

“Yeah, I guess… I’m just so impatient to get there”

“You’ll get there” He carelessly waves his hand in the air. “I’ve got no doubts about it”

Stephanie smiles, feeling that once familiar warmth spread through her. There’s that unconditional support he showed her years ago. They haven’t talked in so long, but his unwavering faith on her hasn’t shifted.

A silence establishes after, although the frequency and intensity of them has lessened over the course of the afternoon. She picks up tiny pieces of the donut with her fingers and puts them in her mouth. Barry, meanwhile, absently nibbles on his donut, letting his eyes wander around the quaint establishment, before he boldly pipes up again.

“Are you seeing someone?” Stephanie chokes on the crumbs on her mouth at Barry’s question.

“What?” She coughs, sipping the last of the milkshake to shove the crumbs down.

“Sorry, I…” He chuckles, trying to conceal his amusement. “I was just wondering…”

Stephanie chuckles too, more surprised by the question than offended that he’s so obviously trying not to laugh at her.

“Well?” He says, bearing a playful tone that she had dearly missed. “Answer the question, Steph!”

“Actually… no” She shrugs a little, embarrassed to admit it. “It’s been a bit hard to connect with people”

“How so?” Barry turns serious once more, frowning as he intently listens.

“I don’t know… I’m just trying to pick up where I left off and…”

Stephanie leaves the sentence hanging in the air, but she doesn’t need to complete it. Barry nods. He understands what she means, even in a way that she can’t imagine.

“Well, you’re in luck, miss Williams” He says in a silly voice. “Because I am here to save the day”

“My hero” Stephanie replies, placing a hand on her chest in feigned bewilderment.

They both smile at each other, lingering on their reciprocated gazes. The spark between them has been rekindled, and they can feel it softly beating in their hearts.

It is with great sadness that they must say goodbye. They can’t stay there forever, as much as they’d like to. Still, it’s a bit easier to say farewell knowing they have each other’s numbers now and will meet again soon. They get up from the chairs slowly, putting the moment off as much as they possibly can.

Barry takes the jacket for her, holding it in the air to make it easier for Stephanie to put it on. She smiles, endeared by the chivalrous gesture, and shoves her arms on the sleeves.

“Thank you” Stephanie says as he also holds the door open for her.

The air outside is slightly chilly, and the clouds have darkened in the sky, perhaps announcing a storm. Reeling in the rush that still lingers from the lovely soiree with Barry, Stephanie looks up, unfazed by the gray clouds gathering before the sun. When she peers down again, she catches Barry’s eye.

“Barry” She laughs. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You did change” He replies with a frown, although it’s not exactly a sad one.

“How have I changed?”

“I don’t know… there’s something about you”

“Wisdom and maturity?”

“Maybe…” Barry smiles, hiding his actual thoughts. Ever since they were reunited, he has noticed a certain tint of sadness hanging over Stephanie. He doesn’t dwell too much on it, though, because it’s been slowly fading away as the afternoon advances.

“What about you? You’re not so shy anymore”

“Oh, I’m still shy” The shadow that had darkened his expression disappears, replaced with his usual affable expression. “I just hide it better”

“Are you sure you’re not just shy but you’re too embarrassed to admit it?”

“I’m pretty sure” Barry is replying, grinning as he sees her smiling. “I’m...”

He then trails off, never finishing his sentence. Something’s wrong, he can feel it. His eyes are directed to the traffic light not far from them. The lights aren’t changing, stuck on green. On every traffic light. His instinct kicks in before his brain can comprehend what his body is doing.

“Barry, what’s…” Stephanie his cut off by his urgent movement. Before she can wrap her head around what is happening, the entire street has developed in havoc.

Car horns loudly honking hurt her ears, and soon she sees why. Losing a sense of order because of the unexplained glitching of the traffic lights, all vehicles are crashing into each other. Fortunately, an imposing figure is halting their movement before the damage can be too big. A car has impacted close to them, however, and while doing so knocking a street light that heavily falls their direction.

While this developed, Barry has urgently taken hold of her. When she becomes aware of his closeness, Stephanie is pressed against his chest as he protectively moves her out of the way. Her heart is wildly racing as her senses overload.

The both of them are falling to the ground, with Barry losing balance in his desperate need to protect Stephanie. He still manages to turn and break her fall, tightly squeezing her with his arms to be shielded against his chest. His back takes the hit as he heavily falls to the ground with Stephanie safely landing on top of himself. Unaccustomed to the chaos, she is screaming and protecting her head with her arms in a panic, pressing herself against Barry and hiding her face on his shoulder as he still holds on to her.

“Steph!” He immediately calls, keeping one arm locked around her and using his free hand to press it against her cheek, urging her to look at him. “Steph, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

She peers up in a daze, somehow finding comfort in his eyes despite it all. Despite the concern in them. Despite the chaos that engulfs their surroundings. In spite of it all, Barry’s still there with her. The thought calms her and she manages to take a deep breath. It helps settle the panicked pants that shook her being.

Stephanie wants to speak up, but she has momentarily lost the ability to speak. All she can do at that moment is catch her breath while she lays there on top of him, arms pressed against his chest as it quickly moves up and down with the same urgency as hers does. Barry’s hands are protectively pressed against the small of her back. Their faces are so close that their noses nearly touch. This closeness brings a flushed blush to their cheeks that can luckily be excused by the frantic situation.

“I-I’m okay” She finally replies, even with a shaky voice. “And you?”

“I’m fine” He absently says, immense relieved even if distracted.

Barry then lies on his side and carefully pushes her off him. The two of them still hold on to each other as they scramble to their feet. As they glance around, they see the disaster that the street has turned into.

A flying figure covers the sun for a split second while the clouds slowly float away in the sky. Stephanie gasps when she looks up and sees him, recognizing the cape and the strong silhouette of the hero that saved the day.

“Superman…” She utters, pointing up and gathering Barry’s attention there too.

“Oh, no” He mumbles under his breath, starting to understand what has happened.

Stephanie is too becoming aware of what happened, although in a different manner. She glances around, seeing the fallen street light that could have crushed them, the numerous cars that have crashed into each other and the traffic lights still stuck on green. How could Barry react so quickly if she barely had the time to notice any of it?

“Barry, what…” Stephanie swallows, trying to put some order into her messy thoughts. “How… Why…”

He isn’t listening to her incoherent babbling. Barry is still looking up, although his gaze is fixed on the roof of a building. A dark figure looms there, and his heart skips a beat in realization. Barry checks his phone, feeling a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach when he reads the screen. He has three missed called and ten texts.

“I gotta go” Barry stumbles over his words, suddenly even more frantic that during their near death experience. “I-I hate to leave like this, but I’m really late, I’m supposed to be somewhere else”

“Y-Yeah” Stephanie tries to recover from the shock and confusion. “Okay…”

“Can you walk home, are you okay?”

“I think so”

“Are you sure”

“Yeah”

“Steph?”

She stares at him, finding her lost concentration when she locks eyes with him. His worry seems to lessen when she manages to finally focus her gaze. Showing him that gesture that warms his heart, Steph nods and reassuringly smiles at him. He heaves a sigh in relief.

“Take care, okay?” He mumbles, in a sudden urgent hug. “I’ll call you soon”

“Okay” Stephanie clings on to him, lingering in the embrace and treasuring it for just a moment longer. As she does, she takes the breath she has needed so badly during those long minutes in which she couldn’t breathe.

When he pulls away, she has to hold back a groan of complaint. Her warmly smiles and waves goodbye at her. She does too. Then, Barry briskly walks away, urgently holding on to his phone.

Stephanie watches him in fascination, her eyes fixed on his back as he distances himself from her. There had been a new look on his face, an expression of mature determination and somber commitment. She had never seen anything like that. Barry has changed, and she doesn’t know in which way exactly. Stephanie is left with thousand of questions buzzing in her brain as she walks home in a daze.

Tag list: @scared-to-be-lonely345 // Ask to be added to be notified when I post for this series!!

#loves worth running to #lwrt #barry allen #barry allen x reader #barry allen x oc #barry allen imagine #ezra miller #justice league #justice league imagine #justice league series #dc #dc series #dc imagine #oc #series #original character

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gypsydanger01 · 4 years

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THE STORM - Part seven

Fandom: The Boys (Amazon prime tv series)

Pairing: Black Noir x OC

Disclaimer: I don’t own The Boys, only my OC characters and certain pieces of au plot.

Comments, reviews, constructive criticism, and other requests are always more than welcome!

Posting new chapters on Wednesday and Friday!

Operation Whistle-blower

As the first tendrils of sunlight curled through her bedroom’s blind shades, Sarah rolled over in her bed, still unable to fall asleep. Her mind was crowded with thoughts surrounding her evening encounter. What was she going to do? The lines always grew muddy in these situations, and she still didn’t know what to think of Black Noir. If anything, their interaction only added to her confusion.

She was so tired. But nevertheless, she pulled herself into a sitting position and waited for the pounding at her temples to subside. Once it finally did, she stretched and rose from the warm bed.

And so, her morning began. Looking in the mirror, she wondered what had changed. She’d been training for these moments, preparing to execute her plan. When had she gotten so tired? When had she lost her edge? Wherever it went, she needed to find it immediately.

Sarah’s morning routine was precise, meticulous even. First, she made a quick stop in the bathroom to freshen up for the day. This was followed by a morning workout, consisting of either jump-rope hiit or strength exercises. She stretched and drank her lemon water. At that point, she always took a shower and decided her look for the day. Outfit, hairstyle, and makeup. Once she was prim and proper, she would head into the kitchen and make herself pancakes, which she considered to be the best start to any morning.

Once she’d cleaned up, she’d gather her things and head out.

On the other hand, Black Noir needed no more than three hours of sleep and often found himself awake throughout the night. He’d spend his time reading, prowling the city, or watching movies. He wasn’t quite sure how it’d started, but one movie every now and then turned into one or two movies a night.

When the sun begins to rise, he starts his routine of suiting up and eating breakfast. He would then enter the combat training room Vought had built for him and that only him and the company knew about. He clocked many hours in that room, constantly training and sharpening his skills. He’d freshen up before heading out for meetings or events.

Sometimes even missions. Now those were his favorites and he often found himself craving one just to be able to let go, to use his abilities. He was a master martial artist and interrogator. He was a spy supplied with strength, durability, and knife proficiency. When they assigned a target, it always ended up classified as ‘terminated’. He never missed, he never failed.

But that morning was like any other, and he had yet another string of meetings. And so, with great composure he completed his morning routine, slipped his mask on, and left his living quarters.

He found that the only thing he might look forward to as much as a mission, was meeting the woman who had captivated his attention that fateful night at the gala. She was different from what he’d originally imagined, still radiant but imperfect. Up close, watching her while she spoke, he had noted a sadness, a maturity in her eyes he wasn’t expecting. For the first time, he was personally invested in another human being, watching over her like a guardian. She was hiding something, and he’d get to the bottom of it soon enough.

The day went by in no rush, the hours slowly dragging along. The burning in her eyes and the heaviness of her limbs were nothing when compared to the pounding in her head.

Massaging her temples, Sarah tried to focus on the task at hand.

Someone hovered over her desk, “Long day?”

Sarah hummed before granting her friend some attention. She didn’t like the mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Or should I say long night?”

“Hell no, don’t start up with that,” Sarah immediately rejected the image she had conjured up at Martha’s words.

Martha merely huffed in disappointment but respected her wish to keep quiet about it at the moment. You could never really know who is watching or listening.

“All right, all right,” the blonde swept at her bangs. “Are you sure you’re up for tonight?”

Sarah immediately nodded, “Of course, we need to go over a few things.”

Martha watched her closely, “You hide it well, but you really need to slow down.”

She knew her friend meant well and was probably worried over her fatigued state, but there was no time for rest. She could sleep, but it never truly replenished her. It only kept her going.

And who could blame her for it? People who slept well weren’t constantly looking over their shoulder, afraid of being identified and murdered in cold blood. They weren’t leading a plan to take down one of the biggest, most successful pharmaceutical companies in the world. They weren’t being watched by an enhanced, murderous ninja who could tear their head off. Most of all, they didn’t fear burning up and clearing a block in their sleep.

As a little girl, she’d always sleep curled up at the center of the bed, far from the edges. Under no circumstances would she allow a limb to fall over the side. Now, she always slept with an arm hanging out, her fingers inches away from the backpack holding all the necessities to disappear at a moment’s notice. New passport, keys to a safe house, change of clothes, snack bars, lighter, knife, flashlight…

Sarah stirred herself from her thoughts, “It’s fine, I’m just not sleeping that well.”

The other woman pursed her lips.

What Martha had been referring to was their weekly night out every Friday. They would either go for dinner at a restaurant or go clubbing if they had to discuss anything in secrecy. That night, they were heading to one of their favorite clubs for dancing and plotting. A club is the perfect place to talk about sensitive information if you find the right spot inside. The loud music masks your words, and most of the people are drinking, buzzed, or completely wasted. And seeing them out together raised no suspicion because it simply looked like friends going out and having fun. Additionally, they got to dance which was always a plus in the two women’s eyes.

Martha often complained that at twenty-seven they were rapidly approaching the deadline for going to clubs, dancing events and such. She was often very dramatic about it, claiming they had to enjoy it before they got labelled as cougars. Sarah always brushed it off with a laugh, not even attempting to reason with her friend’s logic.

And while she enjoyed going to clubs or bars, that night she truly was regretting it. She slipped into a small, refined black dress and hopped into her heels. She’d already done her eye makeup and moved in front of the mirror to apply a rich, dark red lipstick. Her hair was left down, cascading over her shoulders in tight kinks and curls, a cloud of dark brown locks. She pulled her bangs to the side and took in her appearance in the mirror.

Alluring and mysterious, perfect.

Her phone vibrated from an incoming call. “Hey, I’m two minutes away, start locking doors or whatever it is that always makes you late.”

Sarah laughed and started to, indeed, shut her windows and lock the backdoor. She finally made it to the porch where she stood waiting for her friend’s Honda.

Little did she know, a certain someone was hidden on her roof, listening to her move around on the porch beneath him. Black Noir could smell the enticing perfume she’d applied and could hear the characteristic click of heels on wood. He breathed in deeply and restrained himself from jumping down.

She was lightly humming to herself, and he found the tune oddly familiar, but he couldn’t recall when he’d last heard it.

A light grey car rolled around the corner and came to a stop in front of the house.

When Sarah stepped down from the porch and onto the sidewalk, he couldn’t help but hold his breathe. Frozen in his spot, he grew hot at the elegant form-hugging dress she wore, her hips swaying from side to side. Ringlets of dark hair reached down the curve of her back. Where was she going looking like that?

As the car sped away, Black Noir took a few moments to collect himself. She’d completely clouded his mind, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. One of the things that made him so efficient was his ability to focus, always. In any situation, he selected and categorized his surroundings with an ease unlike any other man or woman. He was controlled. No distractions, ever. His outlet was killing, but even then, it was methodical.

But now he felt an underlying tension grow, right under the skin where he couldn’t reach. She was stunning, and he was sure others would think so as well. He’d gouge their eyes out. If he caught anyone catcalling, he’d rip out their tongues. Yes, that’s appropriate.

He shook his head, almost in an attempt to concentrate. Mostly, he was angry with her. Who was she meeting? He sneered at the thought of another man entering the picture.

And so, fueled by possessiveness and an unfathomable jealousy, he followed from the rooftops with an ever-watchful eye.

Having already been there multiple times, Sarah and Martha were quick to settle into their usual spot. Taking in the masses of moving bodies around her, Sarah glanced at the people within hearing range. A good rule a thumb was that if she could he hear them speak, so could they hear her.

She moved closer to her friend as Martha started, “I think this is a good time to proceed with everything. I mean, we’re only missing the codes to the lab.”

Sarah snorted, “Yeah, as well as infiltrating the lab, taking the samples and data—like the whole rest of the plan.” She mused, “Oh and don’t forget, we have to live through it and get everything to Max.”

Martha rolled her eyes, “Okay, you’re right but still…,” she took a sip of her drink, “it’s time. There’s a lot of confusion and change at Vought, it could easily be someone else.”

Sarah thought about it. “The plan is pretty solid. It has its risks, but I don’t think there’s any potential plan that doesn’t have any.”

Martha approved, “Exactly. Plus, it fits in with the timeline so we’re good.”

“Yeah….” Sarah trailed off before finally deciding, “I’ll do it next week. I get the algorithm and you crack it.”

Martha high-fived her and downed her drink. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

“To Operation Whistle-blower.”

Sarah smiled, “To Operation Whistle-blower”

After such extensive planning, it felt good to finally act, to make Vought pay. She would just need to hold it together for a little longer, focus and get the job done.

Looking over at the blonde she searched her eyes for doubt or remorse. After all, this wasn’t her battle and she’d gotten wrapped into it almost accidentally. They had met at Mallory’s house as teenagers and had been inseparable ever since. And they made a good team, always looking out for each other in the dangerous world of lies, conspiracies and death they grew up in.

Martha snapped her fingers, “You still with us?”

Laughing at her friend’s impatience, Sarah nodded and focused on the drink in front of her.

“Have you told Mallory how we’re proceeding?”

Growing serious, the brunette shook her head, “I only call at our scheduled time on Sunday. I’ll hint at it then.”

Martha leaned back in her seat, “Yeah, it would be great if she could muddy the waters even more, feed false information here and there.”

“You know she’ll help where she can, but I don’t want her involved,” Sarah repeated for the hundredth time, “She already doesn’t want me doing this, and she’s suffered enough.”

Watching her friend retreat into her thoughts, Martha made the snap decision to get up and literally force her to be present.

“Let’s dance.”

Sarah sputtered, “Well okay.” She stared wide-eyed at her friend, “That was sudden.”

“Well you know all that crap about,” she paused for emphasis, “Ces la vie”

The young brunette stood up and laughed at her friend’s antics as she was swept into the crowd.

Losing themselves to the music, they joined the mass of moving bodies, shaking hips and hands raised. The pounding music had since reached into their chest, their bodies almost vibrating to the fast tempo of the music. It was exhilarating, until Sarah’s head felt like it split open.

Martha touched her neck.

“Oh my god, Sarah what happened,” she yelled over the music.

She dragged her over to a less crowded corner and checked her over for any sign of injury. The bleeding woman could feel her agitation grow and spread throughout her body. Had someone nicked her? She looked back into the crowd, wondering who was hiding in there, waiting to finish her off. The dim lights over the sea of moving bodies concealed everything, both action and sound.

Martha found the source of her bleeding, “Oh god Sarah, it’s your ear, it’s bleeding.” Looking up with knowing eyes she placed her hands on the brunette’s shoulders, steadying her. “Look at me, we’re fine. You need to calm down.”

Sarah’s eyes were traced by thin glowing veins, and her breaths were increasingly shallow. She could feel her heartbeat at the tips of her fingers, her whole body on edge.

When Sarah looked from side to side, Martha lightly shook her to catch her attention. “Hey,” she warned.

Slowly, the net of glowing light blue retreated.

“Are we cool?”

Sarah swallowed, “Yeah, I’m fine now.”

Martha tugged on her hand and led her to the exit. They both knew she needed to go home and fully slow down—come down from her high. The moment of danger had triggered a response that she thought had long went dormant.

“It’s been a long time since I last saw you like that.”

Sarah merely wrapped her arms around her waist. After the moment of scalding hot, she was now left cold, almost shivering.

“Has it happened since last time.”

Sarah stared ahead. “Not really.”

“What do you mean ‘not really’?

The brunette kicked at a small rock on the sidewalk. “When I sleep and I remember things, I feel it. But I wake up each time.”

“Jesus, no wonder you’re not sleeping.” Martha looked over at her pensive friend, “I’m staying over tonight. It can be a sleepover like the old days.”

Sarah smiled at the thought of their wild adventures. Their sleepovers were not what people commonly thought of. There was no braiding, nail polish or barbies. It was training, sparring, and eating abnormal amounts of ice-cream.

“You’re going to rest, and I’m going to make you some tea,” Martha decided.

“So a different kind of sleepover,” Sarah pointed out.

Martha looked over, worry in her eyes. “Yeah, a different kind of sleepover.”

When she stayed silent, the blonde made a light-hearted comment, “You know we need to branch out, get out of our comfort zones so that we can grow as human beings”

At Sarah’s laugh she proceeded, “Maybe we should try braiding your hair, too.”

The brunette raked a hand through the ends of her curly hair, “Please, you don’t have what it takes.”

Laughing, Martha agreed. From behind them, someone called out.

“Hey, girls, wait up.” A stocky man with hard eyes but a blinding smile came to stand way too close for comfort, and they both took a step back.

“Can I get your numbers?”

“Excuse me?”

“Can I get one of your numbers” he asked again, but slower.

They were both getting bad vibes. Sarah sized him up, still rattled from what happened in the club.

“Yeah, we understand English, we just don’t know what you’re trying to achieve here.”

Martha interjected with a disbelieving tone, “Are you trying to get both of our numbers?”

He smirked and ran a hand through his hair, probably thinking he was cute.

“Well, I’ll take what I can get. One or both.”

Martha smiled widely, “Yeah, no, that was the worst attempt to a get a girl’s number in the history of pick-up lines.”

Sarah agreed, “We’re leaving.”

She promptly spun around but was stopped when he grabbed her wrist and shook her. She looked back at him and down at his hold, feeling the energy bubbling right under the surface.

“Come on, I know you want it, no way you weren’t dancing for attention in there.”

And for an instant she got a glimpse into his mind, pictures clouding her thoughts. Her own mind was now spun up, running a thousand miles per hour as her body grew increasingly hot. Martha attempted to catch her attention.

“Come on, let’s go, we’re leaving now.”

But Sarah stood stock still, staring at the man as he grew more and more uncomfortable. Not as bold as before, he tried to back out. When she felt a looser tension on her wrist, she twisted and grabbed onto his, pulling him close.

Her temperature surpassed what would commonly be considered a fever, and she felt the characteristic burning warmth pervading her chest, like ribbons of fire and smoke swirling though her ribcage.

The man started to feel heat on his wrist, and, confused, he tugged. Sarah never moved. And Martha was terrified, not knowing how to knock her friend out of her trance-like state of focus on the disrespectful man in front of them. She had already been on edge, and him grabbing her like that must have sent her barreling over a metaphorical cliff.

Growing scared, he tugged even harder, to no avail. She saw Jason in his features. And suddenly, her skin was so hot, he was burning. She seared the shape of her fingers onto his wrist and ignored the smell of burning skin in the air.

“Oh god, Sarah that’s enough.”

She pressed harder, and he kneeled to the floor, trying to twist out of her grasp.

“Sarah, you’ll blow our cover,” she tried, and finally pleaded, “Marianna.”

That got to her, somewhere in her mind. It shook her and distracted her from the surge of energy building up inside.

Leaning down, she whispered. “You need to learn to respect women. We’re not weak playthings, you hear?”

He nodded insistently, and she finally let him fall back onto the sidewalk, clutching onto his wrist.

Martha watched her, “Now, are we cool?”

Sarah couldn’t quite meet her eyes, “I’m sorry.”

Martha was slightly fuming, but it was worry that truly consumed her.

“You better do some jumping jacks or flap your arms to cool down, because you will not burn my leather seats.”

Once they left, the silence in the car was suffocating.

Sarah finally pierced it, “I saw what he was thinking, Martha. Not like I could in the past—just a glimpse.”

She peered out of the window into the night.

“And it was horrible.”

Up on the rooftops, Black Noir had watched the interaction with growing frustration.

Ready to make his way down to kill the man, he stopped in his tracks. Was this the secret she’d been hiding? She too was enhanced.

She wasn’t on any of Vought’s lists or indexes, which confirmed the fact that she was using a fake identity. So, if she was hiding, presumably from the company that had made her into what she is, why was she working there? So many questions, and no answers.

And why had the other woman called her Marianna? Was that her true name?

His patience was growing thin, but he decided he wouldn’t advance on her until he had a better understanding of where she stood. He found himself proud of how she’d handled the man. Disappointed that she hadn’t killed him, but proud, nonetheless. If she had simply given over her number, he wasn’t sure what he would’ve done. Violent thoughts danced behind his eyes but he wasn't sure he'd be able to carry them out, not on her.

He leapt down from where he was perched and followed the man without a sound.

And in the dark of night, one can only imagine what happened when he finally reached him.

-Giulia

Tag list: @ateliefloresdaprimavera @ellejo @dust-bun @coco724 @proximio-5 @damiminator

#the boys #the boys amazon #the boys tv #the boys season 2 #black noir #black noir x oc #the boys black noir #the seven #supes #Vought #fanfiction #fanfic #oc story

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toujourseven · 3 years

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Under the Radar | 3

A/N: Flashback!

Sorry for those expecting a steamy continuation of the ménage à trois. We'll get back to that in the next chapters. (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

I kind of decided to include a plot. It just flowed and it would be nice to put some late 20s perspective as the boys are slowly growing up to be dadd-- adults ahem. I hope you enjoy and I am SO SORRY for the late update.I will try to add Chapter 3 next week. keyword: try!!

Do you guys prefer --short chapters but frequent updates OR --long chapters but longer updates?

Stream PTD for baton pass!!! （＊＾ω＾）♪ hugsssss find me on twt @toujourseven ʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ

Plot: RM of world-renowned group BTS met you on his private vacation. Things get serious as you both value the same things, including relationships– monogamous relationships, or?

Flashback-- 2 months ago

You moved the gear into park and reached for your camera bag haphazardly thrown in the backseat. You were so excited to walk around the hidden coast as part of your solo travels. You looked around the area and noticed that it was indeed a secluded place, judging by the lack of people milling around. There were a couple of local restaurants attached into the residents’ houses. And a lone bus stop can be seen just along the edge of the parking bay.

It was late in the afternoon and it was the perfect time to capture some photos. You marveled at the pink sand and long stretch of beach. Nobody was swimming, and only a handful of people were scattered along the beach. A couple were laid on a blanket on one area, and a man was sitting atop some rocks with his headphones on. You walked farther ahead where you won’t disturb the other nature spectators and filmed a couple of videos and photos for your travel vlog. The peaceful vibe also stimulated your brain and it pushed you to record some prose on your phone. Nothing can spark creativity better than nature, and sadness, you suppose.

After the sun has set, your stomach began growling. You only ate brunch and you realized it was not good to be this hungry if you were planning to eat lots of seafood for dinner. You traced back your steps towards the local businesses and chose a quaint restaurant with a rustic theme. The locals were friendly and one of the residents hanging out even sat beside your table to chat with you. After a comfortable pause, while the aged woman let you eat your meal, you heard her think out loud, “Oh poor dear, there are no more buses that come at this hour. He must have missed his ride. The next bus will arrive tomorrow morning.”

You followed her gaze and you saw the man wearing headphones earlier sitting under the bus shed, checking his watch and looking back and forth the road. Suddenly, the friendly woman stood up, presumably to inform the man of his mishap.

You finished your meal and was paying for it when the old woman returned, the man with headphones in tow. He was very tall and he was wearing a cap and a mask. He looked awkward and a bit sheepish, he must have realized his mistake already. “Oh hey dear, thank goodness you are still here. You mentioned that you were going back to the city tonight, correct? Would you be so kind to give this man a ride on your way?” Then the woman ushered closer to you and stage-whispered, “It’s fine, he’s a jolly nice man, and I made sure he is not dangerous.” Then in a normal volume of voice, “He’s a tourist too and he had some miscommunications back at the station. But he is in dire need to get back tonight, you understand, don’t you sweetie?” She hugged you close and offered the both of you a sweet smile.

The man rubbed the back of his neck and he looked completely embarrassed. You were more than happy to offer your help but you can’t say you feel too confident riding with a stranger for a 5-hour drive back to the city.

“I’m really really sorry to impose, but I have an appointment early in the morning and I won’t be able to make it in time even if my… friend drives down here at this hour.” You noticed that his voice was deep and he kept his face lowered which did nothing to ease your worries of driving with a stranger.

“Oh sweetie, you need to loosen up a bit. Maybe show a bit of your face to gain this lady’s trust. No one wants to drive with a faceless man.”

The man hesitatingly removed his cap and mask, then you gasped softly. You looked around to make sure no one else was around, or no one else had seen. No way. Maybe he just looks like him. But then, why hide? “That’s fine, you can put the mask back on.” You forced a laugh then addressed the old woman, “Better to be safe, right? With the virus and all.” You cleared your throat, and the man looked a little bit hesitant and more wary of you as he put on his mask.

“We’ll get going now, ma’am. Thank you so much for a delightful chat. I hope to get back soon.” You gathered your things and led the man to your car. Before you opened your door, you faced him and asked, “Best to get this out of the way first. My name is Jane, and I am an allied health professional. I live in New South Wales, and here’s my identification.” You showed him your drivers’ license. “Now, are you perhaps, a celebrity?” You stared him down- well, up, since he’s a lot taller. And your tone is reminiscent of a teacher scolding a child. But you just couldn’t help yourself. He must have felt the same way, because he answered with a small voice, “Yeah.” With his head still bowed down. You took a deep calming breath before continuing, “And you think it safe to travel in the suburbs of Australia, by yourself, without transportation??” You knew you sounded accusatory, considering you were talking to a stranger, but you just couldn’t believe how careless and thoughtless and dangerous the whole situation was. He squared up his shoulders a bit here and defended, “Well, I thought it was safe since it won’t be crowded in this particular locaion, and I did have a ticket back. I just…” he scratched his head and sighed.

A cold breeze fluttered your coat open, and you shivered. “Maybe, we should continue this inside.” He suggested, eyeing your shivering frame. You conceded, and both of you got comfortable inside your vehicle. You removed your coat, and he finally removed his cap and mask and ruffled his hair. You still couldn’t believe your eyes, but there was no mistaking it.

When you didn’t move, he looked at you and smiled, flashing his pretty dimples (curse him), and extended his hand, “Forgive me for forgetting my manners. Pleased to meet you, I’m Kim Namjoon.”

You gulped and shook his hand. You couldn’t say anything, so you just nodded and completed your pre-driving routine. You completely forgot that your phone automatically connects to your speakers and RM’s Seoul started playing. You froze and accidentally stepped on the brake. “Fuck.” You heard him snort and then laugh. “Sorry about that,” you muttered, referring to your embarrassing driving skills. Then he asked with dimples flashing, “So, you’re an Army huh?” You glared at him for a second then focused on driving.

“Well, the songs are good, can you blame me?” Then he chuckled and freakin rapped along. Your heart beat so fast because you couldn’t believe Kim Namjoon is rapping along Seoul while he is in the passenger seat of your car. Fucking surreal.

After a few minutes of silence, with just your playlist in the background, you told him, “You can sleep if you want, you did mention you still have a schedule in the morning.” You glanced at him and he was wearing an incredulous look. You paused, oh yeah. It would be more foolish to sleep in a stranger’s car. “Or not. Forgot about me being a stranger thing. And worse, a fan!” You chuckled. “No, it’s not that. I just don’t think it’s polite to sleep while you are driving for me. The least I could do is accompany you.” You smiled softly. You’re not even surprised he is that thoughtful. “Also,” he cleared his throat, “I don’t actually have a schedule. I just.. didn’t want my manager to scold me. I was about to call him using the phone in the restaurant, but the woman suddenly asked you to drive me. And well, I’d pick riding with a pretty girl than be scolded by the company any day.”

Your jaw dropped, and the man had the nerve to laugh. “Oh gosh, are you sure this isn’t a reality show, like- prank an army episode, oh god, y’all are not stalking me right?? How did you even know I was an army?? I was discreet!” And that just made him laugh harder.

“Relax. It’s definitely not a reality show. It is reality though.” A short pause, then, “Your music taste is so… varied.” And for some reason, that made you feel proud. Your playlist ranged from country music, to R&B, to anime OSTs, to Eminem, Barbra Streisand, and of course BTS.

After a couple hours of driving, your legs were feeling numb already. On your way to the coast, you had multiple rests since you were not in any hurry. But you were still a new driver and your legs are not accustomed to long drives. “Uhm, since you’re not chasing a schedule, is it okay if we stop over for a moment? My leg is killing me.” He instantly agreed, “Of course, Jane. Anything you need. Are there restaurants somewhere we can stop over? Do you want to eat? My treat!” You smiled. “Don’t be silly. You’re my guest and not everybody can do a favor for the Kim Namjoon so I’m treating you. I need something to brag about to my grandkids.”

Silence. “Oh. You’re married?” You laughed at that. “I wish. But, nope.” You took a deep disappointed breath. “What’s with the reaction? You’re still young?” He asked.

You parked the car, and faced him, “Well, you know how we have these certain expectations in our lives? Not other people’s expectations for us or society’s standards- just, a vision of how our life should be like.” You didn’t know what made you share your deepest disappointments in life with this man, but you thought, It’s not like I’m ever gonna meet him again anyway. I might even get a helpful advice or two from THE Kim Namjoon. You faced forward then, and played with your fingers as you continued. “I feel like nothing I envisioned for my life, back when I was just a youthful dreamer, ever came true. I didn’t live up to the expectations of 12-year-old me. And it bothers me everyday. As I get older, time feels so much faster and missing chances get all the more scarier and riskier.” There was a short silence as you both digested the sudden serious conversation. You didn’t want to make him feel more awkward so you showed him a bright smile and unlocked the door. “That was what the reaction for.” Then you laughed as you exited your door.

You noticed him looking out his window, at the queue for the restaurants. You walked around his side of the door and knocked on his window. “Maybe it’s better for me to just buy our food and eat in the car?” He looked worried but grateful at the same time. “I think that would be the best. Sorry.” He really looked apologetic. But you completely understand. “It’s fine, honest. Be sure to lock the doors then, and keep the windows closed. Do you know how to start the car so you can turn on the heater?” He rolled his eyes and held out his hand for your keys. “Sucks that my reputation precedes me. But yeah, I can do that much.” You started to hand him the keys and bit your lip. You were honestly worried he will wreck your car. You sighed, “Please. Don’t break my car.” Before turning and walking away, chuckling at his offended face.

Chapters: one | two | three

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32297806/chapters/80057497

#bts fic #bts fanfic #btsficrec #bts smut #namjoon smut #namjoon fic #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #bangtan fic #kpop fic #fanfiction #namkook fic #bts reader #ao3 fic #kim namjoon #jeon jungkook #namkook

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blvejeanbaby · 4 years

Text

The Farmhouse (m)

Pairing: Wooyoung x reader, San x reader, Yeosang x reader + multiple Ateez members x OC characters + boy x boy action Word count: 14.9k Warning: sex (though mostly foreplay), threesome, mentions of sex, alcohol use, some Ateez members are gay

disclaimer: I am not trying to assume anyone’s sexuality with this story, that was not what this was meant for! This is all a work of fiction and what I write in this story doesn’t necessarily reflect my thoughts in real life.

A/N: I had originally planned for this story to end up very, very differently but I like to write wherever my mind goes. That’s why I had originally planned to split this up into four parts, with a different ending in my mind. You’ll find out part of what that different ending was in the extra scene at the end n.n

Day 1 On a trip, the last mile is always the longest - it’s not so much the truth as the truth of a feeling. Yunho made sure the last mile wouldn’t come for a while. Even though he had proclaimed himself to be an excellent driver, perfectly capable of following up instructions while driving safely, he hadn’t been too successful in making that statement come true. With Jongho screaming different directions at him, increasingly getting more frustrated with Yunho’s inability to follow these, Yechan from the back attempting to give directions without really knowing where all of you were, you were more so focused on what was outside of the car. Over the course of your journey to the countryside, the landscape had gradually changed; from the tall buildings of the busy city, you got closer and closer to the national park, where you would be staying nearby. “This must be it!” Daemi said excitedly. She had been quiet while the others had been arguing, but when you looked out of the front window, you noticed she was right. The building, a large two-storey farmhouse, concealing an even bigger backyard, with a vineyard next to it, matched the AirBnB advertisement perfectly. “Oh, that’s Seonghwa’s car,” Yunho said, unable to keep the relief out of his voice. He steered the car onto the driveway and parked it right next to Seonghwa’s. When you got out of the car, you were instantly greeted by a voice from higher up: “Hey, look up!” You shielded your eyes from the sun as you looked up to find a half-naked Wooyoung hanging out of an open window. “You’re the last ones to arrive.” “It’s because Yunho can’t drive,” Jongho said, at the same time Daemi said: “It’s because Jongho doesn’t know how to read a map.” “Well, you’d better come up and get yourselves a room,” Wooyoung said. “The others have already started drinking and none of the groceries have been done yet.” To that, everyone nearly fell over each other to collect their bags from the trunk of the car. The house had enough rooms to accommodate 16 people, but because of some being less comfortable sleeping in rooms with certain others, everyone had more or less divided up the rooms beforehand, and mattresses were dragged around to make sure everyone had a bed to sleep in at night. Or during the day, considering the objective of this trip was not to have a wholesome trip to escape from your usual busy lives in the city. Of course it was that too, but there was also the idea that you would just get away to party and get drunk, the way you couldn’t so easily in the city, where there was always some authority to monitor you. You shared a room with Daemi and Yechan, your best girl friends. To accommodate Yechan, you got an extra mattress from the room opposite yours, which was one with an in-room shower. “…so that’s our bathroom,” Yechan concluded as she flopped down onto her unmade mattress and closed her eyes. “I’m going to take a nap.” “A nap? We have to make our beds first. And the groceries still need to be done,” Daemi said. “Why didn’t anybody else go while we were gone?” you sighed. “Well, if Wooyoung’s right and they already started drinking…” Daemi shrugged. “Maybe we should do the groceries. Before everyone gets too drunk.” When you got downstairs, you saw that Daemi had been right; a lot of people were already quite drunk. Seonghwa was one of them, pressing his car keys into your hands, despite you not having a drivers’ license. “Take them,” he said. “Take them. Take more beer with you too. The good ones.” “Hwa, I don’t drink beer-“ you started, but Seonghwa kept rambling about the beer you needed to get. “I’ll come with you,” San said, jumping up from his seat next to Alice and pushing Seonghwa into it. “I know which brand of beer he likes.” He smiled at you and you smiled back thankfully. You were glad to find that it wasn’t just going to be you and San doing the groceries – as he had been drinking and you didn’t have your license, there was no one who could even legally drive the car off the property if you had wanted to. You were glad to find it wasn’t just going to be the two of you. That would’ve probably made for some awkward moments between you. You had been alone with just San before, and it had been normal, until it wasn’t anymore. Something snuck into your relationship that could only be described as attraction. Perhaps it was just plain physical attraction, as your heart always beat slightly quicker when you saw him, or perhaps it ran deeper, but what you did know was that your friendship was good and you didn’t want to ruin it with a crush. The dynamic in the friend group had always been amazing. The traditional idea about boys and girls not being able to be friends without romantic feelings involved, was completely destroyed by you guys’ friendships. Only Seonghwa and Sooyoung were officially dating, following a set-up Hongjoong had cooked up by himself. Sooyoung had never been part of the friend group before, and the same went for Soojin, her best friend. The friend group dynamics had actually improved upon Sooyoung and Soojin’s introductions to the group nearly two years ago. It was for that reason you didn’t feel uncomfortable while in the car with only boys: Yunho drove again, Jongho navigating once more. You were squished in between Hongjoong and San in the backseat of Yunho’s car, which was roomier than Seonghwa’s, with the latter’s car keys pressing into your leg through your jeans. While Jongho and Yunho already started arguing about which way to go and which supermarket to choose, you turned to Hongjoong as he talked about the plans for the next couple of days: “…sauna, so maybe we can hop in there tonight. And tomorrow Anna and I want to do a barbecue by the lakeside. It’s not that far a drive but if we want to take beer there, we can walk too.” “Of course we’ll want to take beer,” San said. “Maybe even wine and stuff. Hey, Y/N, we have your favourite drink too. It’s cheaper in cities than in the countryside, we figured out.” “My favourite drink?” you turned to him. “That soju-yogurt cocktail you like so much. Wooyoung and Yeosang made it for you.” You felt your heart swell at San remembering you liking soju-yogurt cocktails. It had been a while since you told him about loving it the first time you tried it and it becoming your signature drink when going out. You weren’t big on alcohol the way other people could be, but sometimes you found yourself casually wanting to make your own soju-yogurt cocktail at home. “I hope there’s still left when we get back.” Once at the grocery store – which was tucked away behind a scary-looking church that, according to Yunho’s limited amount of information about the surrounding area, once belonged to a cult – Hongjoong was in charge of listing off the grocery list and checking the boxes corresponding with what the others put into the cart. You were staying close to San’s side, as you always did when he was around. Yes, you found him physically attractive, which made you want to look at him all the time, but there was also something absolutely magnetic about his personality that made you want to be talking to him always. And it seemed like San was really into your conversation as you wandered off from Hongjoong and Jongho to find a certain brand of pasta sauce. Despite the simplicity of the topics you were talking about, which ranged from Yunho not being able to drive and Yechan karate chopping you in the head when she saw a mosquito flying past that she wanted to kill, you felt a little nervous around San. Once you had told Daemi about it, hoping she would come with valuable advice, but instead she had laughed at you and just declared you were crushing on San, hard. And perhaps she was right. When you got back to the farmhouse, needless to say, the soju-yogurt cocktail was gone. Feeling robbed of the one thing you were looking forward to about returning, you opted to drink water instead. You’d start drinking alcohol after dinner, you told yourself, so you wouldn’t get sick. Finally, when it was clear there were little to no sober people you could strike up conversation with, you excused yourself to go upstairs and shower. The summer heat made everything hot and sticky, including your body. You grabbed a towel and some clean clothes as well as your toiletry bag before going to the single room with the shower. The room was small and simple, with a window overlooking the backyard and the mountains in the distance. You cracked the window open, quickly glancing down to see the back patio, only accessible through the kitchen. As you put on the shower, you enjoyed the smell of freshly cut grass and summer drafting in through the window, as well as the sound of the water cascading on your body mixing with the sounds of a chirping bird outside and the sounds of cows in the distance. Until your attention was caught by a sudden yelp: “Wooyoung!” Your eyes shot wide open when you recognized that voice. Rose. Along with Alice and Anna, they were in your friend group because Daemi liked them a lot. Your personality didn’t match well with Rose and although you didn’t hate each other or anything, you weren’t very fond of Rose and you were sure the sentiment was shared by her. As far as you knew, Wooyoung, however, thought she was amazing. “Don’t tell me you don’t like it,” Wooyoung’s voice sounded, loud, as if he was right there in the room with you. It immediately gave you goose bumps. “Hm, I like it,” Rose’s voice came again. You could just about imagine her shaking her blonde hair out of her face, over her shoulder… You had always thought she looked closest to an angel as was humanly possible. Perhaps your dislike of her had something to do with how you were jealous of her always getting the guys she wanted, how she managed to get every single boy to ever lay eyes on her to fall in love with her and how she could effortlessly keep and make friends… “You like this?” “Hm, Rose…” That was a groan. A groan from Wooyoung. You had never heard something so utterly sexual. You shivered. Saying you were feeling increasingly uncomfortable was nearly an understatement. They continued to make sounds that made you want to throw up in your mouth. Had they been drinking this much already? Or were they just that into each other that it didn’t bother them it was broad daylight outside? Did they not hear your shower running too? Or were they not aware how perfectly audible they were? You felt like you weren’t supposed to be naked while you could hear them so clearly; it felt weird. You quickly turned off the shower and wrapped your towel around yourself. Even though you had taken your clothes and toiletry bag into the single room, you didn’t want to hear a single sound anymore, so you made your way back to your room where you took your time getting ready, trying to shake off the nasty feeling Wooyoung and Rose’s acts had left behind. While putting on clothes and jewellery and smearing light makeup on your face, you felt the urge to dress the best you could, despite the fact you were just going to be cooking and eating and drinking with your group of best friends. There was something inside of you screaming that you wanted to prove to everyone that you, too, were worthy of getting fingered and giving handjobs on the patio as well – there was no other explanation for what they had been doing and no need to lie to yourself about it. More importantly, you felt the need to prove to specifically Wooyoung you could handle whatever he would give you on that patio. More so than Rose. But that was ridiculous. You wouldn’t really want Wooyoung to touch you like that. As you finished the perfect winged eyeliner, you decided that was enough makeup. You made your way downstairs, collecting Anna, Daemi and Hongjoong for dinner. “Let’s get going,” you said. “Seems like you already got going,” Daemi chuckled, following you closely into the kitchen. “Who is that outfit for?” “For you, of course.” You sent her a wink. “San is one lucky boy,” Daemi said quietly, so no one else could hear, before getting to work on cutting up onions. If only she knew, you thought to yourself, taking it upon yourself to cut up the potatoes. It took a surprisingly long time to cook for 16 people, despite the extra hands pitching in to slice up vegetables and do the washing up. You realized how much you’d been underappreciating the restaurant people who churn out dishes at an insane speed, compared to how you’re cooking a relatively simple dish with little ingredients while needing all the help you can get. “Ah,” you hear a voice, “can I taste?” Before getting confirmation, the spoon is already in the pasta sauce and before you can scold him, the spoon is already in his mouth. “Hm, needs a little more spice, I think.” “Yeah? Well, you think wrong.” “What? You haven’t even tasted yet,” Wooyoung said, putting the spoon back on the counter. There’s a smirk on his face that your hands are itching to wipe off with a slap, and a blush on his cheeks that you know is not the effect of the hot weather. “The recipe doesn’t call for extra spices, thank you very much.” “What’s got you all upset?” “I’m not upset,” you bite back, proving the opposite. “Ah, it must be the period,” Wooyoung said, with an air of superiority. “Fuck you, Wooyoung.” You threw your own wooden spoon down into the pasta mixture, splattering both yourself and Wooyoung with the red sauce, before storming out onto the patio – only to find Rose standing, a gleeful smile on her face and a cigarette between her lips. She looked up instantly. “You look a little upset.” Her smile faded away as she stuck out her hand to you. “Need a drag?” You didn’t even bother responding, instead dealing with the embarrassment of having to go back through the kitchen to escape. When dinner is served, you can’t even muster up the faintest of smiles or feign happiness. At least what got you so upset wasn’t your period. And quite frankly, you were even angrier that Wooyoung thought it was okay to make such a joke, whilst normally being so attuned to girls’ feelings, especially yours. You hated the pasta, but you ate it anyway. You glanced over to where Wooyoung was seated, chatting excitedly to Seonghwa and Mingi, the left-overs of the splattered sauce staining his white shirt. You didn’t even feel remotely guilty. You were glad when dinner was finished, so you could commit yourself to working on another batch of soju-yogurt cocktail, this time without Wooyoung, since he was too busy in the sauna. Probably flirting with Rose, you thought to yourself as you grumpily got to work on the ingredients. San and Yeosang were right there with you; Yeosang because he knew how to make it and San because he evidently wanted to cheer you up. He kept saying cheesy jokes and poking your cheeks and then his own ‘to see if he could give you his dimples’. Every time you gave him an annoyed look, his smile made your heart flutter and your mouth shut. As the night progressed, you were aware you were drinking a bit too much of the mixture. Maybe a bit too much of any liquor, really, because by the time the clock struck 11 o’clock, you were already very close to quitting alcohol for the night, while Soojin was only on her second drink of the evening. “I’m going to get some air,” you said to no one in particular, before getting up and stepping outside, sliding the door closed behind you. Away from the stifling heat inside, the cool mountain air managed to cool you down enough to not sway on your feet as you threw your head back to look at the night sky. It was dotted with stars, only visible because you were so far away from cities and their light pollution. You were in the middle of deep contemplations about the universe, when you heard a noise. Oh no, not again, you thought to yourself, your head snapping down to look over the balustrade, down at the swimming pool. On the edge of it you could see two figures, barely visible in the darkness. But from what little light the porchlight shone on them, you could make out that it’s San – it’s unmistakably him. But who is with him? It takes a little more squinting and a moan before you make yourself rip away from the sight, stomping back into the house. You don’t even tell anyone that you’re heading up to bed. Only when you’re finally underneath the covers, you allow yourself to think about what you saw. Your long-time crush, Choi San, shoving his tongue down the throat of Kim Alice, someone you had always figured was rather harmless a person to have around. She didn’t speak much in big groups – kind of like you – but when she did, she was funny. She was a joy to be around, seemed to have a life devoid of problems, she was conventionally attractive… With a sigh you turned on your side, closing your eyes, willing yourself to fall asleep. But all you saw with eyes closed was San and Alice, kissing as if their lives depended on it.

Day 2 After you and Anna had put away the dirty plates and cutlery into the dishwasher and turned it on, everyone was about ready to leave for the lake. The morning had been off to a slow start but with the sun beaming down on everyone, scorching hot, they were all suddenly up and running. Their sudden energy was not the reason you left the cars at the house and instead walked through the significantly cooler forest to get to the lake. After all, according to Hongjoong, it’s not a far walk. The reason was solely to be able to drink. Jongho and Yeosang carried the cool box filled to the brim with drinks and meat, which was undoubtedly the heaviest thing to carry, while Daemi and Alice offered to carry the blankets to sit on. Everyone else was assigned their own towels and clothes to carry. You stayed at the back of the group with Mingi, who was positively hungover from the night before and had to stop every few minutes or so to clutch at his stomach and complain about how nauseous he felt. Needless to say, the two of you arrived only when Seonghwa had already started to set up ‘camp’, as he called it, and the others were already half-undressed and in the water. Soojin was in the midst of stripping off her sundress, convincing Alice to do the same. Both were trying to get Yunho to abandon his duties of helping Seonghwa lay down the blankets, for him to come swimming with them. Jongho and Yeosang, who had been in the front with Hongjoong, setting the pace and navigating, had already put the cool box down, Jongho in the process of taking off his pants. “Y/N,” Sooyoung appeared in front of you suddenly. “Do you want to come with us to the village? It’s just a ten minute walk, Hongjoong said, and it’s apparently really pretty. Maybe you can take some photos.” She gestured toward your film camera, a gift from Wooyoung for your last birthday. You had taken it with you to the lake, thinking you could get a lot of use out of it to capture the memories of the trip. “Sure, seems like fun,” you said. “Who’s coming?” You felt torn as Sooyoung told you it was just going to be you, Seonghwa, Hongjoong and Yeosang. On the one hand you were glad that San and Wooyoung were staying behind, as you weren’t sure you could handle having to deal with them for too long. On the other hand, you were a little torn on leaving them behind with Alice and Rose. You had to remind yourself they were nothing to you but your friends as you shrugged your heavy backpack off and gave Mingi a pat on the head before he threw himself down on the blankets. Even though he was groaning and being apologetic, no one believed he found it really terrible he could not come with. Hongjoong and Seonghwa were completely attached to Sooyoung, which caused you to stay with Yeosang. He was typically a very observant but quiet person; he noticed a lot but never said a thing about it. Imagine your surprise when he asked: “So, you were not having a great time last night?” “Was it that obvious?” you groaned. “Wooyoung told me you cursed at him. You know, he was joking about the period thing.” “I know. Doesn’t make it okay.” Yeosang turned semi-serious. “He hates it when you two fight.” “Has he told you that as well?” You were starting to lose your temper, which you did not want. After all, Yeosang had nothing to say about what Wooyoung was feeling, saying or doing. “No,” Yeosang said. “I just know. You’re his best friend, even though it might not seem like it sometimes. What were you mad about anyway?” You gnawed at your lip. The fact was, you weren’t entirely sure what you were particularly mad about. That he was fingering Rose on the patio while everyone could notice? That he was fingering Rose on the patio of all places? That he was fingering Rose to begin with? That it was Rose, of all people? And what reason did you have anyway to care about what Wooyoung was doing romantically or sexually? You were only friends. But if there was someone you could talk to this about, it would surely be Yeosang, right? Apart from you, he had known Wooyoung the longest. Before it was you and Yechan and Daemi, it had been you and Wooyoung and Yeosang. And even before that, it had been Wooyoung and Yeosang. That was before San had come in and essentially stolen Wooyoung away. It was before a lot of things. You sighed. “Well, when I was showering last night? Before dinner?” You mentally cringed at what you were about to say: “I heard some noises outside. I’m pretty sure – No, I’m 100 percent confident that it was Wooyoung and Rose going at it. If you know what I mean.” “I can guess,” Yeosang said. “And that bothered you, why?” “I never said it bothered me,” you said. Too defensive. “I don’t like Rose,” you admitted, knowing damn well it was not just that. From the look on Yeosang’s face, you could see he was thinking the same thing. And there was something else too... You were grateful and relieved when he left it at that, though. Instead, Hongjoong pointed you to a small café. Although it might be small, it was not characterless. There were few people inside that afternoon, leaving a lot of different cakes and pies for you and your friends to try out. As you waited for your order, you glanced around the café. It was covered in pink flowers, even the walls were painted pink. You saw what Hongjoong liked about it – it had a certain charm. One that apparently made Sooyoung feel like she had to excessively comment on everything in a squealy voice. You liked her, but her excitement was giving you headaches. Honestly, you were still feeling kind of miserable and sorry for yourself. Yeosang cheered you up by sharing the remainder of his chocolate-cherry cake with you when you had finished your own, knowing the best remedy for what you were feeling was food. While on your way back to the lakeside, Yeosang kept to your side, purposefully bringing up things you had done together where Wooyoung hadn’t been involved. The happy memories you had shared with Yeosang were plenty enough to make you smile again and by the time you arrived back to camp, you were genuinely in a good mood. “Y/N!” Yechan exclaimed as she saw you. “Come jump in! The water’s so good.” “Gotta set up the barbecue,” you said. “Sorry!” All of that was a lie. After all, you didn’t really have to set up the barbecue and there was Hongjoong already getting started on it. In all honesty, you just didn’t feel like joining the happy couples in the water. As soon as Seonghwa and Sooyoung had raced each other to the campsite, they had discarded their clothes and jumped in the water, engaging in a splash war against Jongho and Soojin. Alice was seated on San’s shoulders, battling Rose, who was on Wooyoung’s shoulders. You didn’t want anything to do with them. Instead you chose a soft spot on the blankets next to Mingi, who was sound asleep, Rose’s straw sunhat shading his eyes from the sun, relentlessly beating down. Yunho and Daemi were on his other side, playing a game of cards that Yeosang immediately joined, claiming it as his favourite game, although he then proceeded to ask what the rules were. You watched Hongjoong struggle with the barbecue for a while until you decided it was time to help him out of his misery. As he noticed you helping him, his face immediately brightened up. “What did you think? Of the café?” “It was great, Joongie,” you said, giving him your brightest smile. You actually meant it. “Thanks for taking us.” “Oh, don’t worry about it,” he said. “I just wanted you to have some fun.” With a sigh you leaned back to sit. “Is everyone just a mind reader now?” “No, I just overheard your conversation with Yeo on the way to town. Sorry about that. If you allow me to give you some advice – I think you should just be having fun and not letting something like that bother you. And anyway, I always thought you had a crush on San, not Wooyoung.” You looked at him, shocked. “What?” “You heard what I said. Hand me the coals, please.” You did as he said. “What do you mean I have a crush on San?” Joong shrugged. “It’s pretty clear from the way you behave around him that you do. Or maybe did?” He winked at you playfully. “I mean, why else would you be angry at Wooyoung for finally approaching Rose? You know he’s been talking about her for years now.” You didn’t know. Perhaps your friendship with Wooyoung was not as unconditional and carefree and honest as you always thought it had been. “Joongie, you’re not making me feel any better right now,” you said, your mind wandering off to his previous comment about you crushing on San. It was true that you liked him, there was nearly no denying it. But if Hongjoong knew, then did the others as well? “I don’t know, Y/N. I think you should just let loose and have some fun.” When the fire beneath the barbecue was finally going and Daemi took your place at it to grill chicken satay, you took her place at the card game. When the first batch of food was served, you woke Mingi to call for the others, still in the water. They were quick to join at the mention of food. Everyone gathered in a circle, smiling and laughing, but all you could do was stab at your food as you looked around the group, wondering who out of all of them knew of your crush on San, who, by the way, looked absolutely stunning with the water droplets on his naked chest glimmering in the afternoon sunlight, like little diamonds. You hated it. “Say ‘ah’.” You turned to look at Wooyoung, an apologetic smile on his face. “Ah?” “No, like this.” He widened his mouth and stuck out his tongue a little, dragging out the ‘ah’ longer. You rolled your eyes but followed his example, which was followed by Wooyoung putting a piece of meat on your tongue. You chewed on it, watching him as he sat down next to you. “Here. Have some more.” “My favourite,” you said, grabbing the plate from him. “Is this your version of a white flag?” “Yes,” Wooyoung said. “I’m sorry about the joke I made. Yeosang might have mentioned you really didn’t like it and I guess it’s a pretty assholey thing to say anyway. I don’t want to fight with you.” “I guess I have to apologize as well,” you said. “I’m not in the best mood and I’m taking it out on you. Among others.” You glanced over at San before focusing back on Woo. “I don’t want to fight with you either.” “Good.” Wooyoung stuck out his pinkie finger to you, as if you were kindergartners still. “Promise me that we won’t fight during this trip again.” “Just this trip?” you joked, curling your own pinkie around his. You’re just about to say something else, when a girl plops down on Wooyoung’s other side. You would recognize that blonde hair anywhere. “Got you pork belly, like you asked.” Rose handed a new plate to Wooyoung. “Hi, Y/N. Why didn’t you go swimming?” “I might swim after dinner,” you said, surprised she even talked to you. You were not so surprised to find out this was the only thing she was going to say to you, instead looking at Wooyoung, totally transfixed by him. You sighed, going back to stabbing at your food. At least there was no fighting with your best friend now. You’re glad when the drinking begins and you have an excuse to chug down liquor. You even go swimming for a bit, hanging around Yechan and Yeosang the most. It’s not long after evening falls that Soojin calls out for everyone to return to the farmhouse. You’re clinging onto your beer bottle on the way back, walking next to Yeosang, your arm linked through his. After all, he managed to majorly cheer you up and perhaps he could perform that same magic trick again. Back at the farmhouse, Mingi perked up enough from his massive hangover to call everyone to him for a beer pong match. With a little help of Anna, he set up teams of two to compete against each other. “Y/N and Yeosang, you begin! Against Yechan and Daemi.” As you took your place next to Yeosang, you realized it was obvious either Mingi or Anna had picked up on the tension in the house. You kind of wanted to convince Yeosang to cheat and purposefully lose the game, but when you saw his fanatism at landing the first ball in Daemi’s cup, you didn’t have the heart to tell him you didn’t want to play. He was just so smiley and happy… You convinced yourself that a) you wanted to win this game just as badly as he did and b) that you’re not absolutely shit at beer pong. The first opponents were luckily nearly as bad as you are at the game. Although the ball takes awfully long to land in the last cup, you and Yeosang still manage to defeat Yechan and Daemi. While the two of you are not up against anyone yet, you vow to yourself to get even more tipsy. It won’t help with aim but you were sure it would help your mood. It’s a fine line between tipsy and drunk and you were walking it with little care in the world. Your next opponents were Hongjoong and Jongho, who already proclaimed themselves Kings of Beer Pong. Only to be beat by you and Yeosang; turns out Hongjoong just had extreme luck playing against Seonghwa and Sooyoung, for his aim is honestly worse than yours, and Jongho can’t keep up against Yeosang, who deserves to officially be crowned King of Beer Pong. Yeosang’s so surprisingly good at the game that you’re not surprised when you win the finale round against Wooyoung and San. Overcome with emotions that you can’t properly explain and do not want to face and will probably never address ever again, you reached for Yeosang’s face, cupping it in your hands and pressing your lips against his. You felt a shock of surprise run through his body, but his hands effortlessly found your hips to steady you and kiss back. Despite the absence of butterflies or fireworks or any of the sorts, you become aware of how unaware you are of the sounds around you two. The only sound that’s coming through is Yeosang’s small moans and the sounds kisses tend to make. It doesn’t help that you’re both using an obscene amount of tongue, but you might be drunk and you don’t care – especially not that anyone or everyone is watching and cheering. When you pull away, you smile at Yeosang, who looks a little stunned but not unhappy about your actions. “Congratulations, King of Beer Pong,” you tell him. “Thanks, Queen.” He even has the liberty of squeezing your ass, earning him a yelp that broadens his smile. Take that, Woosan, you think to yourself. “Let’s get you another drink.” With his arm still around you, Yeosang guides you to the kitchen, away from prying eyes, both unaware that Mingi was ready to crown you both winners and offer you a prize. You couldn’t care less about what the prize was. The kitchen is completely empty except for a collection of trash and dirty plates and glasses. After clearing a space on the countertop, Yeosang picked you up with a surprising amount of strength and sat you down on it, then going to fix you a glass of water. “There you go.” “Water?” you complain. “Yeo-“ “No, you need to sober up a little,” he spoke in a tone of amusement. “I think you’re an amazing kisser and I really enjoyed that, but I also know that kiss wasn’t meant for me.” “Oh, are you going to tell me who the kiss was meant for then? Because, last I checked, my lips were on yours and not on anyone else’s. I think that was meant for you, Yeosang.” “Maybe,” he said, “but then with the intent of hurting someone else. Or whatever you thought you were doing back there. You’re not attracted to me.” “Says who?” you pull Yeosang closer to you by his shirt collar, capturing him between your legs. He looks profoundly comfortable in between them, but you know what he means when he says: “I do. You do, with your body language.” You rolled your eyes at him, setting the glass of water down next to you. “I’m not going to endure another talk about how in love I am with San and how everyone can tell.” “I wasn’t going to say you’re in love with San.” “Okay, Wooyoung then. Only because I was jealous he fingered Rose on the patio. The patio! That one over there!” You pointed at it for emphasis. “All of those feelings are not yours to comment on, Yeosang. Hongjoong.” You narrowed your eyes at him as he entered the kitchen rather innocently. “Wh-“ Hongjoong locked eyes with Yeosang and immediately his eyes widened. “I’m out of here right now. Sorry.” “Drink your water,” Yeosang said, giving you a little pat on the knee before following Hongjoong out of the kitchen. You sighed in frustration, grabbing the glass and bringing it to your lips. It actually tasted pretty nice to be drinking something as pure as water after all of the alcohol you had been consuming. Perhaps Yeosang was right and the kiss hadn’t been meant for him at all, not even a little bit. Perhaps you were just trying to make him jealous. And you weren’t quite sure which him you meant with that. Perhaps the him that came walking into the kitchen right at that moment, empty bottle of beer in hand. “Oh, have you come to lecture me too?” you said before he could even open his mouth – just one look was enough. “I’m sick of it.” “Well,” San said, “now that you mention it. Why did you kiss Yeosang?” “Why wouldn’t I? You have been all over Alice too, haven’t you?” “You really don’t understand, do you?” “Understand what?” There was a viciousness to your voice that made San shake his head. “I’m not going to argue with you while you’re still drunk.” “Yeah? Well-“ But you didn’t get a chance to say anything hurtful to him as he had already left the kitchen. With a sigh you chugged down the water, slid off the countertop and walked to your room. You could faintly hear all the noises in the living room, the partiers, but you were glad you weren’t there with them. This was not the fun trip you had planned for it to be.

Day 3 Even though Anna had planned something to do the day after, everyone was so hungover that no one really felt like going anywhere. You woke up first, quietly stepping over a snoring Yechan and trying not to wake a sleep-talking Daemi as you went to the single room across the floor to have a shower. This time without opening the window, even though you knew it was highly unlikely you would hear Wooyoung and Rose again. You went downstairs, made yourself breakfast, and by the time you had finished, the first people started coming down. The first was Jongho, followed by Soojin and Anna. Soon thereafter, Yunho and Daemi appeared as well, looking different states of dishevelled. There was still dried up spit in the corner of Yunho’s mouth. “Who’s up for a walk?” he excitedly said. No one felt like going, but you jumped up at the opportunity to be away from the farmhouse for a bit. Accompanying Yunho on his walk was quite peaceful. You never had a really close relationship with him as you did Wooyoung or Yeosang, but you were happy to be around him. It certainly helped that your surroundings were breath-taking, with views you could barely get enough of. It was so vastly different from what you were used to living in the city, that being at the farmhouse felt all the more special. You were reminded that this was partially why you had agreed to come on this trip; to see the beauty of the nature park. Not to get wound up in drama you yourself created by being… Well, was there a word for the way you were feeling? The way you were acting? It gave you some peace of mind walking with Yunho and realizing that he wasn’t going to break out in a lecture about not kissing Yeosang if you don’t like him, your everlasting crush on San, or whatever was going on with your friendship with Wooyoung. You had no desire to talk about any of that, but as you walked alongside Yunho, basking in the warm morning sunlight, it was the only thing you were thinking about. By the time you guys circled back to the farmhouse, the others were up already. Most were still yawning and staring at their untouched plates of eggs and bacon with sleep in their eyes, but Yeosang perked up as you came in. He nodded with his head to get you outside on the patio from which you had seen San and Alice kissing the first night. “I think I know what this is about,” you started. “Yeo, I was very drunk. It didn’t mean anything between us, at least not to me. I hope you understand.” “I-“ Yeosang started, but he was interrupted by someone you really didn’t want to see at this particular moment. “If you don’t like him, then why would you kiss him?” Wooyoung said, his arms crossing over one another in front of his chest. He stood leaning against the closed sliding door, obviously not understanding that this was a private conversation. Obviously not understanding that this was the last straw. “Okay, I’m done with this,” you said. “Normally I feel like I can be honest with you both but for the past few days-“ You sighed, not fully comfortable with sharing every thought you had, the things that had drove you to go bed so early in the night to mull over by yourself. “You know, I did it because I had something to prove. And besides, why is everyone so upset over this? San is always face sucking Alice whenever he can and you!” You had subconsciously moved closer to Wooyoung, now pricking his chest with your finger. “You did whatever with Rose out there and you didn’t even know that everything you did, I could perfectly hear. You’re both having so much fun with the girls here, but are so quick to scold me for wanting to do the same with Yeosang?” “That’s really not the same thing,” Wooyoung started. “Oh, and what makes it different?” “You’ve known Yeosang for years!” “You’ve known Rose for years. San has known Alice for years.” “It’s all not the same thing.” “Do I get a say in this?” Yeosang said, finally intercepting. Perhaps he had got quite uncomfortable with seeing Wooyoung and you so close to each other, staring each other down. You both broke away from each others’ gaze at the same time and spoke simultaneously: “No!” There was a silence and finally a sigh from Wooyoung. “Come find me when you think you can talk like a grown-up, yeah?” He didn’t even really sound mad, perhaps somewhere between defeated and disappointed. He tugged open the door and slammed it shut behind him. You waited for a second, not daring to look at Yeosang, before you followed Wooyoung inside. Instead of heading up the stairs behind him, you went into the kitchen and out onto the patio. There was no one out. You hoped for Yeosang that he was inside, since clouds had gathered above and there was a light drizzle coming down now. You let it cool your temper as well as your skin, thinking of the trip. You had looked forward to it for so long but it really wasn’t going as you had planned. Yes, you had joked with Daemi and Yechan that some crazy things would happen, claiming that Mingi would be the first one to throw up because of all of the alcohol (you were right about that) and that someone would accidentally throw someone in the pool while they still had their phones on them (hadn’t happened yet, but the trip wasn’t over). Daemi had bet that she would get into an argument with Yechan, Yechan had bet that she would catch Seonghwa and Sooyoung in a compromising position. The bet made about yourself had been that you would drunkenly act upon your crush on San. You had known when placing the bets with your friends that there was a very slim chance you would ever dare to approach San in that way and as you stood outside, overlooking the mountain area, you realised you didn’t want San anymore. Not the way you had always wanted him, at least. You used to think San was relationship material, the only guy you wanted to fulfil the need of having a boyfriend. But he wasn’t. He was perhaps too flirty, perhaps too much a person you could only look at from a distance and admire. He wasn’t boyfriend material. Just a friend. So what about Yeosang? Was that you drunkenly acting upon your hidden crush for him? Was that kiss because you liked him? Was he even boyfriend material to you? No. The answer was simple and clear, you didn’t even have to think about it. Yeosang was just one of your closest friends. He was sweet, really, and you would be lying if you said you had never thought about how it would have been if you were to date him. You were sure he harboured fond feelings for you as well, but those were probably along the same line as what you felt for him. Nothing romantic. After all, it was Yeosang, and you two had known each other for forever. You’d seen each others’ good and bad sides and you thought you knew what he would be like in a relationship. You’d seen his failed relationships play out in the past. You thought you had that figured out. So then that kiss… Who were you trying to prove something to? What were you even trying to prove? It was true what you had said, however. You were trying to prove to yourself that... Your mind flicked to the first night, when you had heard Wooyoung and Rose’s escapades. You were bothered about it, in a different way than what you had felt when you caught San and Alice. You replayed the fight you just had with Wooyoung in your head. What did he care what you were up to? You sat down on the small bench. It was wet now, washed clean by the rain; there was no way you otherwise would have sat down on it, considering what had happened a few days before. You rested your head against the wall of the farmhouse. Closing your eyes, you saw the look in Wooyoung’s eyes. You felt how close you had been standing to him. A knock on the patio door startled you. When you opened your eyes you saw Yeosang, eyes big and with two mugs on a tray. “Hey, Y/N… Can we talk? I brought hot chocolate.” “Sure,” you said, patting the spot next to you. Yeosang came outside, handing you the tray as he closed the door behind him. “What did you want to talk about?” “Well… I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea. About anything.” This was clearly something that had been bothering him for a while, longer than everything that has gone on in the farmhouse. “Yesterday when you kissed me… I know why you did it and I know why you’ve been so upset these past couple of days. But I just wanted to clear things up so there’s no misunderstandings between us. And besides, I feel like I have lied to you all these years I’ve known you.” He took a deep breath, his hands wrapping around the mug. You saw he was shaking and his nails were bitten down. Maybe you hadn’t paid enough attention to his feelings, instead only rambling on about yours. “I guess I got a little upset this morning too. I hate seeing you and Wooyoung fight, for many reasons. But also because… because I am in love with Wooyoung.” “W-what?” “I like Wooyoung. Y/N… I’m gay.” “But, Yeo…” You bit your lip, wrapping your own hands around the mug. From everything he could’ve said, this was the least of what you had expected. “Wooyoung is… straight.” “I know, I know!” Yeosang quickly said. “I’ve always known I don’t have a chance with him. Not romantically. I’m fine being his friend, just his friend. You have to believe me.” He was still shaking however. “I also know that no matter what, I want to see him happy. And knowing what I know, you would realize that the Wooyoung he is around Rose? That’s not him being truly happy.” You frowned. “What are you trying to say?” “I mean that he’s more into you than he’s into Rose.” “What?” You shook your head. “Yeo, that’s not right. Wooyoung doesn’t like me like that. I mean, it’s pretty clear-“ “Why do you think that everyone is so upset with you kissing me?” Yeosang chuckled. “They might’ve thought you were into San, or now that you’re into me. But they know for sure that Wooyoung is into you. He’s told San and I that much before. And I think you like him back.” “How does everyone know that better than I do myself?” He shrugged. “I can’t speak for everyone, but… All these years of being in love with Wooyoung means I look at him more or less the same way he looks at you. And when you look at him? I see the same thing. You two are just oblivious to each other.” You finally took a sip of the hot chocolate, your thoughts aligning in your head to form a question: “So what does this thing with Rose mean? Why did he… finger her?” You realized how pathetic it sounded to ask. “I don’t know. That’s something you have to ask him yourself.” You nodded and then you turned to Yeosang again. “Yeo, thanks for telling me. I appreciate knowing that you trust me enough to.” You put your arm around him, pulling him into a side-hug like you used to do when you two were younger. “Who else knows?” “Only Hongjoong does.” “Of course,” you said. Joong had come out of the closet as bisexual about two years ago. It made sense Yeosang would want to go to him, knowing Hongjoong wouldn’t judge him. “Nothing changes, Yeo.” You hope Yeosang feels relieved, finally having that burden off his shoulders. You talk a little about how long he’s known and eventually Yeosang asks to leave the subject alone for now and go swimming instead. You are not one to deny him, so you head upstairs to get changed and meet him at the swimming pool. It’s empty except for Yechan and Seonghwa. Sooyoung and Soojin are on sunbeds on the side, but it’s clear the girls were fast asleep. The drizzle of before has stopped but the clouds have remained, however the temperature is climbing upwards as you’re in the pool. When you and Yeosang join, it breaks up the conversation between Yechan and Seonghwa, the latter of them suggesting to play a game instead. You team up with Seonghwa to even out the playing field and through multiple rounds of a handball-resembling game, you realise that it was futile because you and Seonghwa were bound to lose the second you agreed to teaming up together. The sun started going down while you were still hanging by the pool, wrinkled out like a raisin but enjoying the contrast between the cool water of the pool and the stifling heat of the overcast summer weather. You and Yeosang didn’t get out of the pool until Anna came to collect everyone for dinnertime. You’re happy sitting in between Yeosang and Mingi – who had remained in his room for the better part of the day, insanely hungover again and having emptied his stomach multiple times – as they talk over your head about this TV show they figured out they both had been watching. Having not changed out of your bikini for dinner, you are the first to get back into the water afterwards. It’s still warm outside, although it’s pretty much pitch black except for the porchlight. It’s bound to rain and you guess there will probably be thunder and lightning involved. After a moment, you’re joined in the water with Daemi and Yechan, and then Yunho and Mingi, and then San and Alice. As you float around, trying to avoid getting caught in the middle of Daemi-Mingi against Yechan-Yunho, you glance over at San and Alice. They were laughing at whatever joke they told each other, genuine happiness in their eyes, and you knew it didn’t matter that you thought you had a crush on San. He was obviously very happy with Alice. It didn’t matter. That feeling was amplified when you noticed Wooyoung, just a small distance behind San and Alice, kicking around a ball with Jongho. You were about to look away when you saw him glance over and shoot you a smile. Despite your fight, you smiled back. Maybe this was the right time to make up. You nodded your head in the direction of the trampoline, farther our into the field behind the farmhouse. It was too dark to see out by the trampoline, even with the porchlight, so no one went there at night. It was the perfect spot. Wooyoung nodded, kicked the ball back to Jongho and said: “I’ll be right back. Go annoy Hongjoong, he looks bored.” You both laid down on the trampoline in silence, staring up at the sky. Clouds were chasing each other and there was a low rumble in the distance. Thunder. “I’m sorry about how I reacted,” you said, knowing to speed this up. You had known Wooyoung since you two were little and he was still scared of thunder and lightning. By now he had grown up more and also matured – he had told you he still was a little scared, but at least he saw the beauty in the violence of Mother Nature. “Me too.” “I just didn’t want to see Yeosang get hurt.” You were hit suddenly with the realisation that Wooyoung had no idea about Yeosang’s sexuality, or his crush on him. You wouldn’t tell him, because it was up to Yeosang to tell, and that meant that you couldn’t say that it didn’t matter you had kissed Yeosang, because of obvious reasons. Instead you said: “Yeo and I discussed it earlier today. We’re not mad at each other or anything. And I figured this was the best possible time to be honest with you.” “About what?” “About…” you sighed lightly. “About that I might… like you?” “You like me?” Wooyoung sounded no longer like himself, but a little more choked up, his tone of voice very serious. Was he angry at you for sharing this? For fucking up your friendship? You hadn’t even considered the consequences to your friendship, or what any of this would do to your dynamic between you two and Yeosang. “I guess?” “You guess or you know?” “I don’t know. I think I do. Everyone tells me I do.” “Well, if you don’t know, then I cannot tell you that I like you too.” Now it was your turn to feel stunned. “What?” You had been told by Yeosang, of course, but that was different. Now you heard it right from the source, from Wooyoung himself. “I like you too.” “But I thought you were more into Rose,” you said. “I mean, you two… out on the patio… I thought you were more into her.” Wooyoung shrugged, making the whole trampoline wiggle. “She’s pretty. I- Okay, I have shared so much with you before but it feels so weird saying it now.” He let out an awkward laugh before he said: “I just felt horny. You know? And Rose was there and she was horny too and she’s not a sight for sore eyes, so I thought: what’s so bad about this? I didn’t know you were showering right above us, or that you had the window open. Otherwise I would’ve probably taken her somewhere else. Or not done it at all.” “You were just horny?” you repeated. Wooyoung nodded, the trampoline shaking again. “So no feelings for Rose then?” “Nope,” he said, letting the p pop. “Nothing serious. Not like the way I feel for you.” You moved over closer to him, shakily reaching out for his hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t realise it sooner. Then we wouldn’t have had to fight.” “I should’ve told you the second I knew,” he said, taking your hand in his and squeezing it lightly. “So what made you realise? I knew you liked San-“ You blushed, which fortunately, he could not see. “Can we not talk about San right now? I mean, yes, I had a crush on him, but it was silly. I mean, I liked him when we were still in high school, you know? He was the guy every girl had a crush on and I guess I just jumped on the bandwagon. And I always thought it would be easier to hook up with him because we were already friends, but that just makes it more difficult. And I don’t know him as well as I know you. I just don’t feel what I think you’re supposed to feel when you’re in love – with him. I never noticed the way I feel about you, though, until I compared my feelings for you to what I feel for San or Yeosang.” “Well, you’d best believe it was torture to see you kissing Yeosang, not knowing what you were truly feeling.” “Would it be better if I kissed you instead?” And with no further words, you bridged the distance between the two of you, softly kissing his lips. Where your kiss with Yeosang had primarily taken place because you were drunk and trying to make whoever else jealous, the way you had been jealous all throughout the trip, this kiss served an entirely different purpose. It was strange too, kissing Wooyoung, whom you had known for so long and never imagined you would harbour romantic feelings for. But there was a spark, a spark that caught and ignited a flame inside of you. A flame that apparently burned inside of Wooyoung as well, for he pulled you infinitely closer, until you were on his lap. It was very uncomfortable on that trampoline, and you were glad when a dizzyingly bright flash of lightning followed by deafening thunder caused Wooyoung to yelp. “Let’s go inside,” you said, hopping off the trampoline and pulling Wooyoung with you. As you walked back, your hand in his, he bent down a little to whisper in your ear: “Come to my room tonight, yeah? Take your film camera.” And so you did. After everyone had gone to bed, you sneaked out of yours to cross the floor to the room Wooyoung shared with San.

Day 4 The room smelled of boy. And not just any boy. You glanced around in the darkness, the first thing that stuck out to you being Shiber. San had brought his cuddle toy to this trip? You wondered for a second what Alice would think of her having to share the bed and San with Shiber, until you realized that she wasn’t there. You shut the door after yourself, blocking out the light from the hallway to prevent San from waking up, instead going over to Wooyoung. You set your film camera down on the night stand and when you turned to look at Woo, he was already sitting up in the bed. “There you are,” he said. He sounded surprisingly relieved. “Did you think I wasn’t going to show up?” Wooyoung didn’t answer but instead pulled you onto the bed, blindly placing his hands on your cheeks and pulling you in for a kiss. Instantly, it clouded your mind with desire for him. Your head spun as he pulled you on top of him. You gasped as he let himself fall backwards onto the bed, allowing him to slip his tongue inside of your mouth. It was almost obscene – how good of a kisser Wooyoung was, how his tongue softly tapped against yours, how his hands slid down from your face to the hem of your pyjama shorts, slipping his hands under the fabric and onto your ass. You groaned into his mouth as his hands knead your ass, pulling you closer to him. Wooyoung pulled back only a little bit, but you hated the moment, his voice slightly breathless as he said: “Don’t be too loud. San might wake.” You glanced over to the other bed and yelped to find San already sitting upright, Shiber wrapped in his arms, just staring at you. “What the fuck!” you exclaimed. “I’m already awake,” San said. Wooyoung pushed himself up on his elbows. “Have you just been… listening to us? Watching us? The whole time?” San shrugged. “It was kind of hot. Maybe next time you’ll allow me to join in.” You looked at Wooyoung for a second, exchanging a glance. There was an unspoken conversation within that glance, a result of many years of friendship in which you had been a unit, had had an unbreakable bond. And now all of that was transforming into whatever this was, and someone was asking to partake in this same adventure with you? You gulped as you realized what you were seeing in Wooyoung’s eyes. “Fuck,” you muttered. And you nodded. “San, come here,” Wooyoung said, his voice an octave deeper. San was quick to throw Shiber aside and make his way over to you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him move this fast, although he was as quick to come to a halt at the side of the bed. You felt your breath hitch as Wooyoung grabbed San’s shirt in his hand and pulled him closer, essentially making San topple over on the bed as he lost his balance. “I think Y/N hasn’t had enough love this trip. If you know what I mean.” You gulped, not entirely knowing what to say. The boy you were currently into and the boy you had always been harbouring a crush on were on the bed together with you and it was pretty clear what was going to happen now. You felt a familiar wetness, synchronic with San nodding to Wooyoung’s statement. “I think we should give her whatever she wants, don’t you agree?” San nodded again. Wooyoung then turned to you: “Tell us what you want us to do.” For a moment you were about to ask for what you had always lusted after, which was a filthy, intense make out session with San. But right now, looking at him – his shirt crumpled in the place Wooyoung had pulled him in, his hair messy from having been in bed earlier, his plump lips slightly parted and with a small tent visible through his pyjama pants – you knew what you wanted to see. And still it even surprised you a little when you said: “Kiss each other.” San’s head shot around to look at Wooyoung, physically below the both of you but in some other way he was dominating you both. “Is that okay?” Wooyoung leaned up only a little bit to put his hand on the back of San’s head and pull him in, their lips locking. Right off the bat there was tongue involved. You were well aware that you were staring, and well aware that there was no one to catch you staring as San increasingly got more comfortable and seemed more into the kiss. “Slowly,” you instructed. “Slowly.” They listened as if they were puppets, entirely under your control. The kiss was somehow more heated now that they weren’t hungrily clawing at each other. You thought to yourself how this couldn’t be real life. Just a couple of days ago you had been wanting San as badly as ever, then you had thought him to belong to Alice, and now he was here. Let alone the entire situation with Wooyoung – how just a few hours ago you had still been angry with him for fingering Rose on the patio. But that was something you didn’t want to think about at that moment. “Woo, strip San for me, please.” Wooyoung listened well – he helped San lift his arms above his head and proceeded to take off his shirt for him, tossing it aside. Next were San’s pants. It took a bit more effort to strip those and then get rid of his boxers too. “San, your turn,” you said. There was no shame visible in Wooyoung, who seemed utterly comfortable with stripping as well. They were still kissing, albeit a little bit more clumsy now San was trying to take Wooyoung’s pyjama’s off. It had never occurred to you that perhaps San wasn’t all that confident and experienced as you had taken him to be. Perhaps he had only been truly intimate with a handful of people. Perhaps this was a first for him – the first time he had a threesome. You couldn’t say you had any experience in this department either. “Woo-“ you started, but the instructions you were about to give him stuck in your throat as Wooyoung ripped himself free off San and said: “Aren’t you going to get undressed, baby?” Your mouth almost fell open in an o-shape at the pet name. You had never heard Wooyoung call anyone by a pet name. Let alone be the one to be called one by him. “Sorry.” You felt like you had to say sorry. Why? You weren’t sure. “San?” San, who visibly wasn’t entirely sure what was going on but was along for the ride regardless, scooted over so he could reach for you. He was less clumsy with you, but you weren’t sure if you had to attribute that to past experiences with girls or to not being engaged in a wild make out session with you. Which quickly changed as your lips smashed together. Now the three of you were all fully naked, everything that was uncomfortable or awkward about the situation seemed to ebb away. You wrapped your arms around San’s neck, pulling yourself up a little bit so you could rub yourself on him. You couldn’t remember how long it had been since you had started crushing on him, but you had had some fantasies and wet dreams about San before. Admittedly, you’d had them about Wooyoung too. You felt his hands sneak in between San and you and jumped a little from the sudden sensation of Wooyoung’s thumb against your clit. You were sure his other hand was wrapped around San’s shaft – there was no other explanation for the sudden noise that erupted from the boy, your kiss temporaily stopping. “What do you want me to do, baby?” Wooyoung’s soft voice sounded. “Hm-“ You didn’t trust yourself to be able to properly tell him what you wanted, so instead you let go of San to kiss Wooyoung instead. San chased after you, attaching his lips to your neck. The confidence he gained made you groan into Wooyoung’s mouth as San nibbled and licked and sucked, sure to leave marks behind. There were noises from San as well, noises that were only explainable by Wooyoung moving his hand on San. It occurred to you that this was every girls’ dirtiest fantasy and you weren’t taking one second for granted. You let Wooyoung push you back onto the bed, which was in no way able to fit three people in it, but you somehow made it work. You were glad Wooyoung didn’t need any verbal instructions; softly pushing his head down, in the direction of where you needed him most, was enough. He went to work, expertly licking and sucking. It nearly made you fold in on yourself from the sheer pleasure he was giving you, but you were too busy tending to San’s proud erection, oozing precum from Wooyoung’s earlier ministrations. You wrapped your lips around him, working your mouth in a way that was sure to earn San’s approval – it was audible in his moans and groans, ones you gave back to him from Wooyoung’s actions. San was the first to succumb. The pleasure rendered him nearly unable to speak, but you understood the little taps on your cheek well enough. You didn’t pull away however, allowing San’s cum to fill your mouth. And you swallowed. San seemed just about spent, but he didn’t leave you hanging. Instead, he went to work on your neck again, his hands coming up to cup your boobs. San didn’t have to do much for Wooyoung had done most of the work on getting you to your high. You came with a high-pitched moan; there was a certain shyness overtaking you at the sound you hadn’t previously thought you could make. You were panting, admiring Wooyoung and your glistening juices on his lips as he came up. There was very little to no talking as you motioned for him to come closer. The sudden urge overcame you – you couldn’t explain what had triggered it. You pushed yourself up just a little bit, in a way that wouldn’t disturb San, as you pulled Wooyoung just a little bit closer, your tongue darting out to lick Wooyoung’s lips, getting a taste of yourself. “What about you?” you asked tracing your hand down Wooyoung’s chest, down his happy trail, to his cock. “What do you want? Tell me.” “San-ie,” he said. San looked up from his work on your neck, his eyes slightly hazy. “I want you… to suck me.” That was the first time you saw Wooyoung seem even just a little bit fazed by the situation, instead of looking like he had everything under control. “And Y/N, baby… kiss me.” You gave San a quick kiss on his lips before coming up onto your knees so you could reach Wooyoung better. There was equal part of kissing and moaning from Wooyoung’s side – he was a lot more vocal than you had expected. The part of Wooyoung that was moaning mirrored the part of you that wanted him inside of you, but tonight was not the night. Instead, tonight was the night Wooyoung grabbed your film camera from his night stand and, in the dark, figured out how to take photos of you and San, coated in Woo’s cum. Yes, tonight was the night Wooyoung coated both you and San in cum – and then went to clean it up himself with San’s T-shirt from the floor. “Woo,” San complained, but you both heard quite clearly that his heart wasn’t in it. “Ssh.” Wooyoung pressed a kiss against San’s forehead and then to yours. “Let’s go to sleep.”

The bed really was too small for three people. You had thought it the night before and you were proven right the next morning, when you woke up to a yelp from a distraught San – he had fallen off the bed. He was disgustingly handsome, but your heart didn’t flutter the way it had before. What had remained the same, however, was the heat in your cheeks at the memory of what you got up to the night before, the evidence right there on San’s T-shirt, which he had picked up off the floor with a disgusted expression. “I probably won’t be able to wear this ever again. Damn you, Wooyoung.” You were surprised to find Wooyoung awake already too, one of his arms folded behind his head. His eyes had been closed before, which lead you to believe he was still asleep, but the smile that played on his lips was unmistakably one of someone who was awake and heard every word of what San had just said. You watched as San strode across the room and threw his T-shirt in the trash can behind the door. “I’m taking a shower,” he announced, leaving you and Wooyoung in the bed by yourselves as he closed the door behind him. Wooyoung’s eyes stayed closed, his smile having slightly faded. You pushed yourself up on one elbow and looked at Wooyoung, really looked at him. You had known him for so many years, had gone on so many adventures with him… This was the next big adventure. You reached out, doing something you had always thought of doing but never felt confident enough to. You traced his finely shaped eyebrows, the curve of his eyes… You trailed your finger down his cheeks to rest at the corner of his lips. You were about to carefully trace his lips, full and relaxed, when Wooyoung suddenly snapped his teeth at your finger. “Woo!” you complained, pouting at him. His eyes were open now, the brown highlighted to several shades of gold in the narrow stroke of sunlight from the window. By the way the sun shone into the room, you could see it was nearing noon. Although in that case, it wasn’t exactly morning anymore, this was by far the best morning you had spent at the farmhouse. “Why did you do that?” You let your finger fall back to his lips and this time he let you trace them, his warm breath hitting your skin. When you let his lips alone, opting to crawl into his embrace instead, you said: “San joined us last night…” Stating the obvious. Great. “Was it good?” Wooyoung asked, his hand coming up to play with your hair. “Yeah. I liked it.” “Me too.” You could hear from his tone of voice – delicious, delicious morning voice – that he was smiling. “I hope San had a good time too. But next time I want you all to myself.” You felt your heart flutter at his words. There was a next time and that next time would consist of you and Wooyoung exploring each other. You were absolutely certain that this was the best morning at the farmhouse – you felt like the happiest girl on earth. You didn’t know what to say, so instead you just hummed in agreement. “Would you like me to bring you breakfast?” Wooyoung asked after a while. “Eggs and sausages,” you said. “Ooh, making demands now? Actually using your words?” He chuckled and tapped your shoulder, signalling you to get up so he could move. You pushed yourself up and watched as Wooyoung got out of bed. With his back toward you, you saw his muscles stand out as he bend to pick up his shirt off the floor. The room was a mess. “Any preferences for your breakfast beverage, milady?” You grinned. “The finest tea you serve, milord.” “Of course.” He bowed before making his way out of the room. As you were left alone in Wooyoung’s bed you tried to wrap your head around the events of the night before. Coming to the farmhouse you had never expected that this was the way you would end the trip. You hadn’t even suspected anything remotely like this would happen. You got out of bed, dressing yourself in the clothes from the night before, before crossing the room to open up the window. You had just crawled back into bed, sitting up with your back against the wall, when San came back, his hair wet and a towel hung lowly around his waist. He closed the door behind him and got to getting dressed as you watched him. The silence between the two of you was palpable but nonetheless quite comfortable. You wouldn’t know what to say anyway. “I didn’t mean to insert myself,” San suddenly spoke up, sitting down on the edge of his bed, clutching Shiber to his chest, “in between you and Woo. I know it was all quite new to you both.” You shrugged, leaning your head against the wall. “We both wanted it. You didn’t insert yourself in at all. Was it good?” you couldn’t help yourself asking. San nodded, his cheeks turning pink. “I hadn’t expected it.” “Believe me, me neither.” You looked at the way San was playing with Shiber’s tail. “It was really new to us,” you then said, surprising the both of you. “I mean, we were friends. And now we’re more.” “I think everyone saw it coming.” “I don’t think so,” you said, shaking your head. “You know, I was always crushing on you.” “You were?” San looked up, stopping his playful antics with Shiber. “I didn’t notice.” You nodded. “It was a long time crush. But there’s a difference between crushing on someone and loving someone. I realised that because I watched you and Alice.” There was no response to the mention of Alice. You found you didn’t really care. San resumed playing with Shiber, but his eyes stayed trained on you. “So why Yeosang?” “Vengeance.” You knew how terrible that sounded but there was no other word for it. “He was… there. I know it’s wrong. But I needed to know why I felt so jealous of Rose.” With a sigh you let yourself fall sideways onto the bed. “Now I do. And now I know why I don’t love you. Not in that way.” The door opened to reveal Wooyoung carrying a tray, a literal mountain of food on the plate that he carried, a tea pot and three cups next to it. “Breakfast!” He set the tray down on the floor, and despite the mess that was the room, the three of you crowded around the tray to eat the breakfast Wooyoung had prepared. The idyllic bubble of Woosan’s room had to be broken some time. You regretted stepping foot out of the room the second you did it, but you felt dirty so you wanted to shower, and besides that, you had to pack up the rest of your belongings to return home. You got into the shower, the same one you had been in the first day. The window was cracked open, letting in the sounds of nature and summer. You shut your eyes, enjoying the feeling of the water scorching your body. Yechan was waiting for you in your bedroom when you got back to pack up. “I know where you went last night. I’m glad I didn’t have to hear it. I know Seonghwa and Sooyoung had a front row seat though.” She smiled. “So, you have to tell me all the details. How was your first threesome?” “Yechan!” you covered your face with your hands. “I’m not going to talk about this with you.” “Okay, maybe without details, then,” she said. “At least tell me you had a good time.” You lowered your hands a little bit to look at her. Your best friend, with you through everything… “It was really good.” You bit your lip at the excitement that erupted from Yechan. Her happiness rubbed off on you, though, and soon enough you were, despite yourself, telling her just a few details. Like San having to throw out his shirt afterwards. You left out the pictures Wooyoung took of you and San. Those were private. “Are you in a polyamorous relationship now?” she asked, her eyes wide and genuine. You shook your head. “I don’t think so. I think it’s just me and Woo.” Yechan nodded. “That’s good too.” She took your hand and softly squeezed, her smile saying more than words ever could.

The next person you had to talk to was Yeosang. You were carrying your bags out to the car when he popped up beside you. “Let’s go on the trampoline,” he said. You nodded, following him across the backyard to the trampoline, overlooking the vineyard. It was better in the day than it was last night. The little kids in you jumped out by the way you nearly toppled over each other to get onto the trampoline, performing tricks as you jumped. After a bit you let yourself fall down, out of breath. “Yeo, I need to tell you something,” you said and he stopped jumping as well. “I had s-“ “Sex with Wooyoung. I know,” he said. “You do?” Okay, perhaps you weren’t right to be surprised he knew. If you had to believe Yechan, the three of you hadn’t been very quiet. “I mean- San was there with us too.” “I know. I heard everything,” Yeosang sat down on the trampoline now too. “The walls are pretty thin, you know.” “I’m sorry.” “You’re sorry that I heard?” You chuckled. “Yes, that too. But also that I did that. Now that I know you like him-“ “It doesn’t matter,” Yeosang said, turning his head to look up at the sky, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand. “He’s not into guys anyway and I know how much you two like each other. I haven’t been completely blind over the last couple of years, you know? I’ll find someone that likes me like that and that I’ll like back. I’m fine with what happened. Don’t worry about me.” “If you’re so sure,” you said, looking up at the sky too. “I just feel guilty.” “Don’t.” Yeosang reached over and grabbed your hand in his, giving it a squeeze. “Just know that Rose also heard and she’s crazy upset with you two.” You sat up, looking over at him. “Just about how many people have heard every single second of last night?” “How many people are with us on the trip?” Yeosang started counting on his fingers. “So 13. Except maybe Mingi. He was out cold. That makes 12.” “Jesus Christ,” you swear. And you do so again when you return to the farmhouse to find Rose already storming out to find you. Apparently someone had told her you and Yeosang were hanging out on the trampoline. There’s a look in her eyes that you’re not sure you ever want to see in anyone’s eyes ever again. It speaks of all-consuming anger. “Rose-“ you start. And that’s also where you end. She didn’t even take the time or effort to talk it out. Her first reaction was violence. You had always jealously compared Rose’s visuals to that of an angel, but the way she lashed out at you proved she was all but that. “You slut!” she shrieked, her nails finding a hold in your skin. You barely felt the pain as she raked her nails down your face. You had never thought of yourself as a violent person, but you also weren’t the person to back down from someone attacking you like this. Your pent up frustrations were threatening to spill out of you in a violent manner, but before you could do much damage to her, Mingi’s strong arms wrapped around you, picking you up as if you weighed absolutely nothing, carrying you away as Jongho did the same to Rose, who was now clawing at him. Mingi set you down on the countertop of the downstairs bathroom, checking you for injuries like the worried big brother he always acts like towards you. “You’re bleeding.” He grabbed tissues for you to hold against the wound, as if that would help much. Silly, hungover Mingi. “She has sharp nails,” you said, wincing as you pressed the tissues against the marks. Wooyoung came storming in, carrying a white box with a red cross on it. “First aid!” he said, to which Mingi nodded and left. You bet he knew why Rose had got violent with you too. “I didn’t know she was going to do that,” Wooyoung said, opening up the first aid kit. “It’s fine,” you said. “Did I at least fight her off a little bit?” He laughed. “God, that that’s the first thing you’re thinking about… Here, you’re bleeding.” He got to work, cleaning up the scratches Rose’s nails left behind on your face and arm. His fingers were soft on your skin, leaving behind a trail of heat. Even though you hadn’t known him to be very skilled with cleaning up wounds and bandaging up injuries, he was doing quite a good job. Better than Mingi would have done, had this been his job to do. “And the way you stood your ground was pretty hot, Y/N.” You chuckled. “You’re just saying that.” You looked at Wooyoung as he took expert care of you, the tip of his tongue sticking out of his mouth in concentration, a habit you had always loved about him. You realized suddenly how blind you had been all along not to notice him, or his love for you. You had never actively fantasized about Wooyoung in a sexual way, although you had sometimes wondered what it would be like to have a romantic relationship with him. In your mind it had never worked out, whereas a relationship with San would seem the most plausible. He had always been the one boy you thought you would end up with, if it was going to be anyone out of the friend group. Everyone had known each other for varying lengths and with different intensities, something which had never lead you to believe that you and Wooyoung would be a good match. “What are you looking at?” Wooyoung asked, chuckling, throwing away the stuff he had used to clean and bandage your wound. “You,” you said, no trace of shyness. “Like what you see?” Wooyoung wiggled his eyebrows, his classic playfulness erasing what you had felt over the past couple of days, leaving only behind what you had always thought to be simple, platonic feelings for your best friend. But now you knew it was more. You shrugged. “I think you could do better, but this’ll have to do.” You stuck out your feet, wrapping your legs around him and pulling him closer. “Thanks for stitching me up.” “I’m sorry about Rose,” he said, his arms coming to rest around your waist. “Take the same car as me back?” “So you can finger me in the backseat while no one notices?” You chuckled at the surprise on his face. Must be due to your sudden dirty mouth. “No, thanks. I’ll ride with Yunho and Jongho. But maybe we can see each other when we get back? Get lunch, or dinner… Go out on a real date…” “A real date.” Wooyoung nodded. “Sounds wonderful.”

Alternative scene How the ‘morning after’ would have had gone, had I decided to stick with the shower Woosan x reader threesome I had originally planned to happen after the initial Wooyoung x reader sex scene

The room smells. Of what you’re not entirely sure, but it’s sour and makes your nose crunch up as you slowly open your eyes, only to find Wooyoung next to you. His dark brown hair was curling up at the ends and his mouth was slightly open, his chest bare. You had managed to wrap most of the blankets around yourself, leaving Wooyoung uncovered. Not just his chest was bare. You draped the blankets over him and in the process, noticed you were only wearing a T-shirt. That’s it. Just a T-shirt. When you glance underneath the covers, you see it’s Woo’s, one you got together while he was shopping for his First Date T-Shirt, nearly 4 years ago now. You smiled to yourself at the memory and turned onto your back. That’s when you realize that it wasn’t just you and Wooyoung in the room. “San!” You pull up the covers again to cover yourself, even though there’s no bit of you left uncovered. He’s casually resting on his bed, eyes trained on you and Wooyoung in the bed. “Good morning. What a coincidence I catch you here. Morning, Woo.” “San,” Wooyoung groans out from next to you. He seems utterly unfazed to see you laying next to him. He must know you’re wearing nothing but his T-shirt. You also reckon San must know what has happened between you and Wooyoung. “Aren’t you supposed to complain about your headache?” “I think throwing up prevented my headache,” San said, pointing at a bucket at his side of the room, standing half under half next to his bed. You guessed that was what the sour smell was all about. “Aren’t you two supposed to be even a little bit ashamed that you two had steamy, hot sex while I was literally in the same room with you?” “I just seized the opportunity,” Wooyoung said, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you against him. “And you were asleep.” “Apparently not,” San said. “I was miserable, though. Maybe next time you decide to fuck each other again, you could invite me.” “Oh, shut up,” you said, hiding your face in Woo’s chest. This is really just way worse than seeing San and Alice kissing on the edge of the swimming pool or Wooyoung fingering Rose while you’re in the shower. This is humiliation of a different kind. “Why were you actually listening to us?” Wooyoung said. San shrugged. “Like I said, I was miserable. Couldn’t sleep, especially not with those sounds. Disgusting. What would Rose say?” That remark landed him with Wooyoung’s pillow in his face. “Okay, yes, that was slightly mean. Sorry. Will it make you feel better if I say it was kind of hot though? Like, I don’t know what you did that made Y/N go like-“ He made a noise that landed him with your pillow in his face. “Okay, yes, shouldn’t have said that. But! Promise me next time you won’t let me get so drunk I won’t be able to join in, yeah?” “Would you actually want to join?” you said. You weren’t sure if you were completely disgusted by this morning conversation with San, or if you were getting turned on again. You also weren’t entirely sure if you would have had Wooyoung pin you down underneath him if you had known San was in the bed opposite. “Could be hot,” Woo said. “Honestly, it’s been on my to-do list,” San said. “A threesome with someone who claims himself to be a sex god and also the hottest girl from high school? I wouldn’t say no to that.” “You tell others you’re a sex god?” you laughed at Wooyoung who turned a suspicious shade of pink.

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