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shuadotcom · 2 years

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Tell Me You Want Me | PJM (M)

❧ Summary: Spring break doesn’t mean much to you since you dropped out of college and joined the working world. This spring though, your parents demand you take off of work to join them for a family vacation along with your childhood friend’s family. You eagerly agree, both to see your best friend Sunyoung, but also to rekindle things with your hometown fling, Jimin.

With him being Sunyoung's brother, the two of you are used to keeping your hook-ups a secret from everyone, but this time, Jimin tries to keep a secret of his own from you: his new girlfriend. With some new (or are they old?) feelings stirring for Jimin, you can’t keep your hands of him, even knowing that he technically belongs to someone else. Cue the drama, the mess, and plenty of hurt feelings.

❧ Pairing: Best Friend’s Brother!Jimin x Female!Reader

❧ Genres/AUs: Angst, drama, smut, fluff, best friend’s brother au, friends w/benefits to lovers au

❧ Rating: 18+ (MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED)

❧ Words: 20.7k 🫥

❧ Warnings: Infidelity, profanity, alcohol consumption, age gap (Jimin is 22, Y/n is around 26/27), sexting and exchanging nudes, oral (m & f receiving), handjob, fingering, public sex, jacuzzi sex, penetrative sex, dirty talk, choking, spitting, sub!Jimin, dom!Reader, a sneak peek of dom!Jimin

❧ Notes: FINALLY FINISHED!! Written for the Spring Break-ing the Rules project hosted by BTS Honey Hive! My destination was Cancun, Mexico. Huge, massive, giant thank you to @playmetheclassics and @cherrysoulth for being my amazing betas!! Thank you for reading through this mess - I loved reading all your commentary 😂❤️❤️ And an equally big thank you the talented @hobeemin for this gorgeous banner!! ❤️❤️

This fic kicked my ass lol but I’m happy with it. I tried 2 texting apps for any texting parts. I’m not sure if I like it more or less than just typing out the texts (mostly because both the apps I used are annoying lol) but hey something new!

And full disclaimer before diving in: Y/n and Jimin aren’t really meant to be “good” here lol. They’re toxic but that’s the point!! Anyway I also made a spotify playlist to go with it because why not!

Four and a half hours. That’s how long, at max, the flight from New York to Cancun, Mexico takes. On a good day, it’s quicker, but of course, this was not a good day. You wouldn’t have had such a problem with it if your flight hadn’t been delayed by two hours plus an unexpected layover in Florida. To add insult to injury, your headphones died mid-flight and you forgot your power bank to charge them. There were also more terrible, screaming children than necessary, plus your seatmates were an elderly woman that coughed the entire time and a man, in his fifties at least, that kept talking to you (see: hitting on you) the entire time.

By the time you exit the airport and get into a shuttle to the resort, you’re irritable and tired, but the prospect of seeing your parents and best friend again keeps your little bit of excitement alive and well.

The last time you saw your childhood best friend was a year ago for her birthday. New York living is expensive, especially when you’re a humble project manager at a tech start-up, so you don’t have the financial means to make it back home to Southern California as much as you’d like.

This spring break trip was organized by your parents as an excuse to get both Sunyoung’s and your family all together again. They even footed part of your plane ticket, which you’re grateful for. After you dropped out of college and left higher education in the past, you remember how you very nearly moved back home to figure out your next plan. Still, when one of your old roommates referred you to the tech company she had started at, you took the job and you’ve stayed on the East coast.

You wish more than anything that you didn’t regret leaving home to experience life somewhere new as an adult, but you can’t.

Most of the time, when you’re in your aged, cramped studio that you can barely afford, you want so badly to be back in your parent's house in California, surrounded by people that leave you. Instead of being alone with no support system. But your pride keeps that from happening so you fake enthusiasm anytime someone from home asks how you like the city.

Thankfully, the ride to the resort is much quicker and less aggravating than the flight so you don’t have much time to be alone with your thoughts, which relieves you. As you thank your driver and get your suitcase unloaded, you hear a voice call out to you.

Whipping around, you see a second shuttle pulling up to join you at the resort entrance. Sunyoung leaps out of the van as soon as it parks and throws herself into your arms.

“Y/n!” She squeals, and you return the enthusiasm.

Sunyoung has been your longest-running friendship since she and her family became your next-door neighbors when you were both nine. She and her family moved from South Korea because her parents wanted to give her and her then-five-year-old brother “the American dream.”

When you think of her brother at that moment, your eyes dart over her shoulder then as you watch him step out of the van, the sun reflecting off of his freshly dyed red hair.

The last time you saw Park Jimin was via an Instagram post a few weeks ago showcasing his new dye job. The color suited his beautiful features wonderfully, but when you texted him that, you received nothing in response. He’s another reason you said yes to this trip (not that either of your families can know).

Jimin has had a crush on you probably since he entered middle school and knew what a crush was. He was always your best friend’s annoying little brother to you. Constantly barging into her room when you were hanging out, pranking you whenever he had the chance, and making childish jokes when you were around.

As he got older, his childishness turned into shyness when he saw you, even going as far as to run out of the room if you were in it. Both of your families knew of his crush and teased him about it, but nothing much came of it because why would it?

When Jimin entered high school and you were about to graduate, he was bold enough to ask to be your date to his freshman prom. You turned him down of course, but that didn’t stop him from starting to be bolder in attempting to flirt with you. It was always playful and you thought nothing of it because again, he was your best friend’s little brother.

Things between you and Jimin changed when he graduated high school. You were already living in New York but flew back home for his graduation party. Not having paid much attention to Jimin’s social media, you hadn’t even noticed how puberty had changed him.

The whiny little boy with the glasses and bowl cut was replaced by an eighteen-year-old, lean yet fit man with blonde hair, piercings, and an intoxicating smile. When you walked into the Parks’ house that afternoon and caught sight of him talking to his mom in the kitchen you barely recognized him.

You spent all day sneaking glances, your brain barely comprehending that this is the same boy that cried when you hid a Spiderman toy from him years ago.

As if he had known you were confused at the sight of him, Jimin cornered you outside later that night after everyone had gone inside. To this day, your conversation seems like a blur to you. One minute you were congratulating Jimin on finally getting out of high school and the next, he was reaching forward and pulling you into a kiss.

It caught you off guard and probably lasted longer than it should, but when you finally pulled away, Jimin was embarrassed and mumbled apology after apology. He tripped over himself to explain how he’d always liked you, and since he was of age, maybe you wouldn’t see him as a kid anymore.

While you accepted his apology you still turned him down. He was your best friend’s little brother. He just graduated high school and you were four years older and you had literally grown up with him. To you, it would look weird and it was left at that.

Two years later he flew to New York citing he was thinking of going to dance school there. Naturally, you showed him around and let him stay on the couch in your apartment while your roommate was away. On his second night in the city, one minute you were talking about your favorite pizza place and the next he was kissing you again. And this time, you didn’t push him away and you didn’t tell him no. Jimin was 20 years old and so shy yet so confident with you and you couldn’t ignore how attracted to him you were.

You let Jimin kiss the breath out of you and fuck you into your mattress that night. You let him do it every night he stayed with you. Then, you let him text you and send you videos and pictures when he’s horny. It went from texts to phone sex to facetime calls where he cried for you while he came.

Each time you went home after that, even though it wasn’t often, you and Jimin found places to be alone together. You fucked in each other’s houses when your families were out. You gave him handjobs in his car. He ate you out in the bathroom of a grocery store when you were picking things up for a family barbeque. Anywhere you and Jimin could find to be alone you had sex. This continued virtually when you were away and Jimin became your longest-running friends-with-benefits relationship - somehow lasting two years.

It’d have been two and a half had Jimin’s communication with you not slowed down to the point where two weeks ago he went completely radio silent. He was barely replying to any of your messages and stopped answering video calls.

“Y/n?” Sunyoung’s voice pulls you out of your daze. You blinked hard a few times, unsure how long you were too far down into your memories.

“What?”

“I said, our parents want us all to eat lunch together, but we can do something after and you didn’t say anything for like a whole minute.”

“Shit, sorry, I’m just tired from that hell flight. I must’ve had a war flashback or something.”

Laughing, Sunyung loops her arm through yours. “Well, that’s nothing a cocktail or four can’t help!” She gives you a wink that you return while also trying to see what Jimin is doing.

“Good. I need to shower first because I feel so damn crusty.” Sunyoung agrees, gesturing to follow her to both of your parents still exiting the shuttle. After greeting both your parents and hers with lots of hugs and kisses, you anxiously await for Jimin to step around the van so you can see him fully.

He’s been leaning down into the car talking, and you’re getting a little impatient. It isn’t until you reach your hand up to wave at him that you see a head of dark hair emerge from the car, and you see it’s a girl. A girl that grips Jimin’s arm in the same way you do to him when he’s kissing the breath out of you.

She turns and makes eye contact with you sending an unsuspecting smile.

“Oh, Y/n, this is Jimin’s girlfriend, Momo. Momo, this is my best friend, Y/n!” You immediately make eye contact with Jimin, who looks away in record time. Looking at Momo again you greet her, plastering on an artificial smile.

Jimin has a girlfriend and he has never told you. Something that feels suspiciously like jealousy grips your stomach.

Your performance at lunch is Oscar-worthy. Every question from your parents or the Parks about your job is answered with smiles. You have an entertaining yet informative story for every inquiry from Sunyoung about your apartment and the city. No one around you is in tune with the blazing looks you keep sending Jimin’s way except him.

His brown eyes can’t help but dart to you every few minutes, only staying trained on you for mere seconds before he pulls himself away. Kudos to him as well, for keeping up his usual joking, outgoing demeanor even as you stare into his soul.

He’s been ghosting you for weeks because he has a girlfriend that he never once told you about.

“Still no one in your dating life, Y/n?” Your mom’s question has your eyes snapping from Jimin to her in record time.

“Mom!” You groan indignantly. “No,” you say quickly, rolling your eyes before your next line of questioning pops into your head. “But it looks like at least one of us have found someone?” The question is directed at Jimin and as the whole table looks his way, a red hue blossoms onto his round cheeks.

“Oh, uh yeah,” he says with a cough, avoiding you. Everyone laughs his behavior off as shyness, but you know the stuttering and nervousness are for you.

“We met in dance class last year,” Momo supplies, beaming at Jimin who is too busy stirring his lemonade. “He was too scared to ask me out so I had to do it a few months ago.” She laughs, everyone joining in, including you. She’s pretty - clear skin and light makeup, a brown bob with bangs that fit her face well. Dark eyes, round cheeks, and a cute smile - it’s clear why Jimin likes her. Her smiles and kindness seem genuine.

“Yeah, I’m surprised you agreed to come on vacation,” Sunyoung says to Momo. “I keep telling you, Jimin is way too messy to share a room with and a pain in the ass to be around twenty-four hours a day, but you’ll see. You’ve only been together for what, like six months? You’ll learn all you need to know so you can do better!” She cackles at her little brother, leaning over to poke him in the ribs as she makes fun of him. You smile and jest along with her, ignoring the thickness in your throat at knowing how long they've been dating.

After lunch, Jimin announces he’s going upstairs to get his swimsuit for the pool. Everyone else already brought theirs down or changed under their clothes before lunch so they decide to head outside. You follow, but at the last minute let out a curse with the excuse that you forgot yours too.

No one is any wiser as everyone heads out without you with the intent of claiming a spot for both families.

Jimin is already in the elevator when you reach it, but as you exit and start down the hall to your room, you see the redhead with his hands in his pockets, walking to his room.

“Jimin,” you call out with extra sweetness to your voice. He freezes in his tracks, spine straight as he waits for you to catch up. “Hi.” When you’re finally next to him, head tilted to look at his face you see just how panicked he looks with wide brown eyes staring at the floor.

“Hey.”

“You know it’s pretty fucked up to leave people on read for weeks. It’s even more fucked not to tell the person you’ve been sharing nudes with that you have an entire girlfriend at home.” Your tone is casual, but there’s still attitude behind your words.

“Y/n, I’m sorry, okay? I just didn’t know when or how to tell you.”

“You could’ve said something in the last six months. We’ve been cyber-fucking this entire time you’ve been with her, Jimin.” You stop walking when you reach his and Momo’s room.

“I don’t have any good explanation okay? I was just so nervous to tell you. I didn’t want to stop seeing you, but I also just, I don’t know, wanted someone at home with me. You’re so far away most of the time. I thought maybe if I said yes to the cute girl on campus that likes me, it’d help me.”

“Help you what? Have someone in real life to fuck when I’m not around?”

“Yes, b-but not like that!” Jimin turns to face you completely, looking at you with something unreadable in his eyes.

“I was hoping that she could fill the void that you don’t want to fill. The whole dating me part.”

Ouch. The implication is clear in his words. You refuse to commit to anything other than sex so he looked for someone else to fulfill his girlfriend needs. It’s not as though you don’t like Jimin for more than sex, you just haven’t unpacked those feelings fully, what with the desire to keep it such a secret trumping all else.

“Y/n, look, I like Momo, I do. We have a lot in common and my family likes her but…” He trails off, still not meeting your gaze.

“But what?”

“But she’s not you.” Jimin meets your eyes then, his words coupled with the look he’s giving you stirs something confusing inside of you. Shaking it off, you move close enough to Jimin so that his back presses against the door, ignoring the way your brain is asking if you really want to keep doing this.

You do.

“Sounds like you really missed me?” Jimin’s head nods frantically, his breath hitching when you slot your thigh between his. “Enough to cheat on your girlfriend, Minie?” The nodding stops and he seems to consider this for a few seconds before he breathes out a ‘yes’. You lean forward and kiss him after this, your gloss-covered lips working expertly against his chapped ones.

Jimin’s hands rest on your hips while yours move up to either side of his shoulders, caging him against the door.

The two of you stay like that for a while, making up for the time away from one another and the lust you feel whenever you’re in any proximity to one another.

When the elevator down the hall dings, you pull back, both of you panting while straightening your clothes.

“I missed you too, baby.” You whisper in his ear before fast-walking three doors down to your and Sunyoung’s room and slipping inside before whoever is in the elevator can catch a glimpse of you.

Once in the room, you let out a breath, and move to dig through your suitcase for your bathing suit. Jimin’s lips are a trap, and if not for the unwanted visitor, you’d have likely done more than kiss, but now isn’t the time.

Aside from the party downstairs waiting, your thoughts and feelings are a jumbled mess. Lust mixed with confusion mixed with guilt. Truth be told since you started this thing with Jimin, guilt was always in the back of your mind. Not telling anyone about the two of you weighed on you at times, especially when it came to Sunyoung. You don’t know quite what her reaction will be to her childhood best friend fucking her little brother, but you can’t imagine it’d be anything positive.

Then there are both of your parents who would have too many questions and thoughts, but a new blanket of shame takes over knowing that Jimin has had someone in his life other than you this whole time, so it’s a lot to take in. You do know that something in you hates the idea of Jimin being with someone else. You’re sure he fucks other people when you’re away from home because it’s not like you were exclusive, but you had only slept with a few other people. You haven’t dated anyone though and you didn’t think he would either, but that was proving to be a wrong assumption on your part.

With all of this in mind, for some reason, the idea of never sleeping with Jimin again seems terrible. Not kissing him or cuddling - it’s not something you can imagine just not doing anymore. Momo seems sweet, but you were here first to be fair. And clearly, Jimin still wants you, so as long as you continue to stay hush about it, maybe you can keep living with your guilt and your secrets since he apparently can too.

Everyone stays by the pool for a couple of hours before going back to their rooms to change for the evening music performance your parents want everyone to go to before dinner. Sunyoung already declares that she’ll be going to bed after, having had one too many cocktails at the pool. She’s already going on about, planning the morning yoga class the two of you will take tomorrow followed by breakfast and the spa. You let her go on all afternoon, both excited about spending time with her but also planning how and when you’ll get Jimin to yourself.

You too have a good number of drinks as you lounge and occasionally swim, all the while doing as much as you can to make sure Jimin looks at you in your bikini. You dunk underwater and pop back up in the sexiest way possible, his desperate eyes locked on your every movement. Anytime you need to bend down to climb out of the water, you do it where he can see and it seems to work.

When your families go to the recreation room in the resort to watch the show, you sit between Jimin and Sunyoung, keeping most of your body nonchalantly pressed against him. Each time you shift to talk to your parents next to him and Momo, your breasts purposely rub against his arm and every time, Jimin fidgets in his seat, doing his best to hide his discomfort.

The band onstage begins playing an upbeat, catchy song which, given the amount of alcohol most guests have been tossing back all day, quickly has people on their feet. As the beginning of the song plays, Sunyoung jumps up, pulling you with her to the dancefloor a short way away from the seats.

Your families clap along, cheering the two of you on as you move to the music, both of you laughing along while moving around one another. Your dress, a slinky, short, royal blue-colored slip number keeps perfectly moving around your curves, keeping Jimin entranced the whole time.

Even after a few more songs and well into dinner, Jimin seems to be different than when you arrived. Earlier, he so desperately kept himself from making eye contact, but now he practically does nothing other than watch your every move and hang onto your every word.

At one point, Sunyoung jokes with you during a bathroom break that she thinks her brother’s high school crush on you is coming back.

“It’s gross the way he was staring at you when we were dancing.” She sticks her tongue out as she washes her hands but you just chuckle.

“I would hope that anyone under the age of 40 was checking me out. I wore this dress for a reason!” You wink at her through the mirror and you both laugh, Sunyoung launching into how much she hopes she can get laid this trip. You agree, leaving out who of course, you hope it’ll be with.

To ensure this happens sooner rather than later, two hours later, when you’re back in your room and Sunyoung is in the shower, you decide to take a quick video for Jimin.

Once you hear her humming along to the soft sounds of one of her playlists, you turn the tv volume up a little more and sit on the chair in front of the room’s full-length mirror.

Taking position, you zoom the camera in to focus on your neck and down. After hitting record, your hand sensually slides from around your neck, down to your breast, and squeezes.

“Jimin,” you whisper into the phone. “I’ve missed you so much. I need you tomorrow.” Creeping your hand lower, you slowly zoom in, stopping at the bottom of your sleep shirt. You lift it, showing off your little shorts.

“Can you make time for me?”

Shirt between your teeth, you pull down the front of your shorts, wriggling them to your knees, and lean back in the chair. In this new position, you open your legs as wide as you can, giving Jimin a full view of your pussy before stopping the video. That’s all he deserves until tomorrow. He’s left you hanging for two weeks already so he can wait another night.

Video sent, you get back into bed, scrolling on Instagram until your phone vibrates with a text from Jimin.

A picture comes through not soon after and it’s exactly what you thought it’d be: a picture of Jimin holding his hard dick, his hand wrapped around it tightly.

Biting your lip, you clamp your thighs together, willing yourself to calm down. Resisting the strong urge to continue with him, you say goodnight, telling him to be patient and put your phone on the charger, letting your travel exhaustion force you to sleep.

Somehow, Sunyoung managed to set an alarm for the next morning so that you don’t miss yoga on the beach. Bleary-eyed, you get up (after she’s jumped on your bed for nearly five minutes) and change into comfortable clothes.

While you had initially been skeptical, seeing how you’d been going to the same yoga studio back home for a few years, it was enjoyable and you were in a much better mood. Afterwards, the two of you stuff yourselves with breakfast burritos and fresh-pressed juice before happily heading to the resort spa.

Sunyoung scheduled a whole package for the two of you complete with massages, seaweed wraps, facials, and a manicure and pedicure. It’s a much-needed pamper session and quality time you and your best friend needed.

New York City has been great for gaining more independence, but that’s about it. You’ve made a few decent friends at your job and from college, but you miss your family and your closest friends more than anything, and being with Sunyoung again reminds you of home and all the inside jokes and stories you share.

During your pedicures, the two of you recline with your facial masks, gossiping about people from high school that she still sees around. She’s talking about a guy that’s always had a crush on her and how she finally had sex with him when she shifts the conversation to you.

“Okay, so like, I know you told our parents you don’t have anyone in your life, but be honest with me.”

You fight the urge to open your eyes and keep cool. It’s not the first time you’ve feared being found out by her.

“Why do you think I’m not being honest?”

“Y/n, I’ve known you since we were barely stringing together coherent sentences. I’ve had a feeling you’ve been seeing someone for a while, but you just never told me. I could be wrong and my best friend radar could be shit now, but I don’t think that’s the case.”

Unfortunately for you, her senses are still as sharp as ever. She’s staring at you, gaze unwavering as she waits for your answer, so you make the split decision to tell her a half-truth.

“Fine. I’ve been sleeping with someone, but it’s completely casual.”

Sunyoung aggressively shuffles in her seat and when you crack an eye open to look at her, she’s beaming back at you looking victorious.

“I knew it! I always know these things, especially about you! I don’t know why you’d be dumb enough to try and hide it from me. Now tell me all about them, you filthy liar.”

Letting out a sigh, you adjust in your chair to look at her, your mind working overtime to form the words to tell her what you can without blowing your cover.

“Well, I met him through a friend of mine at work. He’s her cousin and it hasn’t been anything serious, but we’ve been messing around.”

“Okay, and how long has that been going on?”

“Like two years I think.”

Sunyoung chokes on her water, apologizing to her nail tech for jolting so suddenly in her seat.

“I’m sorry, you’ve been fucking him for two years and you’re only friends with benefits?! Bullshit.”

“What do you mean bullshit?”

“You’re not about to sit here and tell me you’ve been messing around with someone for two years and there isn’t something more there.”

“I mean, there isn’t! We’re only sleeping together.”

“Yeah because one of you is too scared to do anything else.” She shrugs, eyeing you intensely over her water bottle.

You blink at her, a frown forming. “I don’t think so, girl. I think this is just easier.”

Sunyoung rolls her eyes. “Easier for who? Did you tell each other it’s easier? Or do just you think it's easier?”

“When did it become about just me?” You scoff, a strange discomfort overcoming you as the conversation progresses. Yes, it’s easier for you to just sleep with and sext Jimin. Who he’s related to aside, you’re on opposite sides of the country and long-distance is messy. Plus you’ve only ever briefly considered dating Jimin, but nothing can happen. Your arrangement works for both of you.

“It’s not just about you, but I want you to know you just had a whole mini-monologue these last few seconds. There was nothing behind those eyes.” Sunyoung laughs at the huff you let out as you turn to hide your expression.

“I forgot you’re weird and intuitive when you want to be. Stop it,” you half-joke.

“Nope, never. I just know a lot about people and their feelings. You’re lucky I can’t read minds because I would tell you so much more about yourself than I do now.” Your best friend winks at you before telling her nail tech she has to use the bathroom.

“And by the way,” Sunyoung says as she gingerly stands up. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad or anything about what you have going on with this guy. I’m sure you both have your reasons for keeping it friends-with-benefits for so long, but it may be worth thinking about how you really feel and maybe having a discussion with him about it. I have a feeling you really need to straighten things out.” She shrugs before scurrying off in her slippers.

You lay back and digest her words. Sunyoung has always had a habit of knowing you almost better than you know yourself. On one hand, dating Jimin would be much less of a pain in the ass - no more hiding and keeping so many secrets. Plus all the guilt about hiding it would vanish and finally let you breathe.

But you can’t date. He’s your best friend’s little brother. It would be a lot to explain and to navigate, and he has a whole-ass girlfriend here with him. You tell yourself once again that friends with benefits is easier for both of you and that it’s what you both want.

With freshly painted toes and fingers and relaxed muscles, you and Sunyoung leave the spa in search of lunch. You decide on a little Italian restaurant at the resort and run into both of your parents and eat with them.

“We’re heading out to do some shopping after we eat. What are you girls up to?” Your dad asks, stealing a forkful of pasta off of your plate.

You swat at his hand. “I was thinking of taking a nap. Today relaxed me too much so now I don’t want to do anything.” You lie, having already texted Jimin earlier today formulating when to meet.

“Boo! I wanted to go boating! They have a little marina and they’ll take you out and let you see dolphins.” Sunyoung gives you a thumbs down.

“You know I don’t like boats.”

“I thought you grew out of that!”

“Have you ever seen me on a boat other than our middle school graduation where I cried and found out I was in fact, scared of being on boats?” Your best friend pouts, sighing dramatically.

“Fine! I’ll see if Jimin and Momo want to go with me.” Sunyoung pulls out her phone at the same time you glance at yours under the table.

When you sat down for lunch, Jimin texted you, saying that he was still trying to convince Momo to go out and do something without him so you could come to his room. Sunyoung wanting to go boating works out in your favor because she soon announces that Momo is going with her because Jimin isn’t feeling well.

“What going on?” His mom seems worried.

“Oh, he said he may have been out in the sun too long while they were at the pool earlier today.”

Mrs. Park tsks. “I bet he didn’t put on any sunscreen. I warned him.”

“Yeah well luckily Momo came and she’s not afraid of boats!” Sunyoung playfully sticks her tongue out at you and you return the gesture.

Lunch goes by slowly, anticipation building at the prospect of finally being alone with Jimin. Momo joins you all to meet Sunyoung as you finish eating. The goodbyes are quick, your mom reminding everyone to be back to have dinner together. Sunyoung promises to text when she’s on her way, threatening you to be ready so you can do something fun.

The group waves at one another and as soon as you see everyone get into separate resort vans, you turn on your heel and walk as conspicuously yet quickly as you can to the elevators.

The ride to the seventh floor seems much too long, but as soon as the doors open, you’re sprinting to Jimin’s room and knocking.

He opens the door a second later and you’re on him immediately. You barely get the door closed with your foot, but you manage to do so and fumble behind you for the lock. With one leg behind you, you lose your balance and knock Jimin against the wall as your mouths move together feverishly.

The kisses you share are sloppy and frantic but that’s exactly how you feel. It’s been a year since you’ve got to touch Jimin, to kiss Jimin, and you want to make up for missed time and so much more.

When your lungs begin to burn, you pull away, both of you gasping for air. You lean down into Jimin’s neck, teeth nipping at his soft skin.

“I’m still a little annoyed with you and this whole girlfriend situation you know.” The word is enunciated with a harsh bite.

Jimin yelps. “Y/n, I - ah!”

You lightly chuckle at his outburst, licking the red skin. “The girlfriend you didn’t tell me about.”

“Y/n, I’m sorry.”

“All this time, you were saying you missed me. I don’t know if I believe you.” You pout up at him as your fingers undo his white button-down. Jimin’s eyes follow as you slide the shirt off of his toned shoulders.

You’d nearly forgotten how beautiful Jimin’s body is. His lithe, dancer’s body trembling under your fingertips. Mouth watering, you tear your gaze away and find the button of his shorts.

“I did miss you!”

“And what exactly did you miss about me?”

Jimin lets out a shaky breath. “Every part of you. Your soft skin how hood you always smell, your pretty hands, your thighs… so thick and warm.” He ends his sentence with a sigh as you let his shorts fall to the floor. He’s already so hard, his length straining against the fabric of his underwear. The two of you have been sexting all day whenever Sunyoung was barely looking, so you’re both plenty pent up.

“And I bet you miss what’s between my thighs.” Your tone is sweet yet authoritative, just the way Jimin likes you to treat him when you’re together like this.

“Fuck, yes I do.” He grunts when you run a finger over his print.

“Well, I suppose you can make it up to me.”

He answers in a rush, saying he’ll do anything that you want. You let out a giggle at his desperation, hiding your own.

“How about you make me cum then, Minie? Eat me out and I’ll think about forgiving you.”

Jimin doesn’t even answer, instead grabbing for you and practically dragging you to the bed, tossing you onto it. He’s on you in an instant, pillow lips kissing your neck as he works to undo the knot on the crop top you’re wearing. Once the fabric is open, he pulls down your bandeau, lavishing your collarbones and breasts with open-mouth kisses.

Your back arches when he greedily takes a nipple into his mouth, suckling each one for a while before he keeps going down to eagerly get to your shorts. Lifting yourself from the bed you help him shimmy your shorts and panties off and in an instant, he’s burying his face in your crotch.

Jimin lets out a groan as he loudly inhales your scent, such a lewd act having you clench around nothing. He doesn’t leave you wanting for long though, as he then licks a stripe from your entrance up to your clit, and before you have a chance to process that, his lips take a hold of your clit as he sucks and flicks your sensitive bud with his tongue.

“Oh!” You can’t help but wriggle in his grasp as he takes a hold of your thighs, delving his tongue between your folds, mouth moving as if you’re his last meal.

Jimin slurps at your pussy, grunting and sighing while he works. Your eyes slip close and your fingers find his red strands, yanking him impossibly closer.

“Shit, Jimin, you’re so good with your mouth. You love eating my pussy that much huh?”

“Mmph!” He answers, not leaving his position, his tongue now pistoning in and out of you. Jimin angles his head so that with every move, his nose rubs against your clit, the dual stimulation bringing you that much closer.

“Yes, yes, yes, just like that, Minie! Don’t stop!” Your words are pleading and he obliges, never having been able to say no to you.

Less than a minute later, your back is arching as shockwaves shoot through you, and you let out a scream of Jimin’s name. You cum hard enough that you’re still shaking under him, but he doesn’t stop. Instead, Jimin moves again, his mouth suctioning around your clit as he easily slides a finger into your wet hole.

Instinctively, your body tries to shrink away, but he doesn’t let you. He keeps a strong grip on your hips as he fingers you, quickly stuffing another finger into you. Torn between dragging him closer again and pushing him away, you settle for resting one of your legs on his shoulder. You keep a hold on his hair, your rapidly approaching your second orgasm already making you feel as if you’ll float away.

This is why you can’t leave him alone. His hands, his mouth, his everything keeps your body aching for him and only him. You’ve never been touched or kissed or fucked by any other person as good as the way Jimin does. The two of you barely needed to have any conversation about what the other liked and didn’t like when you started sleeping together. Somehow you, and especially he just knew.

Does that make you selfish? Absolutely, but how can you find it in yourself to call it quits when Jimin can leave you nothing but a sweaty, ruined wreck before even properly fucking you?

The second time you cum, is even harder than the first and actually makes your muscles sore from tensing so hard as you make a mess on Jimin’s fingers. He gasps for air as he finally lets your sore clit out of his mouth, only to move back down to your entrance to clean you up.

You whine at the overstimulation but let him finish, finally pushing him away when he attempts to dive back in for the third time.

“That’s enough for now, you maniac!” You laugh, seeing your juices glisten on his chin as he smiles up at you. Upon seeing him, something stirs in your heart instead of your crotch, but you will it away.

Instead, you sit up, pulling Jimin’s face to yours in a bruising kiss. You reach for his crotch, feeling just how hard he is and he mewls into your mouth.

“You’re so good to me, Minie,” you break away, placing kisses on his ear and neck. “Can I reward you?”

“Please!” He begs, his needy tone already causing wetness to pool between your thighs again.

The two of you make quick work to switch positions, Jimin now on his back against the pillows as you settle between his legs, yanking his underwear off.

His girthy cock is so hard it’s bright red, pre-cum dribbling out as soon as your hand ghosts over it. Jimin is panting as he watches you tease him, pout intensifying as he watches you stroke him with barely any pressure.

Deciding to be nice and not play with him, you lean down and slowly take him into your mouth, inch by inch until he’s in as far as you can fit him.

“Y/n!” He keens as soon as you wrap your lips around him, your hand grasping what your mouth doesn’t reach. Hollowing your cheeks, you begin to bob on his cock, the slurping from your mouth and the babble from Jimin above you filling your ears as you close your eyes and concentrate.

Truth be told, you’ve never been a fan of giving blowjobs, but as with so many other things, it all comes back to Jimin. He’s so different in every way from anyone else. You don’t mind the weight on your tongue with the way that Jimin becomes boneless and pliant whenever his dick is in your mouth.

He’s generally boisterous and goofy with everyone around you, but when he’s with just you, that dies down. He’s still lively and chatty but on a softer scale. It’s then when he’s under you like this, completely submitting to you and whatever you want, that he becomes the most soft-spoken version of himself you’ve ever seen. He’ll let you do anything you want to him as long as it’s safe and makes him feel good, so you do.

Besides, how could you deny him when he cries out your name in such a desperate, beautiful way that he does now?

“Please, please, Y/n!”

“Hmm? Need something, Minie?” You lift just enough to speak, before deciding to take back what you thought earlier about being nice and relaxing your throat to swallow him down, deep enough that your nose grazes his pubic hair.

“Ahh!” He bucks his hips up out of reflex, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. “S-sorry! I’m sor-!” His apology is quick, but you still reach down and grip his balls harshly as a small punishment for choking you which cuts off his sentence, gagging on his words.

Jimin’s eyes lock back on you, your hand back to stroking what’s not in your mouth while you massage his balls. He’s very clearly pleading without words and you already know he’s close to cumming just from your mouth alone.

Just to fuck with him a little more, you pull back from him just enough to wrap your lips around his cockhead and suck hard, nibbling at the overly sensitive skin just a little.

“Y/n, please! I need you so badly. I wanna fuck you!” He sounds close to tears and that’s when you decide it’s time to put you both out of your misery.

“You have to fuck me good,” you say around him. “Make up for lost times.”

Jimin, bites his bottom lip into his mouth, nodding his head furiously. “Mmhmm. I will, I will!”

With a smirk, you let go of him with a ‘pop,’ and position yourself over his cock. You’re more than ready to cum again, your pussy aching to be filled with him, so you follow his instructions as to where his condoms are in his suitcase. Once the rubber is snug on him, you carefully sink down, burying him inside of you in one go.

Both of you let out identical sounds of relief at finally getting to the best part. Hands planted on his firm chest, you start to move your hips with enough force to jolt the whole mattress.

“Ah! Y/n, so good,” Jimin cries out, his large hands reaching out to grip your thighs as he fixates on your tits bouncing with each jerk of your body.

“Fuck, Minie. You’re so big, you stretch me out so good.” Your voice is thick with arousal and neediness, matching his.

Everything else around you melts away as you ride Jimin, both of you filling the room with a harmony of moans and squelches. The air around you is hot, almost stifling while you lose the rhythm you built up, the pleasure making you unable to concentrate on your movements.

“Oh, Jimin I’m so close,” You rasp out, voice already sore.

He takes this as his cue to plant his feet on the bed better and begin thrusting up, bouncing you on his cock faster. You’re breathless now, head swimming with nothing but the way Jimin always fills you up just right and knows how to make you feel good.

One of your hands scrambles to find your clit, desperately chasing the end as both of your bodies begin to tremble in tandem.

Your other manicured hand trails up Jimin’s chest to his throat as you wrap your hand around and squeeze. His brown eyes widen before rolling into the back of his head, plump lips falling open. His hips pick up speed, moving so ferociously that you nearly lose your balance and fall off him.

Eyes closed and hips bucking wildly, Jimin looks so deliciously sinful underneath you. His mouth hangs open as you loosen your grip slightly, letting him take a deep gulp of air. You can’t help leaning over and pursing your lips so that a glob of spit drips from your mouth and into his open one. Jimin greedily closes his mouth, and you feel him swallow under your palm, not missing a beat.

“You’re such a good boy for me. I want you to cum with me, baby boy.” Your words are ragged, but still, make Jimin react as his breath hitches. This is what sets him over the edge, and he shoves upwards, hipbones digging into your thighs as he fills the condom inside of you, his cock pulsating as he does.

Releasing your grip on his throat, you brace your hand on his chest again for balance as you cum as well, your eyes crossing as your body nearly falls forward at the force, your yelp mixing with the exquisite, breathy sounds Jimin is making.

When the gyration of your hips is too much for both of you, you ease yourself up and off of his lap, toppling onto the mattress next to him. The only sound in the room is your labored breathing as you collect yourselves.

“I missed you. So much,” Jimin finally says. The tone in his words is laced with something different. Something that he’s presented you with before, but this time, it sits heavier in your chest than before. Jimin still has feelings for you - that has never changed from day one together, but you never get into what you feel. Mostly because, your feelings for Jimin are complicated, especially now with a girlfriend in the mix.

In an attempt to change the mood, you roll over and grab your phone, seeing texts from Sunyoung with photos of her and Momo in their lifejackets and the ocean behind them.

“Looks like your sister and girlfriend are enjoying the boat.” You say ‘girlfriend’ in a way that makes Jimin sigh.

“Y/n, I said I was sorry! Seriously I know I should’ve told you about Momo.”

“I’ve never been the other woman with anyone. It feels wrong.” You voice out loud, and you mean it. Remorse that you’ve been causing him to hurt this girl who seems to genuinely like him gnaws at your brain again.

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry okay? This kind of just spiraled out of control and I don’t wanna make excuses for myself, but I just wasn’t thinking right when she asked me out. I was just thinking about you and didn’t wanna lose you.” His expression is serious, matching the certainty in his tone.

“Jimin, I believe you, but if you want me still, you have to break it off with Momo. You shouldn’t just keep her around to be a placeholder.”

“I will! If you want me to, I’ll break up with her. When do you want me to?”

“Uh, I don’t know. When do you think you should?”

Scratching the back of his neck nervously he breaks your gaze, staring at the ceiling.

“Well, uh, I mean I don’t think I should do it while we’re here, I mean that’d be hella awkward wouldn’t it? We just got here and I at least want her to have a good vacation, you know?”

Frowning, you mull his words around in your head. If he breaks up with her now, on day two of vacation, they still have the rest of the week to awkwardly be around each other and your families. He has a point, that maybe he should at least let her enjoy the week before breaking things off.

“I guess so. But does that mean we should stop -”

“Please don’t say that!” Jimin cuts you off. “I just, I can’t go this whole week without kissing or touching you. I’ve already had to wait months to be with you again. I’ll go crazy having you so close and not being able to do anything. I know it’s wrong, but can we please keep being terrible people for just a few more days? I need you.”

Jimin’s distraught, the idea of this being the only time he gets to be in bed with you distressing him.

Against your better judgment (including your conscious which is so loudly reminding you how terrible cheating is) after just a few seconds you break down, agreeing you won’t stay away. You’ve already fooled around for the first six months of his relationship, so what’s another week?

“Fine. But you need to end it with her when you get home, okay?”

“Thank you!” His eagerness makes you laugh. You smile up at him and he returns it tenfold, his eyes disappearing with the gesture.

“Want to take a nap with me before we have to be perceived by our families again?” Jimin jokes, clearly really wishing you’ll say yes.

“Sure, Minie.” He eagerly rolls back over on his back, opening his arm to beckon you over to him. Phone in hand you oblige, helping him take off the used condom first, then snuggling into his embrace.

It’s completely normal to cuddle and sleep with your friend with benefits. You and Jimin have done it before and it doesn’t make things weird. You tell yourself over and over as you drift off.

“Jimin?!” A call of Jimin’s names has both of you jolting up, wide-eyed and alert. “Jimin! The deadbolt is on!” Momo’s voice calls to Jimin from the other side of the hotel door. You and he share one single look before you fling yourselves from the bed, scrambling for your clothes.

He gives you a panicked look as his phone rings from under your shirt, Momo’s picture showing on the screen. You toss him his phone as you pull your bandeau and shirt on, desperately scrounging around for your panties.

“Hello?” He clears his throat when he answers while pulling his shorts up.

“You’re in the room, but you’re not opening the door! I heard your phone.”

“Shit, sorry, I’m in the bathroom, but I’ll be right out.” You’re both clothed then, but the realization that you’re trapped in the hotel room with him with only one way out hits you.

“Hurry up. I want to shower, before dinner.”

“Okay, I’ll only be a few seconds.” He hangs up and looks as though he’s ready to cry.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” you whisper to soothe him. “Look, I’ll get under the bed. When she’s in the bathroom, I’ll make a run for it, okay?”

Pouting, Jimin agrees and he goes to unlock the door as you crawl underneath the hotel bed.

You listen as Momo comes into the room. The sound of them sharing a kiss has your face scrunching in discomfort.

“Ew, Jimin, did you just puke or something? Your face smells weird.” Momo smelling you on her boyfriend makes you both mortified and oddly prideful.

“Huh? Oh! Yeah, I did, sorry. I wasn’t feeling great, but I’m alright now.”

“If you start to feel icky at any point tonight let me know,” she coos at him before walking across the room to the bathroom. “I’m just going to shower then we can get ready and go.” As you’re about to crawl out, you see her feet appear again. Luckily you’re half out on the floor on the side of the bed that she can’t see. “You can join me if you want to of course. We have plenty of time before we have to meet everyone else.” What you presume to be Momo’s tube top falls to the floor and from where you are you can see Jimin gawking at her.

“Yeah. Okay. Let me just um, make sure my phone is charging.”

“M'kay. But don’t leave me waiting.” Her feet disappear into the bathroom again and when you hear the sound of the shower you scurry out and dash across the floor on all fours to get past the bathroom door and to the room door.

Before you sneak out, Jimin leans out to kiss you, not caring that he just did the same to another woman.

“See you at dinner.” He says with a smile. He pokes his head out into the hallway before you, citing it was clear and you slink out, giving him a final kiss before rushing to your room. The shower is running when you enter so you call out to Sunyoung.

“Hey!”

“Y/n? Where were you? I came in and you weren’t here.”

“Oh yeah, I wanted a pre-dinner snack so I went downstairs to grab something. I lost track of time.”

“Answer your phone next time! I know you don’t like boats but I brought you a dolphin shirt anyway!” You glance at the shirt on your bed, another rush of guilt washing over you. Your best friend was thinking about you while she was doing an activity that you were afraid of while you were fucking her brother.

An unpleasant feeling swirls in you as you couple this with nearly getting caught not even five minutes ago and you spend far too long standing in the middle of the room. Should you keep doing this? Is this crushing remorse worth it? You’re conflicted and start to descend into a heavy conversation with yourself when Sunyoung calling your name stops that in its tracks.

“What?” You yell back, louder than intended.

“I asked if you wanted to shower too. I’m almost done.”

“Oh, yeah, I will,” you nod even though she can’t see you. Seeing how you’re still covered in your and Jimin’s sweat from earlier, you realize how gross you feel.

“Alright, I’ll leave the water on!” You get ready for your shower, trying to talk yourself out of the headspace you’re entering. You’ll do some more soul-searching later, but for now, you want to carry on the rest of the evening as if your life is normal. Thoughts of Jimin and what you do with him will have to wait.

Your Jimin thoughts intrude quicker than you wanted them to. When you meet the families downstairs for dinner. Everyone is dressed fairly formally since your parents scheduled a wine tasting after dinner. Jimin and Momo join you and Sunyoung in the elevator and you have to pinch yourself to stop staring at him. Form-fitting black slacks hug his muscular thighs and ass. A black button-down with the sleeves rolled up and the top two buttons undone. You’re convinced he’s doing this on purpose - that he remembers just how much you appreciate it when his clothes fit him just right.

During dinner, your families sit at a large round table and somehow you’ve lucked out sitting across from Jimin. You can’t stop yourself from teasing him, seizing this opportunity to slip your shoe off and rest your foot against his thigh.

He jumps, using the excuse that he felt a chill.

“Maybe if you weren’t walking around with your shirt open like you’re somebody,” Sunyoung snorts.

Jimin sneers at his sister. “I look better than you.”

“In your fucking dreams. Shut up and put your pepperoni nipples away.”

“Fuck off!”

“Hey, both of you shut up!” Mr. Park chides his kids. Both Jimin and Sunyoung shoot each other one last dirty look before Sunyoung turns to talk to you. You do your best to listen and ignore yet another negative wave of emotion rolling over you. That back-and-forth reminds you once again of who Jimin is. You watched him and Sunyoung argue with one another since Jimin was in elementary school. And his dick was in your mouth mere hours ago.

You toss your glass of champagne back, telling yourself as loud as you can to stop. “Stop with so many self-realizations and just enjoy your vacation! It’s only the second night!”

You’re determined to listen to yourself, and you do so through the rest of dinner. Even after that, when your families move to another large room for the wine tasting. You and Sunyoung giggle and chat over glass after glass, focusing on nothing but you and her.

By the end of it, you have a sufficient buzz going, and you’re feeling much better. You go to bed easily, falling asleep in no time with much less stress than you had earlier.

Wine can only do so much for you. You quickly learn as the next few days go by. When you’re not with Sunyoung or with your parents or both families, you’re taking any opportunity to be alone with Jimin. Whether it’s letting him finger you in the stairwell when everyone was spread about the resort or sucking him off in the bathroom while everyone was waiting for their desserts after dinner.

Your time at the resort is only a week, so even though your conscious is beating your ass every time you sneak away, your pussy refuses to listen, only focused on the feeling and the sensation that is Jimin.

The only problem is after you both get what you want, you’re distracted by how terrible you feel afterwards. After sleeping with Jimin as long as you have been, you’ve been able to expertly suppress any negative feelings about what you’re doing. This week has been incredibly trying on you, but you can’t pinpoint why (or, rather, you refuse to acknowledge why).

Is it because this time away was supposed to be about spending time together and having fun with your family, but you’ve only been focusing on getting off? Or is it because you know that after you make Jimin cum, he’s going to sleep next to another woman who may also do the same for him on the same day?

It’s likely to be both of these things, coupled with how long this secret has been festering, but you can’t stop. It’s selfish and it makes you sound as though you have a sex addiction, but your body responds to Jimin in a way that you can’t replicate with anyone else and you crave it, so in a way, you are addicted to him.

You crave it so badly that in between scuba diving and shopping you’re holing up somewhere secret for a quick fuck. You can barely keep track of the lies you’ve told Sunyoung or your parents this week, but you know it’s more than you think you’ve ever lied to the same people in such a short amount of time.

Even with all of the acknowledgment that what you’re doing is wrong and with all the people impacted around you in mind, you still text Jimin on the second to last night of your stay at the resort and tell him to meet you at the jacuzzi outside around midnight.

During the day, both families have a beach day and with everyone staying in the sun most of the day, playing volleyball and frisbee, everyone is more than ready for bed after dinner. Your dad reminds everyone that tomorrow is your last day and therefore will be a family day. Knowing that this may be your last opportunity with Jimin since tomorrow night, you’ll likely be too focused on family and packing to leave the next morning.

You and Sunyoung watch a movie before bed and once it’s over and she’s sound asleep, you creep out of the room, already having put on your bathing suit underneath, and tip-toe into the hallway and to the elevator.

Jimin is already sitting on the edge of the hot tub, shirt off and feet in the bubbling water.

“I didn’t think you’d beat me here,” you chuckle, your voice making him jump.

“Oh! Yeah, Momo went to bed early because she thinks she has food poisoning.”

“And instead of caring for her you’re here with another woman.” You shake this thought away, pulling off your pajamas and watching the way Jimin’s face lights up at the sight of your light blue bikini that leaves so little to the imagination.

You toss your clothes on the pool chair with his things and don’t miss how he watches intently as you step into the hot tub and lower yourself into the water. When you beckon him in with a crook of your finger, he hurries in next to you, his chest pressed against your arm. The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, watching as the few other couples out for a night swim a few feet away from you go back inside, leaving just you and Jimin outside. The sky is dark, but the stars are shining bright enough that it’s not pitch-black. The outdoor area is equipped with fancy-looking string lights around and the smell of the ocean lingers with how close the resort is.

The whole thing would be romantic if your relationship with Jimin wasn’t what it is.

“Tomorrow’s the last day of vacation.” Jimin mumbles. When you glance at him, his head is reclining against the built-in headrest.

“Yeah, it is. And it’s family day. I think our parents want us to go on a tour or something.”

“We’ll barely be able to spend time together, and tomorrow you’re going to get on a plane and go back to New York.” His words are low and sullen. Each time you’ve been hooking up when you’re together in person, he always gets in a gloomy mood towards the end. He’s happy to be with you but never looks forward to when you leave.

He’s pouting up at the sky, likely too much in his head. To distract him (and yourself to be honest) you shift to turn and place small kisses on his neck. The water lets you easily slot yourself between his legs as you move up to kiss him.

Jimin wraps his arms around your waist pulling you closer, his tongue immediately poking out to rub against your lips. You open your mouth, letting Jimin in, both of you messily making out, your hands grasping at any wet body part you can touch.

The sounds of the night dissolve around you as you melt into Jimin, savoring every clash of teeth and tongue since you may not get much of a chance tomorrow.

When you finally pull away, you press your forehead against his, both of you catching your breath.

“I need you, Y/n,” He juts his hips forward, to emphasize his words, the hardness in his pants knocking into your leg. “Since this could be our last chance for a while.”

Your eyes quickly take in your surroundings. The two of you are still the only ones outside that you can see. Most of the windows overlooking the pool are dark and/or have their curtains pulled tight. Any open curtains are on much higher floors, way too high for anyone to look outside and see what’s going on.

“Fine, but we have to be quick. We don’t want anyone coming outside and seeing us.”

Nodding Jimin agrees, his hands immediately reaching out to grab your waist. He slips a hand easily into your bathing suit bottom, his warm fingers flicking your clit.

“Ah-” Jimin’s lips land on yours, muffling the yell you nearly let out. He keeps kissing you as he picks up the pace, pinching at your bud a few more times before slipping a finger inside of you with ease.

“Gotta stretch you out for me, princess.” Your eyebrows shoot up at the pet name, but you don’t object. Jimin sounds nervous saying it, but your reaction gives him the confidence he needs, his finger moving faster. He brings his thumb up to rub your clit, making you bury your face in his neck to stifle another moan.

Not knowing where to put your hands you decide to pull his swim trunks down enough for his cock to pop out and wrap a hand around him to start stroking him.

“Fuck…” he hisses the word, his fingers slowing down for a second before he recovers to begin again.

The two of you kiss again, spending who knows how long exactly whining into each other’s mouth, working one another up.

You jerk him off rougher, his body shaking against you and he has to grab your wrist to stop.

“I want to cum in you, not in your hand,” Jimin says matter of faculty. “Hang on.” He turns, twisting and stretching his body enough to grab the leg of the chair holding with your things and pull it closer. He digs around in his pant pocket for a second before coming back with a condom.

You let out a snicker, watching him tear it open and roll it on.

“Did you plan to fuck me in the hot tub this whole time?”

Sheepishly he shakes his head. “No, I promise I didn’t! I was just hoping that we would find somewhere to use it. I wasn’t going to be picky where.” He gives you a tiny smile, hoping you still want to go.

“That’s fine…I was going to find somewhere to have you take me too,” you admit.

That’s all the reassurance Jimin needs. His lips are on your neck as he pumps himself underwater.

“Pull your bottoms to the side for me,” he whispers, the huskiness in his voice immediately making you quiver and do as he says.

Jimin’s cockhead grazes your thigh, then your clit, before it breaches your entrance, Jimin bottoming out immediately. Neither of you moves for a moment, letting your walls adjust to him.

Shakily, you tell him to move, and he does, starting slow, the water around you barely rippling. For a better angle, you hop a little with enough force to wrap your legs around his waist. Jimin turns, still inside you, so that your back is against the jacuzzi wall. He uses this new position to move faster, trapping you between his body and the wall.

Soon enough, Jimin stops being gentle, driving his cock into you deeper with each thrust and taking your breath away each time.

“O-oh, fuck, Jimin!” It’s a louder cry than you intend, both of you peeking around, but he doesn’t falter. Once again, he swallows any more of your sounds with his mouth.

“You can cum if you’re quiet, princess.” The mere authoritative tone has your eyes rolling back as you nod your head. You’re so used to being the one that demands, more or less, that you never thought about Jimin taking on that role. You’ll desperately need to let Jimin take the lead more often.

One of Jimin’s hands is still holding under your ass while the other wedges between your bodies to rub your clit again, and you’re already embarrassingly close to cumming.

Whining into his mouth makes both his hand and finger move quicker, pushing you to the end. Mumbling his name, the tight coil in the pit of your stomach snaps, as you cling for dear life to Jimin. Your nails accidentally dig into his shoulder as you do and he hisses in response.

“Y/n..” This time his words are back to a whimper. “So tight around my cock!” Jimin’s fingers dig into your ass and your thigh as he throws his head back body shaking with his own orgasm as he bites down on his bottom lip.

“Yes, come on, Minie, fill me up.” You pepper his neck with kisses as you rock your hips softly, letting him ride out his pleasure.

A few more choked moans slip past his plump lips as he comes down, carefully slipping his softening cock out of you. You kiss once more, the jacuzzi now starting to feel too warm.

“Y/n, I miss you already.”

Smiling, you reach up to brush back his sweaty bangs.

“I’m gonna miss you too you know. This week flew by too fa -”

“Hey! No!” A rush of voices from behind both of you has you leaping apart. Jimin fumbles to tuck himself back into his swim shorts and you have to quickly pull your bikini bottoms back into place.

Two men and a woman dressed in the resort’s employee attire are yelling at you and Jimin as they approach. The woman points to a sign behind you that you hadn’t even noticed. There is a list of things it clearly says you aren’t allowed to do which include not bringing glass drinks to the hot tub, not being naked, and no “inappropriate activities.” Above the sign is a security camera and upon seeing it, embarrassment takes over from head to toe. The fear of them witnessing you and Jimin having sex in the hot tub makes you want to vomit.

“We’re sorry! So sorry!” You and Jimin talk over yourselves, apologizing over and over again.

“Out!” The woman says, beckoning you both to get out of the hot tub and you do without question.

She explains that since you and Jimin broke such an unsanitary rule, the resort will be charging you a clean-up and disinfectant fee. The account that the room is under will be charged. You nearly burst into tears, begging her to pay it upfront since you already know your dad is going to question the additional fee on the receipt. The employee says no, it has to be the card on file. She warns you not to let it happen again or you’ll be banned from the resort - not that you think you’ll even ever return after this.

You attempt to plead to her once more when the sound of the fire alarm going off stops all conversation. She tells you that she will get your name the reservation is under and the room number later, but for now go outside to the front of the resort. You and Jimin hurry into the hotel behind the staff, walking with the crowd of other guests who are going out the front door.

“Y/n!” Sunyoung’s voice cuts through the crowd and fear overcomes you. Pretending you didn’t hear her you weave through everyone, hoping you can hide out in a spot outside where she can’t see you.

Once outside, you and Jimin manage to blend into the crowd, ignoring the looks from everyone at you and Jimin being the only ones in pool attire, seeing how you both forgot your pajamas by the hot tub. You stay behind a palm tree, as all of the guests mill about, waiting for the okay to go back in.

It takes about twenty minutes before they find the alarm to be false and allow everyone to begin going back inside.

“Okay,” you whisper to Jimin, keeping your eyes open for any of your family. “If anyone asks, we can just say that we both happened to go out for a late-night swim at the same time. I’ll say I wanted to get into the jacuzzi before we left.”

“And I’ll just say I couldn’t sleep.” You nod at Jimin, both of you confident that this will pass.

“Y/n!” Sunyoung calls you again, having found you both in the crowd. She grabs your arm, stopping you, and you see Momo and both sets of parents behind her. “I called you when everyone was going outside, but I don’t think you heard me.” She eyes your bathing suit and Jimin’s swim shorts.

“Where were you, Jimin?” Momo asks when she approaches, also inspecting what you both are wearing.

“Oh, I uh, I couldn’t sleep, so I went out to the pool.”

“Yeah,” you cut in. “I went down to get in the jacuzzi before we leave tomorrow and saw Jimin was down there too. Then the fire alarms went off, and a staff member rushed us out before we could grab our clothes.”

Everyone seems to buy this excuse, although Sunyoung is squinting in a manner that tells you she’s replaying the story over in her head, and she may be the only one with obvious reservations.

“Well, let’s go and get your clothes, then try and get back to sleep.” You nod, all set to do as your mom says, and leave this behind. When you file back into the resort with the last few guests, you’re feeling better, completely forgetting that the staff is still intending to finish what was started.

“Hey, excuse me,” An employee you don’t recognize stops you all, and you instantly feel like you’re going to throw up again. “You’re the two that were in the hot tub.” She says it rather than asks. She hands you and Jimin your clothes, frowning as she does so. “What is the name your reservation is under?” She powers up her iPad, waiting to type in what you tell her.

“I’m sorry what’s going on?” Your dad steps in, which you’re thankful for because you’ve forgotten how to formulate sentences.

“Seeing as they broke one of our jacuzzi rules, we need the name of their reservation because they will be charged a fee.”

“Wait, what? They’re in trouble for getting in the hot tub? What, is it closed after midnight or something?”

The staff member assesses the situation, eyeing both your dad then you, and Jimin. Your eyes dart to him and he’s gone paler than you’ve ever seen him. He’s frozen in place and you swear he doesn’t blink.

“These guests-”

“Y/l/n! Room 519!” You blurt, your voice cracking as you say it. The staff member taps away on her screen. “I’ll pay you back, dad.” You promise, hoping that he’ll leave it at that.

“Now, hold on, I could swear the pool area is open twenty-four hours. What the hell am I getting charged for?”

“Yeah, who’d they hurt by swimming at night?” Your Mr. Park chimes in. Every word that’s spoken around you sounds like white noise creeping in slowly. This isn’t going to end the way you want it to. This isn’t going to be the end of it. You’re not going to go back upstairs and go to sleep then go through tomorrow as normal. It’s as clear as day that this is where things go to shit.

“Please, calm down. Our pool and jacuzzis are indeed twenty-four hours, but we have a no inappropriate activity rule in our public spaces and these guests broke that rule. It was addressed and they were told not to let it happen again, but we still have to charge an additional sanitation fee.”

“What? Inappropriate activity? What does that even mean?” Tears well up in your eyes as Mrs. Park looks between you and Jimin.

“Y/n,” Your mom says at the same time, gingerly placing her hand on your shoulder. When you turn to look at her she’s frowning in a way that tells you she knows exactly what that means.

“Mom,” Jimin whispers, urging the conversation to end. The staff member spares you and your families one final look before turning and walking off, leaving eight of you standing in the middle of the lobby in silence, save for your sniffles.

With your stomach twisted in knots, you run to the stairs, deciding that crawling up seven flights of stairs is better than standing with everyone doing nothing. You’re huffing and puffing when you reached your floor and take time to catch your breath, pulling your pajamas on, extremely relieved that the room keycard and your phone are still in your short pockets.

It’s quiet as you walk past rooms to your own. You stop in front of Jimin’s door and press your ear to the wood. You can’t hear exactly what they’re saying, but you can hear raised volumes and fast-talking. In front of your door, it’s quiet, but you’re sure Sunyoung is on the other side, most likely seething.

Stepping inside the room, you see her going around the room tossing her things into her suitcase. When she sees you, she freezes, holding your gaze for a few seconds before wordlessly going back to what she’s doing. If you know Sunyoung, which you do, you know she’s formulating how to tell you off. Cautiously, you go to sit on your bed and see that she’s packing your suitcase.

“What are you doing?” You question softly, to not stir her up.

“Packing your shit. You’ll be staying in the room Jimin and Momo are in, and Momo is coming here. We figure since you and Jimin want so badly to be together, then you may as well share a room.”

“Sunyoung, let me explain.” Tossing your complimentary robe and slippers in the suitcase, she stops and crosses her arms.

“Please do, since apparently, you’ve never explained any of this to me before.” She’s simmering, but you continue.

“I didn’t tell you about us because I thought you’d be mad. Knowing your best friend has been sleeping with your little brother is weird, and I figured it’d upset you.”

“You’re right, it would, and it is weird, but you know what, that was the second reason I was pissed when I just found out. I was even madder to know that you’d been lying to me the whole trip! All these excuses about being tired and shit were just so you can get into my brother’s pants! Admit it!”

“Yes. I lied all those times, and I’ve been lying to you about us.” Saying the words out loud has you tearing up again.

“How could you not tell me?! Yes, I would’ve gagged and made fun of you guys for eternity, but Y/n, come on! You’re my closest and best fucking friend! If there’s anyone I’d want my brother with, it’d be someone I trust with my life because I know that she’d never hurt him. I would’ve gotten over it, but I’m pissed right now!” She stomps her foot, also looking close to tears, but you know hers are full of anger.

“Did you even come on this vacation to see me?” Her lip quivers and you jump up to hug her, but she puts her hand out to stop you.

“Sun, I’m sorry, I was just scared, okay? I was scared of being judged and your parents hating me.”

“You know, Y/n. You always do this thing where you assume how other people will feel without talking to them. Like that time in middle school where you were changing algebra classes because the teacher hated you but you kept it from me because you thought I’d be mad even though I knew how much she sucked.”

“That’s one time and I was trying to be considerate.”

“And then remember when Joshua asked you out in 11th grade and you didn’t say anything about it until I overheard him telling his friends you rejected him.”

“I knew you liked him! I didn’t want to upset you and make you mad at me!”

“See! You always just assume the worst of how I feel and you keep shit from me. Not only is this the longest-running thing you’ve hidden, but it’s about my damn brother!”

In all honesty, you never realized you had a bad habit of doing this until this moment. It’s always good-natured, but having Sunyoung chronicle your behavior has you rethinking.

“Sun, listen, I’m sorry, okay? I truly didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Well, you did. And you also hurt Momo - both you and Jimin did. She’s a really sweet girl and she treats Jimin well. I’m pissed at both of you.”

You want to say something else, but a knock on the door has you halting. Sunyoung goes to open it and you see Momo on the other side holding her bags. Her red eyes don’t meet yours as she gives Sunyoung the key in her hand and disappears into the bathroom.

“Give me your keycard.” Sunyoung demands and you don’t argue. She takes the card for this room and gives you, what you presume, the card for Jimin’s room. Wordlessly, she walks over and zips your suitcase up, placing it on the floor and sliding it over to you.

“Maybe we’ll talk tomorrow,” you try on your way to the door.

She just shrugs and climbs into her bed, eyes blankly looking at the tv as she turns it on. Clearly, the conversation is very much over right now. You give the room a once over and leave, defeated and tired.

The keycard she traded you, is, in fact, the key to Jimin’s room. When you walk in he’s already in bed, under the covers, and nothing but a lump.

“Jimin?” You call quietly but get no response. Unsure if he’s truly sleeping or pretending, you say his name again and get nothing.

Rolling your eyes, you leave your suitcase to the side and decide to just go to bed. You’ll deal with Jimin in the morning, but for now, it’s much too late to still be awake.

Knocks on your room door startle you awake. Jimin isn’t next to you, and the bathroom across the room is dark. Bleary-eyed, you get up and open the door, your mom on the other side. She gives you what seems to be a sympathetic once over and tells you to get ready and that everyone is already up and getting ready.

Jimin waking up and leaving you behind stings, but you bury that as you carry on with a lightning-speed shower and get changed.

Downstairs, your parents and Mr. and Mrs. Park greet you, but no one else. Neither Momo nor Sunyoung pay you any mind and Jimin doesn’t return your greeting. The two women you expected, but why the hell is Jimin icing you out?

He doesn’t say anything on the ride there, but it’s expected with everyone around. All of you pile onto a bus with other tourists, waiting to be driven around the city and shown the sights.

When you arrive at the first destination and you try to speak to Jimin, he conveniently turns to engage with his mom who quickly strikes up a conversation with him, successfully squashing your attempt.

It’s even clearer he’s purposely avoiding you by your third stop after he successfully manages to avoid any chance you will try to confront him. With both him and your best friend ignoring your existence, you feel like utter shit. You do your best not to let it show as the day wears on, mustering up enough willpower to pretend to be interested in the structures and sights, taking pictures you barely put care into snapping. A few other tourists in the group talk to you and even though you want nothing more than to stew alone, you engage.

The day drags on hour by hour until it’s the end of the day and your tour guide takes everyone to a restaurant near the resort for dinner. Your group of eight settles next to the other tables of the tour group and starts placing orders with waiters. Sunyoung knocks back drink after drink and at some point in the night the alcohol finally catches up with her.

“Mrs. Y/l/n, can you pass me the chips?” She points to the basket that’s sitting between you and your mom. “I’d ask Y/n, but she’ll probably lie about why she can’t give them to me.” Silence in the group until her comment catches up to you.

“Oh come on, Sunyoung.”

“Come on what? You lie. It’s what you do. Or wait you’ll lie about not giving them to me and say it’s because you thought I would think they are gross without even letting me try!”

“Sunyoung, I said I was sorry! Sorry for lying and assuming how you’d feel. This time and apparently every other time I’ve done it.”

Sunyoung leaps up, pointing at you. “You didn’t apparently do shit, I’m telling you you’ve done it!”

“Sunyoung…” Her mom warns, but she stays standing, hands on her hips.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” you start, trying to keep your voice down. “I’m sorry for lying and sleeping with your brother and not telling you!”

“You should be! Jimin has always gone out of his way to talk about you and I should’ve known something was weird but I was too stupid to pick it up I guess. Why else would he always bring up my friend more than me.” You and Jimin share a brief look before he averts his eyes. You never imagined he’d talk about you when you weren’t around. You swallow the urge to ask what he’s said.

“And I can’t believe you’ve been sleeping with my best friend!” Sunyoung yells, pointing at him. “You’re my brother and you didn’t tell me!”

“How was I supposed to tell you?! You would’ve thought it was weird!”

“Everyone stop fucking telling me how I’d feel!” Sunyoung shrieks and everyone in the restaurant turns to look at your table, getting quiet.

“Park Sunyoung, that is enough!” Her dad bellows. Fists still clenched, she plops into her seat with no retort.

“Truly,” you begin. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to lie, and I know apologies don’t change what I did, but just know I can’t say sorry enough.” You turn to your parents and the Parks. “And I’m sorry to you guys for ruining our vacation. I did want to see everyone and have a good time, but then I messed it up by being selfish, I didn’t plan on fucking up everything the way I did. And Momo, I’m sorry for sleeping with your boyfriend. I didn’t -”

You don’t get to finish your apology, because before anyone can stop her, Momo rises from her seat, grabs her drink, and throws it at you on the other side of the table.

Everyone freezes, including any other guests that saw.

“Momo!” Jimin gasps, but for him, she snatches up the large bowl of salsa in the middle of the table and dumps it over his head. She’s storming out of the restaurant before anyone can stop her.

Sunyoung, watching both you and Jimin in horror, decides to stumble out of her seat and follow her out. The rest of you don’t say anything else, but your mom helps blot at your clothes while Jimin’s mom helps him wipe his hair.

Shame washes over you as the other tourists and restaurant patrons whisper about your group and what happened. You deserve this. Sure, you wanted nothing more than to run outside and kick Momo’s ass, and normally you would, but in this situation, you can't deny that you deserve it. So you stew in the nauseous, anxious feeling in your stomach and the way tears are oh so close to slipping. It feels very much like public shaming and you wouldn’t say you didn’t have it coming.

The ride back to the resort after dinner is nothing compared to the one this morning. The bus is stifling, the air thick with aggression and weariness. Momo is the first out when you arrive, stomping into the building and far from everyone. Wordlessly, Sunyoung follows her, then Jimin. You’re left to ride in the elevator with the parents alone, clothes uncomfortable and sticky. Just as you think you may burst into tears at the sheer embarrassment, Mr. Park speaks up.

“Y/n, we want to let you know we’re not as upset about this as Sunyoung.” You’re shocked truth be told, but let him go on. “Last night’s erm, incident, was shocking, but you and Jimin are both adults. Cheating is wrong in any aspect, and don’t get wrong, we’re extremely disappointed in you both for it.”

“And for lying to everyone,” Mrs. Park chimes in.

“Right, and lying to everyone. But we appreciate your apology. It seemed genuine, so just know we’re not upset with you.”

“Besides, if there’s any girl we’d want Jimin to be with it’s you. We don’t trust anyone else.”

They both give you reassuring smiles, and you let a few tears slip. You appreciate their forgiveness, but you feel as though you don’t deserve it. You voice this, but they assure you they’re not mad. Shocked and annoyed initially, yes, but they again voice that you’re all adults and can work through what you need to.

Your mom reaches out to hug you, wiping your tears. You say goodnight to both sets of parents, your dad saying he loves you then reminding everyone that all of your flights are at eleven. You all plan to ride to the airport together and say your goodbyes there. It doesn’t seem likely that the goodbyes will be what he has in mind, but it feels refreshing to know that at least you have people still supporting you in the mess you and Jimin made.

When you enter the room, Jimin is sitting on the edge of the sofa in the room, head in his hands. He looks up when you shut the door, the expression on his face unreadable. You plop on the couch next to him, and he doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t run away from you.

“Are you gonna tell me why you’ve been ignoring me all day?”

“Everyone hates us.” Is his response.

“Our parents don’t hate us.”

“Yeah, I know, I talked to them this morning when I got up. But they were disappointed. And Sunyoung is so fucking pissed. And I know Momo definitely hates me. She broke up with me last night.”

“Well yeah, you’re probably right about her.” You put a joking lift to your tone, hoping it’ll ease some of the tension, but it doesn’t. Instead, Jimin whips around to look at you; his expression is grim.

“I should’ve said no. I should’ve stayed in the room.” The way he says this makes your throat feel tight for some reason.

“Well shit, sorry I asked.” Your words are sarcastic, but your chest feels heavy.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have. Maybe we should’ve just had a regular vacation with our families and not did… what we did. I have a girlfriend, Y/n.” His last words are accusatory and you gape at him.

“Yeah, I know you have a girlfriend. You know you have a girlfriend and yet you still fucked me this entire week. Hell, you knew you had a girlfriend for the last six months and still hit me up begging for tit pics any chance you got.”

A blush breaks out across Jimin’s face in embarrassment and shame. “Because I can’t fucking stay away from you! I can’t stop seeing you and hearing your voice and touching you, and talking to you. I can’t say no to you, Y/n! I’ve never been able to!”

You stand, looking at him incredulously. “There’s no way you’re trying to blame me for this whole thing. There's absolutely no fucking way.”

“You know how I feel! You know how I feel, yet you never want to commit. Whenever I bring it up, you change the subject or end the conversation. That makes me feel like shit, Y/n!”

“Jimin, we had a good, casual thing going. I thought it worked for both of us.”

“It works for you, Y/n. I deal with it because I want to have you any way I can, and since you won’t let it be romantic, I’ll take it physically.”

You blink at him, mind moving a mile a minute. “Jimin, do you think now is the time to get into this? Shouldn’t we be worried about your sister forgiving us and talking to us again?”

With a huff, Jimin jumps up. “When Sunyoung wants to, she will. You know how stubborn she is and that there’s nothing we can do until she feels like giving us the time of day.” He steps closer to you, looking as if he’s contemplating reaching out to touch you. “Y/n, can you just tell me how you feel about me? Clearly, you’re into me in some way, but how do you actually feel?”

“I -” Words catch in your throat as you struggle to formulate a response.

You know you’re impossibly attracted to Jimin. That’s a given. He’s sweet and loves making you laugh. Before everything on this vacation went to shit, he always went out of his way to make everyone, but especially you, laugh at something he says or does. Jimin is kind and so gentle; possibly one of the most considerate people you’ve ever met. In that same breath, you can also call him bratty and a little spoiled, but even then it’s endearing and it still makes him who he is.

Jimin is artistic and passionate. He loves dancing and has always been gifted at it. He’s done dance covers online for years and is always entering competitions and predictably winning said competitions. He didn’t get into the school he applied to in New York, but he goes to school near home because he’s so determined to fulfill his dreams. You admire him for staying so dedicated and working to do what he loves.

The list of things you like about Jimin goes on but you can’t seem to say the words to him. Everything is just wrong right now and the idea of vocalizing and admitting to him (and yourself) that maybe you feel more about Jimin than you should.

“I don’t think we should do this right now, Jimin.”

He stares at you hard, his eyes scanning yours, searching for anything else. “Forget it, Y/n. It’s clear we’ve just been wasting each other’s time.” He finally says. Dumbly, you stand there as Jimin grabs a pillow from the bed and storms out without another word. You scream in your head, scolding and shaming yourself for not saying something, but you can’t get anything to come out that will make a difference.

Without another word he’s gone, slamming the hotel door behind him. Silently, you shower and get ready for bed, making sure all of your belongings are packed. The room is hauntingly quiet and the bed is cold as you lie there alone, your brain full of so many different things you want to say and think and do, yet somehow, you doze off before you muster the motivation or courage to do anything else.

You’re up and out of bed before the sun has barely risen. While you were able to doze, that’s all you did. No deep restful sleep and barely any dreams. Just bathroom breaks and staring at the ceiling. Jimin never came back to the room, as the bed is still empty when you get up.

After brushing your teeth and washing your face you’re out the door. Standing in front of your parent’s room you go back and forth. You don’t want to wake them up but you’d feel even worse than you do if you left without saying goodbye.

Taking a breath, you knock, deciding having them be a little tired later is better than fleeing in complete and total cowardice.

Your mom is the one who answers, yawning widely in her pajamas and slippers.

“Y/n?”

“Hey, mom, I’m sorry to wake you guys up.”

“What’s going on?” Bleary-eyed, she eyes your bags, frowning more.

“I’m gonna head out for the airport. I don’t need to stick around.”

“What? Y/n it’s…” she cranes her neck around to the closed room curtains seeing barely any semblance of the sun peeking around. “It’s so early.”

“I know, but I just want to go home. I’m exhausted.”

“You didn’t sleep well?”

“Mom…I just wanted to say bye.” She must hear the utter defeat in your words and pick up why you want to disappear because it only takes her a few seconds to relent. She calls into the dark room to wake your dad, who eventually drags himself out of bed to join at the door.

He puts up much less of, a fight, cutting you slack and simply bidding you goodbye. You exchange hugs and ‘I love yous’ and they easily let you walk away with a promise to text them when you arrive at the airport and when you make it home safely.

You wince at the lump in your throat, willing yourself not to cry. You’ve held the bulk of it in for the entire trip and refuse to give up yet.

The universe cuts you some slack when you get to the lobby to hand in your key. None of the staff members that caught you and Jimin are there, thankfully. Only a different team who all thank you for coming and wish you safe travels.

As you get into the shuttle van and settle, you take one last look at the resort. Realizing just how hyperfocused on Jimin you’ve been since day one, you had no time to appreciate the large, bustling building. The white marble and aqua blue curtains in all of the windows pair well together, looking both expensive and upscale. You wish you could’ve taken in more of the look of your room and the inside, but your mind only plays memories of everything that has taken place over the past week on a loop.

The ride to the airport and getting through it to your gate seems to go rather quickly; a stark difference from how it all seemed to drag when you had arrived at the beginning of the week. Once you’re settled in and waiting to board the sun is higher in the sky. A glance at your watch tells you it’s after 6 am and you imagine that your parents are still just getting up if they were able to get back to sleep.

Before boarding, you send them a text, along with a long heartfelt text to the Park parents, apologizing again. Both of their kids hate you at this point and it’s your fault so you want them to know how sorry you are again and how much you still care about them as if they are your own parents. They reiterate what they did in the elevator, leaving you with the reassurance you desperately need.

Your phone was devoid of a single call or text from Jimin or Sunyoung for the rest of the day. Silence from them turned into two days, then four, five, then three weeks, rolling into a month. The desire to reach out to them is strong, but if there’s one thing the Park siblings are, is stubborn. Having gotten into your fair share of disagreements with your best friend, you know that she’s the type of person that comes to you when she’s ready. Unsurprisingly, Jimin was the same way. You’ve heard plenty of complaints about fights with his friend over the years so you know he definitely picked up his temper from his older sister.

Even so, a month of silence felt like a year. You and Sunyoung would, at times, go weeks without talking because life gets in the way, but on top of this being your most serious fight, it was also the longest you’ve gone without speaking in some form. Added on the reason why you’re not talking and this silent treatment truly hurts.

But still, you do your best to accept that they both need time. And frankly, you do as well. Time to decide completely, what it is you want from Park Jimin.

Truly, you try your best to wait them out, but you don’t make it another two weeks before you break down and whip open your phone contacts.

You’re home after a long day of work and even as you try to relax on your couch, all you think about is Sunyoung and Jimin. A month and a half is the longest you’ve gone without talking to either of them. With Sunyoung though, it hurt more. The fear that you may lose your closest and most important friend, keeps eating away at you and you can’t take it anymore.

Along with the near-crippling guilt of hurting your best friend, is the pain of hurting Jimin. Taking the time since you’ve been home to yourself has given you time to sort your shit out. Sticking to nothing but work and errands, you kept to yourself this whole time to avoid the opinions and thoughts of others.

The solitude has helped you conclude what you’ve probably always known: you like Jimin. You like Park Jimin as more than a steady, casual hook-up. You want to date Jimin and call him your boyfriend and learn everything there is to know about him that you don’t already know.

You have to tell both he and Sunyoung that you want to fix things, and it can’t wait anymore.

Opening your texts with Sunyoung, your fingers hover over the text box. A wall of text seems impersonal. Briefly considering voice memos, you decided against that too, knowing you have too much to say to keep it brief. A social media DM is just silly and out of the question, and you’re terrified of hitting the call button and getting a swift rejection.

With a deep breath, you open your camera app, flip it to selfie mode, and decide this is the right way. A video is the easiest way for them to hear you and see you while also giving them a chance to pause your words when they need to and time to formulate their responses.

Hitting the record button, you work to get your thoughts in order.

“Hey, Sun. I miss you. I know it’s hollow, but I do. I fucked up. I said I was sorry already, but please know that I will say it as much as you want me to. I’ll do anything to make you not hate me anymore. You’re the closest to a sister I’ve ever had and I don’t want to lose you. I promise I’ll do whatever you want me to do to prove how sorry I am. And I won’t keep anything from you anymore and claim to know what you’ll think or say about decisions I make that impact you. Please know I love you and won’t keep secrets anymore. That’s why I want to tell you first that I…” you falter, willing yourself to say it.

“I like your brother. I like like your brother and I’m going to tell him. I wanted you to know first. You’re my platonic soulmate and I don’t wanna keep doing this shitty thing called life without you. You can take all the time you need, I’ll wait until you’re ready to deal with me again, but I do hope it’s soon.” You give the camera a weak smile before ending the video.

With a sniffle, you go back to your messages with Sunyoung, counting to three before you attach the video and send it. Once you see the small ‘delivered’ message under the video you flee from the screen. Sunyoung’s read receipts are on and you don’t think you can handle seeing her in real-time see the message.

More internal prep is done before you hit the record button again to start Jimin’s video. “Jimin, hey. Uh, I don’t know how to start this really, so I’m just gonna tell you that I’m sorry again. I’m sorry for stringing you along the way I have and I’m sorry for influencing you to cheat. I just couldn’t stand seeing you with someone else that isn’t…isn’t me.” You falter at the end but keep going. “I know that I keep derailing any talk of us being together for real and I’m sorry. I just really didn’t have a handle on how I felt about you. Or, at least I thought I didn’t. Maybe I was in denial because we started so secretive and I was truly so scared of what your sister would think so I kept pushing it away and in turn, trying to push all of my feelings for you away, but it didn’t work and I was just so shitty to you.”

Pausing to take a deep breath, you close your eyes, attempting to calm your beating heart. “So you asked me how I feel and the answer is that I like you. I like you a lot Jimin. I have so much fun when I’m with you and I mean that in so many ways. I’m so comfortable with you and I feel so safe and happy and I’m sorry I haven’t made you feel like that. You’re such an amazing and good person and you deserve the world and more. I don’t know if that’s me since I’ve fucked up so much already, but please know I’m ready and I’ll wait for however long you need me to. I know now that I want you as more than someone I sleep with. I want all parts of you, Jimin, and I just hope you can forgive me somehow.”

Once that video is sent, you close your messaging app and toss your phone aside to get ready for bed. It’ll surely take them time to watch the videos and decide when and how to respond. After leaving yourself open and vulnerable, you go about your evening, trying to chase away the itch to cling to your cell phone.

The self-control you’ve been trying to adhere to dissipates as after two days with no response, you’re scrambling to check your text messages. Jimin’s message was delivered, so you know he didn’t block you, but you can only hope he’s watched it. The grey ‘read’ under your video to Sunyoung taunts you. She’s at least opened the message but has said nothing about it so you’re still left wondering what’s next.

A glance at your watch tells you that you have another hour before you clock out. Believe it or not, spontaneity isn’t typically your thing, and yet you’re feeling a sense of urgency you’ve never felt. Both Jimin and Sunyoung decided not to respond and at this point, you’re in desperate need to know what they think and how they feel and the urge to see them in person is what fuels your next move.

A one-way ticket back home for a flight tomorrow is nearly $500 and that price makes you choke, but you seriously toy with the idea. Since it’s Friday you can fly out tomorrow morning and make it there by the afternoon. From what you remember, neither Jimin nor Sunyoung works on Saturday and even if they do, you can just wait for them at home. You just hope that you’re not turned away when you get there and that the trip won’t be for nothing.

After clocking out and shutting down your work laptop, you open up the app on which you were eyeing the tickets. You bite at a hangnail, the decision stressing you out with each passing moment. Even if they did turn you away and want nothing to do with you, you can at least see your parents again. Plus, if you bring your laptop, you can always work from home still.

Pacing back and forth, you move to complete the booking, packing on your mind but the buzzer of your building sounds indicating a guest stops you from checking out. Pocketing your phone, you move to the callbox to answer, anticipating one of your friends on the other end, but it’s no one from the city.

“Er, hi Y/n. Can me and my sister come up?”

Jimin. Jimin’s voice is coming from the callbox downstairs. Outside of your building.

“Jimin? You’re with Sunyoung?” You ask, hoping you haven’t fallen asleep and are dreaming.

“Yeah. We want to talk to you. Can you let us in?” Nodding, even though he can’t see you, you buzz them in and sprint to the front door to watch for them through the peephole.

Sure enough, in a matter of minutes, Jimin’s gorgeous face comes into focus. Sunyoung is behind him, expression either tired or annoyed - you can’t quite tell.

The door is open before they can knock and then you’re all standing there, eyeing one another hesitantly.

“Well, can we come in?” Sunyoung demands more than asks and you hurry to move aside and let them into your apartment.

They’re both wheeling medium-sized suitcases behind them and Sunyoung leaves hers by the door as she walks around silently, taking in the studio around her while Jimin stands awkwardly in your living room.

The question as to why they’re in front of you right now nags at you, and it’s the first question you finally blurt out.

“We got your videos,” Jimin says first. “We talked to each other and then decided we needed to just fly out.”

“This whole thing is too dramatic and chaotic to do all over the phone so I didn’t wanna bother.”

Jimin rolls his eyes at his sister’s brashness. “Our parents helped us pay to get out here and we’re here for the week to fix things with you. We had time to think and talk to each other about the whole thing when she finally let me explain myself to her. I told her every way I could that we didn’t intend to hurt her.”

You nod furiously, agreeing with him. “Truly, we didn’t do it with ill intent and we didn’t not tell you because we thought it’d be fun to keep it a secret! It just kept going on and we’d sneak around more and then it just became the norm.”

“Yeah, Jimin told me all that. I was just mad because two of the most important people to me were hiding something from me and it felt so shitty. I love you both a lot, you know. Don’t keep any secrets from me ever again.”

“We won’t, I promise! I’m so sorry again, Sun. I probably sound like a broken record with how much I’m apologizing but I mean it.” You hold your breath, waiting to see her reaction. She moves first, crossing the room to catch you off guard in a hug.

“I already accepted Jimin’s apology at home so I accept yours too. I also think I overreacted by being as pissed off as I was. I let my bad temper get the best of me and I’m sorry too.” She pulls away but keeps her arms around you, fixing you with a hard stare. “Also, shitty stubborn asshole or not, just know I’d never let this ruin two decades of friendship. If Jimin hadn’t broken me down and told me to get over myself I may have just ignored everyone for like another few weeks or so and then got over it. I realized I was starting to miss you too.” Her features soften at the end of her words, finally giving you a sunny smile and pulling you in for a hug again.

Relief fills you, knowing that your best friend still wants you in her life.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Sun.”

“I don’t know what you’d do either,” she jokes, the two of you hug and share a laugh.

The sound of Jimin clearing his throat nearby breaks the moment. You’d momentarily forgotten he was standing by. Sunyoung’s eyes dart between the two of you. She moves away first, grabbing her large overnighter bag from the floor.

“Anyway, I’m gonna shower and get the plane germs off me. The two of you can have your little make-up scene. Pretend I’m not even here.” You point her to the bathroom, and she ducks into it, but not before popping her head out once more. “But maybe don’t pretend that hard and start fucking or something. At least wait until I’m out of the building completely!” She slams the door shut behind her, and you hear the shower creak to life.

Hesitantly, you turn your attention to Jimin who’s looking out of your window to the city below.

“Nice view.” You speak first, sarcasm in your voice as you try to ease the tension.

“Huh?” Jimin blinks as if he’d been lost in thought.

“I said the view is nice, but I was just kidding, is all.” The view of the alleyway between you and the building next to you is less than stellar.

Jimin stares at you for a few seconds before looking out the window.

“Okay, Jimin, I-”

“You know I shouldn’t even be here.” He cuts you off and you let him, biting your lips together to let him kick this awkward conversation off.

“A lot of the time, I felt like you’ve just been using me for sex. You knew I’ve been into you since the first day I met you and you still refused to give me more than sexting and quickies. I should’ve stopped letting you have that part of me a while ago, but I couldn’t. I couldn't stop thinking about you or missing you, or wanting you. Anyway you’d have me and whatever I could get from you I'd take. It sounds toxic and I sound pathetic, but I can’t help it. I even selfishly dated a girl to pretend she could fill the void I only wanted you to be in.” Jimin looks at you again, and the conflicted, hurt look on his features is easy to read. The guilt twists in your gut, realizing just how much emotional turmoil you’ve put Jimin through.

“You’re right. I knew how you’ve felt about me all this time, but honestly, I don't think I took your feelings that seriously, especially not for most of the time knowing you. I guess I just always thought it was always just a childhood crush and nothing more and then when I realized you did feel much more than that for me, I didn’t even think about doing anything more than hooking up. I put my fear of judgment and my pleasure over your real, genuine feelings and I can’t say how sorry I am.”

“I want to be with you, but I need you to be sure you want this, that you want me for more than sex.”

“I do!”

“And I don’t wanna be a pity date or anything. I can’t be.” Jimin’s voice breaks at the same time as your heart. You want so badly to reach out to him, but you don’t. The ball is in Jimin’s court and he can call all of the next shots.

“You won’t be! I mean it Jimin, I want everything with you. I want the dates and the good morning texts and the cuddles that don’t lead to sex. I want to call you and talk about our days and the things that make us upset and I want to say you’re my boyfriend and create memories together. Memories we can cherish and look back on during all of our anniversaries. I want all of you, I truly do.”

Jimin is frozen in his spot, mind reeling at your words. It’s your first time finally admitting your feelings for him, so you can't fault how hesitant he seems. You’re both silent for the next few seconds only the shower running and the air conditioning unit in the window are heard.

“Okay. I’ll let you in again. I’ll trust you.” He approaches you and the urge to meet him halfway takes over. Warmth envelopes every nerve in your body when your bodies meet.

“I’ll prove that you can trust me. Your heart is safe with me.” Jimin pulls you into a kiss, unlike any of the countless kisses you’ve shared. This one has your lips tingling, your heart racing, and your blood pumping in your ears. The kiss feels like forgiveness and comfort and an overwhelming sense of something close to love.

You let Jimin’s arm trap you against his broad chest, his heart beating like crazy underneath your palms. This feels like your first real kiss and you vow to get so many more like this. You don’t deserve the endless kindness that Park Jimin has but you mean it; you’ll do everything in your power to prove to yourself and him that you’re serious about this relationship.

Jimin and Sunyoung decide to stay in the city for the rest of the week, the three of you making your studio work. Sunyoung makes a compromise, pushing her brother to buy her noise-canceling headphones so she can at least not have a chance of hearing anything the two of you do in your bed, which isn’t a lot, considering his sister is a few feet away. Still, it’s enough to make up for your lost time not communicating.

You take them around the city, the three of you doing your best to compensate for all the missed opportunities you didn’t get to spend on vacation as a trio. Spending just a week with two of your most important people makes you terribly homesick as you want more than anything to go back home to see them more, just like before you all got older and drifted away.

Your heart both leaps and aches each time you swap a story with them or share a bout of laughter, the thought of not seeing either of them for who knows how long after this week is up weighing on you. More than anything, you realize that once Sunyoung and Jimin are back home, you’ll be left here on the other coast, all alone again with a mediocre job in a mediocre apartment without a real, trustworthy support system.

These thoughts swirl in your mind still on the last night of the week that they’re with you. They’re so prevalent, that you can’t hold it in anymore and blurt out what’s been on the tip of your tongue, in the middle of your anime marathon.

“I want to move back home.” Both siblings whip around to look at you. Sunyoung snatches the remote to pause the tv.

“What?”

“Well, spending time with both of you has reinforced just how lonely I am in the city. I moved out here for school and that fell through, then I scrambled to find roommates who were nice, but I hated living with them. Then I scraped together enough money to move in here, and, I’m just not happy. I don’t have anyone I’m super close with and if I’m not at home or in the office working then I’m getting food alone and shopping alone, with the occasional club or concert with some people I call acquaintances and that’s it. I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want everyone to know what a mistake I made but I did and I’ve regretted it for a while.”

Your voice cracks as you go on, but the weight of your confession quickly lifts from your shoulders. Keeping this truth has been such a burden, but it finally feels like now is the time to admit it and you’re so happy you did.

Both Jimin and Sunyoung listen to you and share a look over your shoulder.

“When’s your lease up here?” Jimin asks first.

“Uh, I don’t remember, maybe 6 months or something?”

“Well, that’s 6 months to figure out how we’re getting all your stuff to California.”

“And,” Sunyoung adds. “That’s 6 months to figure out where we’ll live!” You give her a questioning look and she laughs. “Of course, we’re moving in together, Y/n!” She leaves no room for arguments, not that you mind.

“I’m sure we can find a nice two-bedroom apartment somewhere.”

“No fair! What about me?!” Jimin whines, making you roll your eyes endearingly.

“You still live on campus and have another year doing so. Plus, I’d prefer to date more before we move in. But it’s not like you won't have a key.”

Your boyfriend pouts still but sighs in agreement.

The three of you end up talking more about possible parts of California to live in before heading to bed, reveling in the feeling of Jimin’s arms around you for the last time for a few months.

“Okay, so I’ll canvas some spots and let you know. If I find anything good, we can video chat as I do a tour, or I’ll record places for you, cool?”

“And once you decide on a moving company, I’ll help pay to get them to bring your stuff. I don’t want you traveling across the country alone, okay?”

“Yes, yes, I’ll handle any logistics over here and will keep you both posted. And again, do not tell my parents yet! I’ll tell them closer to the move-out.”

Sunyoung reaches for you first, hugging the life out of you. “I’m so excited to have you home!”

“Me too!” Once she eventually decides to give her brother a chance to say goodbye, she excuses herself, making up a reason to go check a flight board off to the side.

“I’m gonna miss you, you know. Even more than before, which I didn’t even know was possible.” Jimin’s words make you feel giddy. After doing nothing but hooking up for so long, this week has been so different. Sure, you still couldn’t keep your hands off one another, but it was more than that now. Your time together was soft and easygoing. You both had been so used to fast and hushed, but you easily fell into a sense of comfort and relaxation with Jimin as your boyfriend. Things made sense when you were with him and it felt like the very thing you’d been missing for so long. You can’t wait to spend as much time as possible with him.

“You better text me when you land. I need to know you made it there safe.”

“I can do that. And you better do the same. I need your Uber driver’s info and all of that.”

“Of course.”

The two of you stand hand in hand, taking in each other’s features for as long as you can.

“We gotta get through security now, Min.” Sunyoung interrupts and jerks her head in the direction they need to go.

Jimin gives his sister a nod before turning back to you. He lets go of your hands, moving to gently cup your face, and leans down to meet your lips. Electricity shoots through you at the sensation of Jimin’s soft lips. You inhale his cozy, fresh scent, wishing you could bottle it to keep forever (but since you can’t, the t-shirt he left on your bed will suffice).

“Can’t wait until you get home. I’ll miss you.” He whispers against your mouth.

“Miss you too.”

With another quick peck, he’s gone then, running after his sister who yells her goodbyes over her shoulder.

You watch until Jimin’s red hair disappears into the crowd and once you’re sure they’re both gone, you turn towards the escalator to leave the airport. As you’re waiting for your Uber, your phone buzzes as Jimin’s name pops up on the screen.

You scoff at the text.

Jimin’s three simple hearts make your stomach flutter. You too can barely wait for the next six months to go by, but you’ll be counting the days until you can see your best friend again. And her brother, of course.

#jimin x reader #jimin smut #park jimin #jimin fanfic #jimin angst #bts fanfic #bts x reader #clubjimin #btsghostie #bangtanarmynet #bangtansorciere #bangtanbathhouse #btsdreamcourt #btshoneyhive #52hertz #clubzerooclock #btscarnivalnet #thebtswritersclub #btswritingcafe

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rae-gar-targaryen · 3 years

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loved you once [angel reyes x fem!reader]

A/N: So, this is NOT the Angel fic I previewed the other day. That one (and the EZ fic) is STILL COMING, I PROMISE! This just jumped into my head and wouldn’t leave. And I wrote it with a speed I am heretofore unfamiliar with (heretofore? Did I use that right?) I invented a tattoo and an ex-girlfriend for Angel, and I fudged the timeline a bit. So, apologies in advance for that.

As always, if you want a tag in anything I write for Angel, EZ, the Mayans fandom (or anything else), please feel free to send me a message or an ask, or add yourself to the taglist (link in profile).

Pairing: Angel Reyes x fem!tattoo artist!reader (as always, the appearance is ambiguous, but the reader is described as having female pronouns/parts. Also, the reader here speaks a bit of Spanish. I’m half Mexican, so I do imagine a latinx reader, but I hope I’ve written this so you can imagine yourself with no restriction.)

Word Count: 15.3K (HAHAHA WHAT THE FUCK all for a TWO AND A HALF MINUTE SONG, ARE YOU KIDDING ME????) of ANGST! (SERIOUSLY THIS IS SO ANGSTY) lyrical nonsense and the remnants of sticky, cotton-candy sadness … fluff that makes you feel empty.

Warnings: ANGST, non-explicit references to infidelity, sexual references and sexual content, oral (male receiving), fingering and other nastiness -- so 18+ ONLY, please! Canon-typical douchebaggery, references to a past relationship, song references and poetry. (It is me, so yeah, poetry.)

Summary: You and Angel may as well be strangers now. But why? After all, you loved him once. And he loved you, right? Based on the song “Loved you Once” by Clara Mae. Listen here.

We don't need to be best friends, we don't need to hang again. But tell me why we have to be strangers because I loved you once?

What were you doing here? You haven’t been back to the clubhouse in months. Not since -- well, you know. You hadn’t talked to him since then, either. But that wasn’t your own doing.

No, Angel had erected a veritable wall of silence, and you respected him enough not to breach it.

That was what relationships were all about, anyway, right? Mutual respect of the other’s needs? So when Angel had told you in no uncertain terms that your relationship was over, you were … upset. Understandably. You wanted to sit with him, talk about where this sudden insistence that you depart his life had come from, but he was resolute. With the absolute air of authority that comes with either a great deal of thought, or borne of virtually sudden external influence, with nothing in between. He clearly didn’t want to sit and talk about it.

And so you didn’t.

Ever mindful of his wellbeing, and when he was and was not receptive to communication.

"It ain't working," he had said. You had settled for merely imagining the faraway look in his large, oilslick eyes, since he was much more interested in staring at his boots and the grooves in his floor, his forearms laid over spread thighs, unmoving and resolute from his spot at the end of the bed. Refusing to meet your eyes.

From your seat next to him, you made to brush the arm closest to you with your fingers. When you touched, he gave no indication that you were even there. That he even felt you. Which you knew was bullshit. He always felt you.

"Angel, what --" you hated the way your voice cracked as you tried to ask him what the hell was going on. You hated how you had sounded so small and quavering to your own ears. That wasn't who you were. You were clear, outspoken. It was always one of the things Angel said he loved about you. Loved.

You didn't know this, of course, but Angel hated it, too. How you’d sounded in that moment. Hated that his words had taken the fire out of yours, your voice unfamiliar in its timidity.

"It ain't working," he repeated. "I can see it. Not my fault you can't."

That was it.

No "I'm sorry, querida."

No "I hope we can stay friends."

Not that you would expect an apology, or anything as cliché as a "let's be friends," from a steadfast man like Angel. Predictable in his volatility.

You should have pushed back. Demanded an answer. You hated that you didn’t, the shock and sudden sadness morphing you into a silent, crystalline girl you didn’t recognize. Your eyes welled with tears, turning your head away from where Angel sat -- at least you wouldn’t let him see you cry. Even if you knew he knew the tears had spilled over your lashes and down your cheeks were of his own doing.

You had arrived back at his place a day after your tense "conversation" to discover that your items you had come to reclaim were tossed into a box and left outside of the door.

You had knocked once, in the hope that if Angel was home, he’d at least come to the door to shout through it, or, heaven forbid, would open it so you could look him in the eyes just once more while he shattered you. Your knock was met with silence, though you could have sworn you felt Angel on the other side of the door.

In the months since then, you had cried (obviously), you had questioned (it was sudden, it wasn't just you; your friends were surprised, too), but most importantly, you had persevered.

You had taken a bunch of new clients and inked some pieces you were incredibly proud of. You had gone out with your friends a few times, always with a wary eye on the door of the local dive, ya know… you never knew who would walk in.

Santo Padre is a small town, after all. And the cracks in your soul were nowhere close to healed. No molten gold to spill in and repair the fissures of your heart, rendering metamorphosis of something broken to something flawed, but beautiful. You sat, alone, still just… flawed. You had never felt less beautiful. Even after all this time.

And your friend Aneesa, ever the supporter, would stop at nothing if it meant hyping you up enough to leave your cave of blankets, sheet masks, and comfort movies. Your only rule? All nights out with Aneesa were strictly girls’ nights. She was gracious and understanding of this rule, of course. She and Gilly had been together a touch longer than you and Angel.

And if Angel had ever asked Gilly to ask Aneesa about you? Well… you never heard about it.

Not that Angel would do any of that. Shit like that was so middle-school.

So, here you were. Back at the clubhouse after months of self-imposed exile for the sake of self-preservation.

Coco had texted you -- the first you’d directly heard from anyone within Angel’s circle, inviting you to a patch party for some nameless, faceless newbie. The invitation had a string attached to it, of course -- the tattoo artist’s chair in the corner of the clubhouse needed a resident for any partygoers jonesing for new ink. Certainly, the new patch would need something decidedly “Mayan” to show off his new status.

You had hesitantly agreed -- Aneesa would be in attendance of course, and offered herself as a human-sized buffer to separate you from people you were otherwise hoping to avoid.

Now, perched near the tattoo chair, you busied yourself with setting out your portfolio of completed pieces, sketches and most-requested designs. You wiped down the chair a few more times than strictly necessary, but you wanted to be ready for anyone who might plop themselves down for a new piece of art.

The main room of the clubhouse was sweltering -- a familiar blend of desert heat, cigarette smoke, citronella, and the smell of citrusy, foamy beer. The dim lighting and thundering bass giving everything a slightly blurry edge in your party-periphery. You glanced across the room at where Aneesa and Gilly sat together on a corner couch, thighs pressed together. Aneesa tossed her head back in a full-bodied laugh at something Gilly had whispered into her ear, swatting his arm -- Gilly’s reciprocal smile demonstrating his pleasure at having garnered such a reaction from his girl.

A wave of cheers and noise accompanied the thwack of the clubhouse door swinging open -- more Mayans pouring in, jostling one another's shoulders, slapping each other on the arms, and good-naturedly cajoling.

There was Coco, mid-pull of the cigarette between his lips, quicksilver eyes flashing around the room, taking stock of who was where. EZ followed, million-watt smile on full display as he gently guided a pretty girl with long, inky hair through the bottleneck at the entryway.

If EZ was ambling his way in, then, surely, not far behind ...

With an arm around a tall, broad guy you hadn’t seen before, was Angel. Midway through a joke with the guy you assumed was the new patch, you took the opportunity to study the man you had once considered the moonlit orbit of your entire world.

You hated to admit it to yourself, but he looked good… His arms still replete with thick, corded muscle. His hair was a tad longer on top than you remembered, slicked back and belied with cleanly-cropped sides. His smile as warm and blinding as the cruel light at the end of your better dreams, only for you to awake each day alone.

As you continued your silent study, you were surprised to see -- still adorning his left arm … the tattoo you had given him on the day you had first met. You had thought he would have blacked it out by now … a cover-up on top of a cover-up.

But there it was --- the soft, leafy greens creeping down his forearm on sharp vines, abutted with bursting blooms -- small, ornate gladiolus buds and a sprig of purpling rosemary. Such a flowery piece on the arm of someone like Angel might have been laughable. But if anyone dared, he would simply stare, stone-faced, with burning eyes and a set jaw, ready to ask just what they thought was so fucking funny.

To you? It was perfection. It was remembrance.

‘Cause I loved you, once…

---

You had moved to Santo Padre from Oakland. Hardly an axis-tilting move, but significant enough to you.

Your friend Oliver had offered you a seat at his tattoo shop. And you? You were positively itching to get out of the city. A few too many bad nights with a few people you could no longer in good conscience consider friends.

So, here you sat, resident of one of two chairs in this corner parlour off the so-called “main” drag in sweltering, dusty Santo Padre.

Your books were pretty clear … Not that you attributed much logic to the ebb and flow in any conceivable pattern of the tide that was tattoo shop patrons, but January seemed an agonizingly slow month. You filled the idle time with keeping the shop neat, disinfecting and re-disinfecting every surface, and organizing Oliver’s books.

And if you weren’t dreaming up new sketches and designs for the more adventurous prospective client, you were jotting idle lines of lyrical poetry in the margins of your sketchbook.

If the month dragged on like this, you were sure you could publish an entire book of moody, mid-winter prose that would make Charles Bukowski want to drown himself in stiff Cabernet.

The dinging of the bell above the parlour door yanked you from your doodling stupor. You looked up to see who had come in, your gaze met with a towering, golden-skinned man donned in a leather vest, his boots squeaking on the shop’s linoleum floor as he made his way to the front desk. He leaned over it and rapped his silver-ringed hand against the top with the ease and comfort of someone who had been in many times before. If the ink trailing his arms was any indication, he may as well be a regular, though you hadn’t seen him in before. There was no way you could forget that jawline, and those shoulders.

“Yo,” he called in greeting, eyes flashing to where you stood, walking to meet him at the counter. You swore you saw his gaze dart over your form, giving you the old up-down. An easy smile graced his full lips as he made himself comfortable leaning against the counter.

“Oliver here?”

You shook your head, the action serving to answer his question and --hopefully-- clear your head of the foggy spell this man was casting over you with his presence alone.

“Nah, sorry. He’s guest-chairing at his buddy’s shop in L.A. Did you have an appointment?”

“I look like the kind of guy with a datebook?” He chuckled at his own joke. “No appointment, corazón.”

“Walk-in? Always a risky strategy,” you lilted.

“What can I say? I’m a risk-taker,” he replied with the practiced ease of breezy flirtation.

You smiled softly, grabbing Oliver’s calendar from the desk, flipping to the following week. “He’ll be back in next week, if you want to wait?”

“That’s no good for me, babe, I’ll be out of town.”

“Ah.” You huffed a bit through your nose “Bike rally?” You asked, gesturing at his worn leather kutte, cringing internally a little at the teasing edge your voice had taken on. Were you always this bad of a flirt?

The man looked at you shrewdly for a beat -- seemingly trying to discern just how much fun you were making of him before taking mercy on you and peeling back the slight layer of awkwardness the conversation had taken. He scrubbed the back of his neck before confirming,

“Uh, yeah, actually,” he rumbled a chuckle. “Why? You wanna go?” He raised a full brow at you in a mild challenge.

Your eyes widened at his seemingly-serious invitation. You took in the quirk of his lips, causing the slightest crinkle at the corner of his warm eyes -- the look of a man borne of good humor and who smiled often. It was endearing, and if you were honest, made you melt a little. Even if you now realized he was teasing you.

“Sorry, guapo,” you cracked a smile of your own, gesturing at the empty shop. “As you can see, I’m a very busy girl. Highest of demand.”

“Claro,” he replied. “So, I better get in while the getting’s good, huh? Your chair open now?”

“Uhm,” you chewed your lower lip, now slightly nervous at the prospect of spending more time with this man. “¿Quieres esperar para Olí? I won’t be offended. You haven’t even seen any of my pieces.”

A beat of silence passed between you both, the man seemingly weighing his options.

"I mean," You broke the silence and leaned forward, lightly tapping a fingernail against his bicep. “What if my art style doesn’t suit the king of the bikers?”

"Something tells me you'll suit me just fine." His smirk was full-bore now. He didn't miss a beat, did he?

You were silent, probably for a few moments too long. Was he actually flirting with you? You blinked. He probably flirts with everyone ... get over yourself, you internally chided.

"Angel," the man said, recovering the moment and holding out a large, ringed hand for you to shake. You gave him your name, shaking his hand firmly.

You nodded your head over your shoulder, toward your chair.

"Well, come on back, Angel, you can tell me about what we're doing today."

Angel followed you back to your station, and you could swear you felt his dark eyes on your form as you walked, the thought that this man was looking at you with any kind of discerning attention made your cheeks warm a little. He folded his long body into the chair you gestured toward, and you took the rolling seat next to him. He proffered his left arm to you, tracing down a spot on his forearm.

"Just wanna cover this up," he paused, letting you observe the offending ink. "It's about time."

"'Clara Forever,' huh?" You took in the faded, loopy lettering down his forearm. "Who's Clara?" Your tone was gently teasing by nature, but he seemed to clam up a bit at the question, regarding your sharp tongue with sharper eyes.

"Well, it wasn't forever," he finally bit out, shoulders now a little more tense than before.

"Aw, cariño," you sighed in good-natured taunting. "Didn't anyone ever tell you the number one rule of tattoo? 'Forever' is a certain jinx. And a name is almost never a good idea… unless it's your dog's."

You made a sweeping hand gesture over the rest of his person, your eyes noticeably cataloguing the ink adorning most of the real estate on his arms and what little you could see of the top of his chest.

"How did anyone let you get this far without telling you the rules?"

He relaxed at the humor in your soft voice, comfortable now that he had confirmation that you were teasing him rather than seriously ridiculing. His posture relaxed once more, he waggled his eyebrows at you, also teasing,

"Le sorprendería saber que nunca fui uno para seguir las reglas?” He asked. Would it surprise you to learn that I was never one for rules?

"¿Tú?" Your eyes widened in mock surprise. “Para nada.” Not at all.

"Hey," he swatted your arm gently. "Cuidaté, niña. Insulting your customers? I can see why your chair is empty." He chuckled at his own little jab as you busied yourself gathering your supplies.

You turned and reached for him, holding his arm in one hand and running your now-gloved thumb over "Clara Forever."

"So?" You queried, "What are we doing with this? How do you want to cover it?"

Angel shrugged, the leather adorning his shoulders creaking ever-so-slightly with the movement.

"Figured I would just black it out. I've been putting it off long enough. To hell with her anyway, yaknow?"

"Hmm…" you considered his proposal. "I could do that, if that's what you really want. Easy enough. But…" you trailed.

He shifted in the chair, arching an eyebrow at you.

"But?" He pressed.

Now it was your turn to shrug. You released his arm from your grip and gestured to the booklet containing photos of your most prized work.

"Why waste the opportunity to give yourself something you really want?" You handed him the book. "Besides… from the looks of things, you have limited real estate left on this arm. May as well fill it with something… more you?” You made to hand him the scrapbook. “You can see what else I've done. See if anything sparks an idea."

Angel regarded you for a moment. Leaning forward in the chair and slightly more into your space, eyes never leaving yours. He took the edge of the book, deliberately brushing his fingers over yours as he did so, making you hold your breath a little. If Angel noticed, he had the decency not to say anything.

“Why not?”

You exhaled softly as he leaned away again, flipping his way through your book.

As he scrutinized the photographic renderings of your pieces, you took the chance to really take him in. His strong jaw and full lips were objectively pleasant, abutted by deliberately-shaped facial hair. He had a prominent brow, something that would surely give away his feelings, even if he decided not to verbalize them. There was no hiding a frown or a smile on that face. You fiddled with your fingers as he flipped through the pages.

“This is some seriously top-notch shit, querida,” he voiced his approval, followed by a warm smile. He flipped his way through your minimalist renderings, floral pieces, lines of script, and one particularly involved piece with a burgundy phoenix and lifelike flames...

“Yeah?” You couldn’t hide the pleasure in your voice that he might think of you in a positive light. “Which one do you like?”

He flipped the book to you, gesturing at a geometric planetary canvas piece you had etched down a prior client’s thigh.

“Did you think of that one?”

“The client had their ideas, I just execute, I guess… That was a fun one.” You shrugged, glancing at your shoes scuffing at the linoleum, suddenly feeling very shy under his scrutiny.

“Hey, don’t do that,” he leaned forward once more, his fingers gently brushing along your chin to bring your eyeline to his. “Don’t downplay your talent. You’re a badass. Own that shit.” He gave you a soft wink, releasing your chin from his grip.

Um, wow.

Was it always this hot in the back of the shop? Or were you just spontaneously combusting? Did that seriously just happen?

All you could do was nod.

“Aight,” he crossed his legs at the ankles, making himself comfortable in the chair. “I’ve decided.”

“Yeah?” You breathed, “What’ll it be?”

As if he was doing nothing more complicated than ordering fries, Angel pointed at your book. “Dealer’s choice.”

“Excuse me?” You couldn’t believe he was just going to trust you to cover up his ex’s name etched into his arm. “¡Oye! Did you hear nothing I said earlier about walk-ins being risky? Nothing about the rules?”

Angel scoffed. “About as well as you heard that I don’t give a shit about rules, babe,” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You like rules, huh?”

Oh. The rumbling tone his voice had taken on with his last question did not go unnoticed by you. If there was any heat to spare in this shithole desert-town, it was now one hundred percent flooding through your body.

But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d had that effect on you… (although, let’s be real, he probably, definitely, already knew).

“Fine, Angelito,” the mocking tone had returned to your voice. “But unlike Clara, this one’s gonna be forever. If I find out you cover up my art, I’m gonna blacklist you at every shop in Southern California.” You raised an eyebrow at him in a challenge. “Can you live with that?”

Angel nodded.

“Do your worst, Vince.”

You wrinkled your nose at the moniker. “Vince?”

“Yeah,” he seemed so assured in his own cleverness. “Like Van Gogh?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Van Gogh!?” You feigned offense, hand-over-heart, lashes batting. “Not even Frida? Come oooon, Angelito.”

He chuckled. Shifting in the chair and offering his arm to you so you could get him ready.

“You gotta earn ‘Frida,’ dulcita.”

“Everyone’s a critic,” you sigh, shifting your focus and taking stock of the space on Angel’s arm and what you had learned of him so far.

Someone who was seemingly confident and breezy, whose rough exterior belied something softer that was just out of reach. Someone who clearly cherished things and people he adored, if the tribute you were now covering was anything to go by. And, by the same token, more than a little impulsive. He wore his heart on his sleeve, apparently literally.

You gathered your inks and began to work, your playlist and the buzzing of the tattoo gun filling the silence.

It’s not like you had any reason to know it, but Angel considered you as you were working, admiring your focus and the intensity with which you afforded your art. Was he a little nervous about the fact that you were free-handing a design for him off the top of your head? Maybe... But what was life without a little risk? And he certainly wouldn’t mind a little risk with you. You were, it was obvious to him, very pretty. It was more than a little off-putting how easily you traded quips with him, seemingly unaffected by his presence and everything that came with it. If it wasn’t for the little hitches in your breath when he gently flirted with you, he wouldn’t have anything to go off of in terms of your interest. Something that was both respectable and maddening to him.

He reached his other arm over to the side-table, grabbing your sketchbook and idly flipping through the etchings.

Not only was the book filled with little designs, splashes of watercolor mixing with pen and charcoal, but he noticed the cramped words in the margins, perusing at his leisure and ignoring the itching buzz of the needle on the skin of his other arm.

“So, not only a Vince, but a Frost,” he broke the silence.

You paused your work, wiping your brow with the back of your hand and looking at him with a question in your eyes.

He tapped his finger along the lines of prose in your book. “A poet,” he said.

“Ah,” you said. “Uhm, more like a bad poet,” you chuckled, embarrassed. You made to begin again, when Angel gently gripped the wrist of your free hand.

“The fuck did I just say?” He lightly tugged, forcing you to look into his maddeningly honey-dark eyes. “Don’t brush off your shit. Would Frida do that?”

You regarded his eyes for a moment longer, darting your gaze to his pouty lips, resolutely set in their mission of imparting some of his confidence onto you.

“Point taken, Angel,” you pulled your hand from his grip, which he released, trailing his fingertips over your hand as he did so. “I’m the greatest poet who ever lived, you’ve convinced me. Fuck William Shakespeare.”

“Yeah,” Angel boisterously agreed, pleased to be bolstering you but surprising you with the little barking shout, “Fuck that dude!”

You chuckled, shaking your head and silently returning to your work, the silence filled once more with the pleasant buzzing as you drew away.

When you were finished, you released Angel’s arm, allowing him to inspect the clean lines of the greenery that you had drawn out of his former-love tribute. What were once loopy, cursive letters were now vines creeping steadily along his forearm, soft, yellow and red gladiolus buds emerging from where Clara’s name had once sat, neatly finished with the clean lines of the purpling sprig of rosemary along the edge of the piece.

Angel was speechless, leaving you to marinate in your nerves.

“It’s …” he started, “... flowery,” he supplied, lamely.

“No shit it’s flowers,” you shot back, feeling a little defensive now, but wanting to make a quick recovery. “And they’re for you, Angel.”

He seemed puzzled.

“Gotta say, Vince, this is the first time a chick’s gotten me flowers,” he chuckled, “Guess they won’t die?”

“They won’t,” you assured. “They really are for you, you know? Look at you, the rest of your ink. What it covered. You’re clearly a man formed by your experiences. It only seemed right, si? Gladiolus? They’re for remembrance. Rosemary? Symbolizes thoughtfulness and memory.”

You continued as you began wipe the piece clean before wrapping it in new saran-wrap, “Your memories and choices make you who you are, sure. But you never know… something good could bloom from them, through the cracks."

His silence at the end of your little soliloquy was deafening. He hated it, you were sure of it. Fuck. Why did you have to get so fucking clever with him? You should’ve just done some black ink in something tribal, something masculine. What the fuck was wrong with you??

You dared to sneak a glance at his face, only to find that he was already staring at you, lips softly upturned in the hinting bloom of a smile, tarpit eyes twinkling with a good-natured mirth he would come to reserve just for you.

“Fuck Shakespeare. That was damn beautiful, Frida.”

The heat had returned to your cheeks, standing quickly.

You stripped off your gloves, and made to turn your way to the counter, gathering the aftercare sheet and balm for Angel to take with him.

You spun back toward him before he could get up.

“Oh! Can I take a picture?” You held up your phone, shaking it lightly. “For the ‘gram?”

“Sure thing,” Angel dutifully held his arm under the lamp you had used to work, letting the fresh ink and colors pop against the golden dunn of his skin.

You took a few photos, deciding to scroll through your camera roll later on and post your favorite. You made quick work of wrapping his arm in a sheet of clean plastic wrap before relinquishing your hold on his arm, turning to walk back to the counter.

“Uhm,” you trailed … the telltale squeak of Angel’s boots on the linoleum indicating he was following you back to the front of the shop. You assembled everything into a bag for Angel to take with him, grabbing one of your cards from the front card-holder, and quickly jotting your number on the back next to your where the instagram handle for your art page was neatly printed, hoping he didn’t notice your sneaky little move.

Angel resumed his comfortable lean against the counter, turning and tilting his forearm, scrutinizing your work.

“It’s gonna be a clean one-fifty, Angel.”

He looked slightly surprised at the figure, a light frown dusting his features.

“You sure about that? For the size, and the color, and time and everything? It’s been, like, hours.”

You shrugged.

“We’ll call it the friends-and-family rate.”

He gave you a long look, very clearly looking you up and down now, a prolonged edition of the greeting he had graced you with when he had entered your shop mere hours before.

“And is that what we are now, querida? Friends?”

How was it even possible for his voice to reach such a low register when he said these things to you?

While your insides flip-flopped at the flirtation, you hoped your face was the impassive mask you were trying to school it into. You subtly brushed your slightly-sweating palms against the frayed hem of your shorts before bringing an elbow up to the counter, resting your chin in your palm, lightly batting your lashes at him before responding...

“Sure,” you replied. There! Easy, breezy, cool-as-you-please. How does it feel, Angel?

“One day with you and friends already?” He rapped his ringed hand gently against the counter. “Can’t wait to see where we’re at tomorrow.”

He swiped the bag off of the counter, tossing a few crisp bills onto the countertop and a wink over his shoulder before exiting the shop.

You counted the bills on the counter, watching as Angel left the building.

Holy shit.

Three hundred bucks. He had tipped you 100 percent of what you charged him.

Cheeky.

Maybe Santo Padre wasn’t so bad, after all…

---

Now, staring at him from across the room made you feel like you were drowning in the sickly-sweet cotton candy of sugared dreams, now lost to time. The saccharine balm melted to acrid wax, leaving you with only the tinge of bitterness.

You were jostled out of your reverie by the sudden appearance of EZ’s blocky frame, ambling toward you with the same girl from before on his arm.

He greeted you with a slow wave and a soft smile.

“Hey, girl,” he greeted, clearly unsure of how much friendlier and closer he should approach you.

You took mercy on Angel’s sweet, (big) little brother, opening your arms slightly for a hug. EZ took to the gesture like an over-excited golden retriever, scooping you up and spinning you once, before putting you back where he found you, slightly dizzier than you were before.

He offered your name to the girl by his side, who looked pleasantly amused at the spectacle before her, her amusement melting to recognition at the name EZ had imparted to her.

Ah. So she knew who you were.

You tried not to let that realization sour your encounter, easing a practiced smile onto your features and offering your hand to the girl to shake.

“Oh!” EZ chuckled. “This is Gaby -- er, Gabriela.”

“Encantada,” you eased, gently shaking her hand before having a realization of your own. “Gaby, as in Leti’s friend?”

She nodded, a warm smile illuminating her already sunshiney features. You could see why EZ obviously liked her. She had the practiced social grace of a debutante, but the friendly aura of someone you had known for your entire life.

“I hope you’re keeping Ezekiel out of trouble,” you teased gently.

“Only as well as I can,” she replied. EZ rubbed the back of his neck as you two gossiped about him like he wasn’t standing right there.

“Listen, hermanita,” EZ began, swirling the dregs of his beer around the bottle clutched in his hand as the conversation lapsed into comfortable silence, “About Angel --”

That was a hard no.

“Coco!” You called as you spotted the lithe man prowling through the crowd after obtaining a drink from the bar, effectively shutting EZ up.

Coco sidled over, slinging an arm over your shoulder and nodding in greeting to EZ and Gaby.

“Wassup, chiquita? Over here with all the cool kids?”

“You know damn well I was never cool enough for the cool kids,” you knocked your shoulder into Coco’s good-naturedly.

“Dunno about that, pequeña,” Coco took a drag of his cigarette, sighing as he exhaled. “I’ve got some pretty cool body armour thanks to you.”

“All in a day's work,” you mock-saluted. You were doing great. Keep it light, keep it friendly. You may be able to make it out of this unscathed, after all.

Gaby and EZ were speaking softly to one another just to your side, as you and Coco continued your conversation.

“So, who’s the new guy?” You asked, nodding over to where Angel and the still-unnamed newbie were tossing back shots. You tried to ignore that each one had girls placed on each of their laps. Well, mostly you were trying to ignore one girl placed on one lap; tried to ignore as ringed fingers trailed up and down her thigh hypnotically as he howled in laughter at something the new guy had said.

The longer you stared at the way he was touching her, the more You thought you could feel it on your own skin. And you knew all too well how that touch felt. Memories, make you, right?

You blinked harshly, turning your face back to Coco’s, only to find his hawkish eyes trained on you as he continued to smoke. Now you were certain he had seen everything you had, and more. And you cursed yourself for slipping. Because nothing slipped past Coco.

He took mercy on you nevertheless.

“Andres. He’s aight. You may not remember him from before, when he was just a prospect.”

“Guess not,” you agreed, shrugging amiably, suddenly very interested in toying with the hem of your flowy little summertime skirt.

“Mierda,” you heard Coco hiss, glancing up to see none other than the new guy -- Andres -- walk over, his arm around the waist of the girl from his lap, accompanied by none other than Angel Reyes, furnished with his own lap-turned-arm candy. She was giggling in his ear, popping her gum and bumping her hips against Angel’s as she walked by his side.

You felt EZ stiffen from your other side.

Great.

The easy smile you’d had when conversing with Coco now felt positively screwed into place, settling unnaturally, a stranger's face made up of your own features.

Andres smirked at you in greeting, eyes trailing over you -- the most unwelcome iteration of that gesture in this context to-date.

“I hear you’re the girl to see about some ink.”

You bit back the snarky response that rose to your tongue. You see anyone else here, tonto?

“Sure am,” you replied, cool as you pleeeeaseeee. Maybe a little too cool. The ice in your voice was obvious to everyone except the strangers before you.

You really were doing great, weren’t you?

“Great,” the new meat brushed the girl off from his side, plopping unceremoniously into your chair. “You did that right?” He pointed behind you to where Angel was standing, gesturing at his arm and your miniscule mural of memorial greenery.

“Cierto.” You nodded, sparing Angel’s arm the barest of glances.

“Aight, well, none of that girly shit, alright, sweetheart? Angel may have had the good grace not to say anything, but flowers ain’t really my style, yeah?”

What the fuck.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Coco visibly tense next to you, obviously displeased at the uncalled-for critique of your work. Of a piece he himself had often admired. He would never admit it, but he thought the story behind it was even better. It’s like you had walked out of some shitty romcom Leti watched with her tittering friends and into Angel’s dreams, sinking yourself beneath Angel's skin like a dream he would recount to all of his friends. Coco knew the most about you by nature of Angel's second-hand stories when you were together. Although Coco thought, once he had met you, Angel's stories didn't do you justice. How wonderful and talented you were. How warm and welcoming.

Angel watched the exchange silently, clearly none too keen to defend the piece you had designed for him. That had come to mean so much to you.

That stung.

You winced, almost imperceptibly. But you were certain Coco saw it, not much escaping his sniper’s eyes. EZ, with his owlish perception and photographic memory, certainly would have seen it, too. If Angel saw it, it’s not like he was going to say anything now.

Where the fuck was Aneesa? Wasn’t she supposed to be heading this kind of shit off? You glanced over at the couches in the corner where your friend had previously been sitting with GIlly, and was now nowhere to be seen. Fuckin’ typical.

“Aight, no más flores." No more flowers. “What were you thinking, then?”

That was you, ever the professional.

Andres showed you his phone, a rendering of an old-style beastly cat, like a panther from an old folktale, pulled up in his image search.

“Something for a warrior,” he puffed his chest slightly. “I was thinking here,” he shrugged out of one side of his new kutte, tugging the button-up to expose one side of his chest.

“You got it.”

You set to work, cleaning the area to be inked and getting your tools ready. The rest of the group drifted as the project progressed, clearly not feeling the need to stand there for the entire duration of a tattoo.

You were acutely aware that Angel hadn’t stepped as far away as the others, circumventing the periphery of yours and Andres’ space, not close, but not far. And he still had yet to even look in your direction. Or acknowledge your existence.

You tried your best to ignore the icy shard of Angel’s indifference that was currently wedging its way between your ribs and lodging itself firmly once more into your heart. At this point, you guessed it would never heal.

“Sooooo,” Andres lolled his head to the side of his chair to face you, slinging back the beer from the bottle dangling in his free hand. “I haven’t seen you in a while. You were around a little bit when I was prospecting.”

You opted not to respond, aware that Angel was likely listening, and you would need to choose any words carefully. Andres had no such reservation, clearly uncaring about who might be listening. He pressed on, each word more infuriating than the last.

“You were Angel’s little sidepiece for a while, right?”

You tried to keep your despairing sigh to a quiet little nothing.

“Sure.” You offered lamely. “Sorry, man, I don’t mean to be rude, but I really work better when I’m not talking.”

“S’alright, jaina. I can talk enough for the both of us.”

You hmm’d nonchalantly at that, lip imperceptibly curling over your teeth in distaste at the moniker. You chose instead to focus on the piece. You wouldn’t give a shitty tattoo, even if this guy was a douchebag. And the pleasant buzz of the tattoo gun. Maybe you were etching the lines a little sharper than strictly necessary. If he noticed, Andres gave no indication, continuing on with his diatribe:

“So, what happened? I mean, Angel knocked that other chick up? Ouch, right?”

You were now seeing red, the edges of your vision blurring slightly with angry, pinpricking tears. Thank fuck you were just about done with this.

“But that’s the life right? I mean, we’re not exactly known for being steady with just one chick. You know how it goes ...” He eyed you up and down again, lingering a little too long on your legs before finishing his thought with a smirk “... Clearly.”

You hated his use of “we,” like he was in any way, shape, or form worthy to be in the class of man EZ, Coco, Bishop, or, hell, even Angel, was. None of them would talk to you like this. No matter what Angel had done.

You shut off the gun, pushing back from the space with Andres, spinning in your chair, and grabbing the clean wipes for Andres’ fresh ink. As you dabbed the area and made to bandage it, the oblivious biker grabbed your wrist. None of the teasing fun or gentleness in the same gesture that Angel had imparted when you had first met. No, Andres’ grip hurt. It was all bruising possession and entitlement.

“I think we would have fun, you and I.” He leaned forward and far too into your space, the stale stink of warm beer heavy on his breath.

You wrenched your grip from his, standing quickly and offering him a tight smile, cheeks flaming with your anger and embarrassment. How dare he speak so trivially of your relationship with Angel. How dare he think you were so easily won with his kutte and shitty attitude.

“Uhm,” you tugged your fingers agitatedly through the ends of your hair, chewing your lip. “You’re all set, Andres. Aftercare sheet is on the table next to you. It’s on the house. Happy patch party!” Your voice sounded so shrill and fake in your own head, but you just didn’t have it in you to care at the moment.

With that, you quickly whirled on your heel, in a distressed flurry past the Angel-shaped blur who had been watching the entire encounter, and out of the clubhouse door into the cooler late-night air.

Getting heavy to breathe in this room together. It’s so awkward, we can’t seem to do it better. Can’t we just fake a smile and put our shit to the side?

---

Angel had waited a whopping 18 hours to text you after your clandestine tattooed meet-cute.

You were in the middle of exchanging consultation e-mails with a prospective client when your phone had buzzed.

“Vince?” The text read.

You bit back a smirk before responding,

“Vince? No Vince here. This is Frida’s phone.”

You watched as the little bubbles appeared in the corner, disappeared for a second, and then reappeared. You were grateful for the little manifestation of Angel’s hesitance. It made him seem more human. And it made you appreciative that he was clearly trying to choose his words with you, when words had seemed to come so easily to him when you had met.

“My bad. Oh, beautiful, talented Frida.”

You couldn’t hold back the smile on your features now. Grateful it was still you and only you in the shop so that no one could see your “obviously-texting-a-cute-guy” face.

“It’s nice to hear from you, Angel. Good thing you didn’t throw away the card.”

“That card was clearly a gift, querida. Much like the pretty flowers on my arm.” He snapped you a picture of his tattoo, the healing process underway.

“Looks great!” You sent, cringing at your lack of ability to effectively flirt via text. It was something that your friends had teased you relentlessly about back in the Town -- your notorious lack of game. No! New home, new you! Be cute. Be cute.

“So, if I’ve given you all the gifts, what do I get?” You sent with a “thinking” emoji.

Angel at least had the decency to wait a minute or two before replying, either thinking about his response or keeping you in suspense… you weren’t sure. But you were grateful for the little opportunity to catch your breath. How did he make you so speechless when he wasn’t even in the room with you? Some things just weren’t fair.

“Niña, I paid you for this ink. What more could you possibly want from me?”

Tricky Angel. Zorro. Like a little fox, he had effectively maneuvered the conversation back to you -- the ball was in your court. Would you tell him what you wanted?

You chewed the end of your fingernail thoughtfully before responding.

“You texted me, boy. Are you sure it isn’t you who wants something?”

If only your friends could see you now. That was damn smooth.

“Boy?”

You snorted to yourself. Trust a guy like Angel to get hung up on something small like that. The bubbles reappeared.

“I was thinking about this pretty girl I met the other day. Hell of an artist. But a shit poet. Thought I would see if she was free sometime?”

Angel was merciful. You could kiss him. Had he seriously just taken all the weight out of this conversation? Your heart felt a million pounds lighter in your chest, knowing he was asking you. The wave of relief that he wanted to see you again crashed through you, replaced in the tide with the backdraft of a feeling of mischievousness. You wouldn’t let him off so easily.

So you waited before responding. Let him sweat a little, right?

Only… you weren’t sure Angel was sweating as much as you were, fingers itching with the desire to text him back and accept immediately.

When what had felt like an eternity (but in reality had only been about seven minutes) had passed, you picked up your phone, opening the conversation with Angel.

“She’s free next Thursday … After your bike week, el rey de los bandoleros.”

You put your phone back down on the counter, grinning like an idiot, feeling like you had just swallowed a bunch of bubbles. You entertained the notion that if your combat boots weren’t keeping your feet weighted to the floor, you would have floated away.

Your phone dinged once more.

“See you then, mi reina.”

Time passes slowly the more you want it to go quickly. And whenever you have a deadline you’re dreading, it gallops ahead. Time really is that bitch, and she does not give a fuck about your feelings.

The following Thursday felt like it took a year to arrive. But it found you closing up the shop, your stomach fluttering with butterflies and pop rocks, adorned in your favorite pair of jeans and boots, a clean, flattering tank top that showed off your own ink. You hoped it was fine for whatever Angel had in mind.

Honestly, he hadn’t said anything about your date. A few flirtatious texts here and there? Obviously. You sent him photos of the pieces you had done for new clients. He sent you ridiculous selfies and a couple of group pics of him and his friends at the biker event. One guy who kept popping up in the photos, Angel had told you, was his “little” brother. But there was nothing “little” about that dude.

You loved seeing all of Angel’s goofy, smiling faces. Treasuring the photos in your small moments of quiet downtime.

The rumbling of a bike engine greeted your ears, like the seductive purr of a large cat. You glanced up, a full Cheshire grin alighting your features at the sight of Angel’s gorgeous, deep forest green bike, and the man of the hour looking very at home on the seat.

He rolled to a stop in front of you, unclipping his helmet and dismounting with his winning trademark smirk, ambling over to greet you.

“Frida,” he scooped you into a hug, his tall frame causing you to lift, your toes now barely brushing the ground as he brought you to his height. He pressed a soft kiss to your check, setting you down gently and letting you get your bearings, chuckling pleasantly at the obvious, dizzying effect his greeting had had on you.

“Angelito,” you returned. “Back in one piece?”

“Hail to the king, baby,” he countered.

“Yeah, yeah,” you teased, scuffing the toe of your boot into the gravel of the lot. “So, where are you taking me, o benevolent one?”

“Just gonna hafta find out.” He handed his helmet to you, helping you clip and tighten it beneath your chin. “Ever ridden before?”

“Uhm, well, sure” you replied too assuredly, quickly realizing your slip. “I mean, no. Not like that. I mean, yes, like that. But not on one of these.” Fuck. Could you be more embarrassing?

Angel released a full-bellied laugh at your response, his head tossing back a little.

“You’ll have to tell me more about alla that later, cielo.” You put your head in your palm willing the embarrassment to go away. Angel quickly pried your hands away, cupping your cheeks with his own warm hands, long fingers brushing your cheekbones reverently. “In the meantime, just hang on, okay?”

You nodded, still cursing your idiot-brain that had partnered with the dirtiest corners of your mind to take over your mouth. Shut the fuck up, dumb-dumb.

You clung to Angel as he drove, your hands roaming his firm torso probably a little too-familiarly. You enjoyed the way the wind whipped around you, tugging at yours and Angel’s clothes as you made your way up the canyon overlooking the desert that was Santo Padre.

Angel parked his bike on the ridge overlooking the town, the sun beginning its descent in the desert sky in swirling hues of pastels and cotton candy pink-purple-blue overtaking the orange hue.

You had never been up here before, and you told Angel as much. He looked pleased at that, pleased that he was the one to show you the best view of the Santo Padre sunset.

Angel busied himself unpacking the bags on the side of his bike while you enjoyed the scenery. Pulling out a couple of wrapped sandwiches and bottles of water, he handed yours to you, coming to stand next to you on the ridge.

"Thanks," you acknowledged, looking at the offerings. "What, no beer?"

Angel chuckled a little at that.

"I ain't tryna liquor you up, niña. Besides, you want warm beer that's been rattling around on my bike all afternoon?"

You crinkled your nose a little at that. "No," you decided. "Never mind. Besides, I'm more of a whiskey girl."

Angel glanced at you, sipping on his own water idly.

"Really?"

"Really," you confirmed. "Don't tell me you're one of those guys who thinks it's impressive when a girl drinks whiskey because it's such a 'man thing.' "

Angel held up one hand, defensively.

"Nunca. Just took you for more of a… dunno? Maybe a rum kinda girl?"

"Don't think so. For now, though? Water and sandwiches do me just fine. Whiskey can come later." You took a bite of the now-unwrapped sandwich. "This is good," you confirmed around a slightly-full mouth. "Did you make this?"

"Of course. Pop owns the butcher shop down the street from your parlour. Sliced the meat myself, an' all," he said, a little proudly now that he knew you approved of his sandwich-making skills.

"Bueno," you giggled. "Thank you for this, Angel. Really. This is one of the nicest nights I've had since moving here." You shuffled a little closer to where he was standing, looking in his eyes as you thanked him.

"Bah," he waved away your compliments, "it ain't alla that. This can't be the most exciting thing you've done since getting here."

"Maybe it is," you pressed. "I dunno. Maybe I'm too boring for the king of the bikers?"

"I doubt that very seriously, querida," he turned his body so he was facing you now, sandwich long gone, fiddling with the water bottle in his hands. "You play your cards right, I'll introduce you to the rest of the club. Then things'll get really exciting."

You blinked. One date and he already was thinking about introducing you to his friends? Your inner shy romantic (okay, not so "inner," right? You're pretty clear about who you are) was doing little somersaults in your chest.

You must've been silent a beat too long because Angel was quick to supplement, "Only if you want."

"I'd like that," you confirmed, nodding and smiling gently.

"So, are you gonna tell me what brings an East Bay girl here?"

You raised a brow. You didn't remember telling him where you moved from. He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck nervously, realizing you'd caught his slip.

"I maaaay have scrolled your Instagram?"

You finished your sandwich, thinking about how much you wanted to tell him.

"Just time for a change of scenery. Olí is an old friend, and he offered me a job. I think he wants to travel more." You shrugged, "It just felt like it was time. Plus, I dunno… I like it here. Much quieter."

Angel nodded at that, not having the heart to tell you that his club was not at all quiet and was the source of the disruption in the otherwise-quaint town.

You kept talking, telling him about the friends you'd left behind, your old shop, weekends spent in the park surrounding Lake Merritt, and going to Raiders games. Angel took in your features as you spoke, the golden light of the sunset making you glow like something out of a dream he'd had once. Your eyes sparkled as you talked about things you loved, the books and art that inspired your poetry. How you'd gone to art school. You were something.

"-- Sorry, I'm rambling," you breathed in a rush, flush with the amount of talking you'd been doing in a record amount of time. "What? Do I have something in my teeth?"

Angel realized he'd been staring as long as you'd been talking.

"No, querida. Nothing in your teeth." He gave you a dazzlingly white smile.

"Oh thank God," you returned his smile with a small one of your own, shying a little under his gaze, and wondering how long he had been looking at you like that as you'd talked.

He leaned over you now, his height giving him the definite advantage as he'd -- not unwelcomely-- invaded your space. He brought one hand up to cup your chin, his dark eyes revealing flecks of sparkling gold in the pastel wash of the sunset as his gaze once again met yours.

You saw his quick glance down at your lips, you unconsciously giving a small nod before his warm lips met yours.

Oh.

You had obviously been kissed before, been the recipient of past romantic attention. All of that paled in comparison, melting away as Angel's full lips maneuvered over yours, both of his large, calloused hands gently brushing your cheeks as he cupped your face, sliding one hand down to rest on the side of your neck.

You sighed lightly, one of your own hands twined into his shirt, the other resting on the side of his firm torso.

Angel took the opportunity to slide his tongue past your lips, your own brushing against his as the kiss deepened.

You were in no hurry for the kiss to end, enjoying the way everything about Angel was so warm, something that was surprisingly welcome, despite the ever-present desert heat of Santo Padre. You could get used to this.

You had only known Angel a short time, realistically. Your one meeting spawning a series of flirtatious texts and snaps, and now this date that, while low-key, felt almost too perfect to be real. He made you feel safe, desired.

You could already feel him slipping beneath your skin to rest in a special place in your heart. And while you as a person were generally reticent to share that part of yourself with anyone, you had a feeling Angel could take up permanent residence there. If he wanted.

You dropped from your tip-toes, effectively breaking the kiss.

Angel blinked, looking down at you and noting the pleasant glow on your skin, lips now slightly swollen from his kiss. He could get used to this.

The rest of the evening passed in a pleasant blur, trading quips and stories as the sun went down. Angel told you about his club, his brothers. About his pop and Ezekiel, and how at one time, he enjoyed being the bigger brother, teasing, pranking and lording over EZ until EZ had hit his growth spurt and could (and would) definitely hit back.

As he drove you home, you snuggled a little bit against him, pressing yourself into his back and enjoying the way you swore you could feel his heart pounding through the kutte and over the rumble of the bike and the road.

He'd dropped you off with a parting kiss and the promise of another date.

Another date turned into several. Time you weren't at the shop was now spent with Angel, showing him what you were working on, inviting him over for dinners and to watch mindless television while he told you what he could about his day.

The both of you were slowly peeling back the layers around your respectively guarded hearts, revealing more of yourselves only to be met with pure acceptance by the other. Even blindados had to take off their armour at some point.

You cherished your time with Angel, and he quickly found himself stumbling, head over his own biker-booted heels for you.

After a few months had passed, he had brought you to meet the club. You had manifested nothing but general acceptance of his lifestyle and were eager to meet the people Angel had so obviously cared for. Who had helped shape him into the brash but conscientious person he was with you.

And one sunny afternoon had found you bringing lunch you had made for the entire club over to the scrapyard, Angel agreeing with your plan. You never were one to show up empty-handed.

As you walked across the yard, past the gate, and into the clubhouse, your eyes adjusting to the dim interior from the blinding sun outdoors, Angel bounded over to greet you. Taking the bag full of homemade goodies from your arms, he pressed quick kisses to your cheeks, and one to your forehead.

He turned, met with the pleasantly-surprised stares of his brothers. He announced your name to the room before turning to you, pointing at each man and supplying a name. You nodded, smiling and offering a warm wave to each.

The man you knew to be EZ from all of Angel's initial texts and photos quickly strode over to you, shaking your hand in his impressively firm grip before bending down to press a quick kiss to your cheek with a,

"Bienvenido, hermanita. Angel's told me a lot about you. Won't shut up, really," giving you a sly wink as Angel swatted EZ's arm in annoyance at his brother's revelation.

Boys.

The smaller man with the sharp eyes and full curls you knew to be Coco made his way over to where you were now seated as Angel went to get you both drinks, the other men digging into your offerings as you made yourself comfortable.

He sat next to you, tossing you a, "You mind?" Lighting his cigarette after you’d shaken your head.

He studied you through his own plumes of smoke before leaning across the table and speaking to you, lowly and with an almost conspiratorial rasp to his voice,

"You did that cover-up for Angel?" He asked on a smooth exhale.

"Mhmm," you nodded. "He gave me free reign. I was nervous he'd hate it."

Coco seemed to chew over your words for a dragging moment. You shifted in your seat. He was definitely sizing you up.

"Bold move, pequeña, giving the secretario of a biker club a sleeve of flowers."

"I suppose it was," you sighed, more than a little uncertain now. "But it felt meaningful, right, I guess. I just sort of… started drawing. I… think it worked out, though?" You trailed off.

Coco nodded. "It's a fuckin' good piece, mami. Angel told me what you'd said about memories making you who you are." He snorted lightly through his nose. "It's funny. We've never even met before, and you're already sounding like me."

A small smile played across his lips, returning it with one of your own.

"I'm glad you approve," you nodded. "Angel's opinion obviously matters, and don't tell him I told you this, but it means alot coming from one of his family."

And that's what they were. His family. You could see it. The obvious camaraderie and care underlying each of their actions with the other. You admired the system of support, cushioned by good humor, despite being flung regularly into harsh reality. It was clear -- they were there for one another.

Coco's voice broke your train of thought,

"Maybe you got space for me in your books one-a these days?"

Your small smile was a full-blown, sunny grin now.

"Of course. Anytime you want to drop by, you're more than welcome."

"Gracias, chica." Coco leaned across the table and patted your shoulder before getting up and taking his leave.

And so it went. The boys would filter through your shop. Olí teasing you about his offense that all of his most lucrative, inked clients were now going to you.

You enjoyed the time working on pieces for them afforded you -- offering you a glimpse into their inner workings, what they felt was important enough to take up permanent residence along their skin. Making idle chit-chat with you while you worked. And always, always sharing embarrassing little anecdotes about Angel.

The months passed with you and Angel, finding comfort in your unpredictable, but welcome, respective routines.

One night in particular found Angel wrapped up in your embrace, the physical embodiment of your gradual and growing trust in one another.

He had arrived home more than a little rattled, his eyes wildly darting to the corners of the room before settling in you, exhaling a shaky breath before striding the length of the room and crushing you to him, pressing a bruising kiss to your lips.

You understood he probably couldn't tell you what had happened, but you asked anyway, needing him to know you would hear him.

"Angelito, everything okay?"

He shook his head softly in the negative, but didn't elaborate.

You pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"Okay. We don't have to talk about it," you wound your arms up and around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to you. "But it's going to be okay. I've got you. I won't let go."

He gripped your wrists, pulling your hands from his neck and sliding your arms down, bringing them to rest around his waist. Once he had positioned you where he wanted, he brought his hands to cup your cheeks, eyes heavy and dark with the weight of his stormy thoughts.

He nodded at what you had said before bringing his lips back to yours.

You brought one hand up to meet his, where it rested along your cheek. You twined your fingers through, joining your hands while breaking the kiss. You lead him through the apartment, bringing him to the bedroom. You had music softly playing from your speaker in the corner, candles lit to bathe the room in ambient glow and a warm, honey smell, all in anticipation of Angel's eventual arrival home.

You silently gestured for him to sit on the edge of the bed, where you took your seat next to him.

You tugged the leather kutte from his shoulders, folding it reverently and placing it on the chair near the bed. He exhaled in relief, shoulders sagging once the leather manifestation of his obligation to a darker world had been removed. The weight of the world a little less on the mantle of his shoulders.

You turned your attention to his feet next, unlacing and tugging off his boots. Then, his belt.

Once he was just in his jeans and his t-shirt, you resumed your seat at his side, bringing him back into your embrace and carding your hands through his hair, as his head rested on your shoulder.

Angel spoke, voice cracking as he broke the seal of silence in the room.

"It was… it was awful, Frida." He sighed. "I do everything they ask. It's my job … Fuck. Sometimes I wonder how much more my heart can take. But then, I get to come home to you."

His breath was shuddering now.

And while you didn't always know what to say -- it was a rare sight to see Angel so rattled. But you were a caregiver by nature, ready to give him the pieces of yourself that would make him feel whole.

You guided him down so that he could recline, you came to rest at his side, winding your arms around his torso, your face turned into his neck, cuddling him as he came down from the mania of his emotional high.

The moments passed, Angel's breathing leveling again as you stroked his hair in time to the soft music.

He turned his head to look at you, admiring the flutter of your lashes as you blinked at him, your gaze warm and adoring, full of twinkling fairy light and starshine.

"Te amo, querida," Angel breathed. This was not the first time he had said it to you during your months together. But each time felt as momentous as the first, each declaration of love felt like the slip of something sweet, and you were determined to store it in your heart and mind forever.

"I love you too, Angel. More than anything," you murmured. "I love your smile, your sense of humor, your strength." You pressed kisses to his face and neck with each admission. "Mostly, I love your strength. And that you trust me enough to tell me when you don't always feel it."

He sucked in a shuddering breath before whispering to you,

"I love your mind. How creative you are. How you see everything so beautiful, just like you," he hmm’d. "Mostly I love your trust. And that you choose to give it to me."

You kissed him again, leaning over him with your entire body, pressing your palms gently into his shoulders.

As your kiss deepened, you each began to tug at the other. His hands carded through your hair, tugging gently, but firmly. You lifted his shirt from his torso, the kiss breaking so you could peel it away.

You divested one another of each layer, baring yourselves to the other, body and soul. Again, this wasn't the first time you had done this. But this felt momentous nonetheless.

Angel skimmed his hands over your form, running his hands softly down and over your breasts, loving your soft sigh at his touch.

You leaned over him once more, reluctantly removing his hands from you, and placing them gently down at his sides.

"Your heart is mine, mine to protect," You hummed softly, invading his senses and placing kisses down Angel's neck and to his chest, trailing your lips lovingly over Angel's heart, and pressing one last deliberate kiss there. "And I take my job very seriously."

As you kissed him, you lightly trailed your fingers down his torso, coming to rest at his hip.

Your declaration was met with silence; you glanced up at Angel through your lashes only to find him already looking down through heavy-lidded eyes at you, his now swirling with some unnamed, weighted emotion.

You trailed your hand across his hip, not breaking eye contact as you took his hardening length into your hand. He inhaled sharply at the sensation of your grip, but refused to look away as you began to pump him slowly, still pressing kisses to his hips, torso and thighs.

"Please, querida," Angel gasped.

"Please, what?" You murmured back, your voice taking a throaty register you reserved strictly for private moments with your beloved.

"Please… use your pretty mouth?"

You nodded.

"Relájate, baby, I've got you," you assured. Sweeping your hair back, the action washing Angel with the sweeping comfort of your scent as you made your way lower down his body.

Angel slumped back against the bedspread, glittering galaxy eyes still trained on you as you lavished him with attention.

You took the opportunity to flatten your tongue, licking a broad stripe up the length of him, one hand braced against his firm thigh, the other holding him gently at the base of his cock as you worked.

You swirled your tongue around the tip of him, delighted at his throaty moans, feeling the effect they had on you, making you feel like you were burning from the inside, feeling the slickness from your own center as your thighs rubbed together.

Taking Angel wholly into your mouth now, you bobbed over him, relishing in the heavy feel of him in your mouth and the throaty groans you received from Angel in response.

Before you could spend too long lavishing him with attention, Angel tugged on your hair at the base of your neck. Following his grip, you lifted your head and released him from, watching (a little greedily) as his thick length bobbed against him when you relinquished him from the confines of your mouth.

He guided you up his body, hand still knotted in your hair, pushing his mouth onto yours, uncaring of the saliva on your lips and chin, and the taste of himself on your tongue.

You straddled his hips, surging the rest of the way up his body and effectively deepening the kiss. The hand that was once in your hair now made its way to loosely grip at your throat, the other skimming his way down your breasts, across your ribs and toward your center.

As his fingers traced through your folds, you involuntarily rolled your hips into his hand, alight at his touch, and desperately seeking more.

Angel touching you was like the shock of a live wire. Every time felt just as electric as the last, goosebumps erupting across your flesh as his fingers traced across your skin.

He chuckled through your fused mouths, drawing back at your reaction and the wetness he found between your legs.

"Eager, amor?" Every word fell that fell from his lips sounded like a dangerous purr.

You nodded, drunk on the way Angel's hand gently squeezed your throat, while the other was teasingly making its way to-and-fro across your wet folds, occasionally making his way up to lightly circle and press his thumb over your clit, making your eyelids flutter. Your hips continued to rock against his hand, silently begging for more, his teasing touch making you more than a little crazy.

"Yeah?" Angel asked, his voice thick and syrupy, the timbre like dark clouds. "That shit turn you on? Sucking my cock?"

His words combined with his touch made another rush of heat flood through you. You were certain you would pass out, that your knees would buckle. And you were doing so well, holding your place up and over his hips while he played with you.

The hand on your throat gripped a little tighter, causing your eyes to flutter shut.

"Nuh-uh, baby," he shook you lightly, all mirth gone from his eyes, no more pleasant, smiling crinkles at the corners. His full lips pressed firmly together. "I asked you a question. You answer that shit"

He pressed two fingers teasingly against your entrance, refusing to insert them, despite the little roll of your hips.

"Y-yeaahh," you sighed, head tossed back, "I-I fucking love it -- love you, Angel."

He rewarded you by sliding a long finger into you, allowing you to ride his hand. The hand still around your throat guiding you forward, over him, allowing him to press hot, open-mouthed kisses, first to your lips, dirty and raw, like an exposed nerve in his unabashed want for you.

He relinquished his hold on your neck, allowing him to trail his lips and his tongue there, kissing you softly behind your ear, down and around your neck to your collarbones, all while his fingers continued their earnest treatment inside of you, his thumb now pressing to your clit, your warming crescendo building.

Using his height and the fact that you were straddling him, Angel encouraged you to lean forward, allowing him to capture one of your breasts in his grip, his mouth following. His warm tongue swirled around your nipple before he sucked the bud into his mouth, grazing his teeth ever so gently over your sensitive flesh.

Angel's attention was rewarded with your gasping sighs and breathy moans. How anyone could make you feel this good was beyond you. Angel had an uncanny ability to elicit responses and feelings like no other person before him.

You felt the thrumming hum and warm, sticky wave of your orgasm building as Angel worked his fingers inside of you, stroking that particular spot from within that he knew would be your undoing.

"O-oh," you whined, keening noises caught in your throat. "Please, baby, I n-need you. Need you inside."

The room was sweltering. Or was it just you? Angel withdrew his fingers smoothly, not sparing you the chance to be disappointed at the loss of feeling as he smoothly flipped the two of you, guiding you down to the mattress and hovering over your trembling form.

"Yeah?" Angel asked. "You ready for that, querida?"

You gazed up at him through your lashes, longingly. He would give everything, anything, that he had in the world if you only looked at him like that forever, gaze full of warmth, heat, and unfiltered, starry adoration.

"Mmm," you nodded, "Please? Angel?"

He was only a man, after all. Who was he to refuse when you asked so prettily for him?

He gently turned you over so that your back was to him, running his hands down the slope of your back and guiding you to your knees, propping your hips up.

Positioning himself behind you, Angel resumed his grip on your throat, using it to guide your head around so that he could kiss you again while he guided himself inside of you. You moaned into the kiss at the sensation, never tired of feeling every ridge of his thick cock sliding into you like he belonged there.

Angel groaned, breaking the kiss and shaking his head, chuckling darkly, his eyes flashing as he swore,

"Never fuckin' get tired of that shit," he began to move his hips, using his other hand that was gripping your hip to guide you along his lengthy, meeting his thrusts. "Never tired of your pussy … You're so … good."

Angel's words coupled with his thrusts were driving you crazy, causing you to eagerly meet him with the momentum of your own hips, the heat in the room spliced with the distinctive noise of his skin meeting yours.

Angel, leaning over your back, crowded your every sense, the taste of him, of his kisses still lingering on your tongue. Your ears met with the harmony of your two bodies and the filthy words and sounds coming from Angel's mouth. The sight of him was as intoxicating as ever, as you looked over your shoulder at him, the shadows of the room playing across his tawny skin, glimmering in the low light with the sheen of sweat you knew was also present on yours.

“Say my name,” Angel pants into the slick skin on your back, kissing a line down your spine, his body covering yours possessively.

You were too caught up in everything Angel, failing to respond quickly enough for his liking as you gasped at every thrust.

A crack of heat flashed across your ass, Angel swatting you there once. You should be annoyed, but you couldn't lie -- you fucking loved it when he was like this. Only for you.

"A-angel," you sighed, the crescendo of your orgasm climbing, threatening to burst any second, you tightening around Angel.

"Bueno," he purred. "You close? Yeah, you fucking are," Angel snarled, taking in the way you threw your hips back desperately to meet him, squirming one hand beneath you to touch yourself. "You can have it, baby, I'll make it good. You just gotta ask pretty for me."

You deepened the arch in your back, flexing your hips back toward Angel, and gripping the bedspread before you in your fingers, face pressed flush with the sheets, your other hand still pressed to your clit.

Angel tilted your head, leaning over further and gripping your jaw, squeezing to pucker your cheeks. He kissed you, sucking your lower lip between his. He kissed you gently, a deceptive contrast to the hand gripping your face, his hips snapping into yours at a now-brutish pace. He pecked another light kiss to your lips, followed by another, gently biting your lip and dragging it lightly as he drew his face from yours.

He released your lips as you whispered another plea into his mouth.

"Come on then, baby."

Your orgasm washed over you, pinpricks of striking matches splintering across your skin, followed by a euphoric wave of white-heat, blissfully soothing every nerve it had just lit.

Angel followed, emptying himself into you with a few final thrusts, groaning at the way you tightened just so around him.

He withdrew gently, collapsing next to you as you both caught your breath.

Your lashes fanned your cheeks as you blinked hazily at the form of your love through the soft glow of the room.

"I do love you, Angel," you told him, leaning across the sheets to rub your nose back and forth against his, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, grazing your soft fingers against the lines of his forehead, easing them away into an expression of soft serenity. "Always."

---

Now, you walked out of the clubhouse, around to the side of the porch, a quiet corner away from the noise. Willing yourself to calm down as small, hot tears trickled their way, uninvited, down your cheeks.

Your thoughts were moving a million miles a second, the battle of luck you were waging with the universe saw you quickly losing.

The year you spent with Angel replaying itself in your mind. Every word, every touch, that goddamn tattoo. Remembrance, my ass. How you would hold him when he came home too high-strung and strung-out emotionally for words. How you would save the best leftovers for him when you knew he had been away and would be craving the Chinese food from the place down the block when he got back. How he felt inside of you on the coldest nights and in the most tender mornings. How he would whisper enchanting endearments into the shell of your ear as he rolled his hips into yours, your mind and body completely his. How you would wear his shirts and overly-large socks around his apartment, leaving doodles and scribbled poems on sticky notes for him to find in his moments alone. How he kissed you warmly, his tongue sweeping into your mouth like syrupy possession that you never wanted to end.

How it did end. How he had thrown out your world, crumpled it into a crushed paper ball and tossing it away with the carelessness of a child. Ending things with seemingly no spare thought for your feelings. How EZ had let slip when he saw you in town that Angel was expecting a kid, the timing of everything suddenly making a little more sense. How it made you feel, now that you knew you were wholly his, but he was never entirely yours. How you had kept to yourself in the months that followed, the cracks in your heart widening until you felt like you would drown in them.

The pulse of your feelings for him, always strong; they warm you. But it was still you they all left behind.

Your thoughts were still swirling when, off to the side, you heard the porch door open and close again, and you prayed that whomever was coming outside was going to have a smoke out front, or that they were on their way out. That they wouldn’t find you.

But of course, these things never worked out how you wanted them. You cursed any god you could think of for just how un-fucking-lucky you were sometimes.

Because, really, who other than Angel was making his way around the porch to you? Taking in your hunched form as you leaned over the railing, looking anywhere but at him.

Of fucking course.

You kept your eyes down, focused in your clasped hands as you leaned over the railing, refusing to look at him.

And now? Now he was looking at you, and it's the one time you wished he wouldn't.

One thing you wouldn't do, now that he was here, was break the silence first. He didn't want to hear what you'd had to say, so why would you grace him with your thoughts now? Petty? Sure. But you weren't the one in there with your hands on some ass while a so-called friend harassed your ex.

A few uncomfortable beats dragged on before Angel broke the silence, shattering it like glass with a verbal hammer.

"What'd he say to you?"

You remained silent.

"What the fuck did he say, Frida?" His voice angry now, demanding. The same tone he used to break your heart.

"It ain't working. Not my fuckin’ fault you can't see it."

You rolled your eyes, another shard of icy glass painfully wedging into your heart at his use of the name. Still refusing to look in his direction when you replied, softly but sharply,

"You know exactly what he said. What I'm trying to figure out is why, exactly, you care."

"I care, Frida," was all he offered.

You snorted in response. Undignified, sure. But couldn't he see this was killing you? Where was his mercy?

"I do," he insisted, the thud of his boots across the wood of the porch indicating that he was crossing to you, coming to stand a ways behind you.

"I'm not going to do this with you. He said some shit. It's over. We move on. What more could you have to say about that?"

Keep it simple, keep yourself safe. You gave him nothing to say back. And then…

"And if I told you I wanted you? I wanted you back?"

You whipped your head around to -- finally -- meet Angel's eyes, which you did for a fleeting moment before zeroing in once more on your shoes, staring resolutely at the ground. You were not going to let him see you cry again, godfuckingdamnit.

The fleeting glimpse of his face, of his eyes meeting yours once more after all this time, was enough. He looked more tired up close than he had before. Still unfair in his striking beauty, his midnight eyes still enough to pull you in, drown you in their oceanic depths. You hated it. Hated that he still had that power over you. But try as you might, you couldn't hate him.

Your silence was killing Angel with the precision of a thousand miniscule cuts. Each deeper than the last. Until he couldn’t take it any longer. He reached through the space between, for where your hand rested on the railing. You saw the gesture coming, and whipped your hand away at the last moment, cradling it to your chest like he had burned you. You faced him fully now.

You chuckled softly, wryly, and devoid of any humor before you muttered, "You don't want me, baby. Please don't lie."

“And how do you know that’s a lie?” Angel mumbled thickly, working his tongue around the words, through his own emotion.

You scuffed your toe into the hewn wood of the deck, shrugging before you responded, simply,

“If I was what you wanted, you wouldn’t have gone looking elsewhere. And you certainly wouldn't have found someone else. You wouldn’t have said what you said, ended it like you did, with everything on just your terms.” You sighed deeply, with the rattle of tears lodged into your chest before you spoke again, “You made up your mind and never even let me say a word. If you wanted anything to do with me, you could have at least given me a word.”

Angel blinked, hard. The familiar pressure of real tears building behind his eyes. You were right of course. And fuck, weren't you always? You'd always told him like it was, harsh truths that only you could cushion in your gentle, empathetic way.

"Please, querida, just let me explain what happened--"

You held up your hand, shaking your head firmly, effectively silencing Angel.

"No!" Much softer now, "No. I- I'm sorry, Angel, I don't mean to be rude. But, no." Your voice small, but clear, as you'd finally gotten your opportunity to say something back to him. "I, uh, I don't want to hear any explanation, and you really don't have to?"

You lilted the last part like it was a question, but continued on.

"You, um, you've had a lot of time to tell me something, anything, about what the fuck happened. And you didn't. You left me with nothing. Just confusion and hurt, and I've made peace with that. It's taken a while, but … I just… I don't need that from you. I gave you space, always respected your decisions and opinions, and now you won't do the same. You're still trying to take from me. Offering me an explanation now?" You scoffed. "That isn't for me, and don't fuckin’ act like it is -- it's for you. And I understand that, that's fine. I'm not angry at you for that, but I'm also not going to humor it."

You exhaled shakily, you couldn't believe you'd said all of that, that you had made it through.

Angel was speechless. It made your heart feel even sicker -- all of this silence from him for so long, and he'd offered to explain himself and you'd (gracefully) told him to fuck off. Why had you done that??

It was about time you'd stood up for yourself, that's why.

An explanation would be nice, sure. But where Angel's words, whispered affirmations and heady declarations of love, had once made your soul swell and sing… now, you knew, anything he'd had to say to you would only serve to do the opposite.

And your heart, perpetually bruised by nature of you being a hopeless romantic, just couldn't take it.

You hopped off the porch, spinning around to face Angel, finding his eyes on you still. Hadn't you wished for him to look at you? To really see you once more?

"I'm out," you tossed a thumb over your shoulder toward where you'd parked your car. "Sorry, I don't mean to abandon the old post, but uh, I'm sure you guys have someone to fill in. I'll text Aneesa to grab my stuff, don't worry about it."

Like he would, you thought.

You were mostly rambling to yourself, and not really to Angel, as you backed away, fleeing to your car.

Angel watched you go, the resonant ache in his chest that had been ever-present since tossing your stuff out, amplified when Luisa had left him, and now sure to be permanent, buried in cement beneath the weight of his every decision, and every word.

You looked good, he thought. Your hair was longer than when he'd seen you last. Your little skirt flouncing as you strode away. Your skin still glowed, full lips still twisted into that wry smile of yours that he had seen from across the room. All of that was true, but your eyes were also tired, and your smile never quite reached them.

The thought that he was responsible for dimming that sparkle made him feel sicker than he already had. The way you had brushed off Andres, despite his obnoxious insistence, and the things the cocky new patch had said to you -- may as well add those to the ever-growing pile of things stained and tainted by Angel's guilt.

And he was left alone with that guilt as you left the lot. He turned back to the party. His cool facade slipping back into place. Not ready to face the wrath of EZ and Coco, surely waiting inside to proverbially beat his ass.

What would you say if I come over? And we stand face to face now that we're older?

---

Angel shuffled into his apartment, the late hour catching up to his weary form as he ambled over to his bedside, flicking on the lamp.

Rubbing a large hand down his face, he sat on his bed in a huff of exhaustion. Your first encounter in months since he'd all-but tossed you from this very room was pricking him with a kind of nauseating nervous energy. But all he wanted to feel in that moment was you, whether he deserved it or not.

He'd still had it, didn't he? Where was it?

He pulled open the drawer of his nightstand, fishing through its contents for what he hoped was still in there.

His fingers curled over his prize -- a slip of paper adorned with your handwriting. Scrawled lines of poetry on a neon pink Post-It note, curled with age and disuse, something you had left for him while he slept in one morning.

“I was thinking of you,” you had said when he had asked you about it later, shrugging as if it were the most matter-of-fact thing in the world.

Your love for him was clean in its simplicity and forwardness, whenever he could wade his way through the mire of your shy demeanor. You had stuck the Post-It to his nightstand while he was sleeping and you made your way to work. Your words were cramped and crunched into the small paper square, but ready to greet him with the shining light of a sunny new day.

“I see your ardor through a pearlescent lense, and all is pleasantly pink and blurry with you-- Resplendent in your love's solar hope. You are so warm beneath the brush of my fingertips, and I burn. So in love with you, as I am and as I do."

Now, his eyes scanned the words for the millionth time since you had written them. He had committed it to memory by now, wishing he could hold you instead of this crumpled piece of paper, mocking him with its annoyingly bright pink hue.

But how could he? Angel was the kind of man who simmered in his emotion -- burning slowly, lowly, only to reach a pitch. He kept to himself until he couldn’t any longer -- and then it was all bleeding hearts on a very crisp sleeve.

He had done what he had thought was right. Cutting you out with all of the brutality and finesse of a battleaxe, to focus on Luisa and his unborn son. He thought she was what he wanted. But now, he didn’t even have them. He had nothing to show for his decisions but the lonely, sick feeling ever-present in his chest.

The you at the beginning of your relationship would have kissed each bruise in his soul, one by one, until they were better. Would have gifted him with the warmth of your time and attention until he was made whole again with the molten heat of your gracious heart. But the you now?

Angel could never, would never, cover the tattoo on his arm, though he had thought about it. Blacking it out once and for all, so the piece of you he wore on his sleeve would finally match the pitch, and emptiness inside. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was, as he’d said all that time ago, your gift to him. And he’d made you a promise that he wouldn’t.

All he wanted was to look you in the eyes so he could remember that he loved you once.

And not that he had any reason to know it, but across town, you had made it home. Your phone shoved to the bottom of your bag, lighting up with texts from Aneesa, EZ, and Coco. But the only person on your mind was Angel.

How much of what he had said was true? You weren't sure. But you were sure that you knew where you stood, still painfully alone and in love as ever, the cracks in your heart only fillable by the very person you had brushed off earlier.

And, while Angel readied himself for bed, snapping the lights off and attempting to cut through the oppressive darkness by staring at the ceiling with his own penetrative gaze, the empty side of the bed had never felt more cavernous, but more weighted. Mocking.

If Angel was being honest with himself -- something he was never too keen on being in his more sobering moments -- he didn't love you once. He still loved you.

Thinking after all this time, I just wanna meet your eyes so I can remember why... Why I loved you once.

Tagging:

@themarcusmoreno @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @steeeeeeeviebb @qveenbvtch @mxsamwilson @ifimayhaveaword @huliabitch @pettyprocrastination @phoenixhalliwell @flightlessangelwings @cinewhore @velvetmel0n @moonlight-prose @rebeccasficrecs @videogamesandpoorlifechoices @aerolanya @djvrins @jenrebloggingfics @ciriswife @justanotherblonde23 @superhoeva @witching-hour @luckyharley1903

#angel reyes fic #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes x fem!reader #angel reyes x you #angel reyes x oc #angel reyes angst #angel reyes smut #angel reyes #clayton cardenas #mayans mc #mayans fx #mayans #mayans mc fic #my writing #rachel writes #holy shittttt this boy is long #it just got away from me #sorry #loved you once

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nctsworld · 4 years

Text

meet me at the borderline

☆ jaehyun x reader | dance au | enemies to lovers | smut | 4k

→ summary: although you and jaehyun are rival dance team captains, you two end up talking with your bodies in the dance studio one evening. → warnings: smut, fingering, oral sex (male receiving), table sex, mirror sex, some praise kink, swearing, some angst → rating: explicit → notes: part of a longer fic that i yearn to write one day, but until then… this is what y’all will receive

→ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

It’s 8pm on a Friday night at the university’s main dance studio. Everyone on campus is either attending frat parties, at the clubs downtown, or at home, so you’re taken aback when you walk in and are greeted by the one and only Jung Jaehyun.

He immediately stops dancing and hurries over to his phone on the floor to turn off the music playing. The panting dancer holds your gaze through the wall-sized mirror and takes off his cap for a moment to wipe his sweat away before putting it back on.

“I was here first,” he states firmly with a squint of his eyes, anticipating for you to leave, but Jaehyun knows to expect less of you. With your backpack slung over your shoulder, you stride into the room, hearing the door click behind you, and cross your arms with a shrug.

“Did you book the studio for tonight?”

He tenses, “No, I didn’t, but—”

“If you don’t have another excuse for me to go, don’t be such a baby and I’ll make sure to stay out of your way.”

The dance captain eyes you sauntering towards the back corner of the room, setting your backpack down. As you sit on the floor and begin to change shoes, he appears in front of you.

“Look, I’m trying to practice the set for the competition. I hate to be a dick—”

“No, you don’t; you love being a dick.” With a bitter, wide smile, you look up at him, still putting on your sneakers.

Jaehyun glances up for a second, as if in deep thoughts, with pressed lips. He then raises an eyebrow and nods his head side to side.

“Perhaps, but anyway, I didn’t bring my headphones today and we shouldn’t even be seeing each other’s choreo before the show—”

“Well, good news,” you stand up and begin to tie up your hair. “Unlike you, I brought headphones, so you can practice in peace. Oh, and I hate the sight of you and your flat ass, so I won’t even look at you dancing. We good?”

You fold your arms once more. From one captain to another, you hold his stare, not wanting to back down from this mere fight. All you want is to get in some practice before the weekend with a proper mirror, is that too much to ask for?

It takes some time, but the opposition yields to you, tilting his head to the floor and grumbles under his breath. As he walks back to his side of the room, you’re surprised he backed down so easily without a snarky response. Maybe Friday nights were his off days too.

“At least I have an ass,” Jaehyun’s holler echoes against the walls.

Ah, you spoke too soon. Placing your headphones over your ears to drown out your surroundings, you start your usual warm-up. Shortly, both of you dive into your separate worlds of melodies and movement.

About half an hour later, you’re sitting cross-legged on the floor for a water break and set your headphones aside. You take a sip from your bottle and go against your word from before, indulging in a glance at the other dancer in the room.

Even though Jaehyun is an ass (and lacks one),—and you’d never tell the following to his face—he’s still a pretty sight to see, especially when his shirt occasionally rides up to flash his abs.

When he catches on that you’re taking a longer break than usual, he pauses his music.

“Were you practicing your set too or were you freestyling?”

Caught off-guard by his conversational piece, you squint at him coming closer to you. You could answer honestly, but opt to hold your ground against his seemingly innocent question.

“Why do you care?”

He scoffs, “Cause your footwork’s a mess, like always, and if you, as a captain, dance like that for your piece, I can’t imagine what your whole team looks like.”

Your nose twitches prior to the clenching of your jaw. You’re fully aware of your weak points when dancing, as most dancers are, but to have the audacity to bring it up unprovoked? You slam your water bottle against the floor, the echo reaching all ends of the room, then stand to match his stance.

“Well, you’re one to talk.” You stomp your way over, closing the empty space in between, and are now only a few steps away from him. “You’re tense with all your upper body movements. You’re like a hard stick from the hip up. It’s like you have no control over your core—”

“Whoa, hold on,” he holds a palm up and rushes to lift his shirt up. “Look at my abs and tell me I don’t have a good core.”

You’re definitely looking, a little longer than you should because you’re finally getting a close-up glimpse of his abs, and they’re the type that you could wash clothes off of. But it’s not like you haven’t seen abs in your life nor do you want to stroke his ego, so you maintain your demeanor and roll your eyes.

“I didn’t say that. I said you have no control over your core.”

Jaehyun lets out a huff. You can’t detect it, but it’s laced with a tinge of disappointment over how unfazed you are. He frees his shirt and jogs over to his phone. A few scrolls later, he finally blasts music that you’re fairly certain isn’t part of his dance team’s set for the competition (you may have also gone against your other word and listened to what he was practicing to, but only for a little bit).

“Fine, I’ll show you.”

At this point, you’re amused because never in a million years you’d expect Jaehyun freestyling in a room alone with you. He starts off by feeling the sharp beats and flowing rhythm of the music and when he has a handle on it, he makes a deliberate effort to add body rolls, chest pops, and more in his freestyling to lay out his case.

While taking mental notes, out of habit, you’re grooving along with him too with modest rolls, head nodding, and taps of your feet. He can tell you’re holding back, but Jaehyun smiles, basking in how you seem to be enjoying this from the smile reflected on your face as well.

When he stops, he cocks an eyebrow at you, awaiting for your new verdict.

“Maybe you’re not as bad as you were before.”

He grins, hard enough that his dimples show, and you dig a hole to hide away the underlying flutters of your heart.

Still an asshole, but a cute asshole.

“Now, show me what you got, Captain,” Jaehyun crosses his arms with a nod.

You’re shaking your head, not wanting to be judged by Jaehyun any further.

“Unless... you’re scared that I’m right about how shitty your footwork is?”

If there’s anything stronger than the fear of judgement, it’s the power of spite.

The song’s already onto the next, but the melody flows easily through you. Similar to Jaehyun, you place emphasis on your footwork, being conscious of switching your weight between the balls and heels of your feet and slowing your moves in order to be more sharp, more clean, but all the while purposefully hitting the beats and giving meaning to the moves.

Your body’s out of control, owning all the floor space around you. When your body leads you to end up in front of Jaehyun, you snag the hat off his head and put it on. While you stick your tongue out in response, he’s laughing, thinking how you look better with it on than him, and he realizes how he’s never seen you in this element.

“My footwork still shitty?” you ask, still dancing.

“There’s room for improvement,” Jaehyun breaks his fixed stance, now beginning to dance along with you. “But you’re not that bad either.”

Soon enough, you two are entangled in an unspoken dance battle, trying to one up the other with harder, stronger, better movements than the opponent. The moment Jaehyun drops his breakdancing skills, you bite back with your own strengths—fierce, sensual motions and dare to invade his personal space, in hopes he becomes flustered.

And he does, because he freezes at the sight of your bent ass, which is practically against his hips, and how your fingertips ghost the floor, then you shoot straight up and roll into his body. You lean your head back onto his shoulder, glancing up at him with shallow breaths, restless from the ongoing battle.

“Care to beat that?” you whisper, suddenly aware of your hands tugging the fabric of his track pants over his thighs. Your chest heaves, and Jaehyun’s drawn to the view in his proximity.

Despite his crude ogles, he’s super conscious of ensuring that his hands are not touching you, fearing he’s reading the situation wrong, that perhaps this was only due to the adrenaline and anger you’ve both pented up over time. It’s not as if you’d ever want him, even if he was the last man on Earth.

Although you can’t read his mind, Jaehyun’s absolutely right.

So why do you inch closer to his face?

Time slows as he begins to meet you halfway. Both of you are breathing in sync, hearts beating almost as one. You turn to grasp the crook of his neck, while he steadies you by your waist.

However, when your lips crash into his, time speeds up and it feels like it’s slipping away. All your movements are rushed as if it’s the last thing you’ll ever do. The kissing—open-mouthed, hungry, and needy—doesn’t falter anytime soon.

When you drop your touch from his neck, he runs his hands through your hair before caressing your cheek, deepening the kiss with more pressure. You’re sighing, humming into each kiss, and as Jaehyun pulls away to kiss your neck, you’re melting, knees feeling weak amidst your soft moans and eye rolls.

Not wanting to actually melt in front of him, you tug at his shirt in between kisses, prompting him to follow you towards a small table on one side of the room. Once you’re there, you sit atop the table and continue kissing Jaehyun, who’s standing in between your spread legs. The handsome figure reverts back to kissing your neck, but this time feels adventurous, letting his hand snake under your t-shirt and grasp the side of your stomach. He embraces the smoothness of your bare skin, adores how you feel with every contact.

There’s not much thinking happening, just lust coursing through each of your bodies. The lust distorts you so much, you don’t hesitate to take off your shirt and toss it to the floor. Jaehyun takes in your beauty for a brief second, before he follows suit and takes his shirt off too. His mouth captures yours again, while his hand kneads your ass and tugs you closer to his hips.

Throughout his kisses that span all over your body, your hands roam and grip the entirety of his toned upper body. Almost instantly, you feel what you can only assume is his growing hard-on pressed against your core, causing you to moan.

“Can I finger you?” Jaehyun asks the filthy question with a certain air of courtesy, leaning his perspired forehead against yours. You nod fervently and squeak a simple, “Yes.”

As you stand to get rid of your shoes and to wiggle your panties and leggings off, you notice Jaehyun laying the t-shirt he was wearing on the spot where you sat. He answers the confusion plastered on your face.

“These tables are used for everything in this building; you never know what could be on them.”

Today truly marks a day where you’ve never seen this many sides of Jaehyun before, but you don’t let yourself dissect the moment for too long. Since you still have your sports bra on, you opt to strip it off too, and jump back onto the table.

Because you’re completely naked in front of him, Jaehyun takes more of his sweet time to bask in the sight in front of him, unsure if he’ll ever see you like this again.

“Are you gonna keep staring,” you cusp his chin, forcing him to look into your eyes. “Or are you going to finger me?”

“I’ll do what I want when I want to,” he seethes along with your name. Without warning, his fingers hover under your exposed warmth, making you gasp.

Jaehyun chuckles deeply, “You’re dripping wet for me and I haven’t even put my fingers in yet.”

His fingers continue to painfully tease you, rubbing long, horizontal lines back and forth across your folds.

You bite your lip, fuming, “Jaehyun, stop teasing and put them in already,”

“Tell me I’m a good dancer.”

You sigh a half-chuckle and roll your eyes prior to muttering, “Fuck you.”

The tease dips his fingers just slightly into your sex, then pulls out right away. And again, and again. You’re getting more frustrated by the second, pouting with piercing eyes. Jaehyun always liked it when he had an upper hand on you during arguments, but he likes it even more like this.

“Tell me I’m a good dancer, and I’ll put them in.”

“Fine,” you scowl. “You’re a good dancer, but you know that alre—fuck.”

He plunges two digits deep into you, and your walls clench in gratification.

“You’re right. I know I am, I just wanted to hear you say it.”

You want to kiss the smirk off his face, but instead, you’re leaning your head back and gripping the edge of the table, reveling in the sensation of his fingers filling you. The music from his phone may be still playing, but all Jaehyun can focus on are your heaven sent moans and the way your body writhes, all due to him.

With his free hand, he trails his nails lightly down the spine of your back, making your sex pulse around his fingers even more. He palms the middle of your back as he begins to plant kisses on your clavicle, down your chest, then on one of your nipples. The label of a tease sticks with him. He dabs his tongue lightly here and there, barely traces a circle around your tip.

When he decides you’ve had enough, he puckers his lips tight and his cheeks become sunken. And when he’s not sucking, his tongue flicks as hard as the suctions, like strobing lights. You react in a frenzy, hands reaching towards his hair, to stuff and tug them between your fingers.

“Oh, God, Jaehyun...”

When Jaehyun takes your other breast into his mouth, your moans tether further as he also increases his fingering pace, causing you to grip onto his hair harder. You fear that it might be too rough, but then again, he deserves a little pain for all the fights you’ve had.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he growls, still with your nub surrounded by his teeth. He maintains his rhythm, enthralled with the obscene sounds of your pussy taking his fingers.

Feeling a little conscious, reasoning that his hand must be drenched with your juices, you stutter, “S-sorry.”

“No,” he pulls away from your mound, shakes his head, and pulls his hand from your back to caress your neck tenderly. “It’s fucking hot.”

Jaehyun kisses you with intensity, the speed of his wrist never relenting. You can’t even properly kiss him back because the pleasure is overwhelming, so much that if moans were a shade of paint, yours would be splattered all over the studio’s walls. You reach your peak with cries of his name, your honey glistening over his fingers.

After he pulls them out and you’re coming down from your high, he runs over to his backpack and rummages through it. Your eyes flicker, noticing the little silver package in hand. Jaehyun wastes no time in coming back to your side. He places the condom next to you on the table and strips off his clothes in record time.

Before he has a chance to open the condom, you jump off the table to grasp onto his wrist, gesturing for him to lean his backside against the table. He’s in awe as you drop to your knees in front of him.

You stroke his hardened length, admiring his size, but waste no time in tasting him to avoid Jaehyun’s potential banter about how big he is. However, he’s not even in the right mindset to do so; he’s in a trance, stuck on everything you’re doing.

Subconsciously or not, everything’s a competition with you two, so you showcase what you’re capable of doing with your tongue. Like him, you begin to be a painful tease, only giving small kitten licks on his cock. Then the next laps of your tongue are broad, but gradual.

Wanting to see everything you’re doing, he holds your messy hair in a makeshift ponytail since the hair tie you had on must have flown off during the former scenes. Jaehyun grunts sharply as you ease him into your mouth, the warmth welcoming and encircling him wholly. After you bob and swirl your tongue concurrently, giving him a sneak peek of what you’re able to do, you stroke him lackadaisically and meet his eyes.

“Now, you tell me I’m a good dancer,” you command.

A brief chuckle escapes from above, “I don’t think you’re in the same position to ask me of that.”

You challenge his words by taking his possession within your mouth once more. Holding him by the base to cover the area your mouth can’t, you jerk your head fast. With each bob and each swipe, more and more of your saliva covers Jaehyun’s desire. The slurps are so loud, so lewd. His face trembles and his grip tightens on your hair, the pleasure rising within him sooner than expected.

“Okay, okay. You’re a great dancer—fuck, fuck. Slow down. I don’t want to come just yet.”

You pull away, an extended line of your spit mixed with his precome draws out from your lips. Perking an eyebrow with a smolder, you light up your wrist rapidly. “Do you mean it?”

He’s breaking apart from your actions, baring his teeth and grimacing. “Yes, yes. I fucking mean it.”

With a smirk, you immediately drop him from your hand. He drags you upward into a mad kiss, in retaliation for the edging. Breaking apart from one another, you hurry to your original spot on the table. Jaehyun eases the rubber onto his cock and tugs you by your hips, having your ass laid on the very end of the table.

He raises your legs up, to be partially extended in the air and engulfed around his body. You have one elbow perched on the table and one hand on Jaehyun’s shoulder. Jaehyun stabilizes you by having a grip on the fold behind your knee and hustles to line his possession up with your sex. The moment it is, his hand meets your waist and he inserts himself fully into you.

Your back arches from his girth hitting you. Both of your moans expel, mingling with each other. He thrusts experimentally, testing the waters to see how you like it. Determined, deep thrusts. Shallow, swift thrusts. A mix of both.

It didn’t matter, because you cry in ecstasy either way.

Being aware of the music still playing from his phone, he wonders if he can plunge into you to match the beat. The current song was electronic and bass-heavy, making it difficult for him to truly match it, but your broken whimpers and name-calling don’t object to the fast thrill.

God, he can feel the way your pussy contracts against his inches.

“You know,” he pants heavily. “If I didn’t have good core control, I wouldn’t be able to do this.”

It takes a bit of effort to come up with a response. All you muster up is, “N-not necessarily,” before you lapse into your elation.

As you emit your endless moans, you spot your reflection in the wall-sized mirror. The sides of your bodies are parallel to it, and your eyes can’t tear away from the spectacle of you getting fucked by Jaehyun from another angle. It’s unbelievable how fit he is, but you see every flexed muscle and tendon in the mirror—from his neck to his ankles.

“Do you like watching me fuck you?”

His gaze confronts yours in the mirror, and you whimper with barely a bounce of your head.

Jaehyun’s thinking about how beautiful you are, but he holds his tongue back. Rather, he grasps the nape of your neck, pulling you in for another kiss, except the kisses are hardly materialized because your lips are constantly parted. Your hot breath fans against his face and he’s attentive to how close you are to him. Not just physically, but beyond that too. He can’t explain it, but it’s as if you’re under his skin.

He knows this will inevitably end, it has to, but he also knows he’ll want you again.

Jaehyun’s officially hooked—to your taste, to your scent, to your air, to your everything.

And he’s not the only one who feels that way too.

You inform Jaehyun that you’re nearing again, and he readies himself for his own little death too. Once you disintegrate, he kisses you for the last time, followed by spurts of his seed, releasing himself into the condom.

The two of you are heaving, sticky messes. Regardless, both of you hold onto each other for a little bit longer. Eventually, you must withdraw and you do.

The tension in the room seems to shift as you both begin to catch your breath, like everything that just happened was a dream. You don’t regret it, neither of you do, but reality blankets over. You’re the first to reach for your clothes and begin to put them back on. Jaehyun peels off the condom and follows your footsteps.

“This stays between us,” you express from afar, averting his eyes.

“And it’s only a one-time thing,” Jaehyun adds, but is immediately unsure if he should’ve said that.

“Exactly, it’s like you read my mind.”

Your chest clenches for a beat as the words come out of your mouth. You shake your head, trying not to think about it.

“Are you going to stay in the studio a bit longer?”

Reading his question as a simple inquiry, you don’t pick up the hopefulness in his tone nor do you see the look in his eyes.

“No, no. You can finally get the studio to yourself. I’ve had enough practice for the night.”

Already dressed, you hurry to grab all your gear and stuff it into your backpack, prepared to leave. You’re practically out the door in an instant as you mumble your good-bye.

“I’ll see you around, Jaehyun.”

While you’re walking home, Jaehyun’s still sitting on the floor of the dance studio with his hat in his hand, remembering the way you looked with it on.

At the same moment, you’re both trying your best to stop thinking about the other.

Keeping this a secret between the two of you, you could do. If your team knew what went down, the best case scenario would be that you lose captaincy. The worst case was that you wouldn’t be a part of your team anymore. However, in either case, your best friends, who were also on the team, would likely question your loyalty and dedication, wondering why you’d ever do such a thing in the first place. The same applied to Jaehyun.

Seeing Jaehyun again was inevitable. Your teams often collided during practice hours and sometimes fought for the studio. Although it’d be awkward, it’d be manageable. At least, you hope it would be.

But the only thing neither of you could truly promise, nor did you two desire, was keeping this as a one-time thing, especially now, when you’ve had a taste of each other and yearned for more.

One more month until the competition.

What more could possibly happen between you and Jaehyun until then?

#jaehyun #jung jaehyun #jung jaehyun x reader #nctcreations #nct #jaehyun smut #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #nct fanfic #nct smut #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct 127 fanfic #nct 127 smut #nct 127 imagines #mywritings #myfanfics #jaehyun x reader

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starilicious · 3 years

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der lagi lekin (hunter x force-user!gn! reader + ep. 8 fix-it)

》 summary: tbb episode 8 fix-it featuring a force-user reader who used to be a jedi. reader is a part of tbb and in a relationship with hunter, but the squad–nor hunter–knows that reader is a force-user. (disclaimer: all of this was written before episode 9 was released! see a/n for an explanation ^_^) (another disclaimer: if you want just the hunter x reader comfort, please let me know and i'll finish it up and post it!)

》 word count: ~8k (yeah, it's a lot LOL)

click here to read on AO3

》 warnings: in-universe swearing, mental breakdown, some slight sensory overloads, pretty mild panic attack, light canon-typical violence, angst + some comfort, survivor's guilt from surviving order 66, no use of y/n, slightly plot heavy because i got way too carried away in writing (whoops?) [if i should add more warnings, please let me know!]

》 spoilers: major ones for tbb episode 8 "reunion"

》 a/n: okay look, i gotta confess: this wasn’t supposed to be an episode 8 fix-it. really. i’m actually glad cad bane won because we get to see that the clones don’t always win every fight... i think it makes for a better and more complex story. anyway, i started out writing just reader and hunter comfort after episode 8 ended. but i’m weak for omega because she reminds me so much of my younger siblings and i ended up writing a wholeass fix-it to save her (even tho cad bane is a downright badass). i kind of liked what i did with building up the plot so much that i might continue this story of force-user!reader with tbb. but that’s a tangent we can deal with later. if you would like a part two with the hunter x reader comfort this was originally intended to be, let me know!

as i said in the summary, i wrote all of this before episode 9 came out–just be aware of that. because it’s so long, it took me a while to edit, which is why i’m posting after ep. 9 was released. but without further ado, i hope you like it! <33

》 misc. notes:

• title of the fic is from the hindi song "der lagi lekin" from the film zindagi na milegi dobara. i linked the song in blue and linked the english translations in green in case you're curious! it's not necessary to listen or understand the song, but i thought it went well with the fic :)

“Everybody get down!” Wrecker yells. You and the squad immediately do as he instructs, diving towards the ground and covering your head. Stars, I hope this works.

The charges the six of you placed around the gigantic cone that surrounds the core cylinder explodes in a deafening blast. You curl into the tightest ball you can manage, breathing so hard that the HUD inside your helmet temporarily fogs up. Metal shards of the explosion rain down on you hard.

For a moment, it seems like nothing happened. But then you hear the telltale, ear-grinding creak of the durasteel and the squad is roughly catapulted forward from the force of the cone beginning to fall down.

You struggle to stand up as you lurch this way and that, trying to regain your balance and stabilize as Tech calls out, “Hold on!”

You quickly glance at the rest of the Bad Batch, trying to see if any of them were hurt. Other than the absolutely terrified look on Omega’s face, all is well considering the circumstances. The metal groans and begins its descent, taking your feeling of being grounded with it. The weightlessness is uncomfortably familiar to say the least, but you ignore it as the six of you scramble to hold on to the side of the cone. You certainly did your fair share of acrobatics back in the war, but feeling it hum around you...it’s too much. It’s too much. You elect to push it back into the depths of your brain. But it doesn’t leave.

It never really does.

Omega’s anxious whimpers come in faintly through your thick helmet and you whip around, frantically trying to find where she is. But before you can find her, the cone lands vertically on its head and the force is so violent that your stable hold on the durasteel is broken. Panicked, you quickly fire a grappling hook towards the ledge where you were previously hanging on. The hook catches and you stop abruptly, the jerky movement almost wrenching your arm out of its socket.

You look down to see Omega falling from someone’s grip and into Hunter’s arms. You can barely tell where anyone is thanks to the lack of light and the incessant motion.

The cone begins to topple onto its side and suddenly, your wire snaps from the tension. You let out a scream of surprise as you plummet downwards, wind rushing past your helmet. ForceIdon’twanttodieohmyMakerohno–

But you never hit the ground, instead being flung sideways as the cone tears into two. On trained instinct, you tuck yourself into a ball to try and roll in order to break your fall instead of using it. That time is long gone.

You land with a sickening thud and hiss in pain as your back hits the metal hard. You hear something crack, but whether it is your armor or something internal, you have absolutely no idea, and don’t have time to check before you black out.

✧✦✧

You jolt awake, a sound making its way into your consciousness. Finally, the damn place stopped moving. You take a few minutes to try and relieve the painful pressure in your chest, reaching up to rip your helmet off because you can’t breathe, you can’t breathe.

You tilt your head back as you struggle to take in air and let the adrenaline subside. You hear voices in the distance and you strain your ears to pick up on the sound as you quickly check yourself over. As far as you can tell, nothing major is broken, and at this point, that is all that matters. Though, your head is pounding, and for more reasons than one

“–nter.. port side... what… status?”

You can’t tell who is speaking, the message too far away for you to hear. But the bits and pieces are enough for you to know that it’s someone from the Bad Batch and that you weren’t unconscious for long. You stand up and dust yourself off before slowly walking to where you believe the origin of the sound is.

“–engine… got company.” A blaster sound and then an explosion rings through the quiet.

Your eyes widen and you quickly pick up the pace, getting your blaster ready as you pick your way through the sharp metal that is jutting out from the ground.

You click on your wrist comm. “Echo, you there?” A faint crackle before his voice comes through, but the signal is scratchy. You frown in frustration.

“–are you? Hunter is... port side,” Echo says and you smack your commlink to try and get the electronics to work, but it’s no use. The device is broken, most likely from the fall, you deduce.

“Meet… Marauder.”

You don’t bother to answer, knowing Echo would probably not even be able to hear what you had to say anyway. Without a signal booster or repeater, there’s no way you can get your transmission across the channel frequency.

It takes a few minutes, but you eventually find the night sky of Bracca blinking down at you at the end of the ripped off cone. You run out to find that you’re in the middle of where the cone broke in half. Okay, new plan. I need to find Hunter. Hunter will know what to do.

You scan your surroundings. The HUD isn’t picking up on any lifeforms near you, and you realize with sinking dread that you have no more options. Whichever piece you climbed through to get to your squadmates, it would take too long for you to search for them since you don’t know their coordinates and your comm isn’t working. Frankly, the Empire–Crosshair–would find you first. You have to use it.

You have to use the Force.

A wave of nausea overcomes you at the mere thought of it and you sway. In an attempt to ground yourself, you tear off your helmet to breathe some fresh air and end up keeling over as the bile rises in your throat. Nothing comes out. You can’t tell if that’s a positive or not.

You could have saved them. Someone. Anyone.

It itches at you in the back of your head, wishing to be let out of its cage. But you can’t. You can’t do it. What’s the use anyway? All you would be doing is saving yourself. The choice of surviving it all has haunted you ever since. Your head pounds in agony.

You saw it happen. You could have helped them. And you ran like a coward. Only ever concerned about yourself.

You inhale sharply as the scene flashes before your eyes, clones shooting at you and the other Jedi. The blaster fire. The confusion. The screams.

How pathetic.

The last statement, an echo of Crosshair’s words, bounces around in your brain. You clutch your head as you let out a heartbroken sob, knee deep in the dirt and metal and grief. Tears create clean tracks down your face as you finally break down, the flood of emotions bursting the dam open. At this point, you don’t know if the emotions are yours or the ones you previously felt through the Force, all of them swirling and blending into one. The bottled up anguish merged together when you attempted to cut yourself off from the Force after the clones–your friends–attacked.

The pain of their death is perhaps the worst of all. Horror courses through you as you finally process your friends and mentors dying around the galaxy, their deaths, their distress, their fear reverberating heavily throughout the Force. Each one cripples you further as you once again struggle to breathe.

It feels like light years pass when you finally calm down to a practically numb state of being. The scenes stop replaying behind your closed eyelids and the echoing shrieks die down to a faint, hollow whisper. You’re suddenly exhausted, limbs heavy and energy sapped. It was almost relieving to finally let the Force once again flow through your body, your nerves lightly tingling with potential despite how tired you feel. You collapse onto the ground and try to recenter yourself.

But despite finally acknowledging the loss, it doesn’t feel right. You didn’t get to say goodbye. You hadn’t been able to even think about them, much less honor them, too focused on going on the run to concentrate on anything beyond the next day’s survival. Even once you joined the Bad Batch, you were paranoid about their chips, about your friends turning on you at any moment. You were always extremely reluctant to engage in the Force, even at the worst of times.

With a start, you realize that you don’t need to worry about your squadmates. Their inhibitor chips are now gone. You… you are safe.

You let out a shocked laugh as it sinks in. A glimmer of hope, of peace. I’m safe.

You sit up then, criss-crossing your legs as you survey the broken landscape of Bracca. Despite the planet being a graveyard, you feel lucidly alive. Perhaps something died in you, that wretched day. But something else, slowly but surely, began growing in its place. It’s meek, but it’s there.

You let out a breath and close your eyes, reaching for the Force like it’s an old friend. It accepts your invitation with hesitation, joining hands with you as if you did not try beating it to death for days on end. You sink into the gentle lapping waves of the Force, extending into it and widening your scope.

There’s something that lurks beneath the surface, in the deep. Dark and sinister and so utterly painful. It calls to you, quiet and low. Enticing. Tempting. And something in you knows that it’s the reason for your previous life’s demise.

But you can feel Hunter’s–and Omega’s, you realize–presence near you in the Force. Even with your relatively damaged connection to the Force after Order 66, the Bad Batch’s Force auras were something you could always hone in on. You let yourself direct your focus to the duo, letting their emotions be your beacon to the acceptance of the Light side of the Force.

In a split second, you decide to not dive deeper into the Force. This isn’t the place nor the time to discover what is prowling in the endless yawning of the Force, to discover why everything happened. So you direct your concentration to the beings on the planet, feeling and breathing your way through the Life Force.

You freeze. There’s something here. No… someone. Your eyebrows furrow as you divert your attention away from your friends and other organisms to the peculiar source. Something about this person strikes you as familiar.

Your eyes snap open and you gasp. I’m not alone. A Force-sensitive. Someone survived. Giddy beyond belief, you snatch up your helmet and begin trekking your way across the wreckage in the opposite direction of Hunter and Omega before pausing. Whoever this person is doesn’t know about your presence on the planet.

And despite the fear you felt emanating off of them in the Force, you somehow knew they were safe, at least for now. And they would remain so if you have anything to say about it. Maker forbid anything that jeopardizes this person’s fragile safety. After all, you know best what it’s like to constantly flee scene after scene.

Staying away is the best thing to do. I’ll come back for you, whoever you are.

You double back and make quick work of getting across the debris as you focus your concentration on Hunter’s and Omega’s Force signatures. As you get closer to the port side, you hear Omega’s high voice. Through your HUD, you can see her small form. You grin. She disappears then, and on closer inspection, you figure she jumped through some broken cargo doors.

The entrance she and Hunter took is too high for you to jump up to, even with the aid of the Force. Combined with your wariness of probe droids, you decide to take a different route from the right side, climbing up the broken ship. The slick oil mixed with the water still present on the metal makes for a difficult trek, and you slip more times than you would like to admit.

Hunter’s gruff voice floats up towards you and you scramble the last few meters to the edge of a hole in the ceiling before pausing. The Force is itching at the back of your head. Something’s wrong.

You peek over the edge of the giant slab of durasteel that created the hole to see bodies in white armor littered everywhere–clones, you realize. Your heart pangs in sadness at the sight.

Slightly to your right, a blue figure and a techno-service droid stand in front of a ship and a frightened Omega stands behind a defensive Hunter. Your mouth drops open. Kriff.

Cad Bane.

A memory from near the beginning of the war hits you in full force. You and Anakin had taken some time on Coruscant to catch up with each other after you passed your trials and were promoted to Jedi Knight. He told you about a mission where he had to stop a bounty hunter who successfully stole a Jedi holocron. You remember how surprised you were when you heard the bitter disgust in Anakin’s voice. The ruthlessly cunning bounty hunter not only threatened to kill Ahsoka, but he murdered Master Ropal.

Judging by the looks of it, Hunter doesn’t know who he is. If the Anakin Skywalker had a difficult time with Cad Bane, there is no way in sithhell Hunter can take him on, even with his enhanced senses. Frankly, you seriously doubt you can either, especially with how rusty your Force skills are now. And that means this isn’t going to end well.

You watch carefully as you tune into the conversation.

“Ain’t you smart?” Bane smirks. “The kid’s got it all figured it out.”

“You’re in trouble now!” the droid exclaims, pointing at Hunter and Omega. You grit your teeth in annoyance.

“Who hired you?” Hunter asks. Stalling. Not a bad move, Hunter.

“Son,” Bane sighs, already done with the brief conversation. “That’s confidential information. Now hand her over.”

Omega stays behind Hunter, taking a knee as Hunter walks forward protectively. You bristle. How am I supposed to help from up here?

“She’s not going anywhere.”

Your eyes drift over the scene in a panic and you take in the fallen clones again. An idea pops into your head. It is desperate, but at this point, you don’t have much of a choice.

Bane mimics Hunter’s movement, walking forward and putting a hand near his belt. The tension is as thick as duracrete.

“That’s unfortunate… for you.”

You grab the long barrel piece from your belt, fitting it over your blaster hurriedly as the showdown begins. Out of the corner of your eye, you see them staring each other down and you can’t help but roll your eyes. Men.

During the war, Crosshair helped you re-engineer your weapon so you could put together various pieces in the field to make a blaster gun that loosely resembled his own sniper. Seeing the clones reminded you of him. A wave of sadness washes over you, but you shake your head. Now is not the time.

You screw on the telescopic sight and set up your makeshift sniper. You peer through the viewfinder and find Bane’s chest. Your finger tenses over the trigger.

You let yourself sink deep into the Force, let it guide your actions. Inhale. Exhale. I can do this. As you relax, the mellow warmth you missed so dearly washes over you, gently eroding the torment in your mind and heart, guiding your focus to the here and now. Trust in the Force.

Wait.

Now.

You fire two bolts straight into your target the same exact moment Bane and Hunter shoot each other. Hunter’s shot hits the droid, breaking off its leg. Bane’s shot hits directly in Hunter’s chest, as yours did Bane. Both men immediately fall backwards and slam into the ground.

“My booster!” Oh. So not a leg. Got it.

“Hunter!”

Kriff kriff kriff. You jump down nimbly from your hiding spot in the ceiling and immediately sprint towards the duo. Is he dead? You would unapologetically release sithhell on Bane if he killed the man you love.

Omega panics as she tries to wake Hunter up, continuously calling his name before taking a glimpse of her surroundings. Before you can react, she grabs her bow and pulls it taut, aiming at you. She looks petrified.

“Whoa! Omega, it’s me!” you exclaim, holding your hands up in surrender. She takes a moment to actually look at you before sagging in relief. Suddenly, the droid comes speeding out of nowhere and Omega shoots, the energy bolt whizzing past your waist and straight into the droid before it can attack you from behind.

The shot rings true and the grumpy robot falls. You turn around to grab at its exposed parts under its head and yank them out to make sure it can’t power on again.

“Thanks, Omega. I owe you one,” you say and Omega gives you a proud smile.

You place a comforting hand on her shoulder before kneeling down to shake Hunter awake, but it doesn’t work. You take a moment to analyse Hunter’s Life Force. It’s a bit dimmer, but it’s constant, meaning he’s out cold and doesn’t have the life draining out of him. You let out a sigh of relief. He’s alive. You glance back to see Bane still not moving. Good.

“What’re we gonna do?” Omega whispers as you both peer down at Hunter. His armor is smoking from Bane’s blaster shot and you exhale through your teeth, trying to come up with a plan. You slip off a glove to check Hunter’s pulse–it’s strong. You don’t want to leave Omega alone, even if Bane is unconscious, but you aren’t sure you have a choice.

“Well we can’t carry him to safety, neither of us are strong enough for that,” you think aloud, gears churning in your head. You would have to wait for help, even if you were sitting ducks.

Briefly, you entertain the thought of taking Bane’s ship. The only problem is you don’t know what trackers or other gadgets are in there–it’s too costly of a risk and a price you weren’t willing to pay. You sigh, resigned.

“Omega, you try to comm the others and see if you can wake Hunter up. I’m going to go inside this guy’s ship and see if I can find something that can help us. We have to get out of here before the bounty hunter wakes up,” you instruct and Omega nods, youthful determination flooding back into her eyes.

You leave her to it, walking cautiously towards Bane’s ship. You look down at him. His armor is smoking in two places from the shots you fired. Based on what you see, he’s still unconscious, and his Life Force reflects the same conclusion. How long that would remain, you don’t know. Which means you need to work fast.

You board the ship while you remove the sniper attachments from your blaster and clip them back onto your belt. You keep your guard up as you look around. No droids. Guess that techno-service droid is his one and only.

In an effort to slowly re-familiarize yourself with the Force, you send out a quick pulse through it to see if there are any lifeforms aboard the ship, relaxing when you find none. You rummage through all the cabinets that you discover, looking high and low as you try to locate something of use. The secret compartment in the cockpit proves to be the fruitful reward to your search. With a wave of your hand, you unlock it with ease. Bingo.

Credits. Bags of them. And they’re unmarked creds, which make your score even better. Hopefully, it would be enough to pay off your debt to Cid and give the Havoc Marauder some much-needed upgrades.

Usually, you would feel bad about stealing from someone, but considering this was a bounty hunter – Cad Bane, no less – you figure you can risk treading the grey area of your moral code.

You grab as many bags as you’re able, stuffing them inside your backpack and clipping the rest onto your belt. At this moment, you’re incredibly grateful to Tech and Echo for designing a sturdy utility belt that fits you well. The standard ones were for clones and you definitely were not a clone.

You exit the cockpit and head to the second level of the ship to see if there’s anything else you can find. A stack of crates sits in the corner across from what you assume to be a prison. You scrunch your nose in disgust as you open one to find medical supplies. Bacta patches and gel, vitapaste, rations, water, gloves, sanitary napkins–it was all there. Delighted, you close the crate and click the repulsor to make it levitate. Oh how you love technology.

You turn around and walk back up the stairs to leave the ship. You freeze at the exit ramp. You have got to be karking kidding me.

“Sorry lil’ lady.”

Cad Bane stuns Omega in front of your eyes before rounding on you and immediately fires. In a desperate attempt to save yourself, you throw your hands up and the honeyed power of the Force rushes through every fibre of your being. The blaster bolts slow down to a snail-like crawl and your eyes widen. How did I…?

Never mind how you argue with yourself. Time to get out of here!

You tiptoe around each bolt, the effort of keeping them in stasis becoming more difficult with each passing moment. You grit your teeth as your arms shake, but you keep going until you are finally off the ramp. You lower your arms and the energy hits the inside of the ship, spazzing out the blinking controls inside.

Bane turns to you in surprise, astonished at how you’re suddenly in front of him. You don’t give him the luxury of processing the event and immediately punch him in the face with as much strength as you can muster. Bane pitches backwards and collapses onto the ground, just as he did the first time. You grab your stun blaster and shoot him as extra assurance. You really did not want this to repeat again. Hopefully he never wakes up with a memory of what I just did...

“Now stay down,” you mutter to a knocked out Bane, cradling your now injured hand. You have no idea how Wrecker ever does this because wow your hand is killing you.

You have to say, you’re pretty proud of yourself for being able to render him unconscious not once, but two times. You wish you could tell Anakin–the thought saddens you. He’s probably dead too.

With that vividly cheery thought, you stagger back from the ramp in exhaustion, weary from the sudden surge of the Force still ebbing and coursing through your body.

None of the Bad Batch knew you used to be a Jedi–not even Hunter. It was something only a few of your closest Jedi friends and the Jedi Council knew about.

But after what happened today, with Rex helping your squadmates get their inhibitor chips out, with you finally letting the Force in… maybe it is time to tell them. The secrecy wouldn’t be needed anymore now that you were sure you were safe around your friends. But clearly, the universe wanted to throw a nasty vibroblade in your plans by knocking Hunter and Omega unconscious and having the best kriffing bounty hunter in the galaxy be hot on your heels.

You take a few seconds to get your breath back and regain your mental energy. You aren’t out of the woods yet. You run inside Bane’s ship to grab the crate of medical supplies before sprinting back out towards Hunter and Omega.

You lean down and pat Omega’s cheek gently, trying to wake her up, but she’s out cold. Why is everyone around me unconscious? Frankly, you’re equally amused and terrified by the situation laid out in front of you.

You sigh, looking around to see if you can find some cover. There’s a giant sheet of durasteel to your left, big enough to act as a barrier in case trouble comes knocking. You bend down and pick Omega up before placing her down cautiously, leaning her small body against the metal. You repeat the action with the crate you found.

The third time proves to be much more difficult. Hunter certainly isn’t as muscular as Wrecker, but he sure as sithhell isn’t as light as Omega. You tap your foot nervously, trying to figure out a way for you to lift him. Yes, you could use the Force, but you don’t want to alert the other Force-sensitive on the planet. If they knew about your existence, it could put them in danger, and that was the last thing you wanted.

Giving up, you place your hands underneath Hunter’s armpits and effectively drag him all the way over, propping him up as you did Omega. You cringe at the sound of his armor grating the floor. There are sure to be dirty scuff marks on it now. Sorry Hunter.

Just as you’re about to sit down next to him, heaving deep breaths from the exertion, you pause. A warning is practically blaring in the Force and you tense, urgently trying to figure out the cause.

“Not again,” you mumble under your breath. You can’t handle any more action today. With Hunter and Omega both down, and your extreme fatigue from engaging in the Force, you don’t know how much of a fight you can put up. Not to mention you never trained as a soldier. There was a reason why you left the military planning strategies to the Bad Batch.

You hold your blaster close to your chest as you scan the environment. Bane is immobile and so is the dismantled techno-service droid. So what’s wrong?

Ten nerve-wracking seconds pass before you get your answer. Clone voices waft up to your hiding spot and you bite your cheek in frustration as your head continues to pound. Your headache still hasn’t stopped.

There is no way you can fight them all off, especially if Crosshair is with them. They are too far away for you to get a read on how many there are, and frankly, you’re much too scared to even peek around the durasteel to count.

One of Tech’s previous statements floats through your mind. About three attack shuttles worth.

You can feel your heart thumping wildly in your chest, blood rushing through your ears as anxiety ties your stomach into knots. I can’t do this, I can’t do this, Ican’tdothis.

You take deep breaths, doing your best to clear your mind and focus. You had to do this. There is no other option other than surrendering or dying. No, damnit, you would go down fighting until the Life Force left you.

You peer just past the edge of the metal to see at least twenty clones heading your way. Certainly not ideal, but you bide your time. If you started shooting now, you couldn’t use the element of surprise to your advantage and they would easily overwhelm you. But once they’re close enough, you hope you can at least take a couple out before having to resort to using the Force. It isn’t ideal, but it’s all you have.

Honestly, you don’t know if you could get out of this one alive, much less protect Hunter and Omega too. Maker help me.

It throws you off when they finally come into sight–you see how plain the clones’ armor looked without paint. You never really noticed it before since you were always running for your life in those circumstances. But now that you think about it, you are so used to seeing bright blue or green or yellow that the alabaster white just seems so… odd.

“Looks like a big fight happened here.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. All these men are dead.”

Now.

You whip your body around the metal and immediately begin shooting as fast as you can pull the trigger, trying to make every shot count. The troopers hesitate for just a moment, most likely due to their surprise of you being there. But that second is all you need.

You take out the three men closest to you before jumping back behind the metal as their barrage of fire rains down on you. You do your best to shoot back and manage to take out one more clone, but they’re beginning to gain too much ground too fast. I can do this. I have to do this.

As far as you can tell, Crosshair isn’t with the clones attacking you, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t set up shop somewhere nearby, waiting to shoot you.

You shudder. It’s a chilling thought.

You grab one of your last detonators from your belt and hurl it as far as you can. The rapid beeping rises quickly in pitch before the charge explodes. Anguished cries reverberate throughout the area, and you briefly feel sorry for having to take such drastic measures as you feel their Force signatures dim swiftly. But you don’t have a choice.

Peeking around the corner, you count around eight to ten clones down. Not bad considering the circumstances.

You continue shooting as much as you can but now the troopers are much too close for comfort and you’re feeling overwhelmed. The durasteel you are using for cover isn’t meant to take this kind of damage, and the integrity of your shield is quickly waning as told by the constant creaks and groans. You don’t know what to do. Will we make it?

In your haste of shooting first and panicking later, you don’t notice Hunter groaning, finally waking up. And before you have time to even glance at him, the familiar hum of the Havoc Marauder and its lights shine down on you. Your sag in relief. Looks like Omega was able to comm them after all. Never before have you been so glad to see the beat-up hunk of junk. (You would never say that to Tech though–the Marauder is his baby, his pride and joy.)

Echo, Wrecker, and Tech all race off the ship, guns ablazing. Wrecker and Tech stand guard, serving as cover fire while Echo bends down to help you out.

“Hunter, wake up!” Echo hisses and smacks his helmet lightly. Hunter mumbles in pain as he starts to move, trying to look around as his HUD boots back up. Seriously? Now you wake up? you think sarcastically. But you’re much more relieved at the fact that he has actually woken up.

“What happened? Where’s Omega?” Wrecker bellows, worried.

“She’s right here, I’ve got her!” you shout back at the same time Echo says, “He was shot in the chest plate.”

You pocket your blaster and gather the young girl in your arms with every last bit of strength you have left. You aren’t strong enough to hold her in one arm and shoot with the other. That is much more up Wrecker’s alley.

“We have to get him on board!” Tech exclaims as he helps Echo support Hunter. You pick Omega up in both arms and bolt for the ship as fast as you can while yelling at Tech to grab the crate of supplies.

“Incoming!” Wrecker calls out as a fresh wave of troopers advance towards the six of you. You grunt as you deposit Omega in a chair near the controls before pulling out your blaster and helping Wrecker shoot down the men racing towards you.

“Got him. Tech, fly us out of here!” Echo commands while Wrecker makes a gesture for them to get on the ship faster. Hunter stumbles as he does his best to upright himself.

“Go go go!” Wrecker exclaims. Tech shoves the crate next to Omega’s seat and makes a beeline for the cockpit as you continue shooting, moving to the side to make space for Echo and Hunter to come on board. Wrecker quickly climbs in right after them and the ramp closes shut.

Tech immediately pilots the Havoc Marauder up and away from the scene. You vaguely hear the sound of blaster fire hitting the bottom of the ship while you drop your blaster on the ground and wrench Hunter’s helmet off in a panic. You take his face in your hands as you scan him quickly, trying to figure out if he’s hurt or not.

Hunter bats your hands away. “He... he took Omega,” he says and you shake your head. Wrecker pipes up from behind you to respond.

“Who? Crosshair?”

“The bounty hunter,” Hunter mutters as he rubs a hand over his face. Before Wrecker can answer again, you step in.

“No, he didn’t. I took him down. And no, he’s not dead,” you tack on quickly when you see Echo open his mouth. Echo shakes his head fondly and you just grin at him.

“She’s right here,” Echo says instead, pointing to Omega’s sleeping figure. Hunter turns in surprise to see that his brother is indeed telling the truth.

“How...?” Hunter’s voice trails off. Echo and Wrecker look at you expectantly, and Hunter follows suit. You sigh and take off your helmet, setting it down on the ledge next to the controls. You don’t look at them.

“It’s a long story.”

You don’t have a chance to elaborate any further because Tech walks in, interrupting the conversation.

“I’ve made the jump to hyperspace. There was a cruiser in the atmosphere, but I was able to quietly go past them by disguising our ship as a bounty hunter’s. They didn’t interfere. I put in the coordinates for Ord Mantell. I estimate our time of arrival to be five hours and thirty two minutes,” Tech reports and Hunter nods while you voice your thanks.

“Looks like we got time!” Wrecker says cheerily, pulling out an extra chair. Tech looks to you in confusion.

“Did I miss something significant?” Tech asks, concerned about the information he did not receive as he adjusts his goggles. You shake your head but now, all eyes are back on you.

“She was just about to tell us how she saved Omega,” Hunter supplies helpfully and Tech nods in understanding. He grabs a chair as well and sits down, interested in hearing what you have to say.

You look around the room, realizing you can’t get out of it. You are exhausted and just want to sleep but based on the looks you are getting from the boys, there is no way you can leave without giving a sufficient answer.

You sit down on a chair in between Omega and Echo and begin explaining.

“When the cone fell, it separated. I got knocked out when I hit the ground, but I don’t think I broke anything,” you quickly reassure as Tech grabs a datapad to scan your vitals.

“After I came to, I tried comming Echo, but my commlink was broken – I could only hear bits and pieces of what he said. There were some voices near me so I just followed them and–” you pause, not sure if you should tell them what happened. What you experienced, what you found out. “–I saw Hunter and Omega. The ledge I found was way too high for me to jump to, so I climbed up the side of the wreckage to see them and the bounty hunter facing off,” you say, choosing to leave the detail out. It was too personal. You still needed time.

All of them are listening intently, hanging on to every word you’re saying. Hunter’s gaze on you is heavy and loaded with questions. Tech is still tapping away on the datapad, but you know you have his full attention. Multitasking may not be possible for regular humans, but it definitely was for Tech.

“When I saw the bounty hunter, I knew Hunter wasn’t going to win,” you mumble sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck. Hunter winces at your statement and you rush to explain why.

“Hunter, you have to trust that I genuinely don’t doubt your abilities. You are much more of a soldier than I will ever be. But this bounty hunter is one of the best, if not the best in the entire galaxy. He’s gone against the Jedi, and won. Based on what Anakin told me at the beginning of the war, Cad Bane is ruthless. He tortured Master Ropal and killed him. Believe it or not, I think he tried to abduct Chancellor Palpatine. Even Anakin had a difficult time fighting him.”

A tense quiet settles over you all as you mentally revisit your conversation with Anakin, and later with Ahsoka. She told you how it was one of the first times she was genuinely afraid that she was going to die, or at least get hurt very severely.

Echo’s rough voice shakes you out of your reverie. “How do–did you know General Skywalker?” he asks, clearly confused at how you referred to him on a first-name basis. You mentally facepalm yourself. How did I forget he served as part of the 501st? You feel incredibly stupid.

You could make up a lie, of course, but it wouldn’t be worth it. Hunter’s enhanced senses and Tech’s vitals scan could probably pick up on your biological signs, not to mention you would feel terribly guilty about not being honest. I promised myself I would tell them…

You blow out a nervous breath, deciding to at least give them something. They deserved that much.

“I’m–well, I was a Jedi,” you admit, staring down at your feet. You can’t bring yourself to look at them, feeling almost… ashamed.

The boys are shocked into silence and you cringe. There was probably a much better way for you to say that, but now it was out there. Yet the pressure that had been weighing down on you since you let the Force back in didn’t lessen.

“What?” Wrecker questions, thrown completely for a loop. “You’re a Jedi?”

Before you can answer, Tech pipes up. “When I reviewed your medical data, there was no note about an elevated midi-chlorian count or any sort of connection to the Force. Additionally, there is no documentation of you serving as a General or a Commander during the war in the Republic military records. How were you a Jedi? And why aren’t you one now? You used past tense in your sentence,” Tech adjusts his goggles as he attempts to register this new information that conflicted with his previous knowledge.

You sigh, drumming your fingers on your thigh. “I left the Jedi Order before the war ended. I promise I’ll explain everything in detail later, but for now, you have to understand that I’m just a Force-user. I trained as a Jedi, but I’m not a Jedi, not anymore,” you clarify, lifting your head up to make eye contact with each of them.

“Aw man, that’s so cool. You have to show us your cool mind tricks sometime!” Wrecker smiles and you agree to his request. It warms your heart to see him so excited.

“It makes sense. You must have seen the regs turn on the Jedi but didn’t know why. When you started traveling with us, you didn’t know if we would turn on you too, even though we’re not regs,” Hunter realizes, and you nod in affirmation. You’re secretly relieved by the fact that he doesn’t seem angry, just… just thoughtful.

“And then when I saw what happened to Crosshair, I knew I couldn’t risk ever telling any of you. But when Rex told us about the chips…” you trail off.

Echo picks up your sentence quickly. “You figured out you would be safe with us if we got our chips removed. No wonder you were so insistent on following what Rex said.”

You smile at the last part, a bit embarrassed. He wasn’t wrong. You were probably even more insistent than Rex was on telling them to get their inhibitor chips out. Better to be safe than sorry you told them. Though at the time, you hadn’t even thought about how removing their chips would impact you and your abilities. You were too focused on keeping the Force out of your body to entertain that thought.

Wrecker suddenly gets up and gathers you in a bone-crushing hug. “Well you don’t have to worry now! We got those stupid chips out of our heads, which means I promise we won’t kill you!” he says cheerfully and you can’t help but laugh as you hug him back, the knot in your chest beginning to unravel. You could always count on Wrecker’s wonderfully big heart to raise your spirits.

“You’re right, big guy. It’s honestly a relief. One less thing I have to worry about.”

Wrecker lets go of you and you pick up where you left off. “As I was saying, Cad Bane isn’t a bounty hunter we can take lightly. Crosshair helped me re-engineer my blaster to turn it into a pseudo sniper with attachable parts during the war. Because I was so high up, I could get a clear shot of Bane. From that vantage point, I shot him at the same time Hunter and Bane shot each other.”

Echo’s mouth drops open. “Damn.”

“What I didn’t expect was for Hunter to be rendered completely unconscious. So I told Omega to try to comm you guys while I went on Bane’s ship to see if I could find anything. And I did.” You pull off your backpack and dump out the contents. Bags of credits come tumbling out. You unhook the few bags on your belt and toss them into the pile.

“Bane had a secret compartment with a lot of credits. So I took them and that crate I yelled at Tech to get,” you explain as you reach into the bag to show off the Imperial credits.

Tech’s eyes widen as he lifts up a bag to inspect it. “I will have to calculate how much you took and mark it in the inventory, but based on my initial deduction, this may be enough for us to upgrade the Marauder and provide sustenance for at least a few months.”

“Nice one!” Wrecker compliments and you grin in response. “What’s in the crate?” he asks, walking over to lift up the top.

“Medical supplies. We barely had any left so I figured I might as well take that too,” you shrug as Hunter gets up to join Wrecker to peer at the contents.

“What happened after that? You said you told Omega to comm the others, which means she was awake. Did she get hurt while I was out? Is that why you look so exhausted?” Hunter inquires, astute as ever.

You bite your lower lip. “When I was getting off his ship with the goods, he had woken up again. Before I could do anything, he stunned Omega and then immediately shot at me,” you pause, wondering if you should elaborate on how you got out of the situation. You decide to come clean on this part.

“I… I don’t know how, but I was able to stop the blaster bolts and keep them – and Bane – in stasis with the Force. The problem was that it took a lot out of me. After not really using the Force for so long, my energy reserves were pretty much gone,” you sigh, absentmindedly rubbing your arms. Your muscles are still sore from the event.

“After that, I punched him and knocked him out again. I dragged you and Omega away from the ship so that I could protect you, and I ended up using that giant piece of durasteel as cover to fight off those clones. Then you guys came and rescued us and that’s that,” you finish, suddenly fatigued from the conversation. You slump back into your chair, perfect posture be damned.

“Wow,” is all Echo says, surprised by your strength. It took some serious stamina to be able to withstand so much for so long. Echo remembered seeing Commander Tano and General Skywalker be exhausted after some especially intense missions where they constantly had to use the Force.

“Yeah,” you mutter, massaging your dominant hand. It is still throbbing from the mean hook you threw at Bane. You don’t have any regrets. You glance at Omega’s sleeping figure and soften. The things I would do for this girl.

“Looks like I taught you well!” Wrecker laughs and you smile. When you first met the Bad Batch, Wrecker took it upon himself to teach you basic self-defense and how to overtake an opponent intelligently. Even though you already learned how to fight as part of your Jedi and military training, you couldn’t say no to him when he looked so excited. But it paid off because he’s right. Wrecker did teach you well.

“You did. You basically saved my ass out there with your amazing teaching skills,” you chuckle, glancing down at your hand. You think you’ll probably have to cover it in bacta gel to speed up the healing process before having yet another realization. (You seem to be having a lot of those today.)

I can just Force-heal. Before, you couldn’t Force-heal because it would look suspicious if something healed too fast. But now that they know, you don’t have to solely depend on medical supplies anymore.

Tech, as always, is right on cue. “Is your hand alright? For you to render Bane unconscious must have been no easy feat. Not to mention that according to the medscan I just took, you have a mild concussion, most likely due to your fall. I can run a medical diagnostic test to start and then run more specific tests to combat your pain...” Tech mutters the last part to himself, brain running light years faster than his mouth as his fingers fly over the datapad.

You debate it for a moment before nodding. “That would be great, Tech–thanks. But right now, I’m exhausted, so I’m going to go and crash in my bunk. Wake me up if I need to punch someone again,” you joke before shuffling away from your squadmates. You ruffle Omega’s hair affectionately as you pass by her and pick up your blaster from the ground before climbing down the ladder. You don’t notice Hunter’s troubled gaze or how his Force signature sours a bit as you leave.

You quickly clean up and throw on some bacta patches on a few nasty bruises. You sit down on your bed and pull the privacy curtain before deciding to open up your secret compartment next to your mattress. You stare down at the objects, the only things you have left as a reminder of the past. You reach down for one of them, about to touch it when you stop.

You shake your head and shut the drawer. Deciding to finally, finally hit the hay, you’re out like a light as soon as your head hits the pillow. Dealing with the Force and healing yourself could be done later. Not even your constant pain and crippling worry about your family friends could keep you up any longer.

please consider reblogging! it really helps me and is super encouraging ^_^

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washymylifeaway · 3 years

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Haikyuu fanfic recs for ones I liked hehe

EDIT: I made a pt 2

Anyway, as the title suggests, I am recommending some fanfics for popular(ish) ships that I personally really enjoyed! I’m only doing one or two fics per ship (which in hindsight is KILLING me so I’m just putting the first fics I find and am like I really liked that one LOL) because I wanted to do a shorter fic rec list (tho watch this become super long LOL). I also may or may not be procrastinating finishing a couple other long posts, so there’s that hehe. For the (kinda but not really) public consensus for best fics per ship (by kudo count) check out some of my other posts. Also I’m putting some ships I don’t actually read much of (OOPS LOL) so if you think that there’s a fic that fits my type (if I even have a consistent type) better, pls tell me LOL. Otherwise, pls continue heh :)

As always, pls check WARNINGS, TAGS, and SUMMARIES for fics before reading to make sure you’re taking care of yourselves (since mental health is key!) and stay healthy!

IwaOI:

The Loyalty of a Traitor by DeathBelle (E) 76.9k // ok so does me liking this fic make me basic cause I feel basic LOL. I really love mafia fics, and the way the story line developed was SO good, like IN LOVE with this story. This is a fic where you should read WARNINGS, TAGS, and SUMMARY before diving in, but if the length scares you, don’t be. It’s so easy to fall in and get lost in the writing!

the courtship ritual of the hercules beetle by kittebasu (chanyeol) (T) 66.3k // again, basic? Probably LOL but it’s good so I have no shame ;) Again, pls don’t let the word count scare you (cause it scared me LOL), you get really into it after like 2 paragraphs, so just make sure you have enough time to finish hehe.

KuroKen:

Thicker Than Blood by kylar (M) 91.4k // are you surprised that there is another mafia one? You really shouldn’t be LOL. Anyway, I’ll just be here pushing my mafia fanfic agenda while you read this monster of a fic hehe :) Definitely read WARNINGS, TAGS, and SUMMARY because there is some very sensitive topics involved! I also adore the oibokuroo friendship headcannon, so more reasons to read, right?

Liked, Commented and Subscribed by Royal Society of Pandas (Abarcelos) (T) 45.7k // this fic is SO funny omg. I read it and I had to stop so many times just to laugh because I could not stop sometimes LOL. However, there IS angst towards the end, it gets resolved, but it’s still there... But honestly, it just adds such depth and flavor to the fic, so pls read it!

BokuAka:

bang! now we're even by Authoress (M) 11.9k // so I’ll be honest, I don’t read a lot of BokuAka (...oops?) and so I wouldn’t consider myself as the best person to be recommending fics for this ship (in general too LOL).... ANyway, I love myself some good spy AUs (was gonna put that IwaOi spy AU but the LIMIT), and Akaashi in a dress? Like the tags might state, what more do you need? The characters are done beautifully, and the story development is SO good, so I give you all my humble BokuAka rec.

Crisis Converted by valiantarmor (M) 60k // man do I really love fighting in my fics LOL. This was super good and the plot itself kept me really engaged (what a twist omg). It does talk a bit about mental health issues, but it’s done so well, and they really did this AU justice!

DaiSuga:

How to Manage by SuggestiveScribe (E) 39.3k // ok so yea yea we established, I’m basic, BUT can you blame me? This might’ve been one of the first DaiSuga’s I’ve read and I have no regrets. Literally, this fic series is one of my favorites, so OF COURSE I had to add it somewhere :D Honestly, I don’t even think you need to read the first one to understand what’s going on, but I would just cause it has some funny DaiSuga moments too ;) This is explicit for PWP, so proceed with caution~~

Add New Contact by booksong (G) 8.5k // this one! It’s so cute and poor Daichi LOL. He really out here doing the most,,, Anyway, we love tech Suga, and a nice dash of snarky tsukki (LOL is he salt, yes yes he is). It’s very fluff and pine, so if you want to read Daichi having gay panic like 24/7, go right ahead LOL.

SakuAtsu:

Burden of Blame by DeathBelle (E) 91.2k // ummmm, haha what, another mafia AU? Me, predictable? Noooo, never..... Anyway, this one was so freakin’ good like, love it so much! It’s one of my favorite mafia AU fics, and I love the story line progression. Poor Atsumu being dragged into this mess, but it’s okay because THEY are IN LOVE. Honestly, this fic is Atsumu best boy like he is the best boy. BEST BOY.

Notte Stellata by awkwardedgeworth (T) 20.9k // I ignored all of the other fics I LOVE in this ship (like the pain I’m in rn), but I love this fic with my whole heart. Like I have reread this fic multiple multiple times because I love it so much (tho I might’ve skipped the angst a couple of times cause I didn’t want the pain okay?). I keep coming back, and the second fic in this series is SO funny and cute and I love it here. Please read it, it’s so FREAKING good, angst and ALL.

KyouHaba:

Team Mom by All_My_Characters_Are_Dead (T) 2.7k // so as I was going through this tag (because that’s what I do LOL), I remembered this fic and I love it. Like yes Yahaba is the fear factor and yes Kyoutani is the DAD. I really like the team dynamics in this one, and the first years make me laugh pls.

Camellias by kiyala (T) 1.9k // IK you’re all like, you’re missing such great fics, like no I’m not I just made myself hate myself by limiting fics to two per,,, I love this fic and when I starting looking for this ship, it was the first one I thought of hehe. I really love magic and their interactions are so cute and the PLANTS ARE DOING THE MOST. Pls read both in the series, cause domestic KyouHaba is best KyouHaba ngl LOL. I love the plants, and if you read the second one, someone tell the trees to stop bullying Yahaba.

MatsuHana:

This gets annoying fast, Makki by Ink_stained_quills (G) 2.3k // IM IN LOVE WITH THIS FIC PLS I COULD NOT STOP CRYING TEARS OF LAUGHTER. This AU needs more fics PLEASE. It was SO freakin’ funny and the other teams KILLED ME. Like how they all approached the problem differently and how some of them (KUROO) asked for help LOL. Please this is so freaking funny go read it.

boiled frogs by reginagalaxia (E) 91.5k // I told myself I was gonna put my most angsty fics on another post (which I will for my other favorite MatsuHana angst fic which I love), but this fic. Omg I saw it and I was like I have to. Literally I have to. I hate angst, but read it. It, the, plot, omg, I jjfnsfknalkjdnf ljksan. Like I’m not sure you understand. This fic. asjfjfsadnldjb. I never thought I could hate a character SO MUCH,,,, like SO MUCH. READ TAGS, WARNINGS, AND SUMMARIES because some serious stuff really goes down. Bless Iwa-chan.

SunaOsa:

Accidentally in Love by pancake_surprise (T) 19.6k // JOSE CUERVO strikes. I love this fic and all the chaos in it. The way they were supposed to be the responsible couple (of friends LOL),,, sike. This one is only a slight angst and it’s mostly love and fun :) Also technically this is no longer the first fic in the series, but I’m still putting this one cause the other one is SakuAtsu orientated hehe :)

Spring Secrets by DeathBelle (T) 3.8k // Seasons might be one of my favorite (as all things also seem to be) series of all times. I don’t like rerecommending fics I’ve already said to read, which is why I’m not yelling at you to go read a certain other fic (which is my life and blood). Anyway, this fic series is all fluff barely angst (maybe that’s why I like it) but it’s so freakin good pls read it all ahhhhhh.

Komori/Suna (what is their ship name):

I wish to live in a world by hatsuna (T) 24.8k // ok ngl this fic was so sad and relatable? Like I was like wtf why are you making me cry rn even though like I shouldn’t be? My heart? Pain. (Hotel? Trivago.) Technically, this is END GAME but the main pairing is kinda SakuAtsu???? Something of the sort, but also their relationship (Komori and Sakusa) is written so well and idk guys I think you need to read this fic rn.

Ah the two fic limit hurt me, but fear not I am making ship specific rec posts (LOL I’m so dramatic), so if you wanted more of a ship,,,, its a coming hehe. And yes I did say I’m making an angsty fic rec post, but we’ll see if it gets finished before I side-track with posts like these LOL.

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naktergalen · 3 years

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Rivamika Fic Suggestions List 2

Hey there again! It’s been a while since my last rivamika post and I apologies for that. I caught the reading bug and have just been hitting book after book. I might be doing a book of the month suggestion starting in March. I’m still thinking about it but if that is something your interested in let me know. Or if you just want book suggestions just message or ask me. But for now, I’m back with my second Rivamika Fic Suggestions List.

First of all, I want to thank you for all the comments and messages I received from my first list! I think it has over 150 notes now which is crazy for me. I was going to be ecstatic if it got like 10 likes or something hahaha! I’ve enjoyed talking to some of you about fics and other snk stuff. Feel free to do the same after this post! I know I take awhile to respond but swear I get there eventually.

Same rules as last time. I’ve split this list up into four categories. I wanted to let people know the status of some of these fics in case they did not want to start an incomplete or in progress story. All of these fics can be found on AO3. I’m going to try to link them but we will see how tumblr acts today. If you have any fic suggestions for me, feel free to message me with them and I can add them on to the next list. If any author sees their story on here and wants me to take it off the list, please let me know I don’t wish to make anyone feel uncomfortable. Also, last thing, I highly recommend leaving comments and kudos to the authors. I know that they greatly appreciate it and it helps them with improving their writing through feedback. Okay shutting up now, ON WITH THE LIST!

DISCLAIMER: I know that not all of these stories are not for everyone, these are just my opinions and suggestions.

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Completed:

- Thunder Clouds

Author: K_Lionheart

Rating: Mature

Sometimes I like to go to the very back of the Rivamika archive on AO3 and look for fics that have gotten buried over time. Low and behold what I have found lol! I enjoyed the emotional roller coaster when I was reading this fic, though sometimes I wanted to pull my hair out. Set after the titans are gone, humanity has to repopulate so arranged couples by the monarch are made to be wed. While this new order is being enforced, Mikasa and Levi are trying to work out their strained relationship. A slow burn with angst that will have you staying up till 3am dying to know what happens next. I know that there is a sequel to this fic called Nimbus and I’m slowly working my way through that one. Honestly, it will probably go on my next list.

- Red is the Only Colour

Author: mongoose_bite

Rating: Mature

A cute fic that was a quick but wild ride. A Little Red Riding Hood type of AU where Mikasa is a hunter of some sorts traveling through a town. I don’t want to say how Levi plays into all of this since it gets border line spoilers but just know that he is there. It is an opening ending fic for the author to come back if they plan on doing so but it can be interpreted in different ways. All in all, a fic worth of the quick read.

- Sing Me a Song

Author: LazyTrash

Rating: Mature

First I have to get this off my chest, I love the author’s name hahaha! I freakin wished I would have thought of that for mine! Anyway, this fic is wonderful but I will warn you that its a gut punch. If you like hurt and angst put together, then this is the story for you. I love these types of fics because I adore them so much but they hurt me in my soul. I don’t know what that says about me but whatever. I don’t want to delve into the story too much for spoilers but I would suggest rivamika fans to check this one out.

- Midnight Musings

Author: Raewyll

Rating: Teen

I just started to read Raewyll’s fics so I’m slowly working my way through all her works. This one caught my eye and I had to read it. This is a cute take on a chance meeting through texting the wrong number. I love the way Levi and Mikasa’s relationship blossoms into something more serious after causally texting back and forth. It’s one of those stories that I can only describe as being cute as shit! I’m definitely going to be checking out more of Raewyll’s fic in the future.

Ongoing:

- Beyond the Walls

Author: helena3190

Rating: Matue

If you love RIvamika angst, then look no further than this baby right here. This is currently my favorite ongoing fic. It was supposed to be a shorter story, but the author keeps adding more chapters so I’m not complaining hahaha! This fic is pretty much how I would *personally* picture canon Mikasa on how she would deal with realizing that she’s falling in love with someone. Its mostly told in the perspective of Mikasa as she is dealing with the after effects of war and trying to figure out what should she do with her life now that she is no longer a solider. Her feeling for Levi come with a lot of confusion as she’s discovering emotions that she has never felt before. She has a hard time pinpointing on what exactly describes her relationship with him. I’m anxiously waiting for the final chapter for this fic and dying to see how it will end for Mikasa and Levi.

- After the War

Author: loneackerman

Rating: Mature

I am loving this rivamika slow burn fic right here. Its similar to Beyond the Walls but I think the author adds their own taste of the 1920s into it. Set after the war is over (obviously), Mikasa and Levi have to figure out what they are going to do the rest of their lives. It has great tension, a perfectly paced gradual romance and just the right amount of humor to combat the emotional turmoil it puts you through. Again in my opinion, this is close to how I would realistically perceive Levi and Mikasa’s relationship evolving. I’m really enjoying this story and I’m looking forward to more updates to come!

- The Sound of Lightning

Author: LycheeGreenTea

Rating: Mature

A new fic that is just getting started but I can tell that what the author has in store is going to be interesting. Set several years after the end of the war, Levi and Mikasa are loving parents to a single child. Their peaceful life comes to an end when the family has a threat against them. There are not many long fics about Mikasa and Levi being parent so I was very happy when this one popped up on the AO3 feed. An exciting adventure awaits the Ackerman family now and I can’t wait to see where this fic goes in the future. There are three chapters as of now so head over there and check it out.

Incomplete:

- Home

Author: MissErikaCourt

Rating: Mature

One of the gems I found when diving back into the Rivamika archive. Ugh I HATE that this fic is incomplete!!! Its a good long fic but I’m greedy and I need more! I will give a warning first that this fic does contain heavy themes. Mikasa and Levi are in the underground to fight against a criminal ring. This story is a slow burn with action and emotional trauma. There is a wonderfully written OC that you easily get attached to its not even funny. Even though its not completed, I would highly recommend checking it out. I still have three more chapters to finish but I had to put it on this list. I know that I’m going to be pissed once I reach the last chapter written. If someone know MissErikaCourt, let her know that she needs to comeback to finish this masterpiece!

- Shiver

Author: bornsinner

Rating: Mature

Another one that I DISPISE its incomplete!!! Ugh such a great Office AU. It’s everything that I would want in an Office AU setting. Mikasa struggles between her committed long term relationship and her growing attraction (which starts to develop into some feelings) to her boss, Levi. Its hot, sexy and intriguing and it pisses me off that its not finished! The author writes each chapter as a one-shot but collectively together they tell the whole story. Highly recommend even though its so short. BORNSINNER where ever you are in the universe I hope you come back to finish this!!!

- Two Lines

Author: Crejhov

Rating: Mature

When this was getting updated it was my favorite on-going Rivamika fic. I would find myself checking to see if the author updated with a new chapter every week! The unplanned pregnancy trope is a classic one, but Crejhov does a fantastic job on keeping readers enthralled with soo many anticipated character meet up that are bound to cause hurdles for our expecting parents. This story is told from the perspectives of Mikasa and Levi in order for us to understand where their mindsets are as they plan for their expecting child and deal with their relationship. AHHHHH I want more of this!!! I was soo excited to see where this awkward journey was going to take Mikasa and Levi. CREJHOV COME BACK PLEASE I KNOW YOU HAVE WORK BUT PLEAAASEEEE! I NEEEEEEDDDD!!!

- Cabin Fever

Author: AmayaOkami

Rating: Mature

All I should have to say about this is that its written by AmayaOkami and that should explain it. Amaya is the one that gave us the beautiful incomplete rivamika fic Romance and Rivalry. I just adore her writing. Levi and Mikasa relationship evolves as they are standing guard over the arrested Kenny Ackerman. Secrets are discover about the Ackermans and it gets pretty steamy between our two favs. Great fluff and great sexual tension that leaves you wanting more chapters! Again AmayaOkami where ever you went I hope for some miracle that you come back and complete this one too!

One-Shot:

- Jade

Author: shulkie

Rating: Mature

This one-shot feels like I read a novel, it has such a great storyline. An arranged marriage between Mikasa and Levi leaves the relationship strained in the beginning. Their relationship evolves over time as Levi patiently brings down Mikasa’s wall. With smut added for all of your one-shot needs. Definitely worth the read in my opinion.

- What Remains

Author: Mirime

Rating: Mature

This one-shot gives us a glimpse into the secret relationship that Levi and Mikasa have been having while there are still scouts. This fic is sad but I would say it has a bittersweet ending. I think this was supposed to be part of a collection but I can’t find the rest of them. Still a great read by itself.

- Agape

Author: alienheartattack (Sanneke)

Rating: Mature

This fic is cute as shit! A College AU where Mikasa and Levi are childhood friends. Levi has to deal with Mikasa being at the same college as him while he is struggling with his changing feelings towards a grown up Mikasa. Worth the read as I said cute as shit, leaves you all warm and fuzzy lol!

- As Seen in Shadows

Author: MoraLeeWright

Rating: Explicit

FUCKING MORA! LEE! WRIGHT! UFFFFGGHHH Fuck I’m in love with her writing style. I really have nothing to say more that just go read it! Its hot and sexy and the sexual tension is off the fucking charts in this one. Its just MoraLeeWright smut thats all I can say. It’s great! JUST READ IT LMAO!

- Remedy

Author: NSummer

Rating: Mature

Another hot smut one-shot coming your way! Levi and Mikasa have had an ongoing affair and this just recounts their first time together. Its just some good ol’ Rivamika smut that I think that everyone in this community would enjoy.

- Nutty: Drunk in Love

Author: Hallow17

Rating: Mature

A fun smut to read about Mikasa getting “revenge” on her asshole boss, Levi. Things don’t go the way she plans as things get a little heated in the sexy way. A quick smut that I think is perfect for a little Rivamika crave.

- Spicy: Jalapeno

Author: Hallow17

Rating: Explicit

Another fun smut to read by Hallow17. Levi has been stressed out at work and Mikasa finds a way to help him get his mind off it (if you know what i mean). Again perfect for a Rivamika quick fix.

#rivamika #rivamika fic #levimika #mikasa x levi #levi x mikasa #Levikasa #levi and mikasa #mikasa and levi

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honoredbastard · 3 years

Text

ෆ self indulgent and entilted

characters — bonten!rindou haitani + *yakuro nanami (oc) .

content and warnings — mentions of drugs ( yo sanzu ), clubbing, stalker mention, mention(s) of drugging, yelling, angst(?), swearing, and so on.

note — sorry for the dark content hhhhh, it came with the idea of ackerman being a yakuza that hated bonten and wanted yakuro gone. it may actually be apart of the fic i’m outlining..... these men hold my heart and WILL NOT LET GO OF IT. also they just like dive into my brain 24/7. help i had a fit over what looked best for three hours- at this point i’mma probably make a lil sum’ for sanzu. i love this man and i can’t stop having him appear in my stories that involve bonten. like this guy is 24/7 in the back of my mind.

*Yakuro Nanami. he/they/bun!

Now playing ayanami — by satin

rindou woke up first to yakuro wearing his bunny ears and a bunny pajama set that he seemed to just slip on before marching into bed. it was cute, but there was still smudges of makeup on his face and the dark circles of terrible inconsistent sleep. rindou sighed, brushing away blonde parts of hair that yakuro was chewing on.

“yakuro.” rindou lightly pushed yakuro’s shoulder, trying to wake the boy in his semi bunny work attire. “rindou? rindou....” yakuro groaned, his head searched for rindou’s lap or hand that he could lean into. just exist near, to feel his skin and be aware of his warmth, that he was alive and not dead. that he stayed the whole night. “morning doll.” rindou smiled quietly, brushing his fingers over the boy’s hair.

there was a knock on the door, “come in” as if that was a full offer to entangle himself with the couple he busted through the door and made a running start to jump onto the couple. “HI!” “i don’t do the touching, i’ll sit and pour you your drink and be your personal bunny. please treat the bunny well and we will have no problems. if they bunny feels uncomfortable the bunny has full rights to leave and find a new client. if you understand these rules please enjoy your bunny.”

yakuro stated as if he was at work. it was grilled into his brain and always had to repeat it infront of new clients. working at a bunny suit club was not it, almost rolling over onto sanzu. “bad work day?” “bad work day.” rindou confirmed sanzu’s suspicions with three simple words. “yaku..” “no.” “yakuuu.” sanzu scooted in between the two, poking yakuro’s cheeks aggressively. he seemed sober, thank god.

rindou shrugged the mans presence off and trudged to the bathroom to wash and whatnot. “you have another shift, ran told me to wake you up. “that’s not my problem. tell my boss to go fuck himself with a dildo filled with nails.” sanzu’s eyes widened, that was aggressive. although at the same time sorta funny?

“he said he’d cut off your shift times and cut back on how much money you make plus tips.” sanzu repeated what ran had informed him of, with a quite frustrated appearance. “THAT FUCKER WILL NOT!” raising up from his laying position, yakuro ran into the hallway stumbling here and there from improper pace.

“i’d love to see him try i swear if he even tries reducing my pay i’ll quit the whole fucking job how about that? i never liked this bullshit bunny shit anyways, it’s annoying when the customers try to touch and then you get stalkers.” yaku was mumbling to hell and back from his bosses call, waving to ran who nodded. making himself a bento before heading off on a small mission.

yaku threw open the washroom door and started searching for his bunny suit attire. the club’s theme was rainbow today so he washed a deep red suit with a black add-on tail and clip on black ears (which were foldable too. yakuro always folds one ear.) when yakuro made it back to his room, sanzu was gone and rindou was crouching near the bottom drawer.

“whatcha lookin for?” yakuro asked curiously, sitting beside the man who made a mess beside him “looking for a red suit now, i’m trying to match with you subtly.” cute- that was the only thinking yaku could think of this man who is a part of a criminal organization/gang. who woulda thought?

“i think you might be better with either a red with black tie or a deeper red of a suit.” yakuro suggested, getting up from his sitting position, joints cracking. “or black would go well, after all i’m only wearing red heel, a red body suit, and red makeup. the rest is black!” yakuro called out to rindou who was still crouched as he exited the room. taking into account his suggestions, he went with a more black with red accents attire.

ާlocation, bunny palace! ෆ late night, 11pm.

“here in bunny palace we have many bunnies to suit your taste! male, female, and even those who do not define themselves! run and created by the ackermans.” bunny palace is under the hands of those with the ackerman name. mikasa, the current owner, is softer on us than many. although the music blaring is not something you can get used to.

“hello! i’m moonie! it’s so good to meet you, are you new here?” yakuro was tired, it was about 4 more hours until he shift ended and he was already hungry again. salad’s really don’t fill you up especially when you wolf them down. his feet ached and cried out each time he took another step, he wanted to lay down and use rindou as his personal body pillow.... rindou! ‘i hope he’s okay.’ he thought, placing himself beside the very important client his boss claimed. “oh i am! it’s nice too meet you moonie.”

“it’s so good to meet you too! we have a few rules here that our bunnies tell each new client: i’ll sit and pour you your drink and be your personal bunny. please treat the bunny well and we will have no problems. if they bunny feels uncomfortable the bunny has full rights to leave and find a new client. if you understand these rules please enjoy your bunny. please keep touching to a minimal. do not force your bunny drinks or food. respect your bunny. is that doable?” yakuro asked with big puppy eyes, a big smile, and high pitched voice. “of course!” the customer happily said, hand already on his thigh.

i am SO uncomfortable was all that yaku could think about, his eyes flicking between the customer and each place his gross hands laid upon. squeezing every-so often like it was a pleasuring act for yaku. before he removed the man’s hand, he restrained himself. drawing a large breath before responding to the customer. “i’m so sorry sir! shall i get you something to drink?” yaku pouted, “if you’d like, moonie!” i’m saved.

yakuro smiled and stood up, “why of course! i’ll be right back!” like a breath of relief, he rushed to the staff room. he waved to some girls, “not on stage today moonie?” one asked, a baby stripper new to the bunny palace club. “yeah! boss was all: ‘act cutesy, be close, allow touching this once. there are really important customers here today.’ like thanks for threatening my paycheck and then saying that!”

“oh my, that’s rough babe. ackerman is always like that, it’s like she has a stick up her ass.” one of the older strippers that had been with yakuro since he started chimed in, “you’re right!” yaku chuckled, leaning closer into his vanity mirror to adjust his lipstick and have a chance to message rindou.

40 missed messages. “i’m so fucked.” “why’s that babe?” “i may have forgot to message rindou telling him ackerman added hours onto my shift.” the room grew tense, “that’s awful? read his messages.” sei suggested, “might cool him off if he’s angry.

“alright!” yaku sighed with a smile, opening the messages. to his surprise, rindou wasn’t angry but instead worried that a client had gotten too touchy and triggered yakuro. after all, ran did inform rindou about the bits and pieces that sanzu did not tell yaku. “whew, i’m good! i’m safe. he’s just worried....” sei and bab took a loud sigh and began laughing. “BUT I’M FUCKED.” “really? that’s great! now go out! your client must be waiting.”

yup the girls took it that way. “i will! don’t worry don’t worry. i just hope sanzu doesn’t buy the whole club.” “he won’t now go!” sei pushed out yaku who glanced over at the client who finished the previous bottle. his nose was red and was slightly swaying back and forth.

walking up to the bar, yakuro ran into polaris. “polar!” “moonie.” “can you get something for my client? he seems to be a lightweight.” “sure, i’m sure he wouldn’t mind beer.” polar sat down the cup he was wiping back and forth to keep busy.

“the bar isn’t very busy huh?” “oh no, it’s just we got our best girls today dancing and the waitresses and working ten times harder. it works out for both of them and neither of them have to fight each other about unfair pay. tomorrow you’ll be our best so good luck.” polar smiled earnestly to add to the words of encouragement, sliding over the foaming beer over the black marbled counter.

“thanks! i’ll need it.” turning with the drink in hand, yaku noticed the man’s disgruntled face. he looked as if the whole world was going to blow up and he was watching the countdown. ‘act cutesy, act cutesy, act cutesy.’ it was a constant mantra in his head before he sat down and opened his mouth.

“what could be wrong sir?” yaku felt like rolling his eyes into oblivion, he could care less. “oh it’s just something wrong with the gang.” “oh my, a yakuza?” boring, yaku fake gasped handing over the bear to the angered man. “yeah!” he said pridefully with a chuckle, gulping the drink down and slamming it down. “something about bonten this and that and one of our men died.”

now that’s interesting. yaku felt like walking out to just go see sanzu, it felt like everything was reminding yakuro of him. hell even the purple lights were. but alas he was stuck eyeing the entrance while the man babbled on and on about this whole yakuza shin-dig he was in. he decided to slip off his shoes because the waitresses’ assured the man that they would handle getting drinks.

it felt like hours, drink after drink the world became more hazy. yakuro grew a high tolerance because of his job but he seemed to be losing himself while the client seemed more than sober. “you.. slipped somethin, huh?” the client beside him flinched, clenching onto his bag. “w-what? are you sure you don’t have a low tolerance m-mr. moonie?” the man stammered, through gritted teeth yaku managed to huff out a ‘whatever’.

“miss. ackerman set you up? thought so, the bitch never liked me because i have a bonten member for a partner. guess i’m finally leaving this hellhole. send her my best regards, yeah?” he asked with a agitated tone. his words were laced with threats, raising slowly. “mr. moonie?” “i’m leaving, i want to leave. i have to go see rindou.” he dug the acrylic nails that were done just recently into his thigh. fuck the shoes.

whatever was in the drink didn’t seem strong but it had yakuro in and out of conscience. the man who was once his client seemed nowhere to be found, leaving a stumbling yaku to himself. sei noticed this and dropped her waiters plate, running over to the bunny who was just about to fall. “MOONIE!”

ާlocation, the bonten loft. early morning, 3am.

blue eyes fluttered open, fighting the urge to close once more. “they’re awake! rindou, they’re all good!” a familiar voice echoed throughout yakuro’s head. his body felt numb, in an attempt to speak he noticed his voice was gone. every one of his senses felt like they were being drowned under water. his eyesight was the only thing that was significantly normal.

though his contacts seemed to be taken off, leaving the blue and purple hues of yaku’s true eye colour roaming free. rindou’s footsteps were heavy and had a quick pace, the vibrations went through the bed. “yaku?” his usual docile purple eyes were filled with worry and anger mixed together, forever burning until yakuro got better.

all the man managed to do was a weak smile, his eyes blinked slowly while he stared at rindou. the two conversed, rindou’s agitation growing as his jaw clenched harder with every muffled word sanzu spoke. “i am very upset sanzu, yakuro was drugged. AGAIN!” “we can’t do anything but sit it out! we don’t even know who it was. rindou you need to calm down.” sanzu too was frustrated beyong belief.

the whole loft was filled with tension that was denser than a brick wall. everyone considered yakuro a part of bonten after two years. he even got a bonten tattoo per mikey’s request. it lays on his right shoulder which he covers up during his job with makeup despite his hatred, it was the only condition ackerman gave him before he could work at bunny palace. ackerman and bonten hated each other, seeing a bonten tattoo at the ackermans would start a war.

“he’s quitting that job and working at our club. this is the last time i’ll EVER see him like this again.” this wasn’t the first time rindou raised his voice when he was angered by the way yakuro looked in this condition. unable to move, speak, only look plainly at the wall with a weak smile here and there.

it tore him apart from the inside out each time, it did every member living in the loft. finally after whatever happened between those two. sanzu left, rindou left as well but returned with water and began to cuddle the numb and quiet yakuro.

#toyko revengers #tokyorev #tokyorev imagine #tokyo revengers rindou #rindou haitani #rindo haitani #x oc #fanfiction #tokyorev fanfiction #tokyo revengers fanfiction #bonten #tokyorev bonten #ran haitani #sanzu haruchiyo #angst #soft ending #angst with a hopeful ending #𝄖entiwrites

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lets-go-steal-a-hardison · 3 years

Text

Good Days and Bad Ones

New Leverage ot3 fic! Warning for gun violence and gun wounds. Fluff then angst then fluff again. ~2.9k words | Teen

Can read below or on my ao3 account here.

It had been a good day. Eliot should have known not to trust that, but lately, he had been having a lot of good days. The worst part was that what happened wasn’t even on a job. They didn’t even see it coming.

Eliot had woken up surrounded by his partners. The fact that he couldn’t move from being so entangled in their arms and legs should have felt suffocating, but instead, it just felt safe. He started to move around, wanting to get up and go start his morning routine, and Hardison nuzzled into his neck.

“C’mon man, I gotta get up,” Eliot whispered to him.

Hardison grunted, still mostly asleep, then kissed where he had just nuzzled. He did relax his arms though.

Okay. One down. One more to go.

Eliot turned to look at Parker and saw she was awake, already looking at him.

“I gotta get up, sweetheart, you gonna let me?” he said with a small smile.

Parker was wrapped around his arm with a leg thrown over him. She pouted a bit, then kissed his shoulder before letting him go.

“Thanks, darlin’. I’ll make pancakes later, kay?”

Parker grinned at him. “With whipped cream?”

“Only if I can add blueberries,” Eliot bargained as he got up and pulled on a shirt. He had to get her to eat fruit somehow.

“Fiiiiiine,” Parker said, moving into the warmed spot Eliot had just vacated and wrapping around Hardison, who octopused onto her the moment she was in arm’s reach.

Eliot took a moment to stare at them. Sometimes, he still couldn’t believe that they chose to love him. Change with him. It was humbling, their love for him.

He was one lucky bastard.

Eliot did his morning workout, then showered. By the time that he was going into the bedroom to get clothes, towel around his waist, Parker was up. She took off Hardison’s old shirt, which she had been using as a pajama shirt, and kissed Eliot one more time before taking the next shift in the shower. Hardison was still passed out on the bed, but as Eliot walked in, he started to stir.

Letting the towel slip off, Eliot bent over to pull on underwear and heard an appreciative rumble from Hardison. It took a while for him to be coherent in the morning, unless he had stayed up all night. That caused a different kind of incoherence.

Eliot grinned at him from over his shoulder as he continued to get dressed. “You snooze, you lose,” he teased.

Hardison let out a sleepy groan, then made grabby hands towards Eliot.

“Hell nah, I’ve got to get started on Parker’s pancakes,” Eliot said, already walking forward anyway.

“Mmmmm… pancakes,” Hardison hummed as he pulled Eliot in. Eliot could feel his boyfriend’s smile against his lips. He pulled back and kissed him once more, on the forehead this time, and moved away.

“They’ll be ready in a bit, you just gotta be up for them!” Eliot called as he walked out of the bedroom.

It was a good morning.

It didn’t last.

___________________________________

The first gunshot rang out at 1:12 pm. Eliot knew because in the moment, everything froze and he took in everything in the kitchen of the brewpub, including the time.

The screams came next.

Eliot immediately put himself in between the doors to the kitchen and the waitstaff and cooks. “Run. If you can’t run, hide. If you can’t hide, fight. GO!” he said, jerking his head to the back entrance, hoping he wasn’t sending them into a trap.

“ALEC HARDISON!” a voice roared. “COME OUT, YOU PIECE OF SHIT.”

Eliot felt himself move before he had really thought about it. He cut across the kitchen and made his way quickly but effectively towards the living part of the brewpub, where he had left Hardison and Parker at their dining room table.

Too late.

Hardison came out of the back room with his hands up and Eliot redirected his attention to the rest of the room, immediately assessing the three men with guns in the middle of the room. The patrons of the brewpub were cowering in their seats and on the floor. There was one man by the door too, covering the exit.

It didn’t look good.

“Sinclair,” Hardison drawled. If Eliot didn’t know Hardison as well as he did, he wouldn’t be able to tell how tense he was. He kept it hidden in the flex of his back muscles and his hands.

It was a very distinctive flex.

“Haven’t seen you in years. How you been, man?” Hardison continued, arms still raised.

“Well, prison is a bitch and those anger management classes just didn’t take. So, here we are,” the man in the front, Sinclair, said as he waved the hand not holding his gun to take in the scene.

“What do you want?” Hardison asked, his face and voice becoming serious.

“Need your help with a job.”

“And you thought coming in guns blazing into my day job was the best way to ask?” Hardison asked derisively.

Sinclair smiled grimly. “This isn’t asking. Either you will help me or I will shoot you where you stand.”

Hardison shrugged. “I’ve got my own crew and while they don’t mind me working freelance, I think they would object to the job conditions.”

“You’re damn right,” Eliot growled, moving into the room.

“Oh hell no,” the guy who was guarding the door said. “You didn’t say Eliot fucking Spencer was part of the target’s crew. I’m out.”

He threw open the door and ran out the brewpub.

One down, three to go.

The other two men shifted nervously as Eliot stared them down, looking between them and the man Hardison had called Sinclair. Eliot didn’t like how steady Sinclair’s aim was at Hardison.

“Fellas. Now we can either have y’all walk out of here alive, or there’s gonna be a need for body bags. Which is it gonna be?” Eliot said.

The two men glanced at each other. One shook his head, but the other one started sliding towards the door.

“Don’t you dare, Clancy, don’t you dare!” Sinclair shouted.

“Man, I got a baby at home. I just needed the payout, but she needs me more,” the man, Clancy, said. He turned and was out the door.

Two on two.

Eliot liked those odds.

“You sure you won’t help?” Sinclair asked, and Eliot started edging towards Hardison, ready to move if he needed.

Suddenly, Sinclair’s gun was pointed at Eliot.

“Not even if I threaten to shoot your buddy here?”

“Whoa. Now, hey man, you didn’t have to go there. We had our moment, I said no, and you just had to keep pressing. They always keep pressing, don’t they, Eliot?”

“Hardison…” Eliot cautioned, cause he knew what Hardison was doing. He was trying to get himself back in Sinclair’s crosshairs, even though Eliot was much more comfortable being the one with the gun pointed at him.

“Nah, man, I know you’re doing your macho shit right now, and I for one do not appreciate it. You are trying to kill him just with your glarey eyes and guess what, man? Doesn’t work. I know, cause otherwise I would be at least slightly damaged by now.”

“Oh my God, shut UP!” Sinclair said.

He turned.

Eliot jumped.

And Hardison gasped as the bullet hit his shoulder.

Sinclair watched as Hardison stared disbelievingly down at the bloom of blood on his shoulder. He took a gasping breath of air, then his knees went out.

Eliot caught him before he could hit the ground.

“Put pressure on it, Alec. Come on, you know the deal,” Eliot encouraged, pressing down himself. He could sense Sinclair in his peripheral vision, but Hardison was his priority.

“It’s d-d-different wh-when it’s you,” Hardison stuttered.

He was going into shock. Eliot needed to finish this so that they could get Chicken Parm down here, get him to help Hardison.

Eliot forced himself to take his attention off of Hardison and place it firmly on Sinclair.

He looked disconcerted at the look on Eliot’s face.

Good.

“You lost your chance to walk away when you pulled that trigger,” he said to Sinclair. He turned to the last man standing, who flinched when their eyes met. “Last chance for you.”

The man nodded. Dropped his gun. Walked out.

“You fucker!” Sinclair said, sighting his gun on Eliot.

Only for Parker to drop down from the ceiling, right on top of him.

The gun still went off, but Eliot was unscathed. He rushed forward, diving on top of Sinclair who fought tooth and nail to keep his gun in his hands. Eliot saw Parker crawl across the floor towards the gun the last man had dropped out of the corner of his eyes.

In the moment of distraction, Sinclair’s finger found the trigger and pulled.

Eliot felt the bright burn of the bullet going into his hip, but he just grunted and pulled back a fist, bringing it crashing down onto Sinclair’s temple.

He went limp.

Eliot forced himself to stand. He turned and Parker nodded to him from where she was standing, gun pointed at Sinclair.

“I’ve got him, you get Alec,” she said.

Eliot nodded. He pulled out his phone as he went over to Hardison and put pressure on his wound, making Alec whine, high and full of pain.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, gotta keep pressure on it. Help’s coming, Alec, just hang on, kay?” he murmured as the phone rang.

“P-parker okay?” Hardison whispered.

“Yeah, she’s-” Eliot glanced over to Parker and froze. “Parker.”

She looked at him from keeping an eye on Sinclair. “What?”

“Your leg.”

She followed Eliot's gaze and looked down to her thigh. The right leg of her sweatpants - actually Eliot was pretty sure those had been his as some point - was soaked with blood.

She looked back at Eliot. “Huh.”

Then she collapsed.

“SHIT!” Eliot shouted.

“Hello?”

Eliot remembered the phone in his hand. His head was swimming and he blinked repeatedly to clear it. “Parm, altercation at the brewpub. Three GSW’s, Hardison n’ Parker are down. You need to- to… aw, hell,” he slurred.

Then he fell forward onto Hardison’s chest and the world went black.

_________________________________

Dragging himself out of inky black unconsciousness was one of Eliot’s least favorite things in the world. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, it sucked.

He was definitely on drugs, cause his brain took way too long to connect to his body. He was floating a bit even when he realized who he was and started registering his body and surroundings.

He was definitely in a hospital. The smell, the sounds of the intercom, and the feeling of an IV in his hand were too distinct for him to be anywhere else.

Eliot wasn’t as bad as Nate, but he still wasn’t a fan of hospitals. The catheter alone was enough to make him wanna punch someone.

Forcing his eyes open, he looked around the room. There was an empty bed next to him and no one else in the room. He wanted to jump up and find Hardison and Parker, find out if they were alright, but the ache in his hip made him grimace as he sat up.

He settled for hitting the call button.

“Hello, Mr. Dubois, how are you feeling?” the nurse who came in asked.

“Sore and floaty. Can we reduce the meds? I hate this feeling. Rather have the pain,” Eliot said.

The woman pursed her lips. “We can, though I will ask you to start taking tylenol in its place, so you still have something in your system.”

Eliot nodded. “The others at the brewery,” he started, not sure what cover he should be working with, how he should be referring to his partners, “are they alright?”

“The gunman has been taken into custody after getting treatment for his concussion. The man and woman who were also injured are stable. I’m sorry, that’s all I can say,” she said, working with the machine next to Eliot.

He hoped that the floating feeling would leave soon. He needed to come back to his body, pain or no pain.

“Alright, call if you need to get back on the morphine or if you need assistance with anything else.”

“When can I get up?” Eliot asked.

“We can do a walk around this evening, but we’re leery of moving before in case the stitches are disturbed. We can take out the catheter at that time as well, as you will be able to get up for bathroom needs at that point. Sounds okay?”

It didn’t, but Eliot forced himself to nod again.

The nurse had been out of the room for about a minute when Eliot heard something overhead. He grinned at the ceiling, then frowned.

“Parker, should you be up yet?” he asked.

“The doc said that I could get up to see to my needs, and I needed to check on you,” she said through the vent.

“They meant the bathroom, Parker, not my sorry ass,” Eliot said.

“Yeah, yeah. How you feeling?” she asked.

“They reduced my meds, but still disconnected a bit.” He knew she would get what he meant, so he didn’t elaborate. “Alec okay?”

“Yeah. He was still sleeping, but his vitals looked good. He lost the most blood of us, so he’ll probably be in here the longest,” Parker said.

“He’ll love that,” Eliot grumbled, already imagining the havoc that Hardison could produce if left in a hospital bed for any extended period of time.

Of course, he would have to be awake to cause havoc…

Eliot shrugged away the thought, reminded himself that Parker said he was doing well.

“How long you gonna be here?” Eliot asked.

He heard a rustle and imagined that Parker had shrugged. “Bullet went through and through, just bled a lot. Once they are sure that it’s closed and healing, I’ll be good to go. They had to dig the bullet out of your hip,” she said, her voice getting quieter. “So it might be longer for you.”

“I figured that, darlin’. It’ll be alright.” He glared at the grate without any real heat. “Now get back to your bed and to healing.”

“I’d rather be here with you,” she said, her voice soft.

“That ain’t fair,” Eliot said, staring at the grate. He felt the ache in his hip and now he had one in his heart. “You gotta go back, Parker, cause if you’re here, you aren’t getting your meds. I’m being good and taking mine, you gotta too.”

“Fiiiiine,” Parker said. “I’ll be back though.”

“I would be worried if you didn’t,” Eliot said.

He didn’t hear her go, but felt when she was gone.

It was going to be a long stay in the hospital.

___________________________________

Hardison had woken up later that evening and Eliot had been able to see him when he was doing his walk around. Alec was still pretty out of it, but he smiled up at Eliot.

“Knew you would take care of it,” he said, only slurring a bit.

“Get some sleep,” Eliot said, resisting the urge to touch him. Their cover stories weren’t partners.

Parker got out of the hospital first. Eliot missed her voice coming out of the ceiling, but was checked out the next day anyways.

The brewpub wasn’t the same without Alec around. Eliot ended up stocking a bunch of the meals that Alec liked in the fridge for when he came home and Parker installed a new security system. They cleaned the whole back area of the pub they called their home, working in tandem as they washed sheets and clothes, scrubbed down the kitchen and bathroom, and tidied the rest of it. They didn’t sleep much.

By the time Alec got home, the place was spotless and stocked with orange soda and Eliot’s food.

Hardison eased onto the couch and looked around. He turned to his partners and grinned. “You missed me.”

Parker rolled her eyes. “Course we did, dummy.”

Eliot inclined his head, conceding. “Maybe.”

“You hungry?” Eliot continued.

“Eliot made all your favorites,” Parker said. Eliot narrowed his eyes at her, cause he wanted that to be a surprise.

“Did he?” Hardison said, smile turning toward Eliot. “You know I’d never say no to Eliot’s cooking. Mind bringing it here? Have y’all eaten? Let’s just all eat here, pull up some movie.”

Eliot nodded. Parker jumped up from where she had been sitting next to Alec, kissing him on the top of his head before she followed Eliot into the kitchen.

They settled in, food and movie at the ready. They finished eating long before the end of the movie, but their plates lay forgotten on the coffee table as they cuddled as close as their wounds would allow them to.

Eliot felt sleep come slowly towards him, but didn’t do anything to fight it. He trusted Parker, and by extension, her security system. He knew that both Parker and Hardison were safe and healing. More bad days may come, but they would face them together.

In the arms of his two best friends and loves of his life, he let himself rest.

#leverage ot3 #parker x hardison x eliot #alec hardison #parker #eliot spencer #leverage #fanfic #my fic

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maxmagi · 3 years

Text

A List of My OTPs

because it's 11 and I can't sleep.

Enjolras x Grantaire a.k.a. Enjoltaire a.k.a. ExR- Les Mis

How I fell into this I don't remember now. I vaguely remember reading a crackfic of this and then everything just went sideways.

This was also the fandom that helped me realize that I wasn't exactly straight and that it's okay to not be loud about my sexuality, that I can just be.

I think that explains my attachment to this ship, not to mention just the movie's Grantaire (played by George Blagden) also shipped the characters and played his character like how he thought it should be, Grantaire loving and pining after Enjolras without the revolutionary knowing it.

Except in the fan fics, Enjolras returns his feelings and they work it out, even though it's not easy because they're both stubborn as mules. Ah, ultimate fantasy I guess. And the number of great fics here, *whistle*

Also, the Les Amis? Is amazing? Especially in the modern AUs? Like they're great friends? I love this fandom so much! Permets-tu!

Shen Wei x Zhao Yunlan - Guardian / Zhen Hun

C'mon, Zhu Yilong & Bai Yu's performance and emotions? Plus just the fact the fanfic writers of this ship are absolutely amazing? Please, escape from this pairing is impossible!

Best opposites attract trope for me. An academic by day, superhero by night in love with a roguish police chief who has no powers but whose charisma, wit, and heart can get him to toe to toe with the legends.

Also, Professor Shen Wei constantly acting like an innocent civilian and lying badly? Gold!

Loki x Tony Stark a.k.a. FrostIron - Avengers

How did I honestly get to this ship? I really can't remember what started it all. I think it must have been a Loki redemption fic where Tony Stark and Pepper broke up and something something happened. Let me tell you, the writers of this ship have written sagas and ballads of epic and sometimes confusing proportions, and that is why I fell deeper into the pit. I mean, they gotta give justice to two brilliant but chaotic characters, right? Angst. This ship has sooooooooo much angst.

Eiji x Ash - Banana Fish

My god, if you want to keep your heart intact and not be reminded of all that's ugly in the world, DON'T WATCH OR READ BANANA FISH. YOUR HEART WILL NEVER HEAL!

If you're gonna watch/read it anyway, make sure to watch something fluffy and sweet after. There's a reason that people from this fandom go, "If you've seen Banana Fish's ending, then you can handle whatever angsty show you're watching now." ~ or something to that effect. Another thing we like to say in this fandom is, "Other fandoms: Let's write a Mafia AU! Banana Fish fandom: We are the Mafia AU." Yes, all of us in this fandom is dramatic af.

Yuuri x Viktor - Yuuri!!! on Ice

Uh, does this really need an explanation? Aside from the fact that you will surprisingly find a lot of Mafia AUs here because we all know that hiding behind that beautiful face of Viktor Nikiforov is a devil capable of... tearing down your self-confidence, like WTF Viktor, don't make Yuuri cry! Also, their dance together at the end, such beautiful love.

Magnus Bane x Alec Lightwood aka Malec - Shadowhunters

I never read the books and have no plans to in the near future. I just saw a video on Youtube about why Malec is life and now here I am, still reading some Malec fics from time to time.

Some stuff on the show were WTF but overall they were a really good couple who supported each other. Plus, they're a Power Couple.

Erwin x Levi aka Eruri - Attack on Titan / Shingeki no Kyojin

Not to be confused with Ereri, which is Eren x Levi, which I don't generally ship except for that one time when a writer wrote an epic fanfic series with Eren in his mid 20s and Levi in his late 20s/early 30s, reincarnation AU. Boy was that one a surprise. I did not expect that.

Anyway, I'm an Eruri fan through and through. Especially with that promise that Levi made to Erwin. And the reason he gave the serum to Armin. HE DIDN'T DO IT FOR THE KIDS YKNOW. HE DID IT FOR ERWIN. Plus, Levi, Erwin, and Hange are my special trio. Erwin's batch was really amazing.

Also, I really like the fact that the shorter and slighter person is the more badass fighter while the taller, bigger one is the more calculating and strategic one. Rocks the boat of stereotypes and all that. Bonus: how these two met. My god, what a meet-cute! 😂

Dani x Jamie aka The Au Pair and the Gardener - The Haunting of Bly Manor

It really is more of a love story than a ghost story. I dunno how to feel about this. I loved these two characters so much and I wished they had a better ending but I wasn't SO surprised because it was a horror series (Like, I was still hoping at the end that they'd be together forever but yknow...). In any case, Jamie was just awesome. And her nickname for Dani? Poppins?! God, what a lover and fighter. She was not afraid to cock a gun in a ghost's face.

... and now for my flexible BROTPs

Merlin x Arthur aka Merthur - BBC Merlin

Yeah, my brain is so chaotic multiple OTPs and BROTPs of the same pairing exist at the same time without clashing with one another or having major identity crises.

I actually really like BROTP Merlin and Arthur and also like reading OTP Merthur.

And when Merlin is paired with Morgana or Freya or sometimes even Gwaine, that's fine with me too. As long as his bromance with Arthur stays intact, because that's what drew me to the show in the first place. Personal preference. I see them as platonic soulmates.

*Shout-out to the Merthur writers though, you kept me sane during my "Post-Merlin Depression," which is actually a term thrown around in the fandom because of that horrid final season (not saying it's a good term but it's what it was called). A lot of amazing fics here, too, both Magic Reveal and Modern AU ones. Full of action and adventure too! I mean, there are boy-band-looking Knights and magic-wielding badasses!

Tim Drake x Conner Kent/Kon-El aka Red Robin x Super Boy - DC Comics

More like flexible otp. I dig Stephanie Brown and Tim Drake BUT I really really also dig Tim Drake and Conner Kent. When they're TimKon, it's like an entirely different entity from TimSteph. Ugh, hard to explain.

I mean, Kon telling Tim, "You'll always be my Robin" and Tim telling Kon, "And you'll always be my clone boy" is the shit. Also when Kon could pick out/recognize Tim's heartbeat. And when Tim nearly went mad scientist trying to bring his bestie back. Like, dudes, wtf. And at the same time, hell yeah.

Liu Kang x Kung Lao aka LiuLao - Mortal Kombat

- I see these two as more like ride or die best friends connected by fate/platonic soulmates. But also like their dynamic is so awesome, cute, sweet, badass, can't-live-without-you vibes.

Basically the same way I feel about Merthur. I like reading both romantic and platonic relationships between these two characters. Like, the LiuLao fan creators peeling off the layers of this relationship and exposing every raw nerve is beautiful.

They love diving into the characters' psyche, emotions, motivations, fears, and doubts and you get really amazed because... Aren't they just characters from a video game, you ask? Well yeah, but MK video game has several interesting storylines and the Mortal Kombat 2021 movie was just the perfect jumpstarter to this beautiful blaze.

I mean, "We swore that if we were to die, it would be together"? Hell no, you're not dropping that on us and not expecting us to create our very own spin-offs and 12-page essays on that shit. That's what we fans do, baby. And also, really, we need a shaolin monks/white lotus spin-off/prequel. We're starving here.

As this ship is the newest one on my list, it's the one I'm looking forward to the most. Not enough fan content, I tell you. Not enough. One of these days, I just might add my own.

But right now, it's past 1 and so I shall attempt to sleep.

***No images for TimKon and LiuLao coz apparently I've gone past my 10-images allowance 😤

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escapewriter · 3 years

Text

pairing : yunho x reader

synopsis : yunho’s new school life isn’t as simple as it seems

genre : angst, school au, hella sarcasm tho

word count : 2.3k

warnings : lying lol, a bit dramatic too ngl

song playing : lie to me by 5sos (inspired)

a/n : i split these into two parts. the first part i wrote was early mornings or christmas at like 2am. second part i finished the whole thing at 1:30-2am. its always the time that plays a roll in these fics i swear. anyway, i guess its kinda sad? the sarcasm kinda cancels it out cuz pemdas but i hope you guys enjoy it lol. also this isnt proof read cuz i JUST finished it.

ateez masterlist || main masterlist

NOTE : italics is like the events that happened and the regular font is what yunho is thinking ig lol

“Alright, I got a question for you.” Yunho turned his head on the backpack he was laying on to look up at you sitting against the wall, “Have you ever felt, ya know, loved?” There was a slight pause in the air as he sat up, leaning on his forearms while making some sort of ‘tsk’ sound.

“Ha okay okay, next question, do you think about it? Like what it feels like?” He hummed, not knowing how to answer the question. Instead, he wondered how you came up with it in the first place. Were you going through something?

“You good there? You’re not sounding too well.”

“Oh shut up, its a genuine question because I have never seen you in a relationship.”

Yunho scoffed and lied down again, thinking about how ridiculous you sound, “Okay first of all, I’ve only known you for, what? Like 2 months? And second of all, I don’t need to be in a relationship to know what it’s like to feel loved.”

“Cap. There’s a difference between family love and relationship love. And how dare you criticize our 2 month long friendship? You know I’d do anything for you.”

His ears perked up, thinking about what you would do for him. “Anything, you say?” You hummed, taking a bite out of your sandwich. “Alright then, do this for me. Anytime I tell you to lie to me or if I ask if you love me, you say ‘I love you’, and then, maybe, I’ll be able to answer your question. Simple, right?”

But it wasn’t that simple at all, because before he knew it, Yunho just dug his own grave.

Oh yeah totally, that’s already a red flag right there and he knew that but he did it anyway which was the problem. He was hoping that you would show him what it was like to feel loved, and honestly, it actually worked. But that’s not the point here.

The point is, Yunho is having a whole story narration in his head and he isn’t even talking in first person. That’s the point.

But as he continues to think - and also continues to talk in third person - maybe he should be starting from the top. Obviously that whole picture reenactment scene was how it started, but he’s going to dive down deeper. Going back to two months before that scene, so buckle up, it’s going to be a hell of a ride.

Yunho sighed, staring at the building in front of him. He wasn’t sure why his parents decided to suddenly make him move schools, he was perfectly fine with the one he was at before. He dreaded to go in as he didn’t want to ask anyone for directions to the location of the office. Gosh, making friends will be even more difficult for him.

Taking a deep breath, he managed to take the big step of walking through the gates as he made his way through the hallways, all while attempting to avoid eye contact with anyone who looked his way - except everyone was in class already. However, after roaming the hallways, Yunho managed to locate the administration office.

Okay pause. He didn’t mean to get that into detail. Come on Yunho, speed it up a bit will ya? Again with the third person, really?

After speaking with the principal and getting situated with his class schedule, Yunho was assigned a particular student, aka you. What you instructed by the principle was to get him comfortable with his surroundings and fellow classmates. You were honestly dreading this because you didn’t want to have to babysit the new kid, and quite frankly, Yunho didn’t want a babysitter either. But the universe has its ways because there you two were, just two months later, eating your lunch and talking about love.

“Woah there, what? You call that simple?” Yunho simply shrugged his shoulders without a care in the world. “Yunho, wouldn’t it be better to hear it from someone who means it?”

Well, now that he thinks about it, yeah it would, but he can’t turn back time.

“I mean, I guess but either way, it’s nice to hear it, even if it feels empty, it feels good. Ya know? Like someone appreciates you.” He didn’t know what he was saying or why he was saying it, but all he knew was that he wanted to hear it from you and only you.

Maybe that’s when he knew he started to develop feelings for you. He only wanted you to say certain things to him and only him, but he knew they were empty. And it also felt good to be impulsive for reasons like this:

Yunho called for your attention away from your phone. You looked at him as he leaned on his forearms again shooting you a smirk, “Lie to me.” You hesitated, thinking that it was wrong, but it was also something he asked you to do for him. But it wasn’t like you haven’t said those three empty words before, he just doesn’t know who YOU are yet.

You gave him a soft smile, “I love you.”

So, at that point on, it was a sealed deal for the two of you. There weren’t any dates, no gifts, no anniversaries, just plain ‘I love you’s’ that you’d only say when he asked. It was a secret that no one knew about, and there were more secrets too, but he’ll get to that later. But either way, it was stupid of him to get involved, right? Why is he asking, no one’s listening to him anyway. Just continue the story Yunho.

Time began to pass as Yunho continued to dig his hole of death.

Or just continued to fall in love with you - in case no one understood. Again, who is he talking to?

The only times you ever hung out with Yunho were during the many classes you had together and lunch. Everyone knew you were table partners and lunch buddies, but because Yunho didn’t have that many friends - or just no friends except you - he didn’t hear about any rumors of you. No one was able to warn him about you.

No, it’s not a kdrama where the main lead or second lead is the bad guy or the ‘heartbreaker’.

You were never good at love. You were good at faking it, per say, but any relationship you were in, you could never find yourself to actually fall for the other person who did. It frustrated you more than anything because all of your exes are amazing people and deserve more. But because you couldn’t feel that love spark, you just lied to them in fear of hurting them without saying those three words back. You were a liar.

But times were different with Yunho. The obvious reason that he asked you to lie to him about loving him. It felt violating because it was something you weren’t exactly used to. Sure you’ve said it many times without meaning, but this time, it was just different, and maybe you did find yourself actually putting meaning to it after some time.

But it only got worse the second your friend found out.

“You’re kidding, right?” You shook your head. “Oh my god, and you agreed?” In disbelief, your friend couldn’t process what he was hearing right now. The shock immediately vanished as an evil smirk rose onto his lips, “So just to clarify, you don’t like this Yunho dude, correct?”

Well, they didn’t call you the liar for nothing.

“No, I don’t like him.” His smirk only got wider as you tried to hide the distasteful look on your face when you heard his next words.

“Let’s make a bet. You actually get him to fall in love with you just by saying those words, but you can’t fall for him.”

“Hmm, seems easy enough.”

He laughed softly, “Well of course it is, but the only catch is that you have until the rest of the school year to do it, and that’s only what, three months?” You purse your lips, thinking about the time you had, and also the fact that you were actually going along with this.

Well one thing’s for sure, you’re a liar AND a people pleaser.

“Okay, that all?”

“Wow? Taking it on so quickly, huh? Well then, I’ll add something justtt in case. If you do fall for him, and I honestly don’t think you will, I’ll give you a pass…” You let out a breath of relief, “Only if you ghost him.” Immediately, you looked down at the table you two were sitting at. You faintly hear him call out your name, “It’s only fair. And if you don’t ghost him, I’ll tell him about the bet. Deal?”

“No reward or anything if one of us wins?”

“Well if you win, I’ll get you that antique vinyl record you said your mom has been dying for. As for me, I already get my reward if you fall for him.”

“And what reward is that exactly?”

He smiled evilly, “To see you suffer the consequences.”

Yunho did not know why you took that bet, he left right after he found out. He couldn’t stand to be in your presence or even have the patience to believe a word you said. And he had every right to. But it’s not everyday you hear someone ask another to lie about loving them. So, as he said, he just kept digging because as time continued and you two talked, he always got those three words from you.

“Do you love me?”

“I love you Yunho.”

You don’t.

“You going to lie to me today?”

“I love you.”

You still don’t.

“Okay, I’ll see you at lunch, bye.”

“Bye, I love you.”

Maybe you do. He doesn’t know anymore. Gosh, how did everything even get so messy for him? It was just a simple thing to ask; it wasn’t supposed to be like this. And to think he truly trusted your words when he confessed.

You heard Yunho call for you after the final bell. You were quickly making your way to the bus stop to head home before getting stopped by him. “I need to ask you something or, er, tell you something.” Your heart pounded in your ears as you processed nothing he was saying, only reading his lips when he said the words back to you for the first time. The ringing in your ear subsided as he looked at you with hopeful eyes, “I want you to answer me honestly. Do you love me?”

Your mind went back to the bet with your friend. You technically won but also lost, and you didn’t know what to do, so you did the opposite of what you do best, you gave him the honest truth, “I love you.”

At that time, Yunho was as happy as he ever could be, except it came crashing down the second you left to catch the bus. He, unfortunately, met your friend, who then told him everything. Honestly, he thought it was unfair how your friend didn’t play by the rules of the bet, but it didn’t matter at the time because he was hurt. Based on the rules of the bet, if you did love him, you would have to ghost him, and you haven’t, so that only means one thing, right?

Yeah, yeah he knows he shouldn’t jump to conclusions but it was a moment of weakness. He confessed, thought he got everything he has ever wanted since he transferred to that school, then immediately found out it was all lies. Oh and that’s not all, it wasn’t the bet your friend only mentioned. It was your whole reputation, and Yunho had no idea how he didn’t find out sooner about this.

Maybe he does know who he’s talking to. Himself, he thinks.

He couldn’t let this information slide, so he texted you that evening to meet up to ask you about it.

He was standing outside your gate as you emerged from the comfort of your home, “Hey Yunho, what did you want to talk to me about?”

“I know.”

You knew what he was talking about the second those words came out of his mouth. Your friend had texted you, telling you that he told Yunho, but you had thought he was playing around. Why would your friend betray you like that? No, why would you even agree to that stupid bet in the first place? But you played dumb.

“What do you mean?”

“Cut the crap, I know about the bet.”

Your heart sank as no words left your open mouth. He scoffed, “Well at least that confirms everything.” He turned to leave.

“Wait, Yunho stop.” He didn’t listen and continued to walk away from you as you quickly tried to keep up with him in the cool air. “Yunho please, just wait a second.” He stopped in his tracks, breathing heavily as you saw the warm air float into the cool night air.

Softly, he said your name, “Just lie to me, please.”

You heard his voice crack, eyes pricking with tears. “Yunho, don’t.”

Quickly on his heels, he turned to look at you, hot tears streaming down his face. He says your name again, “I asked you to lie to me, just do it.”

You hesitate, feeling weak seeing him broken and vulnerable like this in front of you, “I hate you, Yunho.”

One thing Yunho asks himself as he sits in his room, still recovering from what happened that evening, would it still be simple if none of this happened? He doesn’t know because he was an idiot for asking you to do such a thing. But then again, you were always good at lying. So who knows, maybe if the circumstances were different and he confessed, maybe you would still lie about those three words like before.

However, he can’t help but think to give you a second chance, but would it be simple?

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez reactions #ateez oneshot #ateez imagines #yunho #jeong yunho #atz #escapewriter oneshot

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kabira · 3 years

Text

03 | a little nighttime swinging

pairing — spider-man!vernon x ofc

featuring — joshua, yeji (itzy), felix (skz), yangyang (nct)

word count — 2.8k

genres — spider-man au, marvel au, fluff, action, angst, humor

warnings — violence

note — you know the drill—send me an ask or dm to be added to the taglist! first appearance of the amazing aunt may, so cheers to that. don’t really have much to add except for the fact that i woke up dead tired before morning classes to finish this...but it was fun so i guess it was worth it.

go to fic masterlist | main masterlist

Vernon almost jumped out of his seat when his phone buzzed.

And while he managed to keep his butt firmly planted, he did accidentally swipe half the stuff off his table, phone included. Granted, he should have been paying more attention—usually, he’d be alert and ready for the pestering texts about the day’s homework, but today he had been too tired to keep his eyes open for long.

He wiped the drool gathered at one corner of his mouth and swiped his phone up off the ground, his fingers going on autopilot as they entered the passcode and clicked open the messenger app.

LUCE:

page 25

wtf is a fitting reaction

nvm it’s fittig

VERNON:

reminds of the time you found a milf in the history textbook

LUCE:

the past is in the past

let it gooo

anyway send me the answers to q 11 through 13 and i’ll buy u whatever u want from larry’s on friday

Vernon snorted a laugh, then clicked off without answering. Bold of her to assume I don’t already have someone else to pay for my order. Somehow, though, the text from her had been almost relieving. After all the new changes, he had almost expected her not to text him. It was stupid, he knew, but he couldn’t help being a little apprehensive about the new superhero stuff taking over his regular routine.

He glanced back at the ground, where an old notebook with plans for web shooter mods lay open on the ground, loose pages spilling out. It was already dark out, but the streetlights hadn’t been switched on yet—a good time to sneak out in his suit without being seen; he didn’t want Mrs. Jones next door wondering why Spider-Man was swinging out of Vernon Parker’s bedroom window when she went out for her evening walk.

He exhaled through his teeth, blinking hard to push back any remaining sleepiness. Most of his homework remained yet to be done, but in his defense, he’d had a lot on his mind, not to mention his running on less sleep and more leftover Rhino-induced adrenaline.

He was tired. His was the kind of exhaustion that seeped into his bones and trickled into the empty corners of his mind, making him want move instead of lie down and rest for a while. It was the kind of tiredness you could only wash away by doing, and as long as he was Spider-Man, there was always something to do.

He clicked off the reading light, dousing the room in darkness. His senses were awake, as if straining for the stimulus of the city, and he needed a good nighttime swing to clear his mind anyway. I deserve a break.

Changing into the costume took all of forty-five seconds, picking up the fallen books three seconds. After sticking a pillow under the bedcovers, Vernon perched on the window pane, looking out into the chilly backyard below. Somehow, changing into his suit and swinging out from his actual neighborhood seemed even more thrilling than swinging in.

Maybe if I go out this way, those three won’t be able to follow.

“Vernon, are you in there?”

His heart almost leaped out of his throat at the voice. Vernon turned, eyes wide, eyes zooming in on the shadow lurking at the bottom of his bedroom door, where a little light seeped in from outside. The lock clicked as Aunt May’s hand pressed down on the handle, and the door opened a crack.

“Don’t come in, I’m naked!” he yelled in a fit of panic, backflipping from the window onto the mattress, making the bedsprings squeak tellingly under his weight. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He was so sleep-deprived he’d forgotten about locking the door.

Rule number one of hiding your secret identity from your all-seeing aunt: never leave the bedroom door open.

“Oh,” his aunt’s voice came from outside. The light spilling in from the crack in the door receded as she pulled the door shut again. “I just wanted to ask, dear, aren’t you going to eat anything? You haven’t had a bite since you came back from school.”

Crap, that’s true, he thought, the muscles of his stomach tightening at the thought. I’ll swing by the candy store downtown. “Uh, I don’t think I will,” he said. “I’m not hungry, er—think I might be coming down with something.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” May’s worried voice sounded, the door beginning to open again. “I could have whipped you up a—”

“No!” he yelled, instinctively pulling the covers up to his chest. “Naked, remember?”

The door closed again. “Well, put something on,” she replied. “And I’ll make you some soup.”

“You do that,” he muttered loudly, already feeling guilt pool in the pit of his stomach at making her so something for him. But what else was he supposed to do? “Actually, no, don’t bother. I can feel a headache coming on already. I’ll turn in for the night and have a big breakfast tomorrow.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to anything?”

“Yeah,” he said. “And don’t come in! Because—you know—germs and stuff. Really nasty bug going around in school, one of the kids in my class had it. Don’t wanna infect you too.”

He heard her sigh, but it was an accepting sigh, albeit a little reluctant. “All right,” she said, and the shadow under the door pulled back a little. “Good night, Vernon.”

“Night, Aunt May,” he said, watching the slit of light under the door until the shadow receded completely. As soon as he was in the clear, he breathed a sigh of relief, slipping off the covers.

Those S.H.I.E.L.D. guys had it easy.

Although he couldn’t feel the night air on his bare skin, swinging through the city at night always left him feeling refreshed. It was a little ironic, sure, physical exertion energizing him, but Vernon suspected it was more of a psychological thing. Being out here in the open reminded him of who he actually was supposed to be—not just Vernon Parker, the tired highschooler with leftover chemistry homework, but crime-fighting, wall-crawling, not-homework-doing Spider-Man.

He landed on the roof of a high building, hitting the concrete with a satisfying plunk. Everything seemed more alive at night. Even from up here, he could hear the sounds of humanity on the street below, loud voices running into each other over the noise of traffic. The Daily Bugle billboard on the high building opposite him was lit up—Jameson probably dragging him like always—but Vernon tuned it out. The last thing he needed right now was more negativity.

He was about to leap off the side again when his ears picked up a soft sound behind him. Bad guys, he thought reflexively, before realizing there was a much better explanation.

His jaw clenched, shoulders tightening before he forced them to relax. “You can come out now,” he called without turning, upset rippling through his body despite him desperately trying not to show it. “There’s no point in hiding if you can’t even do it properly.”

Their hesitation was almost audible, but then she stepped out from behind the small roof door. Tiger’s white suit was stark against the dark sky, her mask’s cat ears perked like Daredevil’s horns. He had to admit it was pretty impressive that she’d managed to stay unnoticed that long.

Nova floated up from the side of the building next, carrying a disgruntled-looking Felix. Seeing the latter out of his X-Men costume felt strange, like seeing Fury without his eyepatch. There was definitely something up with him, but Vernon didn’t want to pry, so he stored the suspicion away for later perusal.

“You can sense non-threatening presences with your spider sense?” Nova asked, looking both annoyed and awed. “Your file didn’t say that.”

Vernon was tempted to lie just to spite him, but stopped himself. If these guys were going to be his teammates, lying about his abilities probably wasn’t the best way to go. “No, you’re just bad at stealth,” he replied, deadpan. “How did you even find me? No, wait, let me guess—camera outside my house?”

“Tracker on your suit, actually,” Tiger said. Despite the mask covering her face, he could sense her guilt, which didn’t help his case. “We can’t learn to work together if you keep running away from us.”

“Running? I wasn’t running,” he said defensively. “And if you want us to work together, the best place to start is to tell me your name.”

“You already know my name.”

“Your other name.”

“Ah.” Her head tilted up. The high ponytail coming out the back of her head flicked to the side as nodded. “White Tiger.”

“A bit simplistic, but to the point.” He nodded in mock-approval. “Makes me think I should’ve just named myself Radioactive Spider.”

She didn’t take the bait, which was probably for the better. “So, what?” Nova asked, and Vernon was suddenly reminded of how infuriating his voice was. “Are you just going to stand around all night?”

“Swing around, actually,” he said. “It’s a big place. Sooner or later, I’m bound to find a crime happening. Sometimes it even happens to me.”

As if on cue, sirens sounded in the distance, loud and piercing. He shrugged at the three, before turning around and balancing himself on the edge. “If you want to get some real-world experience, there’s nothing better than stopping a petty robbery,” he said. “I hope you can keep up—because I’m not going to slow down.”

And he dived.

There was that feeling again, the air pressure against his body as he fell headfirst like a comet towards the busy street. A couple of people looked up as he pulled up at the last moment, shooting webs at an overhead lamppost and swinging in a circle around it before letting go, launching his body into the air again.

He looked over the rooftops as he swung, half-curious about how the others were going to follow. A small, white-clad figure leaped from building to building with surprising grace and strength, able to match him in speed. Nova flew alongside him, carrying Iceman again, who still wasn’t using his powers. Vernon knew it wasn’t a case of loss of powers either, because then he wouldn’t be here, and plus, he’d seen the guy in action this morning. Was he trying to remain inconspicuous?

The less people know Iceman’s in town, the better, he thought, though he knew it was a futile effort. The Rhino fight in the morning hadn’t had any live coverage, but he knew for all its lectures, S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn’t going to bother with hiding its tracks either. School next day was probably going to be buzzing with talk about the new superheroes.

He gritted his teeth. All this in a day. He could imagine how bad everything was going to get in the coming days.

Mid-swing, he saw the crime happening up ahead, a group of masked men trying to break into a store through the back door in a poorly-lit area. Vernon balanced on a high lamppost without alerting them, taking a moment to assess the situation. There were about eight men in balaclavas—a lot for a simple robbery. Maybe they were first-timers. Easy enough to take down.

“A record store?” he wondered aloud, and one of the guys whirled around, looking up at him with wide eyes. “What are you guys doing stealing from record stores?”

“Spider-Man!” one of them yelled, though he didn’t really see the point, since anyone who hadn’t noticed him yet probably deserved whatever was coming.

The man who had noticed him first fumbled for something along his hip before pulling out a gun and pointing it at him. “Don’t move, or I’ll shoot!”

“Oh, no, don’t shoot!” he called out, and the man’s taut shoulders relaxed somewhat before Vernon shot a web straight at the gun, jerking it right out of his hand. “Can’t believe you fell for that.”

He jumped, landing on the ground in a crouch. The leader of the little group, the one who had been trying to bust open the door with a crowbar, stepped forward, swinging said crowbar in what Vernon guessed was supposed to be a menacing way. “Step aside,” he said to his men, his eyes narrowed on Vernon. “I’ll take care of the Spider.”

Vernon was so amused he let the guy attempt to swing at him, dodging the crowbar at the last moment. “Okay, not gonna lie,” he said. “When you called me the Spider, it made me feel kind of sexy.”

He kicked the robber in the side, sending him flying into a trashcan. The rest of the group hesitated only a moment before closing in again. Vernon webbed the lid of the trashcan, swinging it around like a shot-put player and knocking back some of them, before he let go, sending it crashing into one.

Nova dropped Felix in the midst of the group, and his skin slowly solidified into ice. “Okay, playtime’s over now,” he said. “If you just give up, I won’t have to bash your heads in.”

“Where did you come from?” one of the men asked, clearly surprised, right before Iceman froze him into a life-sized ice sculpture.

Vernon knocked out another man with a good old punch to the face. His spider sense buzzed. The crowbar guy, he thought as he whirled around, hands spread in shooting position, but White Tiger was already there, slicing through his crowbar with her claws. “Thanks,” he murmured, as she put him out of commission with a well-placed roundhouse.

She inclined her head. “Don’t get distracted.”

He turned, seeing Nova’s fists start to glow as he aimed at the guy who was attempting to sneak away. Vernon’s eyes landed behind him, where an unsuspecting civilian car was coming down the street. “No!” he yelled, webbing a surprised Nova to the wall.

“Hey, man, what the heck?!” Nova yelled back, struggling against the webs. Vernon shot web fluid at the guy who had been trying to escape, wrapping him up like a cocoon. There was the muffled sound of something heavy falling as Tiger drop-kicked the last one, cleanly finishing what he admitted would otherwise have taken longer. She leaped across the street, slicing through the webs covering Nova, who dropped to the sidewalk.

“What the hell was that for?” he asked, stalking up to Vernon with his fists clenched. “I had that guy!”

“No, you almost sent him crashing into that car,” Vernon said, gesturing at the vehicle behind him that now passed unharmed. “When in a fight, civilians are always first priority. They can’t defend themselves like us.”

Nova scowled, but turned on his heel and marched away, muttering something about him stealing the glory. Vernon watched him go with a frown, then turned around.

One of the robbers lay webbed-up, two quite literally frozen in place, five knocked out. The fight had taken a total of about two minutes—not a record, but considering the number they were going against, surprisingly efficient. He wasn’t even sure if this classified as a fight or simply a one-sided beatdown.

Overkill, he thought, then sighed. “You people have a lot to learn.”

“Oh, come on,” Iceman said. He seemed energized after the fight as his skin melted back to normal, a lively glint in his eye where there hadn’t been one a few minutes ago. “That was so much fun.”

“Yeah, but you have to learn to care about collateral damage,” he snapped, trying and failing to hide his annoyance. Now that he wasn’t swinging alone, crime-fighting wasn’t half as fun, even if it was twice as fast. Having someone watch his back was safe, sure, but it could lead to him letting his guard down. And what if he ended up somewhere alone? “You’re fast, but we’re not fighting in a vacuum. We’re not fighting a war, we’re protecting people. That’s supposed to be the most important thing—making sure no one gets hurt.”

“Even these guys?” Nova asked, toeing one of the unconscious robbers.

“Yeah, even these guys,” Vernon said. “Well, they can be hurt a little bit, but that’s only because there’s no other way to stop them. Next time, make sure you’re not letting any innocent people get in the way of your fun.”

The group fell silent. He almost felt bad about killing their enthusiasm, but Nova’s recklessness had managed to give him a scare. One more second and he might have had a death on his conscience.

The sirens were closer now. He’d completely forgotten about the cops; web-slinging was a much faster method of travel than cars, and he almost always left them behind. “Come on,” he told the others, casting one last glance around the scene. Something felt off, but he guessed it was just the novelty of working in a team. Fun day. “The police will find them. Let’s go.”

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lucky-bucky-boy · 4 years

Text

Cruel Summer Pt. III

Summary: Based loosely off of Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift. Things seem to be on a roller coaster, highs and lows and jumping emotions. A discussion about one of the pivotal points of their relationships that could either be the start of a new beginning or the awakening of a terrible ending.

Word Count: 1818

Warnings: Angst, fluff, manipulative-ish speech, very slight age gap, implied smut, almost ddlg elements but not quite (Please let me know if I missed anything, I will be happy to add on)

A/N: Tags are at the bottom. I am so sorry this took literally a lifetime to write and get out but its FINALLY HERE. Will be added to AO3 at some point. NO spoilers, takes place before the events of Knives out. Read Part One Here // Read Part Two Here

I do not own these characters. Do NOT repost my writing and/or fics anywhere without my written permission. Reblogs, likes, comments, and constructive criticism welcomed and highly appreciated.

Hummingbirds sang their beautiful song, fluttering through the evening sun. Wind bristling through the trees, the faint sound of wind chimes and a bird splashing in the bird bath. The outside air; light and warm, a breath of life and happiness. Almost taunting with how it didn't change from how it was left.

It was a stark contrast to the nearly tangible heaviness that cast itself inside, sitting thick and awkward. The sound of a metal spoon clinking against glass nearly drowning out the sound of the help Ransom paid to stay and make dinner. The warmth of the cup of tea keeping thoughts from straying too far as tension begin to settle.

Uncomfortable shifting in the dining chair, occasional, timid glances to the man next to you. Never had you ever seen him look so raw. His hair pushed back from running his hands through it so many times, instead of from the numerous products you knew he had stocked in his closet. The sweater he wore, albeit already worn, was so stretched out from him pulling on the cuffs that it naturally just rested against his palm. One hand fiddled with the fabric as he bit at his nails on the other.

The last time he even looked remotely this nervous was after a few drinks when he showed you some writing he had done, something he hid but was proud of. And that was easily more than a year ago. But now, now was different. This almost looked like regret.

After a quick sip of the warm liquid to calm your nerves, you cleared your throat, looking over at him. Ransom's gaze quickly snapped to focus in on you, waiting for you to speak.

"You asked me to stay, so what is it you could possibly want to talk about now?" You hadn't meant to sound so rude, but the exhaustion and irritability of the situation had settled heavily. You'd give anything to just have this over with, to be able to be alone and process everything.

Ransom opened his mouth to speak, but closed it before letting out a sigh as he ran a hand through his hair. "I just don't understand how we're somehow on the same page and not at the same damn time. Frankly, I don't understand how we were both there and you somehow… came out feeling like, like that about it, about me."

A scoff escaped from you, shaking your head and looking at him with utter bewilderment written on your face. "Ransom, you truly don't see how I could have fallen in love with you?" His only response was a look that was somewhere between confusion and certainty, as if he was confused as to how love was even an option.

"Okay then," you took another sip of your tea before staring back at him, determined at this point to at least make him see it your way, if not to even hurt him a little. "Tell me, how do you remember our trip to Paris?"

He huffed out a chuckle that was void of amusement, eyebrows scrunched as he shrugged, "I don't know, it was about a month after I started fucking your brains out. Woke up one morning and told you to pack a bag, which you did because at that point you did whatever I said, and we flew to Paris in my private jet. We spent a week there, having sex and eating at fancy restaurants. I bought you a bunch of clothes and jewelry. Then we came home."

Your eyes had fallen shut, shaking your head and clicking your tongue as you opened them. He looked smug, but his attitude quickly changed when he saw the anger and disbelief pouring itself out of you. "That's truly how you remember that trip?"

He shrugged, "Yeah," his voice faltered softly as he continued, "How do you remember it?"

Some part of you begged not to open that door, not to go diving in to memories that would no doubt leave you even more hurt than before.

Delicate touches and even softer sheets, a soft breeze rustling the sheer curtains that led to the balcony overlooking the city, intricate smells - a warming mixture of coffee, baked bread, and a touch of nicotine.

Everything about it screamed Paris, the city of romance, the city of love and adventure. The city that undoubtedly shifted the emotions that flowed.

"I know you're awake, baby girl," your eyes hadn't even opened yet, a smile creeping on your lips as your skin warmed at the sound of the pet name.

There was that low chuckle, the one the vibrated the chest your head rested on, that made you melt and float at the same time. The delicate touches, the soft swirls he drew on your back turned to a firm squeeze on your hip. "Get your sweet ass up, I'm taking you out."

Ransom slid out from underneath you, soft whines leaving you in protest as you finally opened your eyes to look at him. You were met with his bare backside as he made his way to the bathroom. "I'm too sore to move," you called out with a pout.

He stopped at the door way, looking over his shoulder at you, eyes dark and a shit eating grin on his face. "Well, I suggest if you want me to kiss it better, you better get your ass in the damn shower."

"Where are you taking me?" The words came out as a giggle as you clung onto Ransom's arm, blindfolded and letting him lead you to God only knows as. The ground beneath gradually became flat and smooth, unlike the walkways of the streets.

"You're not selling me off, are you?" You teased.

Ransom chuckled and you could feel his body move as he shook his head. "No, sweetheart. You're worth much more than everything you're about to see. It'd be hard finding someone willing to pay that much."

He stopped moving, reaching up to slowly pull the blindfold off. "You used to talk about visiting art museums all across the world when we were little, so I figured this'd be a nice little treat."

You squealed softly and you took in your surroundings. You were standing in the middle of the Tuileries garden at the Louvre, beautiful sculptures and flora overwhelming your senses. "God! You really do spoil me," you look at him with a bright smile. "Come on, I'm dragging you through as much as possible before you decide it's time to leave."

He smirked and shook his head, "Well, we have reservations at 6 for a restaurant not too far from here. But other than that, the day is yours, princess."

"You're letting me decide what we do for a whole day?" You raised your eyebrows at him.

"What can I say? I'm full of surprises," that cocky tone was something you were coming to love more than tolerate, "Lead the way."

It was no wonder Ransom made you wear a nicer dress that day, insisting on you putting a little more effort into your appearance than usual. He never asked for anything like that. You found it odd earlier that morning as you smeared his favorite red lipstick across your lips, but as you stood outside the restaurant where meals cost easily as much as your phone bill, you understood.

A balcony seat with a view overlooking the city. The sun was just starting to set, spreading hues of pink, purple, and gold in the sky as the lights from the Eiffel Tower could be seen glowing in the distance. People were still bustling in the streets, couples hand in hand, kids running and laughing, the occasional Parisian leaning against the stone building with a cigarette. It hit you then that there was no one else you'd want to be in Paris with.

Already, Ransom had pulled your seat out for you and pushed you in, ordered your drinks and food for you, and as you looked back at him you caught him staring. For just a split second there was something more to the look on his face, a glisten in his eyes you'd never seen before. But, just as soon as you saw it, it was gone. A smirk spread across his lips, his eyes set back to their normal hue and you wanted nothing more than to smack it off his face.

Not because he was being an asshole or because he was right about something (and knew damn well you were wrong), but because you knew this time that smirk was hiding something. But the time to pester and whine was neither here nor there when you were surrounded by riches, lavished in the luxury that was Paris, the upscale restaurant, and the company of Ransom.

The cool metal of the railing nipped through the material of your shirt as you overlooked the now dark city from the comfort of your hotel room. A few glasses of wine you normally wouldn't drink, a shared cigarette you didn't quite like but did anyway because "it's a part of the experience"; and quite honestly, Ransom could get you to try anything at least once.

The padding of his bare feet across the floor and onto the patio pulled you out of the replay the was looping in your head. The soft smiles, the feeling of his hand in your, the laughter and warmth that filled your chest all day quickly being pushed to the side as he reached his arms around you, quicker than you could turn around.

Ransom clasped a necklace around your neck and when you looked down to examine it your heart swelled. A dainty, chain with a nice size diamond laid against your skin. If you didn't know any better your say it resembled a heart but… maybe that was just wishful thanking.

"Ransom, you didn't have to ge-"

"I wanted to," he quickly cut you off, "And be a good girl for me and don't ever take it off." He looked at you expectantly as you looked back at him, eyes glossy and a slight pout to your lip as emotions overwhelmed you. "Promise?"

"Promise."

Reaching into your bag you pulled something out. Without even looking at it you tossed it at him, annoyance and hurt written on your face as you both watched the diamond necklace skitter toward him and stop by his hand that rested on on the table.

You watched as Ransom picked it up, swallowing hard and jaw setting as he examined the piece of jewelry. A sigh and shake of his head as he eyes fell to the little "H" he had engraved on the backside of it.

You smirked, huffing and biting the inner corner of your cheek before speaking, "Go ahead and tell me again how this was just an arrangement."

Taglis (cross through means you were unable to be tgged) @sweetlittlegingy @star-spangled-steve @jessiejunebug @fresa-luna @thegirlwithpaperheart @jesaigne @introvertedmouse @sinner-as-saint @sp2900 @qrndevans @dammitcaswhy @livsheph @darcia22 @paranjaperiyauniverse @dramaticsassmaster @rose-k @lovemesomeavengers @steeeeverogers @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall @bemysugarbean @dreamlesswonder86 @ambrosixx @heyiamthatbitch @daazzeey, @fresa-luna @bitchcraftandwitchery @thatoneslytherinbeater @breezyfreezey @quesadellacatburglar @renxzs @imsonick @sambucky8 @honeybabybubba @lover1307 @marvelismysafezone @bxby-kittxn @nibbles7192 @21stcenturywitchcraft @ssworldofsw @im-married-to-chris-evans

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undyingsunshine · 3 years

Note

YESSSSS YOU’RE BACK AND TAKING ASKS

14 and 15 for the most recent post, and I’m gonna come back with more too

Here we go!!!!

14. At what point in writing do you come up with a title?

Honestly, it usually differs from piece to piece! Usually, though, the title comes last! (Though I do have a short list of potential titles for Li Cu fics stored away, most of which are just lyrics from songs xD Whether I end up using them or not, only time will tell!)

15. Which is harder: titles or summaries (or tags)?

All of these tend to give me a bit of trouble xD if I was to rank from hardest to easiest however, I think I'd say titles are the hardest and tags tend to be the easiest. For summaries I usually just slap a portion of the fic in and then add a small almost-summary below it, mostly because I feel like giving a sample of the fic will be more effective than trying to give a succinct description? Kind of shows you what you're getting into before you've even clicked xD

Titles, I use a lot of lyrics from songs, especially ones that I think fit with the character. Though, this does sometimes mean my titles are... long and it can make it a little awkward when trying to talk about the fics themselves. xD

Examples include;

"Come with me, I promise the water is fine..." Which is a lyric from God Bless Eric Taylor by Marietta, a song that I relate to Li Cu somewhat.

This next one is the title of a chapter instead of a whole fic, but I'll count it anyway xD Chapter 2 of I'm Here is titled: "I have this dream that I'm hitting my dad with a baseball bat and he is screaming and crying for help..." which is from the song Father by The Front Bottoms.

I ideally try to make it so that the lyrics also match up with the contents of the chapter/fic. I'm Here's second chapter is all about Li Cu's nightmares, so I thought the title would be pretty fitting xD Honestly, thinking back maybe I could've added more types of dreams.... Ones that fit that title even more.... Small rewrite of that Chapter perhaps? I don't think it would be that different, but still... Would add more angst onto everything xD

The title for "Come with me..." Also sort of relates to the contents of the fic, but moreso in the following line that appears in the summary: "I need something else to comvince me I won't die."

Honestly these lines could have me ranting a whole lot, especially in relation to Li Cu. Just makes me think of all his conflicted feelings, and how he must feel when he drags his friends into the mess he didn't even make. (And these feeling really would increase after Su Wan blames him for the snake bite and getting Shen Qiong inveolved, and during just... the entirety of the time he, Yang Hao, Su Wan and Liang Wan are in the desert together. (ESPECIALLY when Yang Hao is being absolutely mistreated by the 9 families, like sheesh.)

It's just a whole lot of guilt, but also maybe some stubborn determination? Li Cu is very adamant on living just to spit in the face of everyone around him. Existing out of pure spite, but with friends involved, it's more like he's existing to fulfil a purpose? One that he feels like he's bestowed upon himself. Not Wu Xie, or Rishan, or anyone. Just him. He stays alive so he can protect his friends. He'll keep them safe, he'll get them home alive. He has to. And he knows that he will. Or else, what is he even persevering for? "I need something to convince me I won't die." In the fic, this could also be referring to Wu Xie, as he kind of marks safety by the end of the drama. Wu Xie being there means it's okay. It means he doesn't have to fight anymore. And in the fic, it also means that Li Cu can let go. Of Everything. Permanently. (I have so many branching ideas based on that 300 word demon of a fic, you wouldn't even believe)

ANYWAY I'LL STOP RANTING ABT THAT FIC MAYBE I'LL TALK ABOUT THAT FIC MORE IN DEPTH SOME OTHER TIME IF PPL WANT IT.

As for tags, I struggle mostly because I never know what's okay to tag? I'm afraid of tagging a fic with something if the content of that particular tag doesn't show up all that much in the fic? Unless it's something that's a potnential trigger, and then I'll tag it, even if it's small. Just ot be safe. But like. Characters, I don't tag unless they're actually there and present and doing something. If they're mentioned, I tend to not tag them since it's not all that crucial? For people to know they show up for a second? Idk, I like to be as succinct and precise as possible with my tags, because I know how annoying it is for tags to be clogged or for fics to have too many tags xD

4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)

I have a few, surprisingly! I'll choose two, both from the second chapter of I'm Here!

"Each one makes him wake up, terrified and shaky and wanting to hide or just outright stop existing; to become intangible, untouchable, safe. Of course, he can't actually do that, so instead he pushes the fear down and suffocates it before burying it in the backyard of his mind in the hopes it'll never be dug up again."

Something I try and do while writing is find ways to explain how I. Just. Experience life? (This is also present in Chapter 1 with the line "Further frustration gathered in his chest, making it tighten with stress before it shot up into his throat". Just little things that I've never really seen in words before? That I feel but never know how to accurately describe.) There's always the whole "let the void swallow me/him/her/them whole" thing in media that I love because, honestly, mood. But I guess for this I just wanted to word it differently? In the way I felt was most accurate to myself. Just to be in a state of which nothing can get you, be it life or that one imaginary demon that you sometimes think is lurking around the house at the convenient time of 3 AM, Y'know? When real life becomes TOO real and you just want to blip out for a second, just pause everything and have a moment to be free of everything xD

I also just kind of like the metaphor(?) with his fear. Trust Li Cu to not only associate feelings with violence, but also treat his feelings violently xD I feel like I'm not the best when it comes to imagery and creative expression, especially through words. I point out the obvious, the facts, a lot, both when speaking normally and in writing, and it takes a bit of time for me to remember that I'm writing a story and not jotting a list of events xD So anytime I actually come up with something more kind of creatively written, I feel particularly happy with myself.

"He can't even fully comprehend what's been going on - everything feels bizarre and just out of reach, moreso than usual - but what he does know is that Wu Xie is here and he's angry. The man stands above Li Cu, his cold calculating eyes burning him with wordless accusations that, despite their ambiguity, feel justified. There's guilt, desperation and denial crashing inside him like waves assaulting a rickety raft on a stormy sea. What these feelings are for, he doesn't know. It makes him want to plead for forgiveness all the same."

Let's be honest, Li Cu probably has way too many mixed feelings on Wu Xie. The man who simultaneously built him up and destroyed him. The man who caused him agony, but is also probably one of the best things to come into Li Cu's life??? Like damn, I think I'd be pretty conflicted if I was Li Cu. And things only get worse when, in this fic's timeline, Wu Xie essentially ghosts Li Cu out of guilt for what he did to the kid. This is taken wrong by Li Cu, and he ends up feeling abandoned. By his own kidnapper. I just feel like this snippet is pretty okay at capturing all the blame he puts onto himself, and captures some of the trauma that comes with the events of Sha Hai as well. I just kind of like how this paragraph turned out in the end. xD

6. What character do you have the most fun writing

LI CU!!! Absolutely Li Cu. I don't know exactly what it is but it just. Clicks with me? Or at least the version I write of himd does, it's probably not even close to Li Cu's canon portrayal xD Maybe it's because of the fact that I'm also an angsty, angry 19 year old that I feel as such? It's much easier to put myself in the mind of a teenage boy rather than a 40 year old man xD In terms of non DMBJ writings, I have OCs that I love writing for! Funnily enough, one is an angsty 19 year old boy with a lot of self-worth issues (ringing any bells?) and the other is an angry, confused and conflicted character that was modified to be a kind of living weapon, but had since escaped and repressed all their memories of what happened. Though, the memories eventually start to resurface and they begin to question themself a whole lot, with flashbacks haunting the corners of their mind and driving them deeper and deeper into guilt-filled despair.

In general, angsty characters with a lot of conflicted emotions are super fun to write for! To flicker around from thought to thought and dive into all the hidden feelings that a character can have. It's just super enjoyable for me xD

#writing this while also writing an essay #it's helping me turn those rusty head gears #i feel like i can finally write things again xD #THANK YOU FOR THE ASKS SIERRA! I hope my answers were satisfactory!! xD #i think i went way too off-topic with some of these but honestly when do i ever stay on topic????#ask game #undying prattle #ramblerambleramble #miiiight edit this tomorrow to make it more comprehensible #but for now you can have this mess of a post xD

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jlf23tumble · 4 years

Note

Hi! I've seen you rec fics before and I'm wondering if you have any recommendations for Harry Styles fics that deal with gender. Like Harry being either nonbinary or that being the focus of the plot in some way. Thanks!

I have GOT YOU, my friend! I answered a similar ask a long time ago, so I’ll bring those recs over, plus add newer ones, just to keep us up to date. Same caveat as before, though--these fics delve a bit deeper into the genderfluid side of the fine line rather than just the “harry in panties” side because I think you’re more interested in the former, but if I’m wrong, let me know! Enjoy!

Us, Me, We, @homosociallyyours, 2.3 (Harry/Harry, Harry/Louis). Featuring Harry trippin’ balls and truly seeing “her” in the mirror.

you make me wanna (how deep is your love), orphan_account, 2.5k (harry/louis). As the notes say, “straight up porn,” featuring trans Harry.

Friendly Fire, @vondrostes, 2.6k (Harry/Ny). Look, you’ll see a lot of Terran here, I had to hold *back*, but he writes tons of pairings, so there’s something for everyone, and I rec it all! In this case, Harry learns an important lesson about why he shouldn’t date straight women.

No Control, thegirlwthekittentattoo, 2.6k (Harry/Louis). The dialogue here is EVERYTHING, it’s cute and hot and emotional yet still funny, like Harry’s bra being named Christi with an “i”, and I loveeee how much is packed in here.

Silent Night, @sulkingroom, 2.7k (Harry/Xander). I’m 99% sure this is Melissa, not orphan_account, but she’s another author who writes stunning fics that play with gender, this one featuring trans Harry at Christmas.

She, Myself, and I, @vondrostes, 3k (Harry/Nick). Angst city, with Harry telling Nick exactly who “she” is.

Every Drop of Rain, haemophilus, 3.3k (Harry/Taylor). Told through Taylor’s eyes, a fascinating look at Harry and his gender journey. (I highly rec this author’s work in other pairings for similar vibes!)

if they find out, will it all go wrong? blankiexrry, 3.4k (Harry/Louis). Gender exploration behind the scenes when the D played MSG, plus extra kink added!

The Assassination of Harry Styles’ Dignity, wishforwishes, 3.5k (Harry/Nick). This one was in the pubefest, and it’s gryles angst hours gorgeously done as Harry ponders shaving past and present (highly rec this author for gender exploration in other pairings, too).

She Feels So Good, Zedi, 4k, and its sequel, Turns Out She’s a Devil In-Between the Sheets, 3k (Harry/Louis). Mannnn, this universe is so good! Part one is behind the scenes of the Late Late Show after Kiwi, and part two is sexi times in Italy. I utterly adore how this Harry shifts right along with her pronouns.

Fertile Ground, Blake/ @newleafover, 4.4k (Harry/Louis). Jesus wept specifically at this story, CHRIST, so much dysphoria-related angst!! The sheer number of moments guaranteed to make you stare at the wall for one (1) hour, help!

into joy i’m sailing, @hereforlou, 4.6k (Harry/Louis). The tenderness LEAPS off the screen in this one, Harry forgets he’s wearing a dress when Louis comes over for dinner, and I peel my heart out of my throat every time.

weird honey, orphan_account, 5.4k (Harry/Louis). I’m a big lurker in fic comments, and these ones give me joy because big names from a time when this Harry drew even more hate than today are here, spreading love and support--who was this author? This story is so GOOD, I’d love to know what else they did! (In this case, a sex toy helps Harry deal with not having a vagina.)

violence of my own touch, 14hrflight/ @got2ghost, 5.2k (Harry/Louis). Chi is yet ANOTHER author to read for spot-fuckin’-on genderfluid characterization (here, it’s alpha/alpha with all kinds of bdsm, dysphoria, angst, and more).

it’s you i want to take apart, orphan_account, 5.9k (Harry/Louis). This author--in the year of our lorde 2012--watched the nail polish interview and created a work of art that went even deeper, their MIND!!! What else did they foretell??!!!!!

Love at Home, @vondrostes, 6.9k (Harry/Xander, Harry/Zayn/Xander). This fic is HYPER-current, like, mid-quarantine, and it features some Zarry history, some pregnancy-related dysphoria, and so much more, plus horses!! (The horses aren’t actually all that involved, I just love to see ‘em.)

Vinyl and Lace, objectlesson/ @alienfuckeronmain, 7.5k (Harry/Louis). This one kills me because it’s XF days, and you get the full-on sensation that this is meant to be kinky play funtime, but it’s going to end up being something much bigger on so many fronts, we love to see it!

Are You Gonna Be My Girl? LoadedGunn, 7.5k (Harry/Louis). EASILY my fave fic this author wrote, basically, Louis talks about his first time with a girl, Harry decides to be that girl, and the dirty talk hits different in the end!

call me anything you like, but my name is, wishforwishes, 9.9k (Harry/members of CHASM). [muffled internal screaming whenever I think of this fic] It starts with BSE Veronica/Zayn and ends with Harry Veronica/Zayn, and so much revelation happens in between, goddddd bless.

fallin’ and laughin’ at the drinks we spilled, enbyharry/ @non-binharry, 14k (Harry/Louis). Asia’s description in the notes kills me, but #vanlife Louis runs into proud Harry in some bar and shenanigans ensue is the upshot!

But She Doesn’t Know Who I Am series, jaerie, 15k (Harry/Louis). I love that one of the tags here is “louis asks inappropriate questions” because that’s honestly most of what happens!!

o/o angst series, HappyPrincess/ @pattern-pals, 17k (Harry/Louis). I miss Nina’s writing like a phantom limb, and I doubt they’ll return to this universe, but I swear, I will read (and rec) ANYTHING they produce when the muse visits them again! This one is as its title says, and it doesn’t disappoint, heavy sigh.

Grenadine Sunshine, objectlesson/ @alienfuckeronmain, 18k (Harry/Louis). This fic is a peach of a pearl written as a gift for one of this fandom’s best authors, and it perfectly captures the Mood of that author, with so much softness, makeup, gender, and tender.

Alpha Louis/Alpha Harry series, 14hrflight/ @got2ghost, 22k (Harry/Louis). SO MANY GENDER ISSUES EXPLORED HERE, WOW!! College roommates come to terms with their identity, and, mannnnn, do I love it when a/b/o gets unstraightened, if you will, chef’s kiss all around.

Nothing You Can Do (But You Can Learn How to Be You in Time), Teumessian, 28k (Harry/Louis). Also known as the pinterest fic, this one is just so soft and lovely, an identity story told through hair (among other things).

genderfluid!harry series, istajmaal, 33k (Harry/Louis). This entire series hits just as hard today as it did when it was written in 2013, a time when people were aggressively trying to make fetch frat boy Harry happen (some of ‘em still are, lmao). Anyway, this is another author I highly rec for all their other fic, but this one does an A+ job of describing Harry’s gender exploration mid-D madness.

Amor Victorious, HappyPrincess/ @pattern-pals, 38k (Harry/Louis). Another brilliant work from Nina, you feel like you’re on this journey with them, PLUS it dives deep into gender identity struggles, PLUS it throws a/b/o for a loop, all of which equals a big yes from me!

hush., wankerville, 41k (Harry/Louis). One of my all-time faves, this one tackles so many phobias, all while being set in a small-town America high school AU and managing to be the softest, most gorgeous, most hopeful thing in spite (because?) of that.

Time Passed, coffinofachimera/ @belialsmiracles, 66k (Harry/Louis). LISTEN, I WILL NEVER, EVER SHUT UP ABOUT THIS FIC, I can only hope the author will bless us with a timestamp or something else entirely, it’s so beautifully done, it makes you think of nothing else for days, it RUINS you for other fic (I highly rec the author’s other work, too). You’ll never look at Tokyo Harry the same way again (or listen to “She” or “Fine Line” without getting more than a little misty). GOLD STAR!

Made of Lightning, @vondrostes, 74k (Harry/Louis, Harry/Liam, Harry/Louis/Liam). Just...the tags on this don’t do full justice to the journey of it, to the imagination of this specific timeline! I adore how Terran writes trans Harry!

Second Spring, @vondrostes, 103k (Harry/Louis). Speaking of Terran writing trans Harry, this one covers all the ins and outs of her surgical transition, how she recovers, and how she and the people around her deal with puberty no. 2.

#fic rec #gender #harry styles #whew it's a long one!!

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spnfanficpond · 4 years

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March Angel Fish Awards

Every month all of you fantastic writers work your asses off to post some truly incredible stories. Our Angel Fish Awards are the way for all of us, as a community of writers and readers, to lift each other up and give praise to those who have captured our attention and deserve a few kind words.

The monthly Angel Fish Awards are peer-nominated, meaning ANYONE IN THE POND CAN NOMINATE ANY POND MEMBER’S FIC. While the Pond was founded to support the Guppies, everyone in this community deserves to be showered with love and feedback, and we hope that by opening this up as a Pond wide system, we’ll be able to share the love as far as it can go.

NOTE: WE’VE BEEN HAVING OCCASIONAL PROBLEMS WITH ASKS GOING MISSING. Please use the Submit button when submitting your nominations and make sure you’re signed into Tumblr or your URL won’t show. (If the form asks for your name and email address, then you’re not signed in.) If you like, you can also send a message to Michelle @mrswhozeewhatsis or Mana @manawhaat to check and make sure we got your submission.

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, HERE ARE MARCH’S ANGEL FISH AWARDS!

Nominated by @wingedcatninja

Static (series) by @peridottea91

peridottea91 is going to single-handedly convert me to like series. I just re-read this gem and had to share it. In another life, she could have been a writer on the show, she’s so good at getting the characterization right for our boys. This OC, too, is an intiguing, layered personality that adds an extra dimension of mystery. And the whole story is perfectly woven in with canon. Two thumbs up. A must read.

Wish (oneshot) by @thoughtslikeaminefield

It’s just a drabble, but it made me feel so many things in so few words. I don’t even know what to say about it, other than it’s brilliant and if you love Dean Winchester, you have to read it.

Bad Medicine (oneshot) by @deanwandamons

This was lovely, and hot, and it made me giggle.

Nominated by @risingphoenix761

Because You’re Worth It (oneshot) by @thoughtslikeaminefield

I love a good crack fic, and I love some good Samwena content, so this is right up my alley. And a great mix of funny and fluffy!

Kings Don’t Kneel (oneshot) by @slytherkins

Few things in fic give me as much joy as Tara writing Crowley, and she hits all my favorite spots in under a thousand words. Struggling with emotion is hard enough for an unfeeling demon, but grief and loss–and the pain of knowing those emotions are unacknowledged–are enough to bring anyone to their knees. Beautiful and succinct, and all the angst!

Nominated by @peridottea91

Heaven (oneshot) by @evansrogerskitten

This fic is so beautifully written and just really captures Dean’s personality while still smacking you in the face with the most amazing “and then I saw her” moment!! Best still my heart!!! And the whole SamxEileen subplot!! The whole fic is just *chef’s kiss*

Nominated by @impala-dreamer

The Sun (oneshot) by @crashdevlin

It’s just amazingly beautiful. Short, sweet, and full of wonderful emotion. I loved every single word.

Nominated by anonymous

Dive In With Me (oneshot) by @sp-oops

This was a gorgeous, genuine account of the reader and Sam finally, FINALLY crossing that hurtle.

Coming Home (oneshot) by @there-must-be-a-lock

Lou builds us a story with such detail and precise ache that we forget to breathe. She teaches Dean, repeatedly, that he deserves to be happy.

Shackled (series) by @itmighthavebeenintentional

Val started her Demon!Dean x OFC series like a building storm. Miriam Bard is a fellow hunter, another older sibling with more internal demons than she cares to name. Sam calls her in on an old favor. Before long she doesn’t know if anything is real or who she can trust. Dark fic, so good!

Shattered Breaths (oneshot) by @dontshootmespence

Nicole dove deep for this kink bingo fill, and it is well worth every word. See how the Omega reader learns to trust the Winchesters and just what it takes for them to give up protecting themselves and lean into possibility.

Nominated by @the-girl-who-runs-with-winchesters

Devil May Care (oneshot) by @becs-bunker

This was such an interesting plot idea and amazing storytelling. Not that I had expected anything less from this talented author, of course.

Rough Ride (oneshot) by @luci-in-trenchcoats

A fun quick and very heated oneshot that made me smile at the end :)

All About Lovin’ You (oneshot) by @deanwanddamons

You know me, I can never let a month pass without diving into some angst, nor can I resist praising a fellow guppy for their amazing work. And this one’s got both! I got sucked in right from the start. It goes from heartbreaking to heartwarming, and from hot right back to sweet.

It’s About Time (oneshot) by @sorenmarie87

I randomly came across this one and it made me smile so much. Probably one of the most inventive ways to play matchmaker that I’ve heard so far.

Nominated by @dontshootmespence

For Better or For Worst (series) by @stusbunker

She does intrigue like no one else and doesn’t get the love she deserves!

Marked (series) by @there-must-be-a-lock

This is so fucking vivid it's ridiculous. There's smut, there's angst, there's sweetness and it's all maddeningly good.

Nominated by @negans-lucille-tblr

Desire (onsehot) by @princessmisery666

This fic is the very definition of smangst and I loved every second of it. The fact Stacey claims she can’t write smut baffles me when I read this fic 😍

Dirty Little Secret (series) by @pink1031

Whenever I’m asked what my all time favourite fic is it’s this one. I didn’t read rpf before this but it pulled me in and I’m so glad it did! It was just incredible and gave me my obsession with the idea of dating J2.

Nominated by @lovetusk

Me Likey & We are real (oneshots) by @impala-dreamer

They were both fantastic and on point. Drunk Dean is a rare and beautiful sight, and there’s nothing I love more than comforting a down and out Sammy. Well done.

Nominated by @impalaimagining

Currently Thinking About Jensen... (oneshot) by @negans-lucille-tblr

This is such a short and effective little piece of smut. The way it teeters on the edge of absolutely and filthily inappropriate puts it on a whole new level of dirty. I am a huge fan of last-line punches to the face no matter what the genre is, and that’s exactly what this is. It leaves you begging for more in the most desperate way. It’s a quick read but it gets the job done.

Midnight Confessions (oneshot) by @katymacsupernatural

I love the way this fic has the reader second guessing herself even though she has no recollection of doing anything to upset the guys. I’m always here for an appearance from Sam to push his stubborn brother and their bunkmate in the right direction. Admittedly, I am a sleep-talker, and I’ve said my fair share of embarrassing things (including yelling at my husband about wanting a grilled cheese at 3am), but if I could just once have something I said in my sleep get me a kiss from Dean Winchester? Hell yes.

Nominated by @deanwinchesterswitch

Coming Home (oneshot) by @there-must-be-a-lock

This is a beautiful heart wrenching story showcasing Dean’s desire for love and need affection and how few times he actually receives it. Denying himself of what he needs, until he doesn’t.

Unspoken (oneshot) by @deanscherrypie

A wonderful little drabble about how Dean lets you know he loves you without saying anything at all. Such a beautiful line… “All his broken pieces matched yours with mosaic complexity, and somehow you found a new kind of home within each other.”

Don’t Need An Excuse (oneshot) by @amanda-teaches

A beautifully crafted story from Dean’s POV about his girl and the tender loving moments in time that couples share. And, damn that ending, my poor heart.

Nominated by @there-must-be-a-lock

Anything And Everything (oneshot) by @rockhoochie

This fic honestly just took my breath away. You can feel the longing and wistfulness, and the writing is superb. There’s so much depth and detail here, it feels real and vibrant and lived-in, in a way that very few fics do. AND I love she writes Dean’s POV.

He Is, Therefore I am (oneshot) by @stusbunker

All I can say about this one is BROTHERS BEING BROTHERS. It's totally stream-of-consciousness, and it really does feel like you're in their heads.

Leaving Heaven (series) by @thoughtslikeaminefield

Such a badass, snarky narrator with a distinctive voice, and her Demon Dean is dark and awful and sexy as hell, and there's so much depth and nuance in their interactions.

Golden Hour (oneshot) by @fangirlxwritesx67

It's straight-up wish fulfillment, fluffy comforting goodness, and I think everybody needs a little bit of that in their lives right now.

Nominated by @princessmisery666

The Question (oneshot) by @girl-next-door-writes

Death by fluff and it was so worth it !! This was perfect, of course Sam has some grand plan to propose and of course it doesn’t go to plan but ended up perfect anyway!! Was fun and sweet, loved it!!

Carry On (oneshot) by @kittenofdoomage

I love Rhi. I swear everything she writes, even AU’s, could be canon!! Characterizations are always on point, stories are engaging and make me feel something every time. This one is no exception. If I could I would send it to the writers to show them this is how the show should end!!

Kings Don’t Kneel (oneshot) by @slytherkins

A small drabble from Tara and as always it gave me all the feels. It could be canon, if anyone asks me I will tell them this is exactly how Crowley felt. This made me sad and I totally wanted to hug Crowley and tell him it would all be okay.

Nominated by @thoughtslikeaminefield

Cocky (oneshot) by @stusbunker

Sexy, fun, and real. I love your Dean, Stuie!

Golden Hour (oneshot) by @fangirlxwritesx67

Comforting and cozy and swoony!

Nominated by @littlehotmess26

Until The Day I Die Again (oneshot) by @fictionalabyss

Mel writes Dean x Benny amazingly and this fic is one of my favorites.

Happy Birthday, Baby (oneshot) by @fictionalabyss

This was a birthday gift to me and it was soo good. Mel did a great job.

This Isn’t One Of Mine (oneshot) by @sorenmarie87

Dawn stepped out of her comfort zone for this one and it turned out phenomenal.

Goodbye, Sweetheart (oneshot) by @sorenmarie87

This fic is heartbreaking and I absolutely love it.

Nominated by @kate-huntington

While You Sleep (oneshot) by @foreverwayward

A heartwarming little fic about Dean living the domesticated life we all wish for him. The writer has a very clever way of storytelling and the end might come as a surprise, only adding to the emotion it already brought along.

Findings (seires) by @kathaswings

This is one of my favorite series out there and I revisited it recently. The overall story arc is a mystery I just had to unravel and I couldn’t put it down if I wanted to. The bond between Dean and Mackenzie is so precious. Writing a child isn’t easy. I’ve read plenty of books and seen plenty of films in which the maturity that was added wasn’t natural, but this author handles the Mac’s dialogue amazingly well. What’s also interesting is the jumps from point of view between Dean and Y/N, giving very personal perspectives on the gripping story.

Heartbeats (oneshot) by @there-must-be-a-lock

I’ll start by saying that I don’t ship Dean and Cas together, but I do appreciate the people who do. What this little piece of art does is incredible, however, because while I was reading, I found myself rooting for them. The writer does a great job by using the literal human heart as a backbone of this story. Intriguing and very well executed.

Everything That’s Yet To Come (oneshot) by @fictionalabyss

The author took me by the hand through this moving little one shot, which feels like a collection of greatest hits and wishes come true. It offers peace and closure not only for the older Winchester brother, but for the reader as well. Beautiful piece of writing.

Take A Drunk Girl Home (oneshot) by @amanda-teaches

Dean taking care of others; it’s his nature and shows what a kind soul he truly is. The situation sketched here is no exception, and it’s softer than one can imagine. The pace is steady and the balance between fluff and comedy is just right. A lovely read.

The Demon Inside Of You (oneshot) by @foreverwayward

Curing Dean from the demon that he has become proves to be difficult when he’s so hard to resist. What else is hard to resist, is this beautiful pitch black one shot. I don’t read Demon!Dean fiction often, because it still feels foreign to see the character that I love so much turn into something so evil. This however, is so gripping and well written, that the darkness swallows up the beholder. Rough, hot, sad, narcissistic, all these ingredients packed up in one hell of a story.

Curves And Edges (oneshot) by @kittenofdoomage

This equally sweet, sexy, funny and sad story is a big shout out to all women who think they don’t meet the beauty standards and feel like they will never be good enough to get noticed. It is one thing to replace a name with Y/N and call it a reader’s insert; it’s a gift to make every person reading this feel like they are the character in this story. The author handles every woman’s insecurities with grace, making her words both relatable and soothing. Her spot on version of Dean reminds us that we are beautiful, desired and unique.

Watch Your Fcking Mouth (oneshot) by @impala-dreamer

Dean falls under a frustrating curse, and it’s the most fun I’ve had in a long time. I was wheezing, couldn’t breathe and died laughing. It’s astonishing how the writer can juggle comedy and sex without the two ruling each other out. An uplifting read.

Life For Rent (series) by @winchest09

Conspiracies, deceit, crime. A strong family bond, blossoming love, oh, not to mention the sex. This series is intriguing beyond imagination and certainly not just another mobster fanfiction. The writing is smart and I could tell from the first paragraph that it’s loaded with hints and foreshadowing, but I couldn’t pick them out. This triggers a curiosity like an itch I can’t quite scratch away until I finish reading this story. And so I wait eagerly and drop everything the second a new chapter comes out. An absolute must read!

When You Least Expect It (series) by @coffee-obsessed-writer

Talking about an epic love story, but it’s so much more than that. The music that plays such an important factor, the setting that is Seaside. The fabulous supporting characters Bri, Rob, Jason and Jared, the wardrobe, not to mention the wonderful little gems and details that this author weaved into the story, showing how much love she has put into it. This is without a shadow of a doubt my favorite RPF I’ve come across.

Nominated by @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish

The Unexpected (oneshot) by @impalaimagining

The desperation and neediness between characters is just…I can almost feel through the screen. And the gif at the top of the post is the closest thing to porn Tumblr allows now is HOT.

Criminal Love (series) by @kalesrebellion

This mob fic has a lot of things going for it: mob!Dean, big brother Benny (which I didn’t know I needed in my life, but apparently I do), mystery, and a unique way of incorporating a lot of familiar faces from the SPN world. It’s 6 chapters in and I am DYING to see what happens next because the last chapter left me shook!

Unplanned Parenthood (oneshot) by @erins-culinary-service

This fic makes me long for more canon dad!Dean because he’s just so good at it and it feels like it would fit in so well. The author nailed the family vibes and I love that she found a way to make it canon plausible (something I just can’t seem to grasp in my own writing); well done, doll.

Changes (series) by @katehuntington

This fic is super unique as it is like a series rewrite, but rather than using “Pilot, Wendigo, Dead in the Water” etc., Kate is writing her own episodes! Episode 1 just wrapped up, with my personal favorite being part 10 because the characterization of both Winchester brothers felt so spot on to me. Zoe, the amazing OFC and star of this fic, might be the coolest person ever and I wish she was my best friend. Heads up though, this is not your CW Supernatural; it’s darker, dirtier, and probably a lot closer to what the Winchesters’ lives are actually like.

Nominated by @mrswhozeewhatsis

The Man on the Side of the Road (seires) by @supernatural-jackles

This is a seriously awesome Dean AU fic! Both Dean and the reader have so much baggage, but they’re working together to fix each other and it’s just BEAUTIFUL. It’s a series, and I can’t wait to see how it ends!!!

Nominated by @emoryhemsworth

Never Alone Again (oneshot) by @dissect-me

This author was kind enough to take the time to write about a recent trauma I discovered happened to me as a child and how Dean would react/comfort me. It’s powerful and really helped me. ❤️

Nominated by @fangirlxwritesx67

Laissez Les Bons Temp Rouler (oneshot) by @thoughtslikeaminefield

M is the kind of author that is the reason you have the “four recs per author” rule because otherwise I would just be submitting her entire masterlist every month. For a talent like MJ, all it takes is a photo to spark an entire story. This photo of Jensen was particularly inspiring, and MJ did it justice. Hot, drunk, sexy, just UGH.

Where Is My Shiny Gun (oneshot) by thoughtslikeaminefield

Do you love Dean? Do you love Donna? Do you love Sam? Does your mouth water and your knees go weak just a little thinking about all 3 of them together? Do you need some generous, consensual, sunshiney, smutty love? Then check this out.

Leaving Heaven (series) by thoughtslikeaminefield

Demon Dean meets his match in the most compelling OFC I’ve ever read, bounty hunter Tazi. Where to start with this series? MJ works some of her best magic yet, seamlessly weaving the story into the show we know so well. Her Dean is brilliant, as always, every supporting character spot on. The action is tight, the murder wrenching, the sex smoking. And as good as it is, as perfect as Dean and Sam are, as impatient I am for every chapter .. I would read it all just for Tazi. Tazi is an OFC worthy of novelization: tough, sarcastic, sexy, and fully realized. She’s so beautiful and broken that you can’t help falling in love with her as you read. If I could ask everyone to read just one SPN FF ever, it would be this one.

Three Bad Ideas (series) by @there-must-be-a-lock

She’s just getting started on her Everything prequels but, by every indicator they will be JUST as filthy as the original, with even more emotional depth and character development. Frankly it’s HOT and heartbreaking and her voice for Jared is so, so good, and so is Jensen, and I’m just all over this love story. I screamed at her when she published, that if I didn’t know what came next, I would be HEARATBROKENED (that’s how excited I got, that I forgot how to speak.)

Ocean Eyes (oneshot) by @there-must-be-a-lock

The ocean is my Happy Place and I’m a sucker for Sam so this fic just hit all my sweet spots. A lot of us are looking for comfort fics right now and this is uniquely heartwarming.

Shackled (series) by @itmighthavebeenintentional

I KNOW this was nominated last month but there are more chapters and it just keeps getting better! For every question that the story answers, it asks two more. Also, it’s started getting smutty and whoooooooo boy.

Anything And Everything (oneshot) by @rockhoochie

I don’t even remember why this lovely lady was asking for prompts but I sent one that I think was, listening to records, first kiss. I had long since forgotten when she dropped this 8K word MASTERPIECE on all of us.

It’s such a sweet in-character Dean, but a relaxed side of Dean that he deserves and we don’t really get to see. It’s soft and sensual and just… you can feel it while you read.

Nominated by @manawhaat

Sex Ed (oneshot) by @cleighwrites

This is a type of wincest I’m not sure I’ve experienced before, but I can say without a doubt that I fucking love it! It’s your classic little brother Sammy looking up to Dean. It’s the show. It’s their relationship to a T, but with that little bit of helplessness that makes Sam feel like such a fucking kid! I don’t even know if my normal wincest loving self would call this actual Wincest, but wherever it falls on the radar, it’s wonderful!

Passion (oneshot) by @bohowitch

This is poetry in motion, just like Sam is. This is a beautiful, firery, perfect ode to all that is Sam Winchester!

Neptune Rising (oneshot) by @atc74

This is such a clever and refreshing AU! I don’t think I’ve ever read one like this and both characters are nuanced in such believable ways. It’s not too long, so you should definitely take a sec to check it out!

Shackled (series) by @itmighthavebeenintentional

What can I say about this series other than HOLY FUCK!! It’s got twists and turns and secrets and guilt and worry and drama and excitement and passion and fucking everything you want in a good, juicy, keep you on the edge of your seat kind of story!

There’s a feral brutality to the way she portrays Demon!Dean in this that is actually scary and makes me nervous in real life. I find myself looking around the room when I read this, pulling my feet in from off the side of the couch as if this version of Deanmon is gonna snatch me up if I’m not careful. It’s intense and SO. DAMN. COMPELLING. And it’s not even a fucking reader insert. I find myself worrying about Miriam (the ofc) at random parts of the day long after I’ve finished reading the latest chapters...

This series is a fucking MUST READ!

Celibacy, Interrupted (oneshot) by @thoughtslikeaminefield

Any fic with Jody x a Winchester is my jam, but this one is like, no bullshit, just fantastic interaction and sultry, perfect ‘smut’. Goddamn. This leaves me in a pile of goo not even for myself, but FOR JODY!

Let Go (oneshot) by @luci-in-trenchcoats

So bdsm seems to have been a theme in my life for the past month and I don’t know why, but this fucking fits the bill. I recently dodged a bullet with a ‘dom’ (read: a bossy guy who wanted nudes who ignored care and consent) and this fic is like, the complete opposite of what I experienced. I’ve read and done research and talked to enough people to know what real bdsm looks like and that saved me, and this fic only reinforces that proper bdsm lifestyle.

It’s gentle yet firm, and it forces you to let go of control even when you feel like you HAVE to hold onto it. That force caught me off guard when I read it, but it makes so much sense, and every aspect of this really, truly is well thought out and spot on, good, caring bdsm. If you’re interested in it, this is a great place to start your reading and research!

When 2 Is Better Than 1 (oneshot) by @wi-deangirl77

Not only is the smut fucking glorious in this, but Ketch’s gentle nature is 100% what makes this for me! I’m not used to reading him as gentle or caring and having him work with Dean in this to help the reader, not to fill his own needs, but truly coming at it from a place of care and worry, melts me into a pile of gooey feels.

Thank you all for the awesome work and great feedback!

These are not actual awards! This system is set up so everyone in the pond has a chance to share the love and promote a fic/author that has grabbed your attention. The more people that participate, and the more everyone remembers to submit their own fics after posting, the better this will be :D

THANK YOU ALL AGAIN, KEEP UP THE AMAZING WORK, AND AS ALWAYS, HAPPY WRITING!

#afa masterlist #angel fish awards #spnfanficpond #spn fanfiction #spn fic rec

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