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bonny-kookoo · 3 years

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Under Your Skin (JJK x Reader) | 🔞

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Goth/Punk!Jeon Jungkook x Secretary!Shy!Reader

Genre: Tattoo artist!AU, Badboy x Sweetgirl AU, Idk what else

Tags/Warnings: Ultimate goodboy Kook, He looks grr but is actually sweet, shy reader, smol reader, Kookers is WHIPPED, Also a tease, Dom!Jungkook because how could I not, Sub!Reader, Babygirl!Reader, Its not heavy on the whole ddlg-stuff but yeah they be having some vibes y'know, don't come @ me don't I'm not forcing you to read it lol, anyways moving on, because smut, yes I mean it's my content, and yall nasty admit it, slight hair pulling, manhandling also only a little, oral (f & m receiving), praising, mentions of emotional and physical insecurities, but Kook be supportive so we good, back to the nasty, body worship yes pls, biting, fingering, because why not, protected sex because we keep it clean in this household, light-hearted sex, kook being a romantic goof, yeah I think thats it?

Summary: Jungkook looks like absolute trouble; like one wrong look could set him off, and turn him into an absolute murderer. But oh well, ever heard the phrase 'Never judge a book by its cover'?

A/N: you might have noticed me only putting one emoji up top. I have decided to from now on only mark my adult fics with emojis (which is basically almost every single one lets be real). Also; stop reading my fucking fics if any of the tagged/warned things make you uncomfortable. I'm tired of everyone clowning in my inbox telling me how disgusting ddlg/smut content is. You can't even tell me you 'read it by accident' because that's why I'm always putting the cut underneath my fics =) so pls go finish preschool and then we can maybe shake hands. Maybe not. Covid and all. Yeah.

On the outside, Jeon Jungkook seems like absolute trouble.

He's working at a tattoo and piercing studio, dresses in all black, clattering chains and heavy boots always alerting everyone around of his presence. His long black hair is never truly tamed, his nails painted black, and his face expressionless most of the time. He's a talented artist and well trained piercer, always visiting conventions to keep up with the newest trends, styles, and equipment there is. He takes his job seriously- and is proud of it, knowing that he had proven his family wrong by now. They had been worried about him; especially his mother had scolded him that he shouldn't throw his time away trying to make it in a world of art many had already failed. But last year, he had finally invited them over to his rather nice apartment, showing them that he was living a good life, with nothing to really worry about.

Jungkook had made it.

Well, not quite.

Because as of currently, Jungkook had a new mission, a new goal.

"Ah, Jungkook!" You say, eyes sparkling as you smile at him when he enters the shop he works at. You had recently started to work there as well, since Taehyung was absolute shit at keeping files in order and track of schedules. You hadn't applied for the job specifically, that's at least what his coworker had told him- he had known you prior already, and was aware that you had wanted a change these days.

And Jungkook had been painfully crushing on you ever since you started.

"Your schedule for the week is already here- I uhm.. didn't put it on your desk cause, I didn't want to intrude your space and all.." You say, giving him a small black booklet where you always noted down his appointments. He appreciated it a lot- knowing how much of a hassle it could be to move dates back and forth just to somehow make it fit. You always made sure that he had enough time in between multiple daily pieces in case something took longer or less so you could make sure to be able to move things accordingly. You didn't want him to get overworked, you had said. He had smiled.

"Thanks- and you can go inside, no problem." He says, and you nod. "I know you don't make a mess, like someone else here." He says, hinting at Namjoon, who was known to be quite clumsy- yet a mastermind when it came to designing pieces he struggled with. Jungkook stayed at your front desk for a bit, making you tilt your head a bit, as you tried not to stare. He always took so much care of himself, you would have had to be blind not to see how attractive he actually was. But then again, you didn't get your hopes up- after all, he was nice to almost everyone around. "You've never been in there, right?" He asks, and you shake your head. You haven't been in his space at all- too scared to invade his privacy and making him upset in the process. "I mean- you got time right now? I can show you around." He casually tells you, and you look at your computer screen in front of you. Everything had been filed for today- so you probably had a bit of time to spare.

"Sure." You said, taking your phone and standing up from your chair, making sure to lock the pc so no one would accidentally make a mess out of your tabs. Or worse; close them. God knows all hell would break loose.

Jungkook had to really force himself not to let out any noise as you walked next to him.

You were so tiny next to him.

He wasn't that tall to be honest- with Namjoon and Taehyung both taller than him, he knew he was average at best. And for the longest time, he'd had a thing for tall girls, all elegant and confident. He still liked their aesthetic, yes- but now that he spotted you, he could really see the appeal of having a shorter significant other.

You were so cute.

You carefully stepped inside when Jungkook lifted the curtain that was used instead of a door, surprised to see how.. organized everything was. A little.. off- some things seemed to be randomly put somewhere, but in general, it seemed like everything had their proper spot. "I like to have it like this." He comments, and you nod your head to that, finally spotting his tattoo-gun. It was made out of purple steel- polished, and changing its hue depending on how you looked at it. It was absolutely beautiful, even though you had a rather limited understanding of these things. "Was a present from Taehyung last year." Jungkook says, sitting down on his chair. "I never asked- are you inked at all?" He asks, leaning backwards as you stand there a little awkwardly. "You can sit down somewhere, don't be so tense." He chuckles, and you look around, before you sit on the stretcher across from him. You shake your head, and Jungkook isn't surprised. Your pink converse sway back and forth as you sit on the stretcher, legs too short to reach the floor anymore as you rest your hands underneath your thighs; hem of your dress revealing more of them than he can usually see.

"I don't have any tattoos yet, but I've been talking to Namjoon about it." You said, and Jungkooks saliva tastes a little bitter at that. He doesn't want to pout or give away that it's bugging him at all that you're not talking to him about it- but he fails miserably. "Namjoon actually said I should talk to you about it, since the style I want fits you best." You say, and he can't hide his smile, bunny teeth on full display as he leans forward a bit.

"You'd let me tattoo you?" He asks, and you shrug, before nodding. "What do you have in Mind?" He instantly asks, not even bothering to hide his excitement.

If only you knew that it's because of you; and not just because he's gonna be the first to ink you.

You've both agreed on a design you want, and Jungkook can't deny that he thinks it's absolutely perfect on you.

"Are you scared?" Jungkook asks you as he prepares everything, his sweater's sleeves rolled up, revealing his own body art to you, as well as some bracelets; one that you recognize as the wooden-bead bracelet you had gifted him last year for his birthday. It was weird to see him wear it.

"I.. no. Just nervous." You say. "I'm worried I might cry and make a fool out of myself." You say with a laugh, and Jungkook chuckles, placing a reassuring and warm hand on your upper arm.

"It's fine. I've seen grown man cry like kids on this stretcher before." He casually says. "Don't worry; I won't think any less of you just because of some tears." He says with a smile, and you nod, turning your head to look at his room's walls instead; covered in drawings, sketches, and pictures of finished works he was most proud of. "Do you want anything to hold onto?" He asks, as he starts to shave the skin of your thigh to make sure he can work as best as possible. He's so into his work, so concentrated on doing everything perfect, that he doesn't even take much into account that you're laying in only your panties and oversized sweater; skirt neatly placed on a chair in the corner of the room, to get it out of the way.

"It's fine" You mumble, although you really want to. So instead you curl your fingers around the fabric of your sweater- something that doesn't go unnoticed by Jungkook, who decides not to comment on it for now. He simply throws the one-time razor away as well as the tissues used to clean your skin, before he carefully places the tracing paper onto where he seems fit.

"I think it would look great right here." He says lowly, carefully removing the paper to reveal the lines he's gonna trace with his gun in a few minutes. "You wanna look at it again?" He asks, and you shake your head. "Alright." He says, before he gets up and walks out his room; only to return with your small squishy and round unicorn plush that's usually sitting on your desk. "To hold onto." He winks, and you chuckle at that.

Jungkook really pays attention.

"So, Taehyung has told me you're a bit younger than me." Jungkook says to start casual chit-chat, trying to help your nervousness as his tattoo-gun starts to buzz to live. "Only a Year if I remember correctly." He says, and you nod.

"Yeah.." You say, and can't hide your dissapoinment flooding your voice. Jungkook, until now, only had relationships with girls older than him. He's even said before that he just likes having someone older than him around- which made you even more nervous around him.

"You sound upset about that." He chuckles, and gently holds onto your thigh as you jump a bit when he first presses the tip of the gun down. "Sorry. I'll be gentle." He lowly tells you, and you swallow.

Not the time Y/N, not the time.

"Uhm.." You say, fingers digging into the squishy plush in your hands. "I.. there's someone I like, but he.. only likes older girls, so.." You say, and Jungkook glances at you. You're already interested in someone? He continues to trace the lines, wiping afterwards to get the excess ink and blood off. "But I mean, then again I don't think I have a chance with him anyways." You chuckle, and Jungkook can't help but shake his head. Even if you're interested in someone else, he shouldn't let you have thoughts like that.

"Highly doubt that." He says. "If he doesn't see you, he's blind." He tells you, and you giggle, glad that he's able to make you feel a bit better about everything. "I'm serious." He says, and you nod at that, watching his inked arm flex every now and then as he draws with absolute concentration; black facemask hiding half of his face. You can see the way his eyebrows furrow, eyes fixated on his work as he moves with absolute routine. "Do I know the guy?" He casually asks, before he dips the tip of his gun in the tiny pot of ink again.

You don't know what to say.

He looks at you for a second, and decides not to dig. "You don't have to tell me. Sorry if I seemed nosy; didn't mean to." He apologizes, and you shake your head to let him know its fine. It's quiet for a moment afterwards, only the buzzing of his gun and your occasional whine of pain. "Sorry; it'll hurt a bit more now since I'm getting close to your inner thigh- that's always a little more sensitive." He comments, and you really hope he doesn't pay much attention to your panties.

When you can see his eyes stick to them for a second, you really want to just disappear.

He doesn't comment on it though. What is he suppsosed to say? He really doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, and considering that you already have a crush on someone else, he doesn't want to get himself in too deep as well. He simply works away, finally finishing the thin and delicate outlines of your piece- the first step, before he will see you again for color and shading. He finally connects the last line, and doesn't think twice about what he says next.

"Good girl."

It takes a second that feels way too long for the both of you to register the words, and Jungkook quickly occupies himself with turning off his gun and cleaning up your skin and his workspace to get the awkwardness out of his room. You try to instantly stand up, but his palm holds onto your leg- silently ordering you to stay put, which you do. He rubs something over the piece, before he gently lifts your leg to wrap it. "I'll give you a bottle of lotion for it. Leave that bandage on for.. I'd say until tomorrow morning at least. Afterwards, apply the lotion everyday to help it heal properly." He lectures you with a gentle voice, before letting you sit up.

"Thanks." You say, grinning eagerly at the now hidden artwork on your leg. Jungkook chuckles.

"We're not done yet, but I'll take it." He says. "I uh.." He starts, as you jump off the stretcher and go to take on your skirt. "uhm, you up for some fast food?" He asks, a bit hurried, before he can chicken out again. And he hates himself for a moment, because you had literally told him just half an hour before that you already had interest in someone else. But maybe you were too innocent to get his innuendo, maybe you wouldn't get that he was asking you on a date-

"Like a date?" You ask, and he really wants to hit himself.

"I mean, if you want it to be?" He says, swallowing as he averts his gaze, a sight very weird. His hand runs through his hair, chain around his neck and piercings on his ears clattering against each other and making sounds as he moves, his combat boots nervously tapping the floor a little. "It doesn't have to be.. I know you're already-"

"I'd love to." You say however, now fully dressed again, as you grin with your bright sparkling eyes.

And Jungkook feels like he's won the lottery.

It's your third time laying on Jungkooks' stretcher like this- waiting for him to work on your art, finishing it today. But the energy is different.

Things are different between you two in general.

After some casual movie dates and rounds of overwatch, Jungkook had admitted to you that he had a crush. It was rushed, while he was driving, so he didn't have to look at you and instantly get hit by your reaction. But then, you had told him that you felt the same- and the two of you agreed to let things process from then on. Whatever would happen; you would let happen.

And Jungkook was starting to flirt with you.

It was a little weird to get close to him like that. While everyone seeing you two was a little taken aback- with your dresses and skirts, and colorful and almost childish personality, he seemed like the absolute opposite- quiet, all dark and dangerous while carrying your milkshake so you could put your phone away into your purse.

"Alright doll, let's finish this." He said with newfound enthusiasm, winking at you as you laughed at his demeanor.

"You seemed more excited than me!" You say, and he chuckles. "You're really desperate to have me gone?" You say in a playfully upset tone, and he simply huffs out a breath, before cockily looking at you for a second.

"That's not true." He says. "I'd just rather have you laid out somewhere else than in my studio, that's all." He casually says, and you shut your mouth at that, cheeks red as he laughs at your cute display of embarrassment. He routinely prepares your skin, before he starts his gun. "Too much?" He asks, and you know he's not talking about the pressure of his ink filled gun on your skin.

"No-" You start, and he now seriously speaks to you, voice a bit muffled through his facemask.

"Please tell me if I ever make you uncomfortable." He says. "You're not upsetting me if you tell me I'm going to far." He says, and you nod, knowing that he now needs a proper answer. Jungkook is way more attentive and romantic than people may think he is. He's a gentleman pulled out of a dictionary- careful and gentle with you, and always keen on getting to know you for you, and not for the person you like to portray yourself as. He wants to know what you like, what you don't like, what you dream of, and what you hate about yourself.

"Don't worry- I will." You say, watching him work on your skin. "Jungkook?" You ask, and he hums a reply to let you know he's listening. "Is it okay if I sleep?" You ask, and he chuckles.

"Didn't I tell you not to stay up for too long before I left yesterday?" He teasingly retorts back to you, and you pout at him- with no hard feelings behind it. He had left last night after eating with you for dinner at your place; and he did indeed tell you to go to sleep a little earlier since he knew you would have an early shift today, opening up the store. "I'm really tempted to say no." He says, eyes now on your skin again as he dips the tip of his gun in a pot of color. "You know, as punishment for not listening." He mumbles, and you almost don't catch it.

Almost.

"Jungkook?" Taehyung stands in his doorway, finally finding him sitting at his desk. "Oh?" He says in a surprised tone, spotting your sleeping figure on his coworkers lap- head resting against the inside of his shoulder, with your arms around his middle.

"Yeah?" Jungkook asks, not at all shy or fazed by the fact that Taehyung is looking at you. "What is it?" He asks again, as Taehyung smiles, giving the younger man his small booklet that you usually give him every morning.

"Nothing left for today." He said. "Just wanted to tell you good work and send you home." The older one explains, zipping up his own jacket. "Guess she'll be coming with you?" He asks teasingly, but Jungkook doesn't bite the bait at all.

"Yeah. Don't burn the house down while we're gone, you two. " He says, slipping the booklet into his pocket before he pats your back. "Come on doll, let's go home." He tells you, waking you up at least enough to put on your shoes and lead you out the store to his car.

He buckles your seatbelt as the engine comes alive, radio playing its tune softly in the background as he drives you home. "You awake doll?" He asks, and you nod your head, turning towards him with barely open eyes. "You haven't had anything proper to eat today, so I'll make us some ramen at my place, ok?" He asks, and you nod, before your eyebrows scrunch up. "What is it?" He chuckles, and you now grow more awake.

"Wait- but if we eat at yours then you're gonna have to drive me home late." You say, and he shrugs. "Noo, Kook, what if you crash the car because you're sleepy?" You tell him with a whine, genuinely concerned for him, as he has the audacity to laugh. "Kookie, it's not funny I swear to god-!" You say, and he apologizes.

"I mean." He starts, casually dropping what he had wanted to ask you for a couple of weeks now. "You could always just stay over." He tells you, and you look at him, meeting his gaze at the red light he stops at, his head turned towards you for a moment until the lights turn green again.

"We.. would have to stop at mine so I could get some stuff though.." You mumble, and Jungkook looks at you with newfound enthusiasm, setting his turning lights to enter a different road.

It's in a parking lot that you first unintentionally confront him with your biggest insecurities and flaws.

You've tripped over a stray stone you didn't see laying on the ground, leading you to fall onto your hands and scraping your knees open. Just like any normal human being, you dust yourself off, instantly hoping that Jungkook inside the shop hadn't seen you fail at something so basic as walking. You had carried some of the items you two had bought into the car while also returning the shopping cart while he had payed- and by the look on his face, he had definitely seen you.

He wasn't laughing, or hiding his grin, or anything alike. He looked concerned, taking his card back from the cashier before walking out the store, jogging towards you, who sat in the open trunk, ready to get laughed at. Even though somewhere deep in your mind you didn't think he would, past experiences had led to you now having that fear, no matter with whom. "Are you okay?" Jungkook asks, looking at you as he squats down to take a look at your bleeding knees. He reaches into one of the shopping bags, taking out a water bottle and a pack of tissues, before he wets it, one hand holding your leg by the backside of your knee, while the other carefully cleans the small wound. "You gotta be careful Baby." He chuckles a little- nothing like the laughter you had expected.

"I'm fine." You say, not looking up at him.

"It's okay to cry, you know?" He says, and you stay quiet, trying not to breathe too much as you desperately hold them back. "I won't laugh." He promises, deciding not to look at you as to give you a bit more space.

"People will stare though.." You quietly murmur towards him, and he finishes his job, before he goes to throw the now used tissue away in a nearby trashcan. When he returns, he's taking his jacket off, the item way too large on your form as he throws it over you, pulling the hood up as you look at him for the first time since your little accident, eyes sparkling with unshed tears when he pulls the sides of the hood towards him a little. "There." He says, a reassuring smile on his face. "Now no one can see you but me." He tells you. "And I will never, ever, laugh at you." He promises, and pulls your head against his chest, as you start to let go.

He really hates to see you cry- but he's glad that you're letting him in enough to let him see you this way.

Jungkook is frustrated.

He tries not to really show it, because he doesn't want to blow up in your face like that, but then again, you're kind of the reason he feels the way he does. Because even though he thought you both had a genuine connection, you're yet to let him touch you.

And not just hugging and holding hands.

It's not that he's impatient- its because he knows you, at one point, wanted him that way as well. But something happened, something he didn't notice, that made you take ten steps backwards from him. You seemed to be retreating, giving up, and he has no idea what he had done to make you react that way.

As far as he knows, he had done everything right.

But then he sees them; the messages sent back and forth between you and Hana, a returning customer at the shop- well known to flirt with everyone around here. Jungkook himself had actually considered hooking up with her once a year back, simply to make her shut up, but then again, he wasn't into one-night-stands. And she had never truly been his type anyways.

'Ah yeah, just re-schedule that then, I don't mind at all! Just make sure we have enough time together, since we haven't had time to catch up on things recently, if you know what I mean.' She had sent, a week ago; exactly the timeframe you had started to distance yourself. He knew he shouldn't look into it, but then again- this was his business too. He had the right to know.

'Sure? I can give you an appointment at around 4 PM then, so you'll be the last one. Would that be okay with you? Again, sorry for re-scheduling on such short notice.' You had written, and Jungkook can't decide if you had been oblivious to her implication (which was bullshit), or if you were simply too polite to call her out. But it's the next messages that make him fume.

'Again, no troubles. As I said, I only care that its Jungkookie, I don't really trust anyone else with my body that way ;). 4 PM is perfect, you guys still close at around 6 PM right? He's got skilled hands, I'm sure we don't need much more time, if you know what I mean.' she has the audacity to write.

But its your answer that makes him fume.

'Good to know.'

"Jungkook?" You say, looking at the screen, as you suddenly dash forwards, trying to shut the screen off- as if that would make any difference. But he catches your wrist with ease, holding it in his palm as he looks at you.

"Do you think I'm sleeping with her?" He asks, and you try to escape his grasp; and he lets you, staying at your workspace however as he keeps you locked in place with his gaze. "Y/N." He urges, making you look away from him.

"It's none of my business." You say, shrugging. "I.. No, it's-" You start, but he cuts you off.

"No, finish that sentence. 'No' what?" He says, and you've never heard him talk like that.

"I just.. didn't think you'd.. do that." You meekly say, murmuring it as he tilts your head gently upwards to look at him; his face now more relaxed as he softly smiles.

"That's good that you think that way." He tells you. "Because I don't do that at all." He says. "She likes to start drama all the time- was probably bitter I turned her down so much. You know what?" He suddenly says, turning towards the screen as he clicks to change the account, opening his own Inbox as he starts to write an E-Mail.

'Appointment is cancelled, be glad I'm not suing you for defamation. JK.'

"Jungkook-" You say, trying to get him not to send it- but it's already gone. "Why would you do that? Just because I misunderstood?" You whine, and he chuckles, shutting down the system as he looks at the clock, signaling that it's closing time.

"No." He says. "But because I don't want her around anyways, and this gives me a proper reason." He tells you, ruffling your hair as he looks at you. "You coming?" He asks, and you nod, taking your bag and coat before following him out the shop.

In the car, you finally speak up. "Jungkook?" You ask, and he hums out a reply. "Do you.. think I'm attractive?" You ask, and he clears his throat at the unexpected question.

"I- what?" He asks, unsure what you mean.

"Just.. Namjoon said, that he thinks you.. see me as a friend only? Because I'm nothing like the girls you dated before.. If I misunderstood something here then Oh my god-" You start to ramble, and Jungkook laughs suddenly.

"You think I'm not into you?" He asks, and you shrug. "Of course I want to fuck you doll." He casually comments, and you can't help but feel your cheeks redden. "Wait- did you really think I didn't?" He asks, face showing genuine horror as he looks over at you.

"I mean.. you never really initiated anything so I thought.." You started, and he groans out.

Thank god you're staying the night.

"Looks so pretty, does it?" He hums out, palm running over the tattoo on your thigh, delicate lines and well-placed shadings complimenting the colors perfectly. "You know why I love it most?" He starts, hand suddenly gripping the flesh for a moment, before he pulls you closer on his lap by the small of your back. "Because that's mine." He says, before he leans in, placing an open mouthed kiss against your pulse. "The ink that's under your skin, the design, the idea-" He mumbles against your skin. "And the body it's drawn on." You whine at his tone, dark and low, as he urges you back and forth on his clothed thigh- your panties suddenly feeling uncomfortable. "Isn't it like that, baby?" He asks, and you nod, furiously, and he chuckles. "Hm, you seem out of breath baby.." He grins at you, like a predator.

"Jungkook.." You whine, not knowing what you're asking for.

He wordlessly moves, helping you lay down on his bed before he crawls over you, his lips instantly attached to the skin of your neck, hands helping you out of your dress wordlessly, as he can't help but let his gaze linger on your body for a moment. "I can't believe that-" He says, pulling off your overknee socks. "-you'd ever think of yourself anything less than perfect." He says, placing a gentle kiss to the colorful image now forever placed under your skin by his skilled hands. He continues to display his affection over your skin, wandering over your stomach up to your chest, where he playfully bites just above your breast. He struggles with the front of your bra for a second, unsure how to open the undergarment without breaking it, as you help a little; letting them spring free. But only for a moment.

Because in the next, he's got them in his hands, palms gently moving over them, feeling their softness as he groans. "You're so sweet." he comments, as he finally kisses your lips, smile interrupting him every now and then. "So soft." Another kiss. "So delicate." Another one. "And all mine, yeah?" He asks, and you nod, smiling as he grins back, the expression making him look so young and carefree you can't help but wonder how anyone could ever think he's a bad man.

He's anything but.

He's so careful touching you, so delicate in moving his palms over your skin, as if its the most divine thing he's ever felt. He's still smiling, as if in a trance, while he can't stop kissing you. Your hands move into his hair- way softer than you thought it would be, and he groans into your mouth at the feeling of your fingers running over his scalp.

There's no urgency in anything he does.

He slowly moves again, hands opening your legs for him as he sits back on his heels, playfully pulling you closer by the backs of your knees, making you giggle. "You sound so sweet baby." He tells you, innocently, as if he's not currently placing his hand onto your center, ring finger collecting your already leaking wetness before he spreads it, moving his thumb over your most sensitive bundle of nerves while his ring finger enters you slowly. You whine at the feeling, not enough to get you as riled up as you'd like to be. Also; this is the first time you're genuinely experiencing foreplay. You don't know what to do- and Jungkook seems to pick up on that. "You good?" He asks, and you nod.

"I.." You say, breathless as he tilts his head, smile still present on his lips. "What should I do?" You ask, as his eyes widen.

"You?" He wonders, before he stops for a moment. "Don't tell me- this is your first time?" He asks, now genuinely worried he might've gone too fast.

"No.." You admit. "But uhm.. no one's ever, like.. you know, what you're doing.." You say, and that's when it clicks for him.

What kind of guys did you date before him that never gave you any attention like this? He's upset by it, but also weirdly cheered on by that simple fact; it gives him even more reason to make sure you'll get the most out of it. "Ah, I see.." He humms out, letting another finger stretch your entrance for him. "..well, I'm not like that." He explains, before he moves, face now close to your center- and you're unsure what he's going to do. "Trust me." He says, mumbles out, before his tongue places itself flat onto your clit, licking painfully slow as you move your hands over your mouth, trying to keep your noises in. "nuh-uh baby." He scolds, free hand pulling yours away. "Let me hear you." He demands, before he places his mouth back where it was.

Your mind is completely blank at this moment, the only thing you can really concentrate on being Jungkook, working you up so quickly you feel dizzy. It's new, and it's a little weird- but it's more than anything you've ever experienced before. And it brings you towards your end so suddenly you suddenly gasp out, back arching off the mattress as you grab at the sheets below, one hand grasping for Jungkooks, who lets you ride out your high to its fullest. "So pretty." He comments after wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, smiling at your blissed out state.

"Kook-" You say, moving as you sit up, less shy now that your brain is still clouded by pleasure.

"Ah- you don't have to." He tells you, but you shake your head, and he lets you. He slips out of his clothes, finally bare, and you would've taken time to look at all the different pieces of art decorating his body- if it wasn't for his cock, red and ready in front of you. Usually, you would've let your insecurities and doubts get the best of you. But this was Jungkook. And you wanted to really believe that nothing you would do could ever be judged by him. So there was no hesitation as your hands reached out for him, gently moving, before you took him in, your lips wrapping themselves around his tip, before you moved downwards, fitting as much as you comfortably could. Meanwhile, Jungkook himself was steadying himself with one hand on the mattress, while the other was buried into your hair, his own head thrown back as he closed his eyes.

Of course he had fantasized about this every now and then; but he had never thought you'd actually be comfortable doing it. And even if- nothing he could've imagined would've ever compared to the real deal happening. There was something absolutely mindblowing about the way that you handled him, your sweet and pretty presence looking so divine doing such a sinful act with him. He had to pull you off by your hair, gently, because any more, and he would've been a goner. "G-Good god baby." He chuckles, pushing you a bit so you were on your back again, reaching for his bedside table to search for a condom. "I swear to god if I- HAH!" He tells you in victory, hands making quick work of opening the foil package and wrapping the safety over his length. "I swear I would've run out butt naked to buy one if I wouldn't have found this." He says with a grin, making you laugh.

"That's weird." You comment, and he chuckles, entering you slowly as to not hurt you, his breathing labored as he still kept the lighthearted energy going.

"You think?" He asks, and you nod, giggling as your eyes close, the feeling of him filling you up too good to keep them open. "Hm no." He said breathlessly. "Would've probably put on some pants maybe." He says, before he starts thrusting. "Doesn't matter if it means I'd get to fuck you." He says, and you giggle again.

"Kook!" You scold him, and he still continues to thrust into you, exhaling forcefully as he kisses your neck.

"What?" He whines high pitched as if to imitate you.

"Be serious!" You tell him, but can't help your own smile either.

"Oh, why though?" He says. "We're making love, not war baby." He whispers into your ear, and you still laugh at it.

"I can't believe you!" You complain playfully, moaning out when he suddenly thrusts with more force, obscene noises now interrupting you two as he picks up his pace, clenching his jaw.

"And-" He starts. "I can't believe how fucking good you feel." He presses out, hand now reaching between the two of you as he brings you towards an earth-shattering orgasm, making you mewl as you can feel yourself bursting. "Good girl!" He praises, watching as you squirt all over him, his own orgasm hitting him soon after as he grunts out, finally slowing down until he stills completely, his mouth attached to your neck to place gentle kisses and teasing bites near your pulse point.

"I love you." He mumbles out, and your eyes sting.

Because yeah, you love him- you absolutely do, but hearing it from him, hearing it in such an honest and warm-hearted tone, having this final proof of his own feelings towards you, makes you emotional. "Baby, why're you crying?" He chuckles out of breath, wiping your tears as you smile, and finally look at him with glossy eyes.

"Cause I love you too." You say. "So much."

And he can't help but grin at you.

You really are the sweetest thing.

You watch as Hana walks out of Taehyungs studio, arm wrapped up in clear foil as she walks towards your counter, pulling out her purse. "Taehyung agreed on 345." She says, until Taehyung yells another number out of his studio, making her eyes roll. She wasn't supposed to come back- but Taehyung had agreed to finish her piece at least. "Alright, here you go." She says, watching as you counted the money. "Does Jungkook work today?" She asks, and you nod. "I'm just gonna go say hi then. You can finish the receipt yeah?" She says overly sweet, and you're about to tell her that Jungkook doesn't want anyone entering without his permission, but he's already walking out his studio, black sweater and silver necklaces on full display as he walks towards you. "Jungkookie!" Hana exclaims, but her face drops almost chomically as she watches Jungkook walk up behind you, placing a kiss on your bare shoulder as he looks over it onto your screen.

"Oh, looks like I'm done for the day. You need anything Hana?" He asks innocently, one hand on your desk while the other rests on your chair behind your back.

"I- just wanted to apologize for uhm.. the emails. I didn't know you'd read them." She says, and you slowly close all programs, while Jungkooks humms out something.

"Yeah, I figured." He says, before he shakes his head. "As I said, I'm letting it go. No hard feelings." He says, shrugging, before he walks towards his studio again, stopping in his tracks for a second. "Ah, baby, can you text Jin-Hyung and ask him if we can come now? I'm actually starving I swear." He says, and you nod with red cheeks, pulling out your phone.

"Huh." Comes from Hana, as she takes the receipt from you. "I honestly.. would've never thought." She mumbles, before she simply leaves, without any more words.

Yeah. You would've honestly never thought either.

(c)Bonny-Kookoo. Please consider supporting me on Ko-Fi.com/bonnykookoo. Thank you for reading.

#bts imagine #bts #bts fanfic #jungkook imagine #bts fic #bts smut #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts reactions

977 notes · View notes

sleeping-on-cracking-ice · 3 years

Note

Hey! Can you write something with Chishiya and Y/N when she almost died in game beacuse of Niragi but didn't tell anyone about this (he tripped her on purpouse or smth). Chishiya finds her up on the roof few days later really anxious+crying beacuse her visa is ending and she is scared that Niragi will come and play the same game as her and will try to do something bad. Chishiya becames really protective over her especially when he sees her bruised knees.

Here you go!

Comfort Zone | Shuntaro Chishiya

{Alice In Borderland Masterlist}

Character(s): Chishiya (ft. Niragi, OC’s, Hatter)

Summary: You came close to dying due to being attacked by Niragi, and you fear it will happen again during the next game. Chishiya notices your anxiety and tries his best to prevent it from happening.

Warnings: mention of murder, swearing, blood, violence (punching)

Word Count: 3.9k

*reader is female

“Just my luck,” you groaned out, lifting yourself to your feet by using a chair nearby for leverage. “Not only am I clumsy as fuck, I’m also stuck with a group of murderers.”

Hatter had suggested you go with a few of the militants for the next game, as he wished for them to test you to see if you were capable enough to join them.

It was a hearts game called Capture The Flag. It was very self explanatory. You had to capture the opposite team’s flag and bring it back to your base without getting killed by them. The game would continue until a flag was captured, and the losing team would have their small bomb strapped to their chest explode as soon as the flag was returned to the team’s base. So theoretically, you could die at any second. And if that wasn’t stressful enough, everyone carried weapons, ranging from machete’s to revolvers, so you were on high alert.

You were on the same team as a muscular militant woman named Ren and a much younger kid (he looked around fifteen years old) called Minato. But of course, Niragi had to be placed on your team, bringing you nothing but more trouble.

The room you stood in was dark and ominous. You managed to trip over a few shards of glass and impact on the ground heavily, causing your hip to throb in pain as you attempt to recover from the fall.

You had been separated from your group. You managed to sneak off without them noticing, just rather being on your own than with others. You thought you had a better chance by yourself anyway, as no one was there to betray you.

In the Borderland, you didn’t know who to trust, so you kept to yourself.

The brightness of your game phone flashed a light green, reminding you of what colour team you were on. You had to search for a base that was illuminated by a blue light and take the flag that was supposedly meant to be there. But so far, you hadn’t seen any indication of the other team. You hadn’t even seen any of the other players now that you thought about it.

You made your way out of the empty room you had just checked, peeking around the corner down the hall before stepping out of the doorframe. The small bomb strapped to your chest over your shirt felt heavy on your frame, especially knowing that it held your life in its hands.

You sighed loudly and rubbed your hands together to relieve the tension in your muscles slightly. You had to be close, surely. You had been walking around the abandoned hospital for ages, as if you hadn’t at least walked past the enemy’s base and missed it somehow.

Just as you were about to turn the corner to the main corridor, a whispered grunt made you stop in your tracks. You held your breath and pressed yourself against the cold wall next to you, trying to listen to any movements they make.

The sounds of rustling met your ears, making you frown. It sounded like someone was trying to find something in their pocket, moving around the objects until they’ve found what they need.

You slowly peeked one eye around the corner, making sure not to accidentally hit the wall or fall forwards in fear of the person being an enemy player. Good news, it wasn’t. But seeing someone on your team wasn’t much reassurance either, as all three of them seemed to be clinically insane.

Niragi was crouching over a dead body. A game phone was thrown to the side on the ground a few feet away, emitting a bright blue light. The dead person must have been on the blue team.

The blood pooled around the body, Niragi’s boot being in one of the puddles.

‘Why didn’t I hear the gunshots?’ you asked yourself, watching as Niragi rummaged through the pockets of the guy’s jacket. He was probably looking for another weapon or perhaps something to assist him in the game.

Your eyebrows furrowed when you noticed a slight blue tinge on the fabric of Niragi’s shirt. You turned your head the other way down the hall, eyes lighting up at the sight of a bright fluorescent blue light coming from around the corner. That must’ve been the enemies base.

You glanced back quickly to Niragi, noting he was busy with the corpse, still searching through their pockets. Perhaps you could make it if you were quiet enough.

You slowly lifted a foot while keeping your eyes pinned to the man down the hall, ready to dive back behind the wall if he decided to turn around. When your whole body had left the comfort of the darkened hallway you came from, you turned and quickly shuffled down the hall towards the light, looking over your shoulder every now and then.

When you had turned the corner, you let out a sigh in relief. “Fuck,” you rasped out, wiping your sweating brow with the back of your wrist. “If only I came with Chishiya, I wouldn’t be so cautious.”

You entered a room a few steps in front of you that had a door slightly ajar with the blue light pushing through. You squinted your eyes as you opened the door at the brightness of the light, covering your eyes and hissing lightly.

When your eyes adjusted, you felt a euphoric feeling fill your body when you caught sight of the blue flag resting against the wall. You immediately scrambled over and gripped the wood, feeling the sweet ecstasy of victory and being able to live another few days.

You walked out of the room flag in hand. But as soon as you exited the door, your game phone rang loudly, making you freeze in your spot.

“Green Team has now obtained Blue Flag.”

Your breath became lodged in your throat and you felt your fist tighten on the flag pole. If the game announced it to the rest of the players, they were going to come after you.

Your fear was proven correct when you heard loud footsteps down the hall, making its way to your position. You knew it was Niragi, but the fact that he was on your team gave you slight reassurance. He wouldn’t hurt someone he’s meant to be working with, right?

You couldn’t be so sure, so you pulled out the fairly sized knife that you had sneaked into your pocket before leaving for the game. There was nowhere you could run. Down the hall was the only exit you had.

Before you knew it, the angered face of Niragi turned the corner and you locked eyes. He glanced down at the large knife you held at your side, then at the flag. A smirk painted on his face and he chuckled cockily.

“You think you can defend yourself with that piece of shit?” he asked you, taking a few threatening steps towards your frame. Your feet remained planted on the ground, trying not to appear as panicked as you actually were. “Everyone’s going to come here, and you’re going to fend them off with a kitchen knife?”

You felt belittled from his mocking, eyebrows furrowing in frustration. “The fuck else am I supposed to do?” you asked, pointing the tip of the knife in his direction.

Silence filled the air as you and Niragi had a stare down. The grip he held on his rifle tightened whenever you shifted, never failing to make your heart skip a fearful beat.

“Princess,” he started with a sickening pet name, “why don’t you give the flag to me? I’ll protect you.” His sudden change in mood gave you whiplash and you took a step back in confusion, still holding your weapon towards him.

“What?” you muttered out, a bamboozled expression on your face. “I said, pass the flag to me. I’ll make sure we’ll be okay,” he answered while slinging his gun to his side a bit too casually for your comfort.

You watched as he fiddled with the bullet compartments of his rifle. He seemed to have been checking the ammo, making you realise what he was intending.

You shook your head, trying to sound normal, but the slight shakiness in your voice made you quite obvious. “It’s fine Niragi,” you insisted, “I can get it to our base myself.”

He glanced up at your frame as he closed the bullet compartment to his rifle. His serious expression made your adrenaline kick in and your hands began to shake, becoming obvious from the way the tip of the knife was quivering.

“Fine,” he muttered out, basically snarling at you. “I’ll do this the hard way.”

His words made your expression drop and before you could even think, Niragi swung the butt of his rifle and socked you across the side of your head, making you fall to the ground abruptly and drop the blue flag. You groaned in pain, and yet you didn’t even get a second to recover before Niragi blew another hit to your shoulder, kicking you harshly in the stomach at the same time.

You suffocated on nothing, becoming winded from his kick. Gasping for air, you attempted to crawl away from the violent man, shuffling on your hands and knees. Another hit to your lower back brought you to your stomach and you gagged at the sudden feeling.

Luckily, Niragi had quit abusing you and reached down next to your bruised body to pick up the blue flag. “Maybe next time, be careful what you say to me,” he hissed into your ear before standing up and walking away from you.

You laid on the floor for a short moment, trying to compose yourself and control your breathing once again. When you finally came to your senses, you lifted yourself up from the ground while groaning in pain. You had to find a hiding spot, otherwise the Blue Team would find you at their base and kill you.

You used the wall for support as you stood up, bones cracking and blood dripping down the side of your face. You lifted your hand and pressed against your throbbing head, wincing as the pain rocketed from your action.

‘At least he didn’t kill me,’ you thought to yourself. A bright shimmer caught your eye and you turned your head to see your weapon laying on the ground. A grumble left your body as you leant down to pick it up, admiring the way the blue light reflected off it.

You leant against the wall and slowly made your way down the hall, searching for a small cabinet or anywhere that you could hide for the next ten minutes or so. You got a wave of relief when you spotted a cleaner’s cupboard just down the corridor, stumbling towards it.

When you pulled yourself inside the dark cupboard and closed the door, you allowed yourself to slide down against the cold wall, feeling a few tears slip from your eyes.

All you had to do was wait for Niragi to get the flag back to the Green Base and you would be fine, hopefully.

***************

You dragged your exhausted body towards your hotel room, your legs throbbing in pain at every step you climbed. You had decided against going back to the hotel in the car with the other militants, as you didn’t want to deal with the tension of sitting next to the man who almost killed you. Plus, the car would hold half the amount of people it left the hotel with, probably making the atmosphere more eerie.

The door of your hotel room felt heavy as you pushed it open, stumbling into the cold room. You groaned in frustration at your past self. Why didn’t you leave your heater on before you left?

You let out a deep sigh before falling backwards onto your bed, spreading your arms out wide to feel the comforting blankets underneath you. Your eyes closed in content, trying so hard to ignore the pain on the side of your head and your knees.

The blankets shifted underneath your tired frame as you rolled over, pulling the duvet over yourself in the process. You didn’t even have the energy to turn your body so you could place your head on the pillow, so you simply slipped into unconsciousness in the position you laid in, hoping for a better day to come tomorrow.

Whilst you travelled to dreamland in your mind, a short blonde man stood outside your door, knocking lightly on the wood. When Chishiya received no response, he lightly turned the silver door knob and peaked his head into the room. A soft sigh of relief left him when you saw you safe and sound, asleep on your bed. He had been worried from how you were acting as you slumped to your room, noticing that you seemed more tired than usual.

Chishiya walked into the room and quickly shut the door behind him, holding the doorknob until it was completely shut to avoid the clicking noise. He tip-toed towards your frame and admired your sleeping self, his lips curling up at the sight.

“Get some sleep love,” he whispered, running the back of his hand softly down your cheek to sooth you. “You need it.”

Before Chishiya left the room, he tucked the blanket tighter around your body so you stayed warm and gave you a soft peck on your forehead. He glanced back once more before stepping out of the room. He headed back to his own hotel room to get some sleep, feeling content that the person he cares for most was okay.

**************

As the days of your visa grew fewer, your dread grew bigger. Thoughts from your last game bounced around your head, continuing to come back to you in the most random of times. Sometimes you would feel an imaginary harsh kick to your back in your dreams, causing you to wake up abruptly, covered in sweat. You couldn’t escape the fear of Niragi attempting to kill you again. If you managed to run into him again like in the last game, it would be a guarantee that he wouldn’t let you off the hook again.

Just the thought of Niragi blasting a few bullets from his sniper through your head brought you the irrational belief that that was your future. No matter how hard you attempted to shake it, it found its way back into your mind.

The stars shone in the sky, glistening against the endless ceiling of darkness and winking at you from above. It felt foreign to see such sights in the world you lived in, where everything seemed to hold some kind of darkness behind it. Even the label of ‘Utopia’ on The Beach was a complete lie.

You huffed in a stressful tone, hanging your head low and rubbing your eyes with your hands as you leaned your elbows on the railing. The minutes before the next game were becoming less and less. If only you had one more day on your visa, you could potentially avoid all the bullshit that Niragi brought with him everywhere he went.

Hatter had informed you that Niragi was taking you to another game, as he didn’t get to properly assess your skills last time. He was making you go because that night was the night your visa ended. You didn’t have a choice.

Before you knew it, small droplets of tears escaped your eyes, cascading down your face and dripping off your chin. You felt helpless and scared. You could do nothing but wait for the fire alarms to ring to indicate Hatter’s speech before everyone left for their own games. It felt like your time on the roof was lasting forever, so you tried to drag out your time there as long as you could.

You closed your eyes and lifted your head high, letting the cold air swim around your face and bring you comfort. “This isn’t fucking fair,” you stated bluntly to yourself.

It wasn’t. Why did the world think you deserved this kind of stress? You never asked to be in the Borderland. You never asked to be involved with these people. Why did you have to be thrown into this mess?

The sound of light footsteps ripped you from your thoughts, causing you to whip your head around and lock eyes with Chishiya, who froze a few metres away. Your face visibly relaxed at the sight of your boyfriend, smiling weakly as he lifted his hands in defence from your paranoid actions.

“Hey Chishiya,” you greeted him, turning your back and wiping your tears from your eyes. “Sorry, I’ll be down soon. Just give me a minute.”

Chishiya frowned at your shaky voice, approaching your frame and placing a soft hand on your shoulder. “Y/N? What’s wrong?”

You turned your face to him and his eyes displayed concern as soon as they met with your teary ones. “Wait, baby why are you crying?” he asked, placing a hand on the small of your back and another cupping your cheek to make you look at him.

You shook your head and gave a fake smile, not wanting to tell Chishiya what had happened. “It’s fine. I’m just getting a bit stressed for tonight.”

Chishiya eyebrows furrowed at your answer, noticing how you bit your lip after your sentence. You only ever did that when you were lying.

His eyes glanced up towards the small gash on the side of your head. “How did this happen?” he questioned you, lifted his hand to run a gentle thumb over the injury. You glanced at him nervously as he waited for an answer.

“Oh that? It’s nothing. I just managed to trip over and smack my head on the wall during the last game. You know me, such a clumsy idiot,” you tried to laugh it off.

Chishiya didn’t buy it for a second. He moved his gaze to the rest of your body, searching for any more injuries. He had had enough of your lying when he saw your bruised knees, dried blood around the edges of small cuts from earlier when you accidentally reopened them.

“Y/N, what happened the other day? Who did this to you?” Chishiya asked in a serious tone, wrapping his hands around your neck and holding you protectively. “These look bad Y/N. I’ll have to treat them for you.”

You nodded, looking down at the ground. Chishiya lifted your chin with his finger to make you have eye contact. “You going to tell me what happened?”

You let out a big sigh, accepting the fact that you can’t hide literally anything from Chishiya. He knew you too well.

“Look, it’s fine Chishiya. Niragi just got mad at me during a game. You know how he is. I’m honestly glad that he didn’t do anything else,” you explained, watching as Chishiya’s face contorted into anger at your confession.

He fell silent, making you more tense. You knew Chishiya was really aggravated when he went completely silent.

“Niragi did this to you?” he asked scarily calmly, running a soft hand over the gash on your head again. You nodded, leaning against his touch.

“Alright. You stay with me tonight. I don’t care what Hatter has asked from you. You stick by my side and don’t let go of my hand,” Chishiya demanded you, pulling you into a comforting hug. You tucked your face into his neck, breathing in his scent.

“I love you,” he whispered out, giving you a soft smooch on your cheek. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.”

You shook your head in denial. “Don’t be baby. You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

Chishiya smiled happily at your words, pulling back from the hug and giving you a loving kiss on your lips. You both held each other close, moving your mouths against one another’s intimately.

You felt safe in Chishiya’s arms and he felt safe in yours. And that’s where both of you were intending to stay as long as possible.

****************

You sat on Chishiya’s small bed, admiring as the young man wiped carefully over the dried blood on your knees. He was being so careful, holding you by the underneath of your knee and making sure not to press too hard on your bruises.

You had returned from the game you attended with Chishiya. Before the game commenced, you both hid on the roof so Niragi or Hatter wouldn’t come looking for you, wanting to take you to the game. You waited until most cars had left before making your way down to the bottom floor, climbing into the last car together that only held two other people you didn’t know.

Chishiya made sure to keep you by his side the entire game, not letting go of your hand once. At some point you were afraid he was going to sacrifice himself for you, as he wasn’t acting too far from it. His protective side had kicked in and he wasn’t taking your situation lightly.

At some point you both had to hide from an attacker. Chishiya had shoved you both into the corner of a small room, shielding your entire body with his with both of his hands against the walls, keeping you trapped in and hidden. The action alone was enough to make you realise how much Chishiya actually cared, how afraid he actually was of losing you.

“All done,” the blonde announced, breaking you from your thoughts. You grinned as he glanced up at you, giving you a cheeky wink. He shifted up the bed and leant against the headboard beside you. “Are you okay?” he asked once again, his fingers lightly running along your thigh soothingly. You nodded, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry about Niragi,” Chishiya reassured you after a short moment of silence. You looked up at him from his shoulder. “Why not?” you asked.

Chishiya gave a cocky smirk and ruffled your hair playfully. “I’ll make sure to give him a piece of my mind,” he said in a monotone voice as usual.

You chuckled at his words before placing a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw. “I’m sure you will,” you laughed.

Chishiya smiled happily and turned his body. He picked you up slightly and made you lie down before placing himself next to your frame. You rolled over to face him, not even getting a chance to breath before his lips were on yours.

His kiss was passionate, running his tongue along your lips to ask for you to open them. You obliged, letting him have his way with you. You ran your fingers up underneath his shirt, feeling his warm skin shiver underneath you touch. He groaned at the feeling, pushing himself closer to you and placing one hand on the back of your neck while the other dragged lazy patterns along your bare hip.

You two held each other close, getting lost and drunk on the thoughts and feelings of one another. No one could make each of you feel the way you made each other feel. In Chishiya’s arms you felt safe and content, making all the terrible things around you disappear. And for Chishiya, you made him feel sane again. You made him remember that he was human, he was allowed to have human emotions and make mistakes.

You brought a sense of comfort to one another, and clearly Chishiya wasn’t willing to let anything come between you both.

636 notes · View notes

shoutogepi · 4 years

Text

Heart of the Storm

Todoroki Shouto

word count : 11.0k bruh why do i do this

[ ☀︎, ✘ (nsfw!) ] a lil fluff in beginning/end

themes : igloo sex?? LMAO, shy!reader, steam/sweat kink?, dom!shouto, teasing, temperature play

bio : Shouto warms you up in the midst of the blizzard, in more ways than one.

author’s note : this stemmed from a crack fic idea but damnnnn if it isn’t hot in here now :O this is also a piece for @bnhabookclub ‘s first event— the provisional licensing exam! i’m using prompt #9: “Your lips are really warm.”

tagging: @simplybakugou thanks for beta reading lovely ♥︎ & big thanks for thirsting with me & basically directing the fic @lildreamer93 ♥︎

also available on AO3 here

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🅃he dark clouds approaching the mountain paint the sky in an ominous manner, the wind scraping your raw cheeks. You place one foot in front of the other, the snow crunching with protest underneath your weight. Your nose is runny, tucked beneath a thick scarf, and your eyes are glassy from the freezing winds that only seem to be intensifying. The thick coat does its best to block the wind from your body, but the powerful gusts manage to sneak through the fastenings down your middle, allowing cold to quietly spread into your body.

A hand around your forearm rustles you from your bleary focus on the path ahead of you. Your accomplice’s heterochromatic gaze pierces into your tired eyes, the only parts of your faces that aren’t tucked away under layers of clothes. He gently pulls your arm towards him, and with his gloved fingers wrapped securely around your limb, he guides you off of the path. You enter an empty snowbank littered with skinny, ice-covered trees, almost collapsing on the slight decline of the trail.

Shouto catches you awkwardly, the thick outerwear making his movements slower than usual. But he holds you steady, refusing to let you fall into the thick carpet of white that licks up to the middle of your calves. Pulling your body close to his, his worried eyes fall on your closed ones, making his heart thump against his ribcage. With your head laying on his shoulder, he leans forward and talks in a slightly heightened voice so you can hear him over the screaming winds. “Y/N-san, let’s take a break,” he suggests, but it doesn’t sound like there is much room for disagreement.

You nod weakly, your gloved hand finally coming up out of your pocket to push yourself off of him to show him you still have some strength left. It’s just so damn cold.

Shouto frowns underneath his scarf, his hands falling from your figure as you stand on your own once more. He watches you lean against one of the thin trunks that pierces through the chalky blanket on the ground. He can tell you’re exhausted, and he won’t lie— he’s not feeling his strongest at the moment either. His left hand offered to you, you grab onto his arm for support, mustering up the strength to continue the trek to your destination.

But he steers you into the middle of the clearing, where no spindling trunks break the perfect layer of ivory on the forest floor. He shakes your hold off of his arm much to your distaste, but as soon as he’s freed the limb, he wraps it around your shoulders, collecting your body into his chest. You bend into him willingly, your hidden cheeks feeling warm for the first time in hours.

With you secured tightly against him, Shouto pushes down the scarf covering his face, his teeth gripping the fingertip of his right glove. Your eyes widen as he exposes his hand to the howling, icy winds, and a part of you wants to immediately grab his fingers and tuck them away from the offensive temperature. But you can’t help the awe that blooms in your chest as a stream of frost explodes from his outstretched palm. He flicks his wrist casually, and the ice that lands on the ground builds around you into an effortless, shiny dome. He continues the motion until the bellowing wind no longer assaults your ears, and your eyes are no longer watery.

Your gaze roams over his creation, admiring the way the ice has a perfect sheen, halfway clear enough to produce a distorted reflection that peers back at you. Your shaking hands snake out of the pockets in your jacket, hesitantly hooking the material of your scarf down to tuck under your chin. “W-Wow, Shouto-san, this is… incredible,” you murmur, eyes finally landing on the tall male who’s currently savoring the cute, dazed look on your face.

His mouth curves into a half smile, his expression softening at your pink cheeks and nose. “I’m going to step out and thicken the walls before the storm hits, so just sit tight, Y/N-san. I won’t be long.” He turns and removes his other glove, placing the pair on the glistening snow by his feet. He activates his quirk, blasting a hole half his height into the side of the dome, and leaving your field of vision.

You quickly pull the scarf back up over your face. Even if the formation Shouto had created shields you from the full force of the wind, the powerful gusts still creep into the dome and tousle your clothes. You waddle over to his gloves, collecting the cloth and tucking it under your arm so the snow doesn’t dampen the material. You shake the heavy pack down your shoulders, frowning as it lands unceremoniously into the snow. Your clumsy fingers quivering, it takes a few tries to pinch the zipper— but you finally latch on and pull it sideways triumphantly, your other hand searching for the black, waterproof material inside.

You finally find the tent at the bottom of your backpack, and you unfold it haphazardly, spreading the textile across the top of the snow. Hopefully the fabric will be thick enough to stop some of the cold from the frozen ground from seeping through. Your mind wanders as your hands run over the thick material, thinking back to just days before you were caught in this blizzard.

Your agency had been working with Shouto’s in order to take down a ring of criminals who were known for slipping into the shadows after committing their heinous acts, due to their extensive knowledge of the Japanese landscape. You and Shouto had been in the same group that was to watch over the foothills of the mountains surrounding the village that was known to be their next hit, but the villains had scattered upon seeing the group of heroes. You had each been prepared with packs, clothes, and rations, but the ensuing blizzard was quite the surprise. You weren’t sure how exactly you ended up with Shouto, just the two of you, but you could not muster up even a scrap of a complaint. He was so charming and handsome after all— if you had to be stuck in this storm with anyone, you were glad it was with him. Not to mention his quirk seemed like the perfect match for the cold storm almost upon you.

You’re torn from your thoughts as Shouto’s frame hunches through the hole he had created, his back to you as he seals the tunnel with more ice. You realize how much darker it had become, the ice not nearly as transparent as before. You wonder how much he had thickened the walls of your refuge, or if the dark was due to the icy squall that had begun to howl outside.

Shouto turns, heaving out a sigh as he drops the pile of logs he had carried, the cylindrical segments rolling on the icy snow. He takes in the tent on the ground, and lets out a breath of air as he forces the hood of his jacket off his head, his scarf once again falling down to reveal his face. “Looks like we’ll be here for awhile,” he humors, crouching down in the center of the floor and directing his left palm there. Flames lick his skin as he melts the snow, a puddle forming in the center of the ground before it evaporates, leaving a rocky, earthy terrain underneath. “Perfect,” he murmurs, positioning the logs into a triangular pile, keeping the flame on his palm lit to provide enough light.

You watch as he nods absentmindedly at the wooden stack on the ground, lowering his hand to the logs and letting the flames lap at the bark. You chuckle hastily, making his eyes dart towards your face. At his inquisitive look, your gaze drops to the flames starting to take on the kindlings. “Shouto-san, I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you state bashfully, sitting down atop the tarp. You add a bit quieter, “I think I would’ve froze to death by now if I hadn’t found you.”

A miniscule shade of pink flashes across his cheeks, but it’s hard to tell if it’s from your words or from the cold. He intently watches the flames grow for a moment before his eyes jump to yours, the small smile resurfacing on his rosy lips. “I would never let that happen, Y/N-san.”

Unsure how to respond, your eyes dart away from his, landing on the fire once more. “Won’t that melt the, uh… igloo?” You ask, looking at the high ceiling of the dome directly over the growing embers. Shouto had made the structure a considerable height, so you figured he had accounted for it, but you wanted to change the subject anyway.

“I tried to make the top of the structure far away enough so it won’t… but even if it does, I can just refreeze it,” he assures, standing up and walking over to you. You scoot to the side as he sits beside you, taking advantage of the tent. You nod as if you hadn’t already come to that conclusion, taking a shy glance at him.

He’s a respectable distance away from you, but close enough to reach out and touch. He catches your glance, the gentle smile still gracing his mouth. Your eyes widen as you notice a long scratch on the side of his face, slashing over the bottom of his scar. “Shouto-san! Are you okay?” You scoot towards him, your hands reaching out to touch his face. His eyes widen at your bold gesture, and he stiffens as you take his chin into your gloved hands.

Shouto lets out a stifled chuckle, his hands folding tightly on the tops of his legs. “It’s just a scratch.” Even if it’s through the thick sheepskin mittens, he allows himself to enjoy your touch for a moment. He shakes off his own backpack, your hands sinking off his face as he holds it up in one hand and jerks his head toward it. “I’m better off than this thing, anyway.”

The backpack is torn, the majority of the bag totally missing as if it had been ripped away forcefully; completely shredded. You gape at the object, then check the back of his jacket to thankfully discover it’s totally intact.

“The guy I was chasing had a strange animalistic quirk that gave him sharp teeth,” Shouto looks at the disheveled rucksack, “and claws.” He points at the scratch along his high cheekbone, shrugging his shoulders in a relaxed manner. His stomach flips at the frown that blossoms on your lips.

You turn away from him and rummage through your bag, making an exclamation as you find the small first aid kit you had packed. His eyebrows raise as you look at him shyly, pulling off your gloves in a modest fashion. “Please let me patch you up,” you appeal, grabbing the tube of antibiotic ointment hastily and uncapping it. “I want to feel like I’ve at least helped you in some way today. My quirk isn’t very useful out here,” you chuckle sadly, eyes trailing off to the side of his face.

Shouto nods crisply, his gaze trained on the hand stretching toward him. “Thank you,” he mumbles, watching how your bare fingers shake violently. He knows you’re cold, but it shocks him when your fingertip touches his cheek— the icy feeling making his skin prickle. He allows you to spread the cream across the cut, but immediately once you’re done, he envelops the back of your hand in his own, long fingers folding around yours. “Y/N-san, you’re so cold,” he says almost to himself, his other hand following the same action.

With your hands in his, your face blooms into a heated flush, a gentle gasp escaping you at the tingles that sprout on your skin fed by his natural warmth. Your reaction spurs him on, and he transfers your hand so that both of them are tucked neatly into his left. The burst of intense heat makes your eyes go wide as he activates his quirk ever so slightly. The sheer strength of even a fraction of his power sends a chill down your spine, a fuzzy numbness rushing through your hands as they regain feeling.

“S-Shouto-san,” you gulp, attempting to pull your hands from his to no avail, “you should save your strength, I can use the fire— I’m fine!”

Shouto’s eyebrow quirks amusedly at your request. “This is nothing,” he counters, but upon inspecting your sheepish expression, he begrudgingly grants your wish, his hands placing yours on your lap before disappearing into his pockets.

Your newly-nimble fingers hastily grab a flat, rectangular paper out of the first aid kit. You peel off the strips from either side of a bandage, placing the sticky side diagonally over the scratch on his cheek. He seems satisfied with the way your fingers only barely quiver now, and he doesn’t attempt to take your hands into his again.

“Thank you for helping me, Y/N-san,” he smiles at you, making the cold in your bones feel just a bit duller. You nod, closing the kit and placing it on the ground next to your bag. The conversation dries, and you wrack your brain to think of something to talk about. You and Shouto were friendly colleagues, but you’d never really had the chance to talk to him alone like this, and you were both not really the talkative type.

Reaching into your pack, you produce a cup-ramen and offer it to him. “Are you hungry, Shouto-san? I have two, so I have more than enough to share.”

Shouto accepts the package, a grin spreading on his lips. “Now here you are, saving my life,” he jests, peeling the lid halfway before shoveling some snow into the bowl with the lip of the container, “I could get used to your care.” You laugh a little too hard at his joke, following his actions with your own cup. You hand him the cup and he melts the snow leisurely, the water turning to a boil before he closes the lid, placing the cup on the ground in front of you.

As he copies the actions on his own cup, your hands find the chunky receiver the team had given each member before the stakeout started. Turning the device on, you hiss at the static shriek that pierces your eardrums, quickly lowering the volume before checking each of the channels. “Seems like the storm is interfering with the walkie,” you comment, placing the malfunctioning device back into your bag.

Shouto nods thoughtfully, his fingers laced underneath his chin as if he is in deep thought. “The storm will probably last the majority of the night. We’ll have to camp here for a while and we can check how the weather is at first light,” he explains his plan and you agree.

The pair of you eat your ramen in a comfortable silence, your toes slowly gaining feeling as you hold the tips of your boots close to the fire. You share the filtered water you had brought with the man beside you, both of you drinking only a third of the water combined in a mindful manner.

With the blood rushing to your stomach to digest the processed noodles, your fingertips begin to grow cold again. You push up your scarf once more, covering your pink nose and sticking your palms out toward the fire.

Shouto watches you with careful regard before glancing at his watch. “Y/N-san, perhaps you should try to rest while we wait for daylight,” he suggests, eyes twinkling at how cute you look with your eyelids drooping heavily in near-slumber.

You shoot him a lazy smile, nodding at his suggestion. You find the thick, silky sleeping bag that takes up the majority of your backpack’s capacity, undoing the bands that keep it compressed together. Noticing his lingering gaze on you, you shoot him a confused look. “Are you going to lay down as well, Shouto-san? We can use the tarp here if we lay next to each other.”

He smiles at your offer. “I would rather keep watch in case the villains decide to surprise us.”

You frown at his responsible intentions. “No one is going to be out in this blizzard, though. If the villains are dumb enough to do that, then they’ll surely be popsicles by the time we find them. Please, you should rest too, Shouto-san.” You pat the space on the tarp next to your sleeping bag expectantly.

He chuckles awkwardly, palm landing on the back of his neck. “I… seem to have lost my sleeping bag, actually,” he trails off, looking at the scraps of his backpack that remain. “Most of my things fell out when I was fighting.”

As if the thought comes to you both at the same time, your eyes meet and a flush replaces his usual suave expression. “You can share mine,” you speak before the words register in your brain, and as soon as they do, sweltering heat infiltrates your own cheeks. “I mean— if that would— if you need… it wouldn’t be w-weird. Besides… we should probably stay close for,” you gulp, “b-body heat.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with that?” He replies a little too quickly for his own liking, cringing minorly at himself. He looks sideways at you, hesitance clear on his face.

You nod at him and he stiffly moves to the other side of the sleeping bag, willing his breath to stay steady. You unlace your boots, immediately sliding your woolen-sock clad feet inside. You wiggle into the slot, heart racing. Shouto takes off his own boots and shimmies into the envelope with you. It’s a one-person sleeping bag so the fit is a bit snug, the front of his jacket brushing against the back of yours. His long arm reaches over your torso to zip the bag closed, instantly withdrawing his hand to his side afterwards.

Now that you’re pushing up against him, he can feel your coat is slightly wet from the snow. “You should take that off— it’ll only make you colder since it's damp,” he whispers in your ear, making you stiffen against him. Shuffling a bit, your bottom skims against his crotch and his breath catches in his throat. His eyes admiring the tight sweater that’s revealed as you shed the jacket, he realizes his jacket is probably the same. He removes his as well, his hips pressing into your ass but they’re gone before you can even blink, his folded jacket a makeshift pillow long enough to cushion both your heads.

With both your jackets removed, he can feel how truly cold you are; your body shivering and your breath slightly hitched. You curl into yourself as much as you can, willing the frost away by brushing your limbs against each other slightly. The sleeping bag has good insulation, but it barely does anything yet since you offer no heat for it to retain. Your hands curl into half-fists, pressing them against your lips in hope to thaw them with your shaky breath.

Shouto’s warm breath on the shell of your ear sends a shiver down your spine. “Y/N-san, you’re shivering,” he comments, eyes raking over the smooth skin at the back of your neck. You gaze into the fire for a moment, begging for some kind of confidence in this situation.

You shift onto your back, rolling onto your other side so you can look at him. The wisp of courage you had scraped up is viciously snatched from you as your eyes meet his.

The emotion in his eyes is something you’ve never seen before, the intensity intimidating you so much that your lungs still mid-breath. His gaze is half-lidded, his hair falling perfectly over his eyes. Hot breath washes over your raw cheeks enticingly, making your skin prickle with apprehension.

“Can I…,” he trails off, and you’re surprised when you feel his fingers sheathe around yours, pulling your wrists directly toward his mouth. Your stomach flips as he breathes out, the warm air caressing your chilled skin. “Can I warm you up, Y/N?”

You swallow harshly, your eyes the size of dinner plates, you’re sure. But Shouto’s expression doesn’t falter, and your silence doesn’t bother him as he places the softest kiss on your knuckle. You’re shaking again, even though the cold in your body is pushed far into the back of your mind. “S-Shouto-san,” you peep, your voice an octave higher than usual. It feels strange to say his name so intimately, but he seems to enjoy the sound.

He lets out a long exhale, closing his eyes as his thumb presses into the middle of your palm, forcing your hand to open. “Your teeth are chattering— you’re so cold,” he states, a hand letting go of your wrist to jump to your waist.

It’s true, your skin is shockingly frigid against his, and your teeth rattle slightly at the loss of your jacket. His lips press against the next knuckle, keeping your gaze captured to his magnetic stare. His eyes are so intoxicating; one a refreshing aqua and the other a swirling storm of gray. They both hold an unspeakable passion; a force that quiets all your worries as soon as they sprout.

“I said I wouldn’t let you freeze, Y/N.” His fingers on your waist tighten and he pulls your body flush against his in one swift movement. Only the thick sweaters keep your skin from touching, and his hand slides up the curve of your waist, underneath the hem of the knitted fabric. You gasp, watching his wrist disappear at the bottom of the sweater as his hand glides across your skin. Even though this is his ice side, his touch is so warm compared to your flesh. You look back up to see he’s inched closer to you, lips nearly brushing against yours. “Are you gonna let me keep my word?”

You can’t seem to find any words, your body overwhelmed by his hot fingers dragging along your side. His stare demands your attention, and no matter how desperately you want to look away, your body refuses to follow your wishes. You can feel your nipples hardening against the cup of your bra, a warm tingle emerging between your legs. Your pussy flutters underneath your panties as he continues to kiss your hands, lips wandering over each knuckle, fingertip, and line along your palms. The realization that his touch is doing things to you only makes you feel more flustered.

Shouto’s hand weaves over yours, heat radiating off of him as he places your hand on the cusp of his jaw. “You’re still shivering,” he states, finally breaking eye contact only to glance at your lips briefly before his gaze returns to yours.

You find yourself nodding slightly, unconsciously welcoming his next intentions. Your fingers, now warmed and feeling fuzzy, push into the hair behind his ears, gently guiding his face toward yours. Your lips part with a soft whimper as his hand underneath your sweater flattens, the entire palm introducing a pleasant heat to your chilled skin. Shouto gathers you closer to him, strong arm wrapping around your waist tighter and pushing your face to fall only a short distance away from his. You can feel his breath on your face, warm and soft, as his eyes search your face for any hint of reluctance. He closes the space between your mouths at a turtle’s pace, allowing you ample opportunity to push him away.

But you don’t— you grab the front of his shirt with your free hand, the hand behind his ear pushing him forward so his lips lock with yours. A shared, strangled moan resonates off the walls of the igloo, lips pushing and pulling against each other at a feverish pace. The kiss is hot, and his lips feel like heaven against yours as his hands feather down your spine.

“Your lips are really warm,” you murmur as you pull away to catch your breath, eyes still closed and lungs feeling tight from a combination of the lack of air and the excitement— lust— pumping through you. Heat floods your cheeks as you realize you’d voiced your thoughts, an entertained look crossing Shouto’s features.

“Good,” he says as his lips touch yours again, this time more delicately than last. He kisses you for a moment, just long enough for you to lose your train of thought, before he pulls back quickly. “I’m gonna get you nice and warm, Y/N— I promise,” Shouto vows, capturing your mouth and claiming it as his, his tongue separating your lips and exploring your mouth.

You moan at the new sensation, allowing the wet muscle to dominate yours, body feeling weak, and hot, and wonderful. Shouto’s hands are still wandering over your skin underneath your sweater, rounding your waist to creep up your chest. Just as he’d been to initiate the kiss, his touch rises slowly, pausing just underneath the swell of your breast. The warmth seeps into your ribs, and you surprise yourself when your own hand leaves his chest to push his elbow up, moving his hand on top of your bra.

Shouto groans into your mouth, and you swear you can feel your panties dampen at the noise. Vibrations against your lips, your hand in his hair pulls gently at his scalp in response, only to elicit a second, similar sound from his throat. His hand squeezes your chest just the right amount— not too rough, but not gentle either— making you whimper into his mouth. He thumbs over your nipple through the thin silky material, lips curving into a satisfied smirk when you moan louder this time, fingers tightening your hold on him.

Your tongues tangling in a slow, sensual embrace, you drink up the heavy breaths that leave his open lips, high on his warmth and his touch. The thumb rubbing along your bra traces the edge of the cup, toying with the soft flesh underneath.

“Is this okay?” Shouto inquires huskily against your lips, inducing shivers to shoot toward your core. He’s crawling atop your body to hover above you, the sleeping bag rustling as he stays close to you, one leg splitting between yours and the hand not on your breast moving to prop himself up.

“Y-Yes Shouto-san,” you whine, eager to feel his tongue back on yours already. Your limbs are still shaking from the cold, but the excitement that blooms from his touch mixes into your veins like warm nectar to combat the icy frost that lingers there. His knee isn’t quite high enough to touch your pussy, but your cheeks become warmer at the realization that you want it to be.

“I’m gonna take care of you,” he murmurs before his lips press against yours again, eliciting a weak moan from you. His kiss is warm and intoxicating, yet firm. Tongue invading your mouth again, you sigh contentedly as his hand squeezes at your breast, thumb dipping underneath your bra to brush against your pebbled bud. He starts to move his body just enough to create some friction between the two of you, and you moan again at the novel sensation, your hand moving around his broad shoulders to dig your nails into his sweater.

Your mind is hazy, unable to focus on anything as his mouth lands on the skin of your neck, a breathy moan washing over your throat as he begins to kiss and suck there. You squirm underneath his wide frame, the feeling of his tongue rolling against you stoking the fire between your legs. Your body is beginning to feel warm, your heart beating erratically against your ribs.

Shouto’s hand wanders further up your torso, the hem of your sweater sliding up to rest on the top of his wrist. He smiles against your neck, pulling your bra down so your breasts fall out of the cups, his calloused thumb immediately caressing your nipple again and rubbing over it gently. “Do you like that?” He asks, lips trailing to kiss the underside of your jaw. “Because I really like that.” A forefinger joins his thumb and he pinches the nub, causing it to harden under his warm touch.

You cry out, head thrown to the side in pleasure. It seems that was Shouto’s plan all along, because he ravishes the newly revealed skin on your throat, altering between roving his tongue along your flesh and nipping his teeth softly. “Y-Yes, I like it, Shouto-san,” you answer breathlessly, your legs curling to draw his hips closer to yours. The feeling of his body flush against yours has an incredible heat surging through your entire being, caressing your bones and fluttering in your core.

Shouto’s purr rumbles along your skin, his head dipping down to place a path of kisses along your collar bones. Your hand flies up to grab onto his red and white locks, fingernails scraping his scalp gently and causing a moan to fall from his parted lips. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he praises, lifting your sweater over your shoulders and off your body. Before you can feel self-conscious, he swiftly delivers another kiss to your lips as he tears his own sweater above his head, revealing a pale torso rippling with firm muscles. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight hovering above you; his hair slightly messy from taking his shirt off as his gaze holds your own, a hunger blatant and all-consuming in his eyes.

You whimper as his mouth crashes to yours once more, your spine arching naturally as his arm curls around your waist, fingers moving to undo the clasp of your bra and succeeding swiftly. His kiss is slow and soft as he pulls the straps from your shoulders, tossing the item onto the tarp beside the sleeping bag.

Shouto looks at your naked form below him as if he’s a man starved, and you the most delicious feast he could possibly imagine. His hand moves to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, eyes half-lidded and tongue poking out to roll over his lips. You watch as he leans down, warm lips brushing against your jaw and moving to trail down the length of your neck. But he doesn’t stop there; his mouth wanders further down, prospecting the soft flesh of your breast with kisses and long swipes of his tongue.

“S-Shouto-san,” you call his name when he finally reaches your nipple, mouth enveloping the bud and rolling his tongue around it leisurely, showering you with kitten licks that makes your pulse race. A long moan escapes you, your head thrown back onto his jacket and your eyes drifting shut as he begins to suck on your sensitive nub. “Oh, that feels—” you cut off as his teeth scrape your flesh, hips bucking up into his instinctively.

He only smiles, gently pulling your nipple between his lips and continuing to wash your skin with his hot tongue. “Does that feel good, angel?” He asks, his free hand moving to cup your other breast.

You nod even though he can only see the bottom of your chin, your mouth agape as rushed pants tumble out. Your pussy twitches in your panties when his mouth moves to your other breast, ravishing it in the same fashion. Your brows cinch, fingers woven in his hair and grabbing frantically at the roots as your body welcomes the waves of pleasure Shouto provides. A hand lands on the thick muscle atop his shoulder, gripping onto him and fingernails nearly breaking his perfect skin. Your hips buck again when his teeth graze your nipple, and heat bursts through you as your thigh rubs against something hard.

Shouto moans at the friction, the noise sending vibrations through your chest. “Fuck, Y/N,” he grumbles, popping off your breast and returning to hover his face above yours. “You know you’re absolutely gorgeous, right?” He doesn’t allow you to reply, lips conquering yours and sending a sweet chill through your body.

You make a noise of surprise when he begins to gently grind against your crotch, rubbing his erection onto you. The action has your brain short-circuiting, lust surging through your body now more than ever. God, you want him. You want him bad.

Shouto seems to feel the same way, for he presses your bodies flush against each other, and you whimper when his hot skin touches yours. Another meek noise floats out of you as he shuffles the two of you into a new position, landing on his back with you hovering above him this time. He’s kissing you again, and your brain can’t seem to catch up with him, for he now has two free hands and he uses them to grab your hips, guiding them to move along his own and continue providing the friction of the grinding from before.

Your head is spinning at the stimulation, your slick clit rubbing along the inside of your panties. And even though there’s two pairs of thick pants between the two of you, you can feel your pussy right above his clothed cock, dragging deliciously against him.

His fingers move to the front of your pants, ripping the zip downwards and digging his thumbs into the space between the material and the flesh of your hips. Shouto pushes the cloth off your body with surprising ease, your ass coming into contact with the sleek lining of the sleeping bag. Leaving the material bunched at your knees, Shouto places his hand on the back of your neck and guides your lips to land on his, his tongue tracing your bottom lip before he pulls it into his mouth gently, a growl-like moan rumbling in his throat.

You jump slightly when a hand lands on your hip, long fingers sprawled out over your panty-clad ass. His dull fingernails drag along the cloth, digits looping underneath the band at your hip and toying with it— pulling it down gently before putting it back in place, and repeating the action. You whine against his mouth, falling to your elbows on either side of his head, your hair cascading around your faces.

Shouto’s hand slips between your legs, cupping your pussy in his large palm. “Do you want more?” He teases, tone dark with desire and a hint of playfulness. He kisses the corner of your mouth as you moan quietly, trying to grind yourself against his hand. The action only makes him grin, his other hand cupping your chin and guiding you to look at him. “Answer me, beautiful.”

Your throat tight and mind foggy, you whine at his demand, eyelids falling closed as you lean into his touch. “Yes, I want m-more, Shouto-san,” you respond, humiliation spurring a heat to rise to your cheeks. You’d never begged for a man’s touch like this, and the thought has you both wanting to hide in mortification and spread your legs wide for him.

“Mmm,” he mumbles, moving your face to place your lips on his again. The very tips of his fingers begin to move along your slit through your underwear, starting with gentle circles on your entrance and trailing up to your clit.

His touch has you gripping his hair again with both hands in trembling fists, broken whimpers dislodging from your throat. His long digits toy with your pussy through the sheer, soaked material, separating your folds with his pointer and ring finger for his middle to dip into you just a tad, pushing your panties inside yourself slightly. You cry out, for even at such a shallow depth, the heat leaks from his fingertip into your pussy, melting away your inhibitions. It’s not enough to stretch you, but your walls twitch in anticipation around the digit, causing a smile to spread on Shouto’s lips.

He kisses the other side of your mouth, your eyes still shut tightly and your lip caught between your teeth. “Do you want even more?” He murmurs, stroking your cheek with the back of his fingers. “Say my name, Y/N.”

His command is absolute, tone gruff, like he can’t seem to catch his breath— it makes you look at him, only to send another shocking thrill toward your cunt at the lustful fervor in his gaze. You lick your lips, croaking out a shy, “Shouto-san.” His thumb grazes over your clit in reward, but you only push your hips down in search of that searing fingertip. When he moves his fingers in accordance with your body, you let out a distressed whine. “Pleaseee,” you whimper, placing a hesitant kiss on the column of his neck.

Shouto sighs at your appeal, deft fingers curling around the edge of your panties to gather them to the side of your throbbing pussy. Your body jolts as he brushes your slick folds with the lightest touch, another noise of desperation floating past your lips. “No, beautiful,” he murmurs, voice deep enough to drag you under like a powerful tide pulling you lost into a sea of pleasure, “My name— just my name.”

The gasp that you surrender surprises you, and you’re not sure if it’s more from his request or from his thumb beginning to circle your needy clit. A string of low moans flees your throat as he presses harder against you, the digit sliding around the bundle of nerves with ease, slick with your arousal. “But… but Shouto-s-san, I…,” you trail off, distracted as two hot fingertips begin to play with your entrance, curling just enough to hook against the edge of your walls and tease another groan out of you.

“You…,” Shouto continues for you, that taunting tone dripping from his voice again, “You don’t want it, Y/N?” He’s teasing you, but only because you’re so delectably responsive to him— he can feel your pussy twitch against his fingers, your slick drenching the digits and making it irresistible for him to go even further.

“No— I want it,” you hurry to respond, fearful that he’ll withdraw his touch before you have the chance to feel him inside of you. Anything for that. “I want more,” you take a small breath, propping yourself up with your hands on either side of his neck, your eyes finding his. “Please, I— I need you… Shouto-s—”

Two fingers slide into you with ease, stealing away the chance for you to utter the honorific, instead rendering you helpless as a loud, wanton moan erupts from your lips. Shouto’s fingers are long and thick, the pads rough and already rubbing against just the right place. His other hand rests on the front of your hip, digits curled around your side as his thumb stretches to stimulate your clit. Your eyes roll back as he pulls out, your velvet walls shuddering and another sound of pleasure filling the still air inside the igloo as he pushes back in. You’re already embarrassed enough from his teasing and him cheating away the respect the -san represents, but a new wave of mortification crashes over you as the spring inside your stomach begins to compress. You’ve never been so turned on in your life, so embarrassed, so naughty— desperate.

“You’re gonna cum already, aren’t you?” Shouto’s voice cuts through your foggy, aphrodisiacal headspace, and you can only nod, jaw hanging open and broken mewls tumbling out. Your hands fly to grab onto his shoulders in favor of the sleeping bag covering the ground, nails grappling into his skin. You can’t even find the sanity to shield your dissolute, wrecked expression from his watchful gaze underneath you, which he laps up eagerly— only fueling his plight as he begins to curl the digits toward himself. He’s rewarded with a higher-toned squeal, your cunt squeezing around him until he can only repeat the ‘come here’ motion. “Go ahead, beautiful. I wanna see your pretty face when you cum for me,” he implores.

That’s all you need to topple over the edge. Your pussy grips his fingers snug, fluttering as a numbing bliss explodes between your legs. Hips rocking shakedly against his grasp, you release a ragged groan as he continues to rub circles on your sensitive pearl. Your entire body is filled with a blistering warmth; you can feel it from the tips of your ears to your still-curled toes. Collapsing onto his chest, your lungs gasp for air as your head continues to spin, a content thrum pulsing through your bones as your pussy continues to spasm upon his hand. “S-Shouto,” you sigh, one hand slipping down to rest on the other side of his chest, fingertips biting into his skin slightly.

Shouto exhales a similar sound, fingers leaving your sloppy hole as he wraps his other arm around your waist. Bringing his fingertips to his lips, he keeps his gaze locked with yours as his tongue darts out, concealing the first knuckle from your sight.

Horror floods through you at the sight; dirty, nasty thoughts pouring into your mind. You try to get him to stop, your cheeks feeling hot once again. “Shouto-san, that’s—”

You succeed to some degree; he pulls his fingers from his mouth, but only to press them against your lips, sliding the digits deep into your mouth until they hit the back of your throat. “Bad girl, using honorifics,” he admonishes, tone suddenly dark and not at all warm nor soft as it was before— yet somehow it makes your cunt flutter in excitement, reawakening and already aching to be filled again. Your eyes widen in surprise, but you don’t gag, and Shouto only groans at such a discovery. “Don’t you think we’re past using formalities?”

He has a point, so you just flutter your lashes at him and moan onto his fingers, lips pursing around them and sending a shiver down his spine.

“Taste yourself— see, angel? You’re so sweet— god, you’re sexy, and you’ve no idea, do you?” He seems to be saying that last part to himself but you still nod, tongue wrapping around his fingers and making sure to clean him well. You want to show him you’re not bad; you’re a good girl, you can be a good girl for him.

Shouto swallows, eyes following your tongue as it wanders along his finger to poke between your lips, washing against his skin. He growls at the sight, ripping both hands away from you and ensnaring your wrists in his palms. With just one solid movement he tosses you underneath him, your back sliding against the silky lining of the sleeping bag and warming at the heat his body had left behind. You’re trying to find your bearings as Shouto fumbles with his pants, finally managing to rid one leg of the thick material and slip himself between your thighs.

Your heart begins to thump rapidly in your chest as you feel the smooth head of his cock drag against your folds, your cunt clenching in desire and your lip held prisoner between your teeth. Both of your ragged breaths tangle in the small space between you, your hands reaching to grasp the tops of his shoulders, legs spreading as much as they can in the confines of the single-person sleeping bag. Tossing your head back in agony as he teases your opening, coating himself in your slick, your cum. You’ve never felt so needy before— the urge to be filled and stretched around him dominating your every thought.

“Please— god, please Shouto,” you beg, and for a brief moment you find yourself wondering what exactly his cock looks like, the realization that you haven't actually seen it hitting you and yet here you are pleading for him to just put it in. What if he’s hung like a horse? And you’re about to be split in two— or what if he’s an average joe? Well from the foreplay he definitely knows what he’s doing so maybe—

Your entire body stills and a breathless squeal escapes your lungs as he thrusts into you in a single, swift movement. Your walls quiver in fiery pleasure as he penetrates you, his thick cock spreading you and filling you and reaching deep inside of you as his hips bump yours. You didn’t realize you were this wet; he slid into you in one go and by the feel of him, you know that’s no easy feat. But your mind doesn’t have any time to process it, for Shouto lets out the most sexy groan you’ve ever heard in your life. His head falls to rest against your throat, soft hair tickling your skin as you feel gentle pants wash over you.

“You’re so tight, Y/N— shit,” he moans again as his hips retract, pushing back inside of you slowly as if to test the waters. His cock glides inside of you, thick veins rubbing against your silky walls and making a soft whine struggle to evade your lungs. It’s the first time you’ve ever heard Shouto swear, and a twisted sense of pride fills your chest at the thought of him being so into this— into you— that he’s lost all his usual self-restraint.

A few more tentative thrusts have you crying out for him, another flash of intense heat spreading through your body and each of your limbs. Shouto cradles the back of your neck in one palm, the other hand slipping around the back of your waist in order to bend your back to his liking. The angle pops your breasts up against his chest, and he swears again as your hard nipples drag across his skin. Claiming your lips as his once again, his hips begin to push into yours at a steady pace, setting the tempo at a slow but hard pace. With each crash of his hips against yours, you feel like your lungs have lost all function— his balls slap heavy against your ass, sweat starting to trickle down your thighs that come around to draw his body closer to yours, your wrists crossed around his neck and his lips slotting against yours messily.

If your mind was foggy before, now you cannot even see your own hands in front of you; your brain is dizzy and oxygen-starved, mind spinning in circles every time his hips knock into yours. Each thrust has him burrowing far inside of you, your pussy trying desperately to keep up with his quickening pace but failing— leaving you butterflied, completely open for his assault to continue. When your ankles lock behind his waist, heels digging into his firm ass, his cock begins to hit a new spot inside of you, and you wail out in shock and ecstasy.

“Shouto!” you exclaim, brow furrowing and letting out a particularly wanton moan. Your eyes nearly cross at the powerful sensation, that embarrassed feeling returning and rekindling the heat in your cheeks. From just one particularly angled thrust, the spring in your stomach makes its presence known once again.

Shouto is quick to take advantage of the weak spot you’d just revealed; his grip on you tightens as his hips begin to crash against yours, mouth sucking in your lower lip to hold hostage. Your eyes can barely stay open, but you fight yourself to maintain the eye contact Shouto offers. His stare is searing; sparks flying between the two of you as he scrutinizes every hint of pleasure you render.

The intensity has you gasping for breath, suddenly feeling hot— so hot; the sleeping bag retaining all the heat your feverish session provides. Even though you’re so close, your hands land on his chest hesitantly, tapping his sticky skin. Instantly his hips still, and he begins to examine you, a concerned expression overtaking his handsome face.

“Are you alright, beautiful?” He asks, not skipping a beat. Examining the flush on your chest and cheeks, he seems to come to the correct conclusion, turning to tear the zipper down the track toward your joined hips. Cool air washes over your sweaty skin, and you sigh at the refreshing sensation licking over your skin. You whimper as Shouto leans down toward you, frosted breath swirling over your clavicles and offering you instant relief from the hot flash that previously took over your whole being. “Guess I warmed you up too good, huh?” Shouto chuckles, and you smack his chest with a weak fist. He shifts his hips forward in response and you keen as his cock shifts deeper inside of you.

Shouto allows you a moment to catch your breath, continuing to blow cool air along your throat and chest. You bask in the revitalizing sensation, whimpering lightly as Shouto keeps a subtle and gentle pace, cantering into you just enough to keep himself hard. He kisses your neck and jaw, lips chilly yet sending hot tingles zipping through your body. “S-Shouto-san,” you mewl, sprawling out into his caress like a cat.

He only smiles against your skin, lips wandering all over your chest. The cold air radiating off the icy walls of the igloo collides with your hot skin and sends shivers down your spine. “San?” He hums, icy lips trailing along your breast until his tongue pokes out to greet your nipple. Your pussy constricts around him, his ice-cold muscle twirling round the sensitive peak and slurping it into his mouth, only to pull away with a pop. “I thought we were past that, angel.”

You groan as his cock recedes from your folds, leaving you empty and eager for more. Large, hot hands guide your hips to roll over, steering you to your face the wall of the igloo on your hands and knees. With just a cavalier flick of the wrist, a shiny coating of fresh ice blankets the interior wall, creating a cloudy reflection that brings more heat to your cheeks. You can see Shouto behind you; firm, abundant muscles lining his wide frame and his hair tousled back atop his crown, those bicolored eyes regarding you with unwavering desire. Your forehead falls to brush against the plastic of the tarp as he traces the head of his cock along your slit, your hips jerking when he nudges your clit.

Your eyelids flutter open weakly when warm kisses dance across your shoulders, a shaky moan leaving from your lips as Shouto presses into your slippery cunt once more. He sighs beside your ear, and you watch as he closes his eyes, heated lips meandering up your jaw to take the tip of your ear between his teeth. “Don’t hide from me,” he whispers, sucking cold air along your skin when your pussy grips him tight in an automatic response. He nibbles at your cartilage, thrusting halfway inside as his hand collects your chin. Turning your face, he pushes his lips against yours, silencing your moan when his hips press flush against yours. The new position has your eyes rolling back, his cock massaging that sacred spot nestled deep within your core. His tongue starts to wrestle with yours in your mouth, his palm leaving your face to press flush against your pelvis, perfectly lining up two fingertips to greet your clit.

Your jaw falls open at the added stimulation, pussy winding tight around his length and pulling him deeper inside. That familiar coil is present again in your stomach, your pulse racing and perspiration gathering down your back and above your brow. Shouto’s tongue only drives further into your mouth, toying with yours. His hips begin to smack against your ass, balls slapping the fingertips that rub steady patterns on your pearl of nerves. You can feel your orgasm building, pressure heightening at a surprising speed, and you begin to whimper onto his lips, fingers curling into the tarp underneath your hands.

Shouto takes his tongue from your mouth, a silver string of saliva connecting your mouths. “Look up, beautiful,” he instructs, nodding to the wall in front of you.

Your elbows almost give out at the scene before you, and Shouto grabs your shoulder to pull you upright, thighs spread wide to showcase where his body connects with yours. Your eyes can’t decide whether to stay on his slick cock pumping in and out of your tight hole, fingers working diligently on your clit, or to linger on his face, his scorching eyes half-lidded and teeth clamped gently on your shoulder. He kisses your neck sloppily, free hand curling around you to cup your breast and pinch your nipple with cold fingers. Your back arches, ass pressing against his hips as he starts to pound into you, your cunt quivering and trying desperately to keep up with his insatiable pace.

“See how pretty you are, Y/N?” Shouto goads in between kissing and nipping the soft skin on the side of your neck. You take a glance at yourself, that embarrassed feeling leaking through your pores again when you see how fucked-out your expression is; pupils blown in lust and mouth hanging open, tongue resting on your lower lip. “Who’s making you make that pretty face?”

You can barely find your voice, pussy pulling snug around his thick length as you hurtle toward your climax. Throwing your arm backwards around his neck, your hips try to meet his rapid tempo, and your face turns to nuzzle against the smooth expanse of his cheek. “Y-You, Shouto,” you cry, his fingers on your breast pinching tighter and beginning to roll. The honorific dangles on the tip of your tongue, but you bite your lip in order to seal it away. “I’m so— so close,” you warn, but he does not slow. His hips keep their frenzied pace, and the fingers on your clit suddenly surge with a searing heat, leaking into your pussy and pushing you over the edge.

Shouto bites out a swear, his corded arm holding you upright against his torso as your slouch onto him. Your thighs tremble as you fist the hair at the nape of his neck, the other hand flying to hold onto the wrist glued to your abdomen. Euphoria rushes through your body and your pussy clutches onto his cock like a vise, a string of incoherent babbles and moans jumbled together slithering over the skin on his throat. You want to beg him to stop, to give you a second to catch your breath, but your voice is silent as he continues his ministrations on your overstimulated clit, hips never stalling. He carefully pushes your shoulder, allowing you to catch yourself on your shaking hands, parallel to the tent. With your cheek pressed against the plastic, both his hands fly to your waist, fingers turning white as he rams into you with renewed vigor.

Unaware that he’d been holding back from full force, you scream out in absolute ecstasy at his new tempo. His cock draws along your swollen walls, balls smacking your puffy clit, fast and rough. Blearily you look at the reflection in front of you, already feeling another orgasm approaching at an alarming rate just from the sight before you; Shouto’s eyes in thin slivers underneath a furrowed brow, focused on the bounce of your ass in front of him, jaw hanging open unabashedly and hot puffs of steam billowing out. A cord stands out along his neck as he strains to deliver you such pleasure, muscles taught and tense along his torso. Both of you are breathless and about to cum, perspiration rolling along your skins from the steam and heat trapped inside the igloo.

His eyes meet yours in the reflection and you give in, cunt spasming around him, your fingers grappling onto the tent in bliss, and his name falling from your ajar lips. Through your haze of euphoria you hear him swear, a loud groan bouncing off the icy walls of the structure before he pulls out, hot ropes landing along your spine, all the way up to the curve of your shoulder. Your pussy flutters as you ride out your orgasm, vacant and craving to be filled by him again. Shouto’s hands are gentle on your hips, one turning to trail his knuckles along your skin.

Shouto leans forward and gathers you against his chest, despite your protests about the sticky fluid dripping down your back. You can feel his hot cock against your spine, still slick and hard. He carefully pulls your hair to the side, tilting your head to place his lips on yours. You melt into his embrace, feeling peaceful and satisfied. His lips curl into a soft smile to mirror yours, and you deepen the kiss for a moment before pulling away.

“Warm enough?” Shouto asks after clearing his throat, that charming smile still turning up the corners of his mouth.

You chuckle at his question before you pause, your brain beginning to come back to reality. “Definitely, but… getting cold now, actually,” you realize aloud, head swiveling around as you take in the icy walls of the igloo still standing tall, sheltering your naked bodies from the storm.

Shouto lets out a quiet noise of agreement, one hand leaving your body in favor of searching through his disheveled backpack. He swiftly returns his hand to your body, a handful of unused napkins from your earlier meal in his palm. He also cups his other hand into the snow on the ground, melting it and heating it before he lets it glide down your skin, following the rivulets with the napkin. “If we were in any other situation, I hope you know I’d take much better care of you right now,” he comments, a hint of humor in his deep voice.

You smile at his statement, letting your hair fall in your face as you lean forward in order to aid him. “That’s alright, I think you’ve taken care of me enough,” you reply cheekily, moving toward the sleeping bag once he taps your ass gently, signalling he’s finished.

Shouto raises a thin brow, eyes trailing over your naked breasts as you slip your bottom into the sleeping bag. His hand runs over his sculpted chest, repeating the same procedure he’s just completed on his own skin. “What, now that I made you cum three times, you’re not shy anymore?”

Your cheeks flush at his remark, and you slither into the safety of the sleeping bag, shielded from his perceptive gaze. Your refuge does not last long, for Shouto shuffles inside the bag too, his warm skin pressing against yours. After he zips the compartment closed, he gathers you in his arms, shifting you so your head lays on top of his chest. You can hear the quick thump of his heart underneath your ear, blood rushing through his veins and sounding like a sweet, soothing melody. When he speaks, it rumbles in your ears, shivers swirling underneath your skin.

“You know, you’re pretty cute whether you’re shy or not,” he confesses. You make a squeak at his compliment, your cheeks feeling hotter than ever. Shouto only laughs, the addicting noise ringing off the walls of your haven. “Well, especially cute when you’re shy.”

Shouto wonders how you can be so timid after he’s fucked you senseless, but he doesn’t push his luck. He only grins as you smoosh your face onto his pec, a hand covering your inflamed cheek. You’re more than grateful when he changes the direction of the conversation.

“You should sleep, Y/N,” he suggests, fingers tracing along your hip. “You’ll need to be well-rested for the return down the mountain tomorrow. Most likely my agency already has reinforcements on the way here— it’s protocol— so we won’t have to pursue the villains any longer. Though I doubt they made it through the blizzard.”

You nod, eyelids already drooping with exhaustion. You hadn’t realized you were so drained, but after hiking up a mountain and trekking through a snowstorm, you suppose it’s only rational your body is so spent. Not to mention you’d just had the best fuck of your life, with probably the most handsome, dapper man you know.

Before you can submit to the alluring tendrils of slumber, Shouto smooths his warm palms along your spine, his voice soft and sweet like honey. “Are you sure you’re warm enough? Just tell me and I’ll heat you up, for real this time,” he murmurs, a quick wave of heat emanating from his palm as if to prove his offer holds legitimacy.

“No,” you sigh, never having felt this warm, and safe in your life, “This is perfect.”

Shouto holds you as you succumb to slumber, and he hopes you don’t notice how his heartbeat quickens, a flustered pink dusting his pale cheeks.

-—-—-—-—-—-

The trek down the mountain the next morning is light-hearted and much easier than the journey up. The sun high in the sky, the perfectly smooth snowbanks reflect the bright light of day, nearly blinding if you gaze at them too long. Shouto trudges through the knee-deep snow ahead of you, creating footholds for you to step into with more ease.

Without the heavy storm from the former night, it’s easier to see where the pair of you are going, and you make your way down to the sloping foothills of the mountain in good time. The expedition feels less cumbersome without the icy storm biting into your body, but also because Shouto talks with you the entire time. He touches your waist, holds your hand for a moment too long when he offers you his support, and grins at you without restraint. Your heart races at every interaction, giddiness trickling through your veins.

When the pair of you finally reach the base of the mountain, you’re greeted by the rest of your team. They’ve set up a makeshift camp a short distance from the mouth of the trail, just through a small spattering of trees.

Relief surges through you at the sight of your coworkers, your eyes widening and your foot automatically taking a step toward the group. But Shouto grabs your wrist, spinning you around and pulling your body close to his. The weather isn’t nearly as freezing at the bottom of the mountain, and the heat that rushes into your cheeks at the action is much more noticeable. His arm wraps around your waist, leading you to the side of the path slightly and blocking your figures with the trees.

“Y/N,” Shouto starts, eyes cast toward the side and a boyish blush on his cheeks. The sight of him so hesitant makes your stomach drop; you’re not accustomed to seeing the pro hero anything but confident and collected. Yet his voice is still just as deep and calm as he speaks, despite his flustered disposition. “Before we rejoin the team, I wanted to ask you something.”

You place your hand on his chest, fighting your bashful demeanor to comfort the man before you. “Shouto? What is it?” Head tilted to the side, your fingers spread and retract over his coat, smoothing over the stiff material there.

Hearing you call him by just his name makes him smile warmly, his stare flickering to your hand on his chest. “I know this is kind of backwards, but… I wanted to know if you’d like to have dinner with me,” he chokes out, shocked that the words come out sounding effortless and suave. “I want the chance to show you that last night was more than just sex to me.”

The rock-like feeling in your stomach dissipates, your frown melting into a timid smile. He wants to have dinner with you— a date! Last night meant something more to him; he wants to spend more time with you. Your heart swells in your chest and you nod eagerly. “Yes!” You nearly shout before you attempt to reign in your eagerness, “I mean— yes, I would— I would really like that, Shouto.”

The grin that splits across his face is more blinding than the snowbanks. It makes butterflies swarm your tummy and you can’t help but smile in return. He chuckles and the arm around your waist tightens, your body pressing against his. His lips graze your forehead and your breath catches in your lungs, a soft laugh falling from your lips.

Shouto holds you for a moment before he lets you go, dusting off his gloved hands on his pants. The faint pink drains from his cheeks, his usual indifferent expression sliding back onto his face. “Alright, let’s join the team, then,” he gestures for you to move back onto the path, and you take a step forward in front of him. A strangled noise of surprise catches in his throat when you press your lips to his in a quick, gentle kiss.

You pull away and examine his bright red cheeks, two-toned eyes wide and lips parted slightly, clearly unexpecting your sudden affection. You laugh at him, taking his wrist and tugging his stiff body back into the camp’s line of vision. Shouto seems to recover rather quickly, pinching your ass as you begin walking toward the camp. You’re about to swat at him, but your coworker notices the two of you approaching, and begins to run toward the pair of you. You shoot him a playful glare and he only smirks.

The team of fellow heroes pulls the two of you apart, fussing and showering you with a million questions— but you don’t really pay attention to any of them. Your eyes meet a blue and gray gaze through the commotion, and even without a raging storm to freeze your bones, your heart fills with warmth once again.

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

o my frickin god you guys i cannot believe this fic turned into such an absolute monster. 11k words— i am so mf extra. i hope it was worth it though, please lemme know if you wanna be trapped in an igloo with shou too LOL 🤪🥶🥵

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𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

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wingsofkpop · 4 years

Text

Hiraeth - I.V: Rise of the Primes

pairing(s): Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre: Supernatual!AU, Dark Magic!AU, heavy Angst, eventual Smut

warnings: Mature language, mentions of death and murder, violence, blood and gore, very brief depiction of magical torture, mentions of child abuse and other traumatic experiences, etc.

word count: 8,1k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?…

chapter directory

Mark remembers a time when he was much younger, much, much more naive, and completely oblivious to his magical roots.

And while he’s not usually one to look back into his past, nowadays, he can’t help but wonder about those clueless years where his sole care was passing dreaded calculus class and keeping his pot stash hidden from his mom. Sometimes Mark even misses those days—misses his mom.

Mark often wonders what would have happened if his mom wasn’t killed that night. He was only just beginning to learn the basics of witchcraft back then, barely able to keep his emotions in check without blasting a window to pieces. If his mom were still around, would he have done the stupid things he knew better than to do? Would he have sought for such ambitions he knew he could never achieve? Would he have been a better leader, witch, man…?

Yes. Mark knows that. He would be better.

It’s been years since Mark tried to talk to his mother, having given up trying to summon her spirit when he received a personal message from her telling him to stop—to let her go. Even so, he wishes that he can just have one minute. One short minute to see her face, to look into her eyes, and to ask her the same question that has been haunting his mind since he found her body in a pool of her own blood in their home:

‘What the fuck am I supposed to do now?’

As much as he plays the leader-card, and as much as he acts like he’s all-knowing—Mark has no clue what he’s doing. It’s as if he’s been inside a maze these past nine years, unable to find the right path that leads him to glory. Maybe if she was still here, holding his face in her wrinkled hands and speaking his name in her sweet voice, Mark would know what to do. He’d know how to get rid of the huntress and the witch without taking their lives. He’d know how to protect his people, and the rest of the town.

He’d know how to be better—to do better.

Mark shakes his mother’s face from his mind, attempting to focus on the passing scenery of the forest. He adjusts his grip on the steering wheel before reaching forward to turn his air conditioning on full blast, then adjusting his grip again.

It’s been months since he last traveled this way, yet all the sights are the same. The trees are the same trees. The shrubbery, the same shrubbery. Even the rocks haven’t changed save for a new crack or two. That thought actually spills anger through his veins. It’s as if the forest doesn’t realize something is missing—someone is missing.

‘And it’s your fault.’

Mark shakes the intrusive thought away, peering at his companion through the corner of his eye. Jinyoung, like Mark, is merely staring at their surroundings, dark eyes flitting around in every direction. Before everything happened, Mark would have never predicted that one of the Primes would be riding in his passenger’s seat with no care in the world. To be honest, he’s still having a hard time believing him and Jinyoung are on decent terms at all.

“My sisters and I used to play in these woods.” Mark is taken aback by the sudden, albeit casual comment from the vampire, nearly losing his footing on the gas pedal. He looks to the side once again, discovering Jinyoung’s gaze still fixated outside the window.

Mark clears his throat. “I… didn’t know you had siblings.”

“It was a long, long time ago.” Jinyoung shrugs, “Besides, we weren’t close anyway.”

“Why do you say that?”

His question is answered with silence, and when he turns to the passenger, Jinyoung’s expression is blank, almost cold. Mark decides not to press and focuses back on the road.

The cabin has not changed either, Mark notices as the structure comes into sight. A heaviness begins to settle within his chest as he parks in the gravel driveway, one that has his heart beating twice its normal speed and palms beginning to sweat. Trying not to dwell on it too much, Mark cuts out the engine and wipes his hands against his jeans. He’s prepared to exit the vehicle when a sudden realization enters his brain.

Mark turns to Jinyoung and sighs, “I think it might be best for you to stay in the car.”

“I was thinking the same thing.” Jinyoung agrees, granting the witch a rigid nod.

“Just don’t steal my truck, okay?”

“This piece of junk?” Jinyoung chortles, “It’s practically falling apart.”

“Don’t piss her off. She still has to get us home.” Mark finds his chest a little lighter as a result of their banter, something he would never admit aloud to the vampire. With a silent farewell, Mark shoves open his door and steps into the bright sunlight, cursing himself for forgetting his sunglasses back at the mausoleum.

The log cabin casts a drowning shadow over Mark as he makes his way toward the figure waiting on the steps that lead up to a redwood porch. Overgrown vines and moss seem to inhabit every available spot of the cabin, winding around wooden supports and spilling down each roof tile. If it hadn’t been for the catch of the sunlight, Mark wouldn’t have been able to notice one of the grimey windows on the second floor had been cracked.

“Long time no see, hyung.” Mark finds his chest tightening at the tired tone of the figure’s voice.

He paints what he hopes to be a smile across his lips and nods. “It’s nice to see you, Gyeom.”

Like the cabin, it has also been months since Mark has seen his younger friend. Yugyeom has always been a giant, towering over him and basically everyone else in town since he hit puberty, but if Mark didn’t know any better, he’d say the wolf had grown even more. His shoulders are broader, dark hair longer, hands calloused and slightly marred with the throes of hard work. He must still be working for the town’s lumber service.

Yet another something that hasn’t changed.

“How… How are things?”

Yugyeom shrugs. “You know how it is out here. Not much excitement.”

“Right.” The silence between them grows heavier and heavier with each passing second. Mark searches his brain for something to expel the awkwardness, but can’t seem to see past the guilt and suffocating self-loathing swirling through his gut.

He thanks the universe when Yugyeom breaks the quiet himself.

“I know you didn’t come just to check in, hyung.” His gut sinks at the younger’s painfully true observation. “What’s going on? And why can I smell a Prime in your passenger seat?”

“I don’t if you’ve heard, but Nayeon was killed last week.”

Yugyeom’s eyes soften. “I saw it on TV. I’m really sorry, hyung,”

“The people who killed her—a witch and supernatural huntress—they’re after the rest of the coven.” Mark ignores Yugyeom’s sympathy, fiddling with a loose thread inside the pocket of his jeans. “Jinyoung has been helping us track them down. He’s gonna help us fight but…”

“But you’re not sure if it will be enough.”

“I know I have no right to show up here and ask for your help, Gyeom.” With a gulp, Mark dares to step closer to the small staircase. Even as far as scaling the first two steps to move closer to his younger companion. Mark shakes his head, “But—I’m desperate. My people are in danger and… and I don’t want anyone else to die.”

Another moment of silence passes, save for the violent beating of Mark’s pulse. Yugyeom stares at Mark, his gaze a cross between pained and hopeful. Just when the latter feels like his lungs are going to explode, Yugyeom releases a helpless sigh and shakes his head.

“I want to help you, hyung. I really do… but I can’t risk anyone in the pack. Especially against a hunter.”

Mark’s heart drops to his stomach.

Yugyeom sends him a sad expression. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

“It’s okay. I get it.” Mark nods, taking a rather clumsy step backward off the porch steps. He manages to save himself from the embarrassment of collapsing into the gravel before offering Yugyeom a weak smile. “I… I would do the same thing. If it were my people.”

“Hyung—” Yugyeom moves to follow Mark, descending a single stair just as the front door swings open. The embers of Mark’s self-loathing grow to flames at the sight of various familiar faces crowded in the doorway, and he wishes nothing more than to cast a spell that makes him completely disappear.

“What’s going on?... Mark?” Chan emerges behind Yugyeom, his features a mixture of confusion and surprise. Another few bodies join the younger man, each set of eyes reopening a mess of old scars in Mark’s soul.

“Mark-oppa!” He barely has time to prepare when a smaller figure dashes down the staircase and collides with his body. His arms catch the figure’s waist before her form falls to the ground, supporting her weight against his own form.

He releases a heavy, yet silent breath. “Dahyun.”

“Where the hell have you been!?” Dahyun pulls from the embrace with a fierce, yet playful spark within her dark eyes. “It’s been months, Mark! Months!”

“I know… It’s just been kind of… weird lately.”

“We’ve missed you… I’ve missed you.”

He winces. “Yeah. Me too.”

“What the hell is he doing here?” Mark recognizes the familiar gritty tone, turning his eyes from Dahyun to a seething Changbin. The animosity in his glare deepens Mark’s wounds.

“Changbin. Don’t.”

“He has no fucking right to be here.” Changbin ignores Chan’s warning, narrowing his eyes to poisonous slits.

“Changbin! You asshole—”

“It’s okay. I was… just leaving.” Mark interrupts Dahyun’s scold, peeling himself away from her arm like a bloodied bandage. He spares a glance and a nod to a pained Yugyeom, “Thanks, Gyeom. I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Yeah.”

Dahyun reaches for Mark again. “But you just got here. You can’t just—”

“Dubu…” Dahyun turns at Yugyeom’s call, watching the sad shake of his head with glittering eyes. “Let him go…”

Mark’s heart practically cries out at the pure devastation written across the younger woman’s face as she helplessly drops her arms to her sides. He chooses not to linger on her expression, nor Chan’s, nor Yugyeom’s, and with a final nod of his head, makes a break back to his beat-up, rusted truck.

In mere seconds, Mark is driving away from the cabin—driving away from the pain. It’s not until the cabin is completely gone from his rear-view mirror is he able to inhale a full breath without his lungs screaming out.

“No one else is going to die.”

Jinyoung hadn’t said anything at his frantic entrance, nor that he hadn’t paused to throw on his seatbelt. In fact, Mark had almost forgotten the vampire was in the vehicle at all. He turns to find Jinyoung staring out the window, just as before. And if he hadn’t spoken again, Mark would have thought he imagined the voice himself.

Jinyoung turns, sending chills down Mark’s spine at the intensity of his gaze.

“You have my word.”

Mark can’t find it in himself to respond, stuck between unwanted memories and the nostalgia of uncured heartbreak. He instead swallows the bile at the back of his throat, carefully throws on his seatbelt, and turns up the radio.

The music does nothing to drown out the cruel thoughts raging through his mind.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

The scenery outside the car window passes by in verdant blurs, settling a slight wave of nausea in your gut. Not desiring to vomit up the Chinese you ate beforehand, you turn your attention to the young driver instead, meeting her starry-eyed gaze in the rearview mirror.

“How much longer?”

“The estate is just up this hill, miss.” The driver assures. “It should be no more than a couple minutes.”

You nod your thanks, peering out the window before remembering your sickness in the first place. With a silent sigh, you abandon the prospect of any sight at all and close your eyes, leaning into the comfort of the headrest. The slight pressure actually somewhat relieves the throb in the back of your brain. The headache that has been present ever since you stormed out on Mark and Jinyoung.

It’s been almost three days since you learned the truth about Moon Dye Bay and all its supernatural offerings. You’d think by now you’d be able to process the fact that your best friend is a witch, and the charming man that saved you from likely death is a vampire—one of the oldest vampires in existence at that. But alas, you’re still having a hard time believing any of this is possible. Even with all the evidence, and proof, and general rules of logic.

Then again, vampires and witches and werewolves and hunters and whatever other creatures aren’t exactly logical… considering they go against everything that is the basis of nature.

Anywho, neither Mark nor Jinyoung has even tried to reach out since that afternoon. In fact, Mark hasn’t returned any of your calls or texts. Though you’re not exactly surprised as both he and Jinyoung made it very clear of your position on the sidelines.

Too bad you’ve never been much of a player who likes to miss the action.

“We’ve arrived, miss.” Your eyelids snap open at the sound of the driver’s lilted voice, jaw almost dropping at the sight that awaits. You shimmy forward, greedily taking in the expanse outside the car window as the driver maneuvers the vehicle up the cobblestone-paved driveway.

If you had to use one word to describe The Project Estate, it would be massive. Completely fucking massive. With a single glance, you can only imagine how many acres of land make up the entire lot. The mansion itself is bigger than any building you’ve set foot inside, resembling that of a miniature castle without the turrets, walls and moat. You’re pretty sure it’s at least four times the size of your apartment building.

“Beautiful place, isn’t it?” The driver marvels, craning her own head over the steering wheel to take in the view. “The Project Brothers are crazy loaded to be able to afford anything like this… What do you think they do?”

Rob banks with their vampire super strength? Steal artifacts and masterpieces with their vampire super speed? Accumulate millions and millions of dollars in wealth after being alive for centuries?

You shrug. “They probably own real estate or something.”

Once the driver stops in front of what you hope to be the front door, you quickly bid her farewell with a generous tip and exit out onto the stone pathway. The purr of the engine grows fainter and fainter as the vehicle turns back the way you came in, leaving you stranded in the shadow of the towering mansion. You can only hope Jinyoung is home.

An old fashioned, golden door knocker rests on the door, fashioned into the shape of a growling lion. You ignore the goosebumps forming across the skin underneath your jacket and pick up the knocker. It’s heavy in your palm, striking the door with such powerful strikes, it must be impossible for anyone inside not to hear.

You visited the cemetery earlier, prepared to convince Mark of your resourceful and beneficial addition to whatever little team he’s gathering, but you only found an empty mausoleum, and an even emptier feeling inside your gut. So you figured you would pay Park Jinyoung a visit at his personal place of residence instead—the same residence him and his brother have resided since 1770.

Your mind races as you wait, thinking over the long speech you prepared to argue your competence and readiness. You don’t know how long it will take, but you do know that you are not leaving until Jinyoung accepts your help, or at the very least, acknowledges your newfound importance in the situation.

The killers are your roommate’s friends after all.

After what seems like minutes, but is probably only a couple seconds, the large, mahogany door swings open. Although, the face that appears in the doorway is not the one you were hoping to see.

A young woman appears behind the door, her babyish features practically exuding the forefronts of her age. She couldn’t be older than twenty, you find, at least, definitely not with a face like that. Her eyes are rather bleary when they meet your own, borderline crimson red. You wonder if she just woke up from a deep sleep after a long night of drinking…

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’m looking for Jinyoung?”

“Jinyoung is not home right now.” The woman’s voice is blank, monotone like your boss whenever he’s giving out a lecture. It deepens your concern. You’ve seen your fair share of hangovers between Jihyo and Sana’s party-animal habits, but never one that renders your body so… zombie-like.

“Do you know where he went? Or maybe when he’ll be home?”

The woman doesn’t blink. “No.”

“Okay, um…” You gnaw at your bottom lip, carefully thinking over the next plan of action. Due to the woman’s state, it’s pretty obvious you are not going to be able to get much out of her. Maybe you can try Youngjae’s cell, and eventually badger an answer out of him—

“What’s taking so long? Who’s at the door?” The woman steps aside to reveal a familiar face—one that sends gooseflesh budding across your skin.

Jaebeom’s eyes widen in surprise. “You…? What are you doing here…? ” His expression reminds you of your previous encounter outside the town hall, where he confirmed his and his brother’s vampiric nature. Beneath the surprise in his gaze, you can still make out what seems to be apprehension… almost fear.

“Is Jinyoung here? I need to talk to him.”

“He’s not here.” Jaebeom crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the doorway. “He went on some field trip with that Tuan kid. I have no clue where they went.”

“Well… do you at least know when he’ll be back?”

He narrows his eyes. “Why do you need to see my brother anyway?”

“I told you. I need to speak with him.”

“Are you sure he even wants to talk to you?”

The agitation spreading through your veins grows at Jaebeom’s obvious indifference. You swallow down the frustration before sparing a glance back toward the silent woman. She’s staring in your direction, but her eyes don’t seem to be looking at you. Instead, they seem to be looking through you.

“Is she… okay?” You ask softly, earning another wave of surprise from the Prime.

Jaebeom leans down to murmur something into the woman’s ear, before she turns on her heel and disappears back inside the house. It might have only been a trick of your mind, but hidden beneath the collar of her shirt may be a wound—a wound that looks strangely like a bite mark.

Your stomach violently turns as you’re reminded of the other night. Jaebeom was going to feed on you, possibly kill you… but he didn’t.

You murmur aloud before you can think, “Why?...”

“What?”

“Why did you stop?” Jaebeom’s face pales at your questions, indicating he knows exactly what you’re talking about. His throat visibly gulps before he uncrosses his arms and steadies himself back on his own feet.

“So you know…”

“Know you almost killed me?... Yeah. Kind of hard to forget something like that.”

Jaebeom shrugs. “You’d be surprised what people can forget under mind compulsion.”

“Mind compulsion?” Your eyebrows furrow as your head tilts in curiosity. “Don't tell me vampires can control minds?”

Jaebeom raises his eyebrows, his surrounding features contorting to a mixture of shock and amazement. His eyes shine, lingering over the planes of your face. As if you activated a switch, a sly smirk pulls across his lips. Perfectly complimenting the dangerous mischief swirling inside his dark brown irises.

“So you know what I am then…” Jaebeom chuckles. You don’t like the way his eyes seem to deviously flicker in the sunlight. “Your witch boyfriend must have you on vervain. That explains why my compulsion didn’t work.”

You ignore his mention of Mark. “Vervain? What’s that?”

“An herb. It’s poisonous to vampires.” He explains so casually. “It dulls our abilities, makes humans immune to compulsion, and burns like a fucking bitch.”

“How do you stand in the sun? Shouldn’t you erupt into flames or something?”

Jaebeom’s smirk seems to widen. “You ask a lot of questions, little dove. That can get you in trouble.”

“You won’t hurt me.”

“And what makes you think that?” In a flash, Jaebeom is standing right in front of you, his hands threateningly cradling the sides of your head. His eyes bleed pure sadism and malice as he speaks, “I could break your sweet, fragile neck right here, and no one would even know…”

Any other person would be scared to death. But you know better.

“If you wanted to kill me, you would have in the alley.” You shake your head, reaching up to grab his wrists and tug his hands from your face. Prowess spills into your chest as his gaze grows surprised once again.

You nod. “Now, since Jinyoung isn’t here and I really don’t want to pay another hundred dollars to haul my ass back to town, you’re gonna help me understand how this whole vampire thing works.”

“I’m going to… what now?”

“You heard me.” You step past Jaebeom and enter the mansion, following the same pathway the previous woman took. You’re barely able to hold back a gasp at the regal interior that greets your entrance. Swallowing your awe, you peer over your shoulder at a rather confused Im Jaebeom and hum delicately, “You don’t happen to drink coffee? Do you?”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“I finished the boundary spell, Mark-hyung. No one can get step foot into the cemetery without us knowing.” Jinyoung watches Jisung step outside of his ritual circle, crafted from salt and the burning essence of various herbs. From across the way, Mark provides the younger witch a nod of encouragement before turning to face the Choi duo.

“You stocked up on enough energy, Youngjae?”

Youngjae disentangles his hand from Lia’s grasp, his skin ceasing the magical glow Jinyoung has seen many times in siphoners long before anyone in this particular coven was born. The witch hums, “Yes, hyung. I should have plenty to last.”

“Don’t count on it.” Mark shakes his head, tossing another smoldering herb into the center of the salt boundary. “We have no idea what we’re up against. Everyone needs to keep on their toes, and stay together.”

“Have you… fought something like this before?...” It takes a whole moment of silence for Jinyoung to realize Jisung had directed the question at him. Peering at the youngest witch with his usual blank expression, Jinyoung inhales a deep breath, attempting to push away the whiplash of memories that rage through his head.

Jinyoung answers, “I have faced many hunters and witches… but never as a pair.”

“So you’ve fought dark witches?...”

The inquiry surprises Jinyoung, but for what reason—he doesn’t know.

“It is not the witches who are dark—it is the magic.” He finally sighs after a long period of silence. “Dark magic plagues the mind like a parasite, laying its eggs in the user’s morals and logicalities until it builds into an infestation, and completely takes over the witch’s sanity.”

Jisung’s face visibly pales. “Does it… kill the witch?”

“In more ways than one.” Jinyoung catches Mark’s eyes. Inside them is an emotion he knows too well—guilt.

“Don’t worry, Sung.” Lia sidles beside the youngest witch, weaving her fingers with his own to provide a comforting squeeze. “Everything’s gonna be fine… right, Mark?”

Everyone’s eyes immediately trail to the head witch, and though he doubts anyone else could see, Jinyoung notices the aura of fear and apprehension oozing from Mark’s tense body. He can only imagine how Mark feels—terrified for the lives and wellbeing of the people he calls his family… Jinyoung hasn’t felt that pain in centuries, but it’s impossible to forget.

Especially when it comes to those you love.

With eyes of pure, determined fire, Mark nods.

“We do this for Nayeon.” He gathers the witches close, reaching across to take Lia and Jisung’s joint limbs in one hand while the other goes for Youngjae. Something inside Jinyoung’s chest seizes at the heartwarming sight… A memory of both him and Jaebeom suddenly rushes into his thoughts where their hands are tightly clasped between their bodies. Where they stand as brother’s united against the world.

Where did those times go…?

“—For Nayeon!” Jinyoung returns just in time to see the group disband from their minimal embrace. Lia and Jisung head back toward the mausoleum, probably to fetch more supplies for the battle just waiting over the horizon, while the remaining two witches approach Jinyoung. Each with a sullen expression along their features.

Jinyoung clears his throat. “You’re certain they’ll attack tonight?”

“It’s a new moon. Mina’s power will be it’s strongest.” Mark says, providing Jinyoung a grim frown. “Which is why all of us need to be careful. Like I said, we have no clue what to expect.”

The corners of Jinyoung’s lips slightly turn. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were actually concerned for me.”

Mark shakes his head, completely ignoring Jinyoung’s attempt at humor before shifting his focus to Youngjae. “Anything from Minho?”

“No, hyung. But Jisung left him a message to tell him to stay far away from the cemetery tonight.”

Mark releases a heavy breath and drags a hand down his face. “That douchebag is gonna get himself killed, goddamn it…”

“They will be looking for the entire coven, not a lone witch.” Jinyoung assures, feeling the need to expel the head witch’s anxiety. “Minho will be safe. Wherever he is.”

Mark meets Jinyoung’s gaze. “I hope you’re right.”

“We should go over the plan of action again.” Abandoning the intensity of Mark’s stare, Jinyoung turns at Youngjae’s offer, discovering the siphoner to already be looking in his direction.

There’s a subtle waver in Youngjae’s tone as he asks, “You remember what you have to do?”

Jinyoung nods cooly. “Once you immobilize the witch, I go for the huntress.”

“And you’re sure you can take her by yourself?”

“I’ve encountered and destroyed dozens of supernatural hunters over the years.” Jinyoung replies to Youngjae, earning a silent, but visible eye roll from the other witch. He ignores Mark’s annoyance, nodding again at the younger siphoner. “I’m strong enough.”

Jinyoung only hopes that will be true.

“Good.” Youngjae turns to Mark. “Once Mina steps foot onto our grounds, the spell will immediately take effect… She’ll be in pain. Immense, torturous pain.”

Jinyoung notices how Mark’s shoulders shiver at the description.

He gulps. “This will work. It has to.”

“It will.” Jinyoung offers again, placing a gentle hand against Mark’s elbow. The latter grows surprised for a moment, before a weak upturn of his lips signifies his gratitude.

Jinyoung immediately pulls away from Mark as a loud shriek erupts through the graveyard. The first to wake out of the alarmed stupor is Mark, who immediately shifts on his heel and dashes for the entrance of the cemetery, where the noise had previously erupted. Youngjae runs after him, followed closely behind by Jinyoung.

“Mark-hyung! Wait, don’t—”

“There’s someone here! Get Lia and Jisung out here!” Jinyoung provides Youngjae a nod, assuring the witch to follow his leader’s demand. The siphoner makes a break for the mausoleum while Jinyoung scales the rest of the distance toward the head witch, who’s standing mere feet from the iron gate that acts as the only access point into Eclipse Cemetery—where a shadowy figure is helplessly squirming on the graveled-earth.

Jinyoung grabs Mark’s wrist before he can lunge at the figure, frantically shaking his head. “Are you trying to get yourself killed!?”

“That son of a bitch murdered my friend—” Mark hisses, wrenching his limb away from Jinyoung’s grasp and pushing his body away with a hefty shove. “You don’t want to test the reliability of my self-control right now… so I suggest you back off and do your own damn job!”

“Wait for the others, at least!” Jinyoung urges, “Be smart about this, Mark! Trust me—!”

“Don’t tell me what to fucking—”

“Mark-hyung!” Surprise mirrors itself along both Jinyoung and Mark’s features. The head witch quickly leaves Jinyoung to kneel beside the figure hidden beneath the darkness of the moonless night. Jinyoung hurries to Mark’s side, his eyes widening to saucers at the familiar features he can barely make out in the obscurity.

Mark gapes. “Minho…?”

“Wh-What is—ha!.. Hap-happening?...” Minho manages to spill through gritted teeth with much struggle. Jinyoung recognizes the writhing and twitching of his limbs, as well as the wild nature of his gaze—Youngjae wasn’t lying about the pain.

“Shit, Minho—” Mark hurriedly mutters a counter-incantation beneath his breath, pulling the younger witch to lean against his chest. Even with the spell lifted, Minho continues to spasm and moan at the phantom waves that send pain through his form.

Mark shakes his head. “What in the actual hell are you doing here!?”

“What… What the fuck are you talking about?” Minho gasps, clutching onto the sleeves of Mark’s shirt as another wave passes through his veins. “You… called me, asshole!”

“What the fu—? I never called you! Jisung told you to stay home!”

“I-I… talked to you earlier.” Minho inhales something close to a wheeze before lightly poking Mark’s chest. “You told me to… to come to the ‘maus’ at mid-midnight…”

Jinyoung feels his blood run cold, but his tone is even colder:

“They knew it was a trap…”

Mark’s eyes are wild with desperation and fright as he meets Jinyoung’s gaze. “The others—” A loud, high-pitched wail cuts off Mark’s speech. Neither him nor Jinyoung waste any time and make a mad dash for the mausoleum, Jinyoung’s heart racing in his throat. The first thing he notices is the door of the structure—wide open and practically torn off its hinges.

“Youngjae! Lia! Jisung!” Mark screams, sprinting inside the mausoleum with no hesitation. Jinyoung pauses in the doorway, watching as the head witch frantically surveys the place, only to find it completely empty save for himself. Tears are glistening in his eyes as he shakes his head, “Where the fuck are they!? Oh my fucking god—”

“If the boundary spell caught Minho, then they could have gotten in anywhere!” Jinyoung steps aside just in time for Mark to race outside again. “We need to be careful! Especially if they have—!”

“Mark-hyung!” Youngjae’s call carries through the nightly breeze, brewing even more uncontrolled fear in Jinyoung’s chest.

“Youngjae!” Jinyoung can barely keep up with Mark’s frantic pace as he tears deeper into the graveyard, skipping over headstones and rounding tall statues with the skill of a professional athlete. He somehow manages to keep up. Just in arms reach of the head witch.

“Youngjae!? Youngjae!?” Mark sobs, pausing to peer through the continuous hills of graves and monuments for the forgotten. “Jisung!? Lia!? Where are you!?”

Through the very corner of his eye, Jinyoung notices a speck of movement emerge from behind a nearby tree. Time seems to slow as he focuses closer on that tree, immediately noticing a human-like shadow holding something between stoic hands—holding a loaded crossbow pointed directly at Mark.

Using every bout of vampiric strength in his possession, Jinyoung sprints toward the head witch just as the bolt leaves the barrel of the crossbow.

“Mark! Get down!”

“Jinyoung—!?”

Jinyoung can hear nothing but screams and the ringing of his own ears as he shields Mark’s body with his own. Somewhere deep inside, as the crossbow bolt pierces his flesh, he can hear something that fills his soul with immense warmth…

It’s your voice—telling him to go to hell, as he immediately succumbs to a violent wave of darkness.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“So you’re… a werewolf and a vampire?” Jaebeom watches your eyebrows raise to the heavens over the rim of his glass, swallowing the sweeter-than-sweet liquid before licking the remnants from his lips. He can’t remember the last time he sat down and had a cup of coffee, much less drank something that wasn’t straight from the vein.

To be honest, he’d much rather be feeding from the blonde woman waiting in his bedroom. But something about being with you is too addicting to pass up… and that scares him.

You shake your head. “Isn’t that like… ironic? Considering vampires and werewolves are sworn enemies?”

An amused chuckle spills from his lips as you fumble with your own teacup, barely managing to save its matching saucer before it clatters to the floor. Your annoyed glare pulls more laughter out of him, and it takes a good portion of his self-control not to smile.

After taking another sip of his coffee, Jaebeom shrugs. “I was born a werewolf, and it carried over when Jinyoung and I became vampires.”

“How did that happen anyway?” You lean back in your seat, crossing your legs at the ankle with a tilt of your head. “I mean, did you and Jinyoung choose to become…what you are?”

“Yes and no,” He hums.

“So you chose to become monsters?”

“You consider my brother and I monsters…?”

Jaebeom doesn’t like the serious expression that pulls across your features. “I know you’ve killed a lot of people… and have done some pretty fucked up things.”

“A millennium is a long time to be alive, little dove.” Your obvious distaste at the nickname fills his chest with comedic pleasure. He smirks, “You get a little bored after a while.”

“Normal people read books when they’re bored, or find a new hobby.”

“Killing isn’t a hobby then…?”

Your response is a look of pure disgust.

Jaebeom howls in laughter before inhaling the remainder of his coffee in one gulp. He heaves a sigh, peering out the large, stained-glass window. Partly to recollect his thoughts. Partly to allow the obvious tension to dissipate between his and your forms.

Now inside his own head, Jaebeom wonders whether or not he should have said such a barbaric statement in the first place. If it were anyone else, Jaebeom would care less about protecting his image—but it’s you. And something inside him warns him to be careful around you… Very, very careful.

“Jinyoung and I were children when we found each other.” Jaebeom sighs, feeling the weight of your surprised gaze on the side of his face. “After my own caregivers abandoned me, he convinced his parents to take me in… It wasn’t until I lived inside their home did I realize how cruel they were.”

“Cruel…?”

“Jinyoung was a bastard child.” He explains, “His mother had an affair with a village merchant. After his father found out, he murdered his wife’s lover and made Jinyoung’s life a living hell.”

Jaebeom rises from his armchair and grabs his empty cup before heading for the liquor tray in front of the same window he was previously staring out. While pouring himself a drink, Jaebeom makes sure to raise his voice so you can still hear:

“For years, I watched that asshole beat the shit out of Jinyoung while his mother and sisters sat back and didn’t do a goddamn thing.” He downs the brandy in one sweet gulp before selecting a stronger bottle of scotch. Not bothering with his cup, Jaebeom unscrews the cap and takes a long, drawn-out swig from the container. Fire erupts through his belly, sending the beginning of a pleasurable buzz through his veins.

“One day I got fed up with it all, and when the fucker tried to lash Jinyoung for refusing to shoot a fawn, I took that belt right out of his hands, wrapped it around his neck, and squeezed and squeezed until the light left his eyes…”

Through the corner of his eye, Jaebeom notices how your body grows tense at his confession.

He whirls around to meet your gaze, pushing away the pestering emotions without so much as a blink before continuing, “We were banished by his family and the other villagers, but we didn’t care—we had each other, and we needed no one else.

“We encountered a witch one day, as we were walking through the forest.” Jaebeom says after another sip, “She told us she could give us a gift like no other: Eternal life. We only had to take part in a ritual, and death would never come for us.”

You shake your head. “Why? Why would you want to live forever?”

“If you were given the chance to be invincible against everything, even time, wouldn’t a small part of you be somewhat interested?”

He allows you a moment to ponder his question. After maybe a minute or so, you release a silent huff and gesture for him to continue.

“The witch tricked us though, and in trade for immortality, we were forced to sacrifice our humanity.”

Your eyes widen. “So you didn’t… choose to become vampires?”

“No.” Jaebeom sets down his bottle with one hand while carding his fingers through his hair with the other. “Anyway, Jinyoung and I spent decades learning how to manage our newfound abilities, and even longer on how to handle the lifestyle.”

“If you and Jinyoung were the first—the Prime Two—did you create more vampires?”

He chuckles with a sigh, “Yes. Though it was by accident how we found out.

“Fledgling vampires branched off from our bloodline are different. They’re not as fast, nor as strong, nor as powerful as us.” Jaebeom explains, “Jinyoung and I can compel humans and other vampires, but vampires can only compel humans.”

“Are fledglings immortal too?”

“To some extent.” Crossing back across the room, Jaebeom lowers into the armchair beside your own. Now close enough to see the curious spark of wonder in your irises. “It is possible for a fledgling to live forever, but unlike Jinyoung and I, fledglings can be killed with a wooden stake through the heart.”

“Nice to know that much is true.” Jaebeom relishes the borderline amused chuckle that leaves your lips, playing the odd elation off as the effects of the alcohol. “Is it also true that a bite from a vampire turns you into a vampire?”

He snorts, “Let me guess… Got that from Twilight?

“Just answer the question.”

“The only way to become a vampire is if you die with vampire blood in your system.” He hums, “After you die, you’ll wake up in transition, and will need to drink human blood to complete the transformation.”

“And if you choose not to complete it?”

“Then you die for real.”

You shift at his answer, finding interest in the chipped edge of your cup. Jaebeom wonders whether he should change the topic of interest, but before he can think up some possible options, you steer the conversation yourself:

“You never told me why.”

His eyebrows raise in confusion. “What?”

“Why you left me in that alleyway.”

For the first time, Jaebeom feels vulnerable underneath the scrutiny of your eyes. He fidgets uncomfortably, and like you, searches the room for another object to hold his attention. However, whether it’s because of the whiskey, or something else, his gaze returns to and remains rooted on your own.

What is it about you? The thought spirals through his thoughts like a 2-seater plane with broken wings. Maybe he should have listened to Jinyoung, and stayed away from you in the first place. Because whatever game you’re playing, whatever spell you have him under… it’s messing with his head.

And he doesn’t like to be fucked around with.

Finally, after what seems like hours, Jaebeom shakes his head. “I don’t kn—”

A sudden crash emerges from the foyer, effectively interrupting his explanation. Jaebeom leaps from his seat and speeds in front of where you’re sitting, shielding your form from the entryway where the noise sounded. His protective stance vanishes, however, at the figure that appears in the doorway.

Jaebeom tsks. “Oh. Look who finally decided to show up.”

“Jinyoung…?” Jaebeom steps aside to allow you to step forward, rolling his eyes in annoyance. He moves to fetch himself another drink when your exclaim stops him, “Holy shit! What the hell happened to you!?”

Upon taking care to really look at his brother, Jaebeom understands the reason for your concern. Jinyoung’s usual clean-cut and formal appearance is nonexistent. From head to toe, he’s covered in dirt, and his dark hair is far past disheveled. His clothes are badly torn and wrinkled, and practically soaked in fresh blood. Jaebeom quickly realizes the blood does belong to Jinyoung, noticing the large, thick bolt protruding from his chest.

Jinyoung winces, “It’s a long story… but if you don’t mind, I’d like to sit down first.”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

The gleam of the awakening sun rising over the horizon sears Yugyeom’s eyes, but he keeps his gaze fixated on the entryway of the cemetery. No matter how much the newfound sunlight burns his eyes, he continues to watch the shadows of the night disperse in fear of the approaching morning. He knows pain all too well.

“Gyeom?”

Yugyeom greets Chan silently, with a curt nod. His stare remains frozen on the gate.

Chan sidles up beside him until they are shoulder to shoulder. His own gaze glances at Yugyeom’s point of interest for a moment before he turns to look at his companion in the early morning glow. Through his peripheral vision, Yugyeom can spot Chan’s grim expression.

“How’s the coven?” Yugyeom asks after a long bout of silence.

Chan shrugs, “Minho, Jisung and Lia were all sleeping when I left. And Youngjae, he’s…” When his voice trails off, Yugyeom doesn’t urge Chan to finish his sentence. He knows exactly how Youngjae is right now.

Terrified.

“What should we do with the body?”

Yugyeom barely blinks. “Probably best to burn it. Can’t leave anything up to chance.”

Chan hums in agreement, seemingly ready to return to the mausoleum, but to Yugyeom’s surprise, Chan remains in place. Another long, tense round of silence carries between them, filling Yugyeom’s head with even more heart wrenching memories. After another mind-spiralling hurricane or two, Chan breaks the silence again:

“We made the right decision. If we got here any later, that huntress would have killed everyone.”

Yugyeom shakes his head, “The huntress was working with a witch, and we only found the one… We should have gotten here sooner.”

“Youngjae thinks the huntress was working alone tonight.” Chan says, lifting his palm to shield his eyes from the blinding sunrise. “There were no traces of unfamiliar magic… nor did we catch anyone else’s scent in the cemetery.”

“Then where is the witch?” Yugyeom moves his attention away from the graveyard entrance, and with aching eyes, turns to meet his Alpha’s downcast gaze, “And more importantly, where the hell is Mark-hyung…?”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

You hold back a wince as Jaebeom literally tears the bolt from Jinyoung’s chest, earning a pained grunt from said victim. Dark blood splatters from the now open wound, painting across Jaebeom’s skin and adding even more stains to Jinyoung’s unsalvageable shirt. Disgust fills your gut as Jaebeom offers Jinyoung what seems to be a glass of blood—probably from that blonde woman you encountered at the door.

Jinyoung shakes his head and pushes the drink away. “No. I’m alright.”

“You would have healed by now if you were.” Jaebeom tries again, “Just take a sip.”

“No.”

“Suit yourself.” Your eyes widen in both surprise and revulsion, watching Jaebeom knock back the glass and down the blood in one large gulp. Fighting back a wave of nausea, you carefully approach the wounded vampire, holding forth a clean towel.

Jinyoung takes the garment and sends a grateful smile in return. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

You nod, “Sure.”

Jinyoung presses the bunched fabric to his gaping wound, hissing through gritted teeth at the sudden pressure. You wonder whether or not you should grab the emergency Tylenol from your bag… Does pain medication even work on vampires? Aren’t they technically dead?

“We were ambushed at the cemetery.” Jinyoung explains, pulling you from your foolish thoughts. “After the huntress shot me, I must have hit my head and knocked myself out.”

“Sounds like a pretty unfortunate story.”

Jinyoung chuckles at your joke before continuing, “When I came to, the wolf pack had killed her and Mark was gone.”

Panic immediately spreads through your veins like flames to dry wood. “Mark? What do you mean he’s gone?”

“I’m not sure. We searched the entire graveyard, but there was no sign of him.”

You open your mouth to inquire further, but Jaebeom’s loud exhale cuts you off. Both you and Jinyoung turn to peer at the hybrid, finding him staring out the large window while drumming his fingertips against the red- and blue-stained glass. After a quiet moment filled with the rhythm of his fingers and Jinyoung’s marred breathing, Jaebeom peers over his shoulder—his eyes glaring daggers straight at his brother.

Jinyoung shakes his head. “Hyung—”

“I told you not to get involved with Tuan.” The dark, bitter tone that leaves Jaebeom’s lips sends a harsh shiver down your spine, more so since the comment included mention of your best friend.

“And I told you I’m taking care of it.”

“Can you not just do what you’re fucking told just once? Just one goddamn time—?”

To both your and Jaebeom’s surprise, Jinyoung suddenly leans forward in his seat and retches violently. You rush forward, splaying your hands across his back while asking about his condition. Your response is another retching noise, and in just the nick of time, you manage to step out of the way before Jinyoung vomits red across the carpet.

“Fucking god, Jinyoung! What the hell is wrong with him!?” You call out to Jaebeom, squeezing Jinyoung’s shoulders as he heaves again. After another gag or two, you help Jinyoung to lean back into the armchair, wiping the bloody remnants from his lip with a towelette. Your knuckles brush the arch of his cheekbone—his skin is hot to the touch.

“He’s burning up! What do we do!?”

“It’s… werewolf venom.” Jinyoung gasps, weakly pulling your wrist away from his face.

You shake your head, “W-Werewolf venom?”

“A werewolf’s bite is deadly to vampires.” Jaebeom explains, barely batting an eyelash as Jinyoung lurches forward with another gag.

“But he wasn’t bitten? How the hell—?”

“The crossbow bolts must have been poisoned.” Your anxiety skyrockets, worriedly staring as Jinyoung begins to choke on his own blood. Jaebeom glances outside the window again, murmuring, “He won’t die… The effects will pass in a day or so.”

“But can’t you heal him!?” You jump to your feet, narrowly avoiding a puddle of dark blood before dashing over to Jaebeom. Your fingers desperately latch onto the lapels of his leather jackets, tugging him down to meet your eyes. “You’re a hybrid, so your blood should technically flush the venom out of his system? Right?”

Jaebeom’s lips twitch. “You’re smart, little dove. I’ll give you that.”

“So you’ll heal him?”

You wait in utter agony as the hybrid considers your request, staring blankly at the features of your face. You can only imagine how much you resemble a crazed, mad woman, but you can care less. Right now, your sole focus is on Jinyoung and ending whatever horrible fate awaits. Jaebeom wouldn’t let his best friend—the man he calls his brother—suffer in absolute anguish…

Not when he killed Jinyoung’s own father to protect him.

After a miserable moment of silence, Jaebeom releases a heavy exhale through his nose before meeting your gaze. The bubble of hope expands inside your chest when the hybrid offers a weak smile, lifting a hand to brush a stray hair from your forehead. You shiver as that same hand lightly grasps your chin, guiding your face closer until you can taste the alcohol on Jaebeom’s breath.

All in a matter of seconds, that bubble of hope pops at Jaebeom’s curt answer:

“No.”

You watch in horror as Jaebeom releases your chin, turns on his heel, and leaves you by your lonesome with a wounded Jinyoung, and even more wounded soul.

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intelligentdumbass · 4 years

Text

Two Bros

Sometimes the messenger couldn’t help but think back to the moment they first met. Sometimes he wondered if his brother did too.

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

It was a bright and sunny day, and he was a mischievous little piece of shit.

Apollo glared at the young boy and yet, despite the fact that he had just threatened to throw the bastard into Tartarus, his expression slowly softened.

Hermes grinned. “I’m willing to trade this lyre for the cows!”

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

‘Things were so much simpler, back then’ the god thought, as he sighed, laying down on an open field and gazing up into the night sky. Speaking of Apollo…

A head suddenly popped into view, accompanied by a familiar melodious voice.

“What’re you doing here?”

Hermes blinked. “I-” “I’m on a break; somehow sleep wasn’t cooperating with me tonight, so here I am. Hey, if anything, I should be the one asking you that!”

“Ah well, sorry if I startled you then. I was just passing by.”

“Since when did you like to walk around in the dark in some random ass field??”

“Bored.”

“...you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” His brother seemed confused by that remark and just smiled.

The messenger internally cursed. Now the moon wasn’t the only thing his eyes were focusing on.

‘Things were so simple, back then.’

‘How did this happen and how the fuck did I get here??’

Perhaps Perseus had softened him up more than he thought he did.

He was glad to finally see him again, though. Contrary to what he was used to, he could barely even recall the last time he had ran into him. How long had it been, a month? Two months? Three?

Hermes sat up and asked, “You’re really free tonight?”

“Well, I did just say that I’m bored, didn’t I? What about it?”

“So am I.” He looked quite determined all of a sudden. “You wanna hang out? It’s been a while.”

“I guess it has been a while.” Apollo thought for a moment. “What do you have in mind?”

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

“Uh, Hermes, where are we going?”

“Wherever the fates will take us!”

“So, basically what I was doing before I bumped into you, walking around until I find something interesting.”

“Well then mister-know-it-all, can you think of something better? Hmmmm?”

The god held in a laugh. “No.” He glanced around, the grass crunching under their steps. “I suppose, with your company, this is sort of… nice; kind of relaxing actually.”

“Heh, of course it is!” The messenger just hoped that the moon wasn’t too bright. “Being around me is the best!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Debatable.”

Hermes pouted, at which Apollo could no longer contain his laughter, not that the younger god cared. If anything, instead of taking offense, it only made him smile.

Then he sighed.

He was a patron of thieves and deceit; his brother was the god who never lied. He had always thought that they would never get along, but it seems that the fates thought otherwise.

He still remembered how it used to be. Back then, his brother would look like he was judging him every time he walked into the room. However, unbeknownst to him, that wasn’t true at all, but that interpretation was through no fault of his. Apollo had always been hard to read, especially back in the early days when he barely knew him.

He’s not sure when, but at some point that judging look was suddenly accompanied by a dazzling smile. The first time it happened though, he recalled that it had been slowly replaced by a small frown.

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

“Is everything alright, Hermes?” The blonde raised an eyebrow.

He merely blinked, laughing it off. “Of course! Just got a little distracted for a second there.”

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

Ironically, similar to how it was in that memory, Apollo had to snap him back into reality again; this time by having to grab a hold of his arm to prevent him from mindlessly walking off a cliff.

Needless to say, it took a while for Hermes to convince a concerned god of health that everything was okay.

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

He could never truly figure out when the predicament first took root; when this feeling really started to grow and gnaw on him. All he knew was that it was probably indirectly influenced by that incident with Perseus and just, everything about Apollo in general. Then again, what the hell did he know? Even Athena realized he was head over heels for him earlier than he did.

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

“Hermes,” She whispered. “You’re staring.”

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

He shook the thoughts out of his head and tried to regain his bearings. They were sitting on the edge of a cliff overlooking a nearby town. Not only that, there was also music in the air, and his eyes darted to the turtle lyre in the musician’s hands.

This time Apollo noticed. “Did you prefer the silence?”

“Nonono, not at all.” He paused. “By the way, how’s Asclepius?”

“He’s doing fine, now that he’s well adjusted. I’m just glad he’s back.”

Hermes could’ve sworn something about his brother’s gaze felt mildly… bittersweet, somehow.

And so for a few moments, that was all it was, the hum of their lyre. They had no other company aside from a curious deer, a few feet away, munching on a patch of grass.

Then his eyes fell onto the city, specifically one of the blonde’s temples, and an idea popped into his head, but not before briefly arguing with himself.

‘Ooooohhhh, are you going to perform another song number to cheer him up?-’

‘Hey! I thought we agreed to never talk about that ever again!’

‘I mean, it technically wasn’t your voice that ruined it. Remember? Goldie actually quite liked it. You were just a clumsy dumbass that tripped and knocked everything over.’

‘Shush!’

Well, at least the remark about his singing made him feel a little better. This new plan to cheer Apollo up, however, had nothing to do with that and would hopefully be a lot less risky.

“You hungry?” Hermes asked. “I could kinda go for some honey cake right now.”

“Honey cake… I do like me some honey cake and I guess there is nothing that’s going to stop me from just, making one right now.” He paused, before turning towards his brother. “You want to help?”

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

Olympus’ garden was huge; its depths filled with paths most don’t even know of. It was here that the two gods sat down on top of a small hill, right in front of a giant crevice that overlooked all of their creations.

Apollo was the one holding the plate that held their precious honey cake. “We really like coming here, huh?”

“Who wouldn’t? The view’s spectacular.” While his brother was busy staring off into the horizon, Hermes took the opportunity to take a small bite out of their dessert. “Damn, the cake tastes really good by the way.”

Apollo was about to protest about the bastard sneakily taking the first bite, when Hermes softly pressing a tiny piece of cake against his mouth.

“Come on goldie, try it!”

He gave him a look, but still ate it anyway. “Mm… I guess so, not bad. Actually, kinda proud of it!” His eyes faintly lit up.

Hermes couldn’t help but smile at that. “We should do this more often-”

To his surprise, this time Apollo was the one that help up a piece of the dessert for him. “We really should.”

The messenger reluctantly obliged and took a bite, but suddenly froze. The blonde was holding his chin and had used his thumb to brush away most of the crumbs near his lips. Now he felt a little dizzy.

“Maybe I should ask the others for some recipes-” Apollo stopped, immediately getting worried when Hermes had his hands over his own mouth and started choking.

-------

“Hey, hey, hey Herms?-”

“Y-” “Yeah, yeah I can hear you, I’m fine-”

“Fine my ass!”

“I mean, well that’s not wrong either-” “Oh my fucking gods I HATE MYSELF SO MUCH-” Hermes just covered his mouth again while Apollo frowned in confusion, but decided that there were other far more pressing matters to attend to and continued analyzing his brother’s condition; even placing two fingers on his neck to check for this idiot’s pulse.

“What the hell happened?! You looked like you had a fucking heart attack.”

“I… I think you’re over thinking this. It was probably just me being a dumbass.” He laughed nervously.

Apollo didn’t seem very convinced.

Hermes internally cursed himself again; placing his hands on both of the blonde’s shoulders. “So I choked on a cake, so what? Look, seriously I’m fine, okay? Come on, relax.”

“If you say so…” It was obvious that it barely comforted him at all. Still, Apollo felt bad when he frowned. He didn’t want the messenger to start blaming himself and feeling guilty about ruining the mood. “I’m sorry. I was just really worried.” He briefly paused, before muttering, “I love you. Even if we’re gods, the last thing I want is to see you suffering or incapacitated-”

“It was just a fucking honey cake-” “wait.” Hermes stared, suddenly feeling like he could barely breathe; only managing to just barely stutter out, “W-” “What did you just say?”

The musician looked puzzled. “Hm? Did I say something I shouldn’t have?”

“Huh? Nononono! I just-” The thought of making Apollo feel even worse made his insides knot; panicked, he just blurted out, “I-” “ILOVEYOUTOO!”

Apollo didn’t expect that response at all. He barely had any time to process anything when Hermes stood up, about to scram, but a stray grapevine made him trip at the first step.

The messenger heard someone giggle. One second he was face first onto the ground; the next he was suddenly looking up at a familiar blonde, cradled in his arms.

“I had a feeling you were hiding something from me…” Apollo’s frown turned into a teasing grin.

“Pft! What in Zeus’ name are you talking a-” “about…” His voice slowly trailed off the moment he felt a hand cup his cheek.

Apollo just, laughed. “My, my, who knew the charismatic silver tongue bastard could be as red as-”

“Oh fuck you!”

The god raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Hermes paused, and then cursed, now avoiding eye contact.

“You alright? For someone who knows the mortal realm like the back of his hand you look… kinda lost?”

He was reluctant to even respond this time. “No shit; this isn’t something I’m experienced in.”

“Experience in what? Navigating the road to my bed?”

At that point his brain might’ve just malfunctioned, while the other chuckled; his smile only getting wider.

“Okay sorry, sorry. I couldn’t help it-” He stopped.

His arms were empty.

-------

Fortunately, in the process of trying to run away, Hermes somehow ended up back at the hill. He was hesitant, but curious, and the moment he took a closer look he immediately felt his heart drop. Apollo didn’t really look upset but rather… unexpressive?

Apollo hadn’t run after him because he figured that the messenger needed some time to breathe, so you can imagine his surprise when he found himself suddenly wrapped up in a hug, accompanied by a shit ton of apologies.

“I… Herms, it’s okay.” He laughed, giving him a few pats on the back. “I’ll be fine; now you’re the one over thinking things.”

The god was suspicious, but didn’t pry any further, at least for now. Instead, he just hugged a little tighter. “Still, sorry for being an absolute fucking disaster.”

“No need. Hey, on the bright side it was kinda cute-” The musician felt a faint punch on his side, causing him to laugh even more.

“Anyway…” Hermes sighed, pulling away. “What happened to the honey cake?”

“It’s over here.” Apollo picked up the plate that he had set aside, and broke off a small piece of the dessert. “You still want some?”

The messenger stared at it for a bit, and then parted his lips.

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

Instead of waking up to the walls of his room, his eyes were greeted by familiar tuffs of gold. Hermes immediately sat up and tried to get his bearings. It was then that it hit him.

They haven’t left at all; they both fell asleep in the garden.

That wasn’t the only thing he noticed. Looking around, there weren’t just tiny drops of morning dew on the grass, but several puddles scattered all over.

‘Huh? Did it rain?’

He glanced at the blonde. Neither of them had a single speck of water on them.

‘Guess he’s just that hot, huh?’ He softly snickered at his own pun.

He knew he probably had a few jobs to do, but instead of standing up, he just laid back down, wrapping an arm around the musician’s waist and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

Unbeknownst to Hermes, Apollo smiled, and that wasn’t the only detail he missed. The vine that had made him trip was gone, like it never existed, but what did it matter? All the messenger cared about was going back to sleep.

#hermes #apollo #hermapollo #writing disaster hermes is FUN #greek gods #greek mythology #not as serious #mostly just having fun #when i wrote this #MyWritingShit #two bros #sitting on a hilltop #0 feet apart cause they’re so gay-

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marvel-redemption-omega · 4 years

Text

Of Outlaws and Family

Chapter Five: Rodeo Queen, Awakened

A/N: This is nothing but a random mission I decided might be fun; a way Scarlet can show Dutch that she can help bring in money, even if it seems silly to him. Just some general fluff and good times with Scarlet, her son, James, and some great fluff between Scarlet and Arthur! Buckle up cause it’s a loooooooong chapter! There’s lots of stuff goin on in this one.

Warnings: Cursing, typical gang violence, mentions of drinking, sexual references/innuendos, general dangers of rodeos (bull riding, bronco riding, etc), mentions of pick-pocketing, betting, mentions of bush whacking

Start here: https://marvel-redemption-omega.tumblr.com/post/620167374619951104/of-outlaws-and-family-chapter-one-new-beginnings

Last Chapter: https://marvel-redemption-omega.tumblr.com/post/620331349279145984/of-outlaws-and-family

Please enjoy! Hearts and repubs are appreciated!

My work is not to be posted elsewhere; I will post it to my AO3 and dA if I so choose.

Word Count: 14, 837

“Dutch!” Scarlet jumps off Shamrock and runs into camp with a piece of paper in her hand. Dutch steps out of his tent, cigar in hand as he raises a brow at her. “Dutch, oh, Dutch! You gotta see this!” She slows as she nearly runs into him, his free hand on her shoulder to steady her. He nods to the paper.

“What’s got you so excited? Find a treasure map?”

“What? Nah, something even better!” She shakes her head at his silly question. “No. Rhodes is hosting a rodeo!” She squeals, opening the folded paper, revealing a flyer for a rodeo.

“Darlin’, not to be a downer, but I just ain’t seeing why you think going to this is a good idea. Hosea and I are wanted men, we can’t just drop everything we’re working on to play rancher in front of people,” he scans the paper, taking it from her. Her happy demeanor deflates a bit before she’s smiling again.

“I get that. Look, I’m not sayin that ya gotta come out and be there, but there’s loads of opportunity for money! There’s cash prizes for fastest horse in a few categories, then there’s prizes for perfect scores, and even longest rides. At least for the bronco and bull ridin events it’s the longest time,” she quickly explains, trying to reason with the stubborn leader. He wipes a hand over his mustache, glancing between Scarlet’s puppy pleading green eyes and the flyer in his hand. He sighs.

“Stop with that kicked puppy look,” he reads over the flyer again.

“Dutch,” she calls, waiting for him to look back at her. When he does she smiles, “I know I can win several of the listed events. I’ve been ridin nearly my whole life. Bulls ain’t so different from broncs, just a bit wider and not as tall. I promise it’s worth it. Just let me go and enter an send your best pick pockets with me. There’s always loads of people at rodeos. Loads of rich, stupid, drunk people,” she persuades, watching his body language for signs of defeat. When he relaxes his shoulders she knows she’s won.

“Talk to the guys and see if anyone would be interested in any of the other events,” Dutch orders, holding up the flyer. “Mind if I have this to look over?”

“No, no, not at all! Take it, Dutch. I’m gonna go ask them now. Oh. Is, uhh, is Arthur here?” She asks, the excitement now drained from her voice. Dutch’s lips quirk a bit, knowing they were sweet on each other, even if they hadn’t noticed it themselves yet.

“No, Pearson asked if he could go hunting. We’re getting low on food,” he answers with a smile, pointing towards the back of the camp.

Scarlet takes his leave as dismissal and heads over to the cliff, looking into the valley below. Sure enough, Arthur’s got his bow out, creeping up on a small herd of deer. She scoffs as he draws the string back and lets it go. He quickly notches another arrow and manages to drop two deer back to back. “Show off,” she mutters to herself.

Scarlet’s in the middle of switching saddles and horses when James runs up to her, arms wrapping tight around her legs. “Mama! Can I go to the rodeo with you too? Please? I wanna see you ride the horses and a bull!” He begs, green eyes bright and pleading. She rubs his head, playing with his hair.

“Who told you bout that?” She asks, looking down at him. He grins and lets go of her to pet Fancy.

“Uncle John and Uncle Javier were talkin about goin an they mentioned you was,” he innocently replies, hugging the mare’s neck. Scarlet crosses her arms and rests her weight on her right foot, chewing her bottom lip.

“Maybe. It depends on who is going to be there, Sweetheart,” she finally answers, leaning over to ruffle his hair. He yelps in surprise and swats at his mother’s hands, running away from her. She laughs and finishes putting Fancy’s old saddle on her; leather worn and tattered from years of wear and rough riding. Fancy, knowing which saddle she was now wearing, tosses her head and paws the ground anxiously. “Easy girl, we’re headin out later,” she settles the old mare. James runs back up to her, Arthur following behind him. The cowboy gives Scarlet a curious look as he approaches, looking at Fancy’s saddle change.

“What’s with the get up? You running away already?” He jokes, gesturing to Fancy.

“Hah, as if. You an ol’ Dutch ain’t gonna just let me up an go,” she snorts at him. He wants to say something against her, but he knows she’s right. “Anyway, there’s a rodeo bein held in Rhodes. I figure since it’s in a few days, I’ll just head that way now an get a room, just stay at the hotel there so I’m not ridin any of the horses the day of,” she explains and walks with them back into camp. James runs off to Abigail and John’s tent, asking for Jack. Scarlet smiles at that, happy he has someone to play with, even if Jack is four years younger.

“M’kay, ya got us there. What’s a rodeo though?” He asks as she sits down at one of the tables, pulling a can of peaches from her bag. She slices the top and pries it up, stabbing a peach slice before answering.

“It’s a big event where people, usually cowboys and ranchers, gather to show their skills. There’s steer ropin, team ropin, bronc bustin, bull ridin, an a lot of other different activities. My Ma used to take Fancy to the barrel races. We ain’t had a horse beat her record yet. Least, not that I’ve heard. But she’s gettin old an I know Shamrock is a lot faster than she is, he’s just not as skilled. Where Fancy is elegant, Shamrock is clumsy. He takes his turns too wide. But he’s still faster than her time, even bein as such,” she explains, eating the peach from her knife. Arthur tenses a moment, fearful she’ll cut herself. She hums and offers him a slice, which he refuses.

“So what events are you going to be in, Miss O’Hara?” He inquires, watching her carefully so she doesn’t cut herself.

“Probably my usual; bronc bustin, bull ridin, barrels, an pole bendin,” She states matter-of-factly. Arthur hums out a positive affirmation. “Broncs have two categories, saddles an bareback. Saddled is easier because, well, you’re in a saddle. Bareback is obviously harder, like if you’re breaking a horse out in the country, no lead or nothing. They give you a riggin to hold on to, but that’s it. It’s basically a heavy rein. That’s all you get. The goal is to stay on for minimum of eight seconds; for broncs an bulls, but if you can go longer, the better your score an points.”

“So it’s a gatherin for stupid people, who pretend to be cowboys an ranchers, to watch other stupid people pretend to be cowboys an ranchers?” Arthur summarizes, smiling at her.

“Well now, I didn’t know you thought I was stupid, Morgan. Here I thought we made a pretty decent team!” She feigns hurt, stabbing another peach from the can. She maintains eyes contact as she bites the fruit from her knife, letting out a soft moan at the sweet taste. Arthur’s skin flushes a light pink and he coughs to clear his throat.

“I’d never! Weren’t talkin bout you, Darlin’. But that’s just how it sounds for the majority. I’ve seen you work, you’re the real deal,” he chuckles as she nods at his praise; she leans the open can towards him, holding her knife by the blade in offering. He rolls his eyes but takes both, eating a few slices before passing them back to her.

“Well in that case, will you ride with me? I don’t know if I wanna bring James but if you’ll be there I’ll feel better ‘bout him taggin along,” she admits, playing with her knife before taking out a green handkerchief to clean it. He studies her a moment, weighing his options.

“What’s Dutch think of you runnin off to do this?”

“Dutch? Aha, I swayed him. There’s good money in it if you win events. Ample opportunity to pick pocket old, rich, drunk bastards too,” she shrugs and tips the can to drink the juice. “So, Arthur, will you ride with me?”

“When you plan on leavin?”

“Probably this afternoon. I gotta go get Shasta. He’s good at the pole bendin. If you’re decent, we can sign up for the team ropin! We both ride our horse in the pen they have set up and have to rope a steer. One of us ropes the horns and the other it’s back legs, then we face each other and back our horses up so the ropes are nice and tight and it can’t get away,” she explains, slipping her knife back in its holster.

“You got me. I’ll go. Not sure if you want me in the competition, but I’ll ride wit’chu,” he agrees and nods. “Besides, I wanna see what this bronc bustin is. Seems like you’re real excited for it.”

“Oh I am, Cowboy. Bronco bustin is a favorite of mine. The wild, young stallions with too much spirit are my favorites,” she winks at him, getting up from the table. “You’ll need a new saddle if you do plan to enter any events,” she calls over her shoulder as she heads for her wagon to finish getting ready.

Dutch helps Scarlet onto her wagon, handing her back the flyer. She watches him silently, studying his expression. He looks up at her, taking hold of her hand.

“You do well to keep my boys in line, ya hear? Don’t let them go makin fools of themselves out there,” he prompts her, watching as she laughs.

“Keep’em in check and show’em how a real hustler works their magic, aye. I’ll do my best, but remember I’m actually in most the events. I wouldn’t worry too much though, I’ve got Arthur and that Silver Fox of yours, Hosea. I think with those two I can handle the rest. The girls shouldn’t be an issue, but I’ll keep an eye on them,” she squeezes his hand reassuringly as they lock eyes. “You have my word, Dutch.”

“Alright. You do well then too. Keep me updated on how things go. We’ll be waiting for your return,” he gives his approval as he lets her go.

Everyone ready?” She turns to the group in the back. Her eyes roam over the small group: John, Abigail, Jack, James, Javier, Tilly, Sean, and Mary-Beth.

“I think so, everyone’s here,” Abigail sends Scarlet a smile, arms secure over both boys’ shoulders. “They’re settled in for the ride.” The others nod their confirmation and Scarlet turns back to Dutch, tipping her hat to him.

“We ready?” Arthur joins her in the front of the wagon, taking the reins.

“Yeah, Daddy Dutch just gave us his blessing,” she winks teasingly at Dutch who crosses his arms.

“Very funny, Miss O’Hara,” Dutch calls as he steps back from the wagon, scoffing at her audacity. Molly gets up from his cot, moving to stand by him just outside his tent.

“You know you love me,” she hums, scooting closer to Arthur on the bench as she removes her revolver from her belt and sets it between their feet on the footrest.

“You be safe, Miss O’Hara,” Molly waves as Arthur cracks the reins. Shasta and Shamrock toss their heads and pull the wagon around the camp, weaving around the other tents and set up.

“Always, Miss O’Shea!” Scarlet hollers back, throwing a hand up in a wave as they head into the trees. She whistles and Fancy and the blood bay follow them from the hitching posts, both saddled up and ready to ride. Arthur slows them as they pass Sadie and Charles, Sadie turning over guard duty.

“Where y’all off too?” She pets Fancy who nickers at her, prancing in place.

“Rodeo is Rhodes. Ever been to one?” Scarlet leans over the side, one hand on Arthur’s leg to keep her tethered to the wagon.

“Acourse I’ve been to a rodeo. Need another rider for anythin?” Sadie asks, shouldering her rifle.

“You any good at Steer Ropin? Javier could use a good partner. I’m not bad but I’m not great either,” the red head admits. Sadie’s eyes light up as she nods.

“Yeah, I reckon I’m as decent as any man,” she claims, brushing the mustang’s mane with her hands.

“Run tell Dutch you’re coming with and hop on the blood bay there,” she invites the blonde, leaning back into the seat. The others whistle for their horses while they wait for Sadie.

The ride to Rhodes is a long one, even with a wagon. Scarlet enlightens everyone on all the activities and events at a rodeo, Sadie and Javier jumping in for clarification or to add something she forgot.

Sadie keeps an eye out for any raiders and makes sure Fancy, Boaz, Smoke, Ennis, and Old Boy are keeping up with the wagon. She keeps them calm and whistles for them if they ever are falling behind, slowing the thoroughbred to make sure they can find their way and to make sure the horses aren’t ambushed and stolen.

Scarlet makes sure she’s always touching Arthur in some way, be it her leg pressed up against his, her hand on his leg, her arm looped through his, or even leaning on him for a nap. He doesn’t mind, allowing it after a questioning glance the first time he noticed she was doing it.

“Here we are. Rhodes. You think they’ll be enough rooms for the lot of us?” Arthur glances at Scarlet then back to the small town.

“Dunno. I can run in an ask real quick. Wait out here,” she orders as she starts climbing down the wagon before he has it stopped. He yells after her, something about waiting for him to stop the horses before jumping off recklessly. She just grins as she lands in Fancy’s saddle. They wait patiently in the wagon until she rides back up, having to pull up hard on Fancy so she almost bucks to a stop.

“So what’d they say?” Arthur leans over the side, hand outstretched for her to take. She grabs his forearm, locking her hand around it as he does the same and pulls her up with a grunt.

“Said they got two rooms. I went ahead an rented one for the boys; Jack and James, and the other for John and Abigail. The rest of us can camp just outside of town here. That is, if that set up works for y’all?” She raises a brow at the group. They share looks as John and Abigail look at each other. She tilts her head to the left and her brows furrow.

“That’s fine, thank you, Scarlet. Jack can stay with us if you want the other room with James,” Abigail speaks up, running her fingers through her son’s hair. James looks up at his mother expectantly.

“You sure?” The red head inquires, motioning for James to move up to the front with her. He does so and sits on the side of her so she’s between him and Arthur.

“Yeah. We are a family after all,” Abigail confirms with a nod of her head. Scarlet nods and turns back to the front, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment. She points to the clearing back by one entrance of the small town, instructing Arthur to pull the wagon up there.

They all unload the wagon and pitch the small tents Scarlet pre-purchased, when she went to pick up Shasta, and brought along. Tilly and Mary-Beth take a tent, Sean and Javier take another, Hosea and Arthur in one, and Sadie gets her own.

“What are we gonna do for food?” Mary-Beth questions, clapping her hands together as Javier gets a small fire going.

“Arthur and I can go hunt. He’s not too poor a shot,” John volunteers, playfully jabbing at the older man. Arthur rolls his eyes and grins.

“Maybe we’ll run into your friends, the wolves,” he quips back, walking over to Smoke to retrieve his bow and rifle.

“On second thought-”

“Nope, you already volunteered. Let’s go,” Arthur grabs the back of John’s shirt, preventing him from trying to get out of hunting.

“You ain’t gotta worry bout wolves out this way. Just coyotes. But they’re more scared of you, usually,” Scarlet offers in partial consolation. He deadpans at her and she laughs along with the others. “Just sayin. Maybe you’ll have better luck havin a run-in with them.”

Arthur pulls John along with him until he shrugs him off to grab his own rifle from his horse. They walk through the fields, Arthur looking for tracks, scat, or fur. When they come close to the tree line they stop, several deer grazing along the woods.

“Let’s see if we can get two,” John whispers, pulling his rifle up to look through the scope. “There’s a buck scratching his antlers on a tree, you see him?”

“Yeah I see him,” Arthur sets his scope on the white coated buck John sees. “You wanna take him?”

“Nah, there’s another one a little ways down to the right. I’ll get that one. Just let me know when you’ve got a shot lined up, I don’t wanna be tracking these things all night if it’s not a solid kill,” John huffs and focuses on his buck. “I’ve got a clean shot.”

“Me too.”

Two gunshots sound, almost in sync. Sadie and Scarlet look up, eyes searching the source.

“Abigail, stay here with them. We’ll be right back,” Scarlet says and gets to her feet, Sadie on her heels. They quickly mount up, Sadie on the blood bay and Scarlet on Smoke, and head over to the field where the shots came from. Scarlet laughs as she sees John and Arthur hauling bucks over their shoulders.

“Let’s go help them,” she states, slowing Smoke from his gallop to a walk. He instantly obeys, making a bee line for Arthur when he sees him. “Good boy,” she praises him as he stops a few feet away from Arthur, neighing. He looks up at Scarlet in his saddle and raises a brow before tying the buck onto the back.

“Now where am I supposed to sit?” He chides playfully. Scarlet glances at John and Sadie, who are tying his buck on the back of the other thoroughbred, before slipping her boots from the stirrups and sliding her body almost completely onto the horn of the saddle. Arthur gapes at her a minute before chortling, putting one foot in the stirrups and pulling himself into the saddle. Once he’s settled, Scarlet sits back, sitting half on his lap and half on the saddle.

“See? There’s always room if you know how to double,” she tips her head back to look at him, green eyes bright with mirth. He shakes his head as he smiles at her, taking the reins from her hands.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he mutters. Sadie and John have a similar set up, though Sadie is sitting on the very back of the saddle with the deer behind her.

“Lucky an cute, I ain’t. Charmin an sassy, I am,” she replies and clicks her tongue, Smoke listening to her command.

“Oh, so now my horse listens to you?”

“For the most part. He’s such a good boy. I’m sure he’d do well in barrels or pole bending,” she expresses, leaning forward to rub the dark grey thoroughbred’s neck. “Ain’t that right? Yeah, you’re a good boy,” she cooes to him before straightening herself back in the saddle as best she can without rubbing against Arthur too much. “He was the closest horse to me. I thought you were using bows, not rifles. We wanted to make sure y’all’s a’right.”

“Aww how sweet,” he leans his chest against her back, breathing on her ear as he whispers, “you was worried bout me.”

“Shut up,” she rolls her eyes and pushes back against him. “Acourse I worry. I already told y’all, you’re my boys. Can’t let anything happen to y’all, I’m too emotionally invested. So’s the boy,” she chews her lip and holds onto the horn; she can feel the heat rise in her cheeks as she posts with him, moving in tandem with Smoke’s even strides.

Scarlet helps the two men skin and field dress the deer a bit away from camp before they bring them back to cook. Sadie pulls out oregano and mint from one of the saddlebags and helps Abigail get it cooking. They all chat idly around the fire, the boys playing in the mud.

The small group settles into a content silence as they eat, the two boys settling into the wagon to play with the dominoes, courtesy of Tilly, once they’re done eating. Sadie leans on the wagon, watching and smiling as Scarlet and Arthur sit with their boots knocking against each others.

“Hey, Scarl!”

The Irish-blooded woman looks up from her deer sandwich and tilts her head. Sadie waves her over and she frowns, wiping the bread crumbs from her pants as she stands up. She bends down, whispering something to Arthur who nods, and brings her food over to the wagon.

“You need something?” Scarlet asks the blonde woman, leaning on the wagon beside her, crossing her right ankle over her left. She pops the last bite into her mouth.

“Just wanted to ask about you and Arthur. What’s goin on there? You look like a love struck puppy,” Sadie teases, watching Scarlet cough, slightly choking on the food.

“What makes you say that?!” She starts, graciously taking the offered brandy and downing it. She stares at her friend, wide eyed and a little shocked at the bluntness of her question. “He’s a...he’s a good friend, a gentleman,” she states.

“Uh huh. That why you’ve both been sittin so close to each other an ridin together?” Sadie sasses, smile growing as Scarlet tries to find a comeback, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Look, Sadie, he’s just a friend. Nothin more,” she sighs, playing with the empty brandy bottle in her hand. She tosses it under the wagon and uncrosses her feet, letting her back lean fully on the cart. “I have my son to think about. That’s my main priority.”

Sadie nods, acknowledging Scarlet, but keeps quiet. She knows that she’s pushed a little much but she got what she needed from Scarlet. Sadie pats her shoulder and gestures to where she had been sitting. “Go on, sit and talk. I’ll watch the boys.”

“Thanks, Sadie.”

Hosea looks up as Scarlet leaves to see Sadie. He smiles and turns to Arthur, setting his beer down. “Anythin goin on between you two that I should warn Dutch about? We ain’t gonna be worryin bout any mini Morgans are we, Arthur?” The silver fox asks, nodding to Scarlet when aforementioned cowboy looks up. Arthur nearly drops his beer in shock, spitting some of it out. He stares at Hosea like he’s crazy.

“Old Man, just what you on bout now? Ain’t nothin gon’ on between us. We’re just friends, she’s a decent outlaw of a woman,” he admits, swishing around the beer in his bottle.

“You sure bout t’at, Art’ur? You two seem ta be really close. Like, really, close. Weren’t she just in yer lap when you brought t’at there deer back?” Sean chimes in, tossing his empty bottle to the side and reaching for another.

“Yeah. We work well together, what do you want me to say?” Arthur asks, directing his attention to Hosea, completely dismissing Sean’s second question.

“That you are sweet on her, even if only a little? If you won’t be honest with us, at least be honest about it with yourself,” Abigail scolds, tucked into John’s side by the camp fire. He regards them a moment, nodding to himself.

“I care about her, just like I care about any of you,” he admits, watching as Abigail and Tilly frown at his words. He laughs as they throw blades of grass at him. “Okay, so maybe I like her a little,” he freezes momentarily at the looks the group give him collectively, “okay a lot more than I let on. An yes I am sweet on her, but she don’t want no part of bein with an outlaw..”

“Oh you let on more than you think,” John chuckles.

“Apparently, if you can see it,” Arthur retorts.

“Have you tried actually talkin to her about it, Arthur?” Tilly asks, setting her coffee cup by her feet. The outlaw scratches his neck, shaking his head.

“Bout what? Me likin her? Nah. She’s got James, an I guess his father is still in the picture. No need to involve myself where I might get hurt,” he sighs and leans back. He chugs the rest of his beer and motions for Sean or Hosea to pass him another.

“Why don’t you just ask her an see? I’m sure you’ll be surprised. You don’t see how she isn’t as happy an herself without you around camp. When Dutch asked her to stay and talk to him the other day? When you went into Valentine with Uncle and the girls? She helped us just fine but she didn’t really talk to anyone unless it was necessary. Well, she talked to Sadie an Abigail, and the boys of course. Everyone else she pretty much ignored. Dutch and myself included. Didn’t even bother to instigate with that O’Driscoll boy you brought back to Colter either,” Hosea reveals and hands him another bottle.

“Just...Oh, Arthur, just think about it will you?” Abigail pleads, hugging John’s arm tight as she stares at the older man. Arthur sighs and nods his head, throwing his hands up in surrender.

“Alright. I’ll think on it,” he pops the top off his bottle. He reflexively scoots over when Scarlet comes back over, taking up her spot beside him on the log again. Hosea and Tilly give Arthur a look and he rolls his eyes, sending them glares.

“Sadie said she’ll watch the boys for a little. I think I’ll take them to the hotel in a bit to get a bath before bed though, if that’s alright with y’all?” Scarlet nods to Abigail and John, offhandedly asking for permission.

“Oh, a bath sounds nice! Don’t you think, John?” Abigail croons, pressing against his side. He glances up at Scarlet who nods before he looks down at his wife.

“Uhh, yeah, sure. A bath,” John answers, scanning their group for a possible way out. He sighs and gets up, pulling his arm from Abigail’s hold before holding his hand out to her. “Shall we go take a bath, Abigail?”

Scarlet and Sean make eye contact and immediately “Ooooooh,” at the couple as they head away from camp. John turns back and drags his thumb across his neck and points to them before Abigail grabs Jack from the wagon and they disappear into the town. The Irish duo crack up and Sean hands her a whiskey bottle.

“To being free and not tied down!” He cheers and knocks back his drink. Javier, Tilly, and Mary-Beth follow suit, draining their drinks. Scarlet looks at Arthur and Hosea, offering her bottle and motioning to their own drinks in question.

“Y’all are married or were?” She speaks over the crackle of the fire, watching the shadows dance across Hosea’s face. The old man nods and leans forward so his elbows are on his knees.

“Once, a long time ago. My sweet Bessie and I were together for awhile. I stepped away from the gang for a few years, back when it was just Dutch, Arthur, and myself. Arthur, we picked him up when he was bout fourteen, fifteen. I don’t think he remembers her much, or me leaving. But as things always do, I drifted back into it. She knew what I was and how it went, but we somehow made it work. She passed away many years ago. I was drunk for about a year after,” Hosea clears his throat and takes a swig of his drink, eyes downcast. Arthur shoves up from the log and stalks over to the wagon, saying something to Sadie who joins them at the fire. Hosea sighs and pats Scarlet’s knee, motioning to Arthur with his bottle.

“Did I- is he okay?” She looks at Hosea with furrowed brows.

“He’s been through a lot. It’s not something you can just get over,” the silver fox explains. The trio watch as James leans over the side of wagon, tapping Arthur’s arm. The two seem to talk and Arthur strikes a match, lighting a cigarette. Scarlet squeezes Hosea’s hand that’s still on her knee, giving him a small nod of affirmation.

“I’ll talk to him. It’s not good to keep it bottled up...I know better than most,” she mumbles as she makes her way to her wagon.

She quietly climbs into the back with James. “Son, go sit with Mrs. Adler and Mister Hosea. I’m gon’ talk with Arthur a moment.”

“Yes, Ma. Bye, Mr. Morgan, thank you! I can’t wait to get home!” The boy cheers and clambers down from the cart, headed for Sadie. Scarlet takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out, climbing to sit sideways on the front, staring at the sunset with Arthur. They’re both silent, Arthur taking slow drags from his cigarette and Scarlet staring at the horizon, deep in thought.

“Wanna talk ‘bout it? I don’t know what I said to upset you, but I’m sorry,” she apologizes, voice soft. She turns her head as he snuffs out the cigarette on the bottom of his boot. He doesn’t answer, just leans on the wagon with his hat tilted down. She picks at her jeans, worn with age and often wear. Arthur turns to her, hand gently resting on hers, stilling her fidgeting.

“It’s a long story, Darlin’. Maybe some other time. And it’s not what you said, it’s what they did,” he finally speaks, voice gruff as though he were on the verge of tears.

She immediately opens her arms as she slides down from the wagon seat. Arthur takes her up on her offer, wrapping his arms around her as she does the same. He buries his nose in her hair, inhaling her scent and trying to calm his racing heart. They stay like that, Scarlet wrapped tight in his arms with her hold on him just as tight, her breathing helping slow his as he tries to sync his frantic beating heart with her steady one.

“We have three days, and you know where I sleep,” she comments, chin resting on his sternum as she looks up at him. He pulls back a little to look down at her.

“I know. You’ll be in one of them rooms at the hotel,” he replies, dipping his head a little. “Forgive me fer askin, but what room numbers?”

“Why? Plannin on payin me a midnight visit?” She teases and steps back as he finally lets go of his hold on her. She hesitates in letting go, but her arms eventually slip from around his ribcage.

Scarlet startles awake, glancing around the room as she momentarily forgets her bearings. She sits up as the same sound repeats, a trio of knocks on the door. She grabs her hunting knife from her belt that’s draped over the dresser. Sleepily, she makes her way to the door, trying to stifle a yawn. She unlocks the door and opens it, knife poised in her left hand, hidden behind the door.

“Arthur?” She yawns, relaxing and ushering him inside. He ducks his head in embarrassment as he steps into the room, minding to be quiet when he sees James asleep on the bed.

“I uhh, I was wonderin if you wanted to talk?” He asked shyly, taking a hesitant seat on the bed when she gestures to it, slipping her knife back in its holster.

“Come, come. Lay with us an we’ll talk,” she offers, climbing back into the bed, scooting close to James, leaving enough room for Arthur to lie down to her left. He goes to protest but her sleepy glare has him taking his boots and jacket off.

“You said it’s not good to hold these things in so I figured that I’d tell you,” he starts, slowly crawling up the bed, lying on his side to face her. She pulls the blanket up to her shoulders, tucking it under her left arm as she faces him.

“It’s not, and I’m not pushin you, Arthur. If you don’t wanna talk about it, you don’t have too. I’ll sit here with you in silence if ya want. No promises I won’t fall asleep on you though,” she yawns again as she curls her legs up. He nods and relaxes back against the wall, holding his arm up for her to scoot in and cuddle.

“Like I said, it’s a long story. Might as well be comfortable,” he informs her when she gives him a puzzled look. She laughs lightly and nods, moving closer to him, resting her head on his chest, left arm resting on his shoulder. He pulls her left leg over his waist, fixing the blanket after he does so, letting his hands rest on her lower back and on her left calf, holding her leg in place over him.

“Take your time,” she encourages, moving her left hand to cradle his head, scratching at his scalp with her nails. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as he tries to figure out where to start his story.

“Like Hosea said, he and Dutch ran into me when I was young. I was a delinquent, rough and wild as they come. They took me in and taught me what they knew, even taught me to read. I’ve been with them for nearly twenty years, maybe more. But I had a girl once, we weren’t married but I did get her pregnant. A nice waitress I met, Eliza. She gave me a little boy, Isaac. I told her I couldn’t promise her a good life, she seemed to understand. I’d send money and every few months I’d stop in for a few days to see them, spend some time with them, yanno?” He lets out a shaky breath. Scarlet nods against him, her hand in his hair slowly tracing patterns on his scalp to try and calm him.

“If it’s too much, you ain’t gotta talk ‘bout it,” she whispers, tilting her head to look up at him. He looks down at her, green eyes filled with concern for him. He shakes his head and squeezes her calf.

“One day when I rode up, I saw two crosses outside the house, one smaller than the other. It didn’t take me long to figure out they were robbed. All for ten dollars,” his tone is laced with venom as he spits out the last sentence, face scrunching in anger momentarily. Scarlet stays silent as she tries to think of what to say. She knows loosing someone you love, or even just care for deeply, isn’t easy. She tells him as much.

“Look, we can’t keep living in the past, wishin things were different. They’re over an it’s not like we can change them, no matter how bad we wanna. I know. I’ve tried. Ran myself into the ground for years while riddled with guilt that wasn’t mine to bear,” she soothes, her right arm curling about his own under her. “Be sad an mourn them, yes, but don’t allow that to cloud yer judgement an prevent you from doin things. Especially if it’s somethin ya really wanna do.”

It’s Arthur’s turn to be quiet, letting her perspective sink in. He nods and rubs up and down her calf soothingly, meeting her eyes once again. She’s smiling and he can’t help but smile too as they stare into each other’s eyes for a few moments.

“I guess you’re right. Hey, I’m sorry about earlier. Just stormin off like that; it wasn’t fair to you. It’s not your fault they brought it up. Sometimes it’s hard to imagine me even having the chance to have that again,” his voice cracks as he holds her a little tighter, a little closer to him. She pauses scratching his scalp and sighs, nuzzling against his chest.

“To have that closeness with someone again? Yeah, me too,” she softly admits between yawns. Arthur moves his hand from her hip to her head, holding it against his chest as he presses a kiss to the crown of her head. She lets her eyes flutter close as he gently starts to rub her back.

Scarlet doesn’t remember falling asleep, or waking up at four in the morning either. So the surprise of waking up in Arthur’s warm embrace shocks her a little. She’s up before James, which is another surprise to her; she immediately turns over and gently shakes Arthur, whispering softly to him to prevent startling him.

“Come on, Arthur, get up,” she croons, gently shaking his shoulder. He turns his head and grumbles under his breath in his sleep, arm moving to wrap her up. His eyes flutter open as something blocks his arm from his cuddle buddy.

“What the?” His voice is rough, riddled thick with sleep. Scarlet subconsciously licks her lips as she hears it, eyes darting to his lips before back to his face. She huffs out a quiet laugh at his slightly confused expression.

“Mornin, Cowboy. I think it’s best you go get ready for the day, James’ll be up soon and then we won’t hear the end of how you were ‘sharin a bed with Ma at the rodeo’,” she muses in delight, hand tracing lightly over his chest. She’s made no effort to even dislodge herself from his hold, despite her claim for him to get up.

It’s about ten minutes of them idly talking before Arthur finally slips from the bed and pulls his boots back on, telling her that he was going to check on the others. He’s closing the door as quiet as he can, trying not to wake James, when a gasp behind him startles him.

“Arthur Morgan!” Abigail scolds lightly, quietly; eyes wide as she glances down at Jack. Arthur’s gaze meets hers and he half shrugs at her.

“What?”

“I know I did not just see you coming out of Scarlet’s room,” she grits out as she stares at him hard, eyes cutting through him. “Not with James in there.”

“Jesus, Abigail! No. I came by to talk to her, ‘at’s all. I, the others...Last night a few of them drank to “being free and not tied down”,” he explains as he shuffles awkwardly under Abigail’s scrutinizing gaze. She nods and opens the bedroom door for Jack to go back in to wake up John.

“It brought up Eliza and Isaac, didn’t it?” She lowers her voice, tone softening greatly. Arthur nods and brings his hat to his head, adjusting it to his liking.

“Yeah. Yeah it did. I told her. I told her about them, about it all,” he voice is barely a whisper, gruff, the start of almost tears evident. Abigail nods and moves to him, resting a hand on his shoulder, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

“I’m proud of you. I know that’s not easy to talk about. Just stay honest with her. Did she say anything about James’ father and his role?” She changes the melancholy subject, stepping back a couple steps.

“No. We just talked a bit bout Eliza an Isaac. She didn’t bring him up,” he replies softly, eyes warm as he meets Abigail’s. “I’ll ask her later, she’s getting ready. I’m gon’ make sure everyone else is up and ready for the day.”

John steps out of the room, pulling his coat on. “Let’s go then.”

By the time John and Arthur make it back to the tents, everyone is up and they all share glances before smirking at them. Arthur groans and points at Hosea.

“Not one word. I was talking with Scarlet and Abigail,” he states before anyone can ask him anything. They shrug and make room for him around the fire, passing the coffee pot around.

Scarlet, Abigail, and the boys join the rest of them not too long after, both boys running towards Hosea. They show him their books and sit on either side of him as he offers to sit and read with them. Scarlet’s heart melts at the sight, wishing James’ father was willing to be as accepting as this gang. She’s done her fair amount of research on Dutch and his gang. As far as she was concerned, they were nothing like what the papers and people were saying. She trusts them with her life.

“What’s the plan for today?” Javier asks as he passes Scarlet the pot for coffee. She thanks him and pours herself a cup before taking up the only available seat, beside Arthur.

“Mm they should have everything set up by tonight. Which means they might start the events tonight or tomorrow. Regardless, I figured we could go take a look at the bulls and broncos they have for the events. If I remember correctly the townsfolk said that they were bringin in bout five different broncs and at least three different bulls,” she replies and looks around at the people she’s slowly started calling her family. She smiles, her eyes lingering on Hosea with the boys, their laughter drifting over to her.

“Have you signed up yet?” Sadie sits down at Scarlet’s feet, leaning back on her legs. Scarlet looks down at her and shakes her head.

“No, not yet. They won’t let us sign up this early, and from my experience I have to have a man with me vouchin that he’s my guardian or partner and he expresses his permission for me to participate,” she rolls her eyes and cradles her coffee mug in front of her face, blowing on the steaming liquid.

“What?” Scarlet turns to Arthur, John, and Javier at their outburst; they’re all looking at her in disbelief.

“You didn’t tell us that,” Arthur raises a brow as he sets his now empty coffee on the ground. “Why?”

“Didn’t think it necessary. If y’all wouldn’t’ve come with me I’d’ve just done what I always do. Pinned my hair up and pretended I was my brother,” she smirks, shrugging at him. “No need to bug anyone if y’all woulda had better things to do.”

“Oh, Sweetheart, if you’d ask I bet any of the men at camp would have gone with you even if Dutch had told you no,” Abigail laughs. The men all look at each other then away, rubbing their necks at being called out. The females giggle at them and Scarlet nudges Arthur’s knee.

“I know at least two would, the others I’m not sure about,” she teases back, stealing a glance at Arthur who quickly looks away when their eyes meet. He clears his throat and claps his hands on his knees.

“Well, are we going to go see how far they’re set up?” He suggests as he pushes up from the log, holding a hand to Scarlet. He pulls her up and the rest of them follow suit, Jack and James jumping up when they see everyone else heading towards them.

Scarlet leaves them a little bit after they’ve checked out the last pen, excusing herself by stating she needed to get dressed for the event. James gives her a hug before she goes, telling her to wear his favorite of her outfits; she smiles and agrees, giving the others a wink as she heads back to the hotel.

By dusk, everyone is ready to watch Scarlet compete. They are cheering her name as the announcer calls out all the competitors, hers being the last one since she was the last to sign up for each event. In the end, Hosea had been the one who went with her to register, saying she was his daughter to compete for him since he was too old.

Arthur has James on his shoulders, Jack on John’s, as they make their way over to the fence, letting the boys sit on the top post. Abigail and the other women head off to try their luck at pick-pocketing people, not too interested in the competition until it’s Scarlet’s turn. Hosea leaves the two men with the boys, going to place bets on Scarlet for the bronc and bull riding, with the money she gave him to do so.

James whoops and throws his hands up as Scarlet rides out on Shasta, the stallion bucking a little with the other competitors. Jack cheers and claps along with Arthur and John. They competitors ride around the pen, waving to everyone before being huddled in a circle.

She’s dressed in a black, long sleeve top with red fringe down the arms and along the sides and on the front, across her chest with matching black chaps, also with red fringe down the outside seam of the legs. She’s wearing the hat Arthur bought for her too, black boots with silver spurs completing her look. Arthur stares.

“Alright! Is everyone ready?” The rodeo announcer yells loud enough to silence the crowd. They all move closer to listen. “We’re gonna be startin off with the Broncs! Saddled then unsaddled! Then bull ridin followed by steer ropin! We have our bronc riders here, so give them all a warm welcome!” He cheers and runs from the small platform he’s on to discuss rules and terms with the bronc riders.

Afterwards, the group of eight, Scarlet included, turn their horses and trot out of the pen. Scarlet walks Shasta over to her group and slides from the saddle, hitching him to a nearby tree. She braces herself as James and Jack barrel into her. She laughs as they hug her legs and James mumbles something about not ever saying ‘I love you’ enough. She silences him with a hug and kiss to his temple. She ushers them back over to the fence and joins them on the top post, Arthur leaning on it and towards her as they wait her turn.

“Oh! There goes O’Malley, at five seconds in! Not long enough to make the cut, unfortunately!” Arthur tunes out the announcer and clears his throat, nudging Scarlet’s thigh with his shoulder.

“Nice getup,” he comments, side-eyeing her. She tips her hat back and looks down at him, hands resting firmly on the post to steady herself.

“Thanks. It was my mother’s; back when she used to race Fancy. Red and black are our lucky colors,” she replies, turning back to the ring to watch the next competitor. He’s thrown, right out of the gate, and they laugh.

“When are you up?” Arthur asks, hand playing with some of her fringe. She glances at him, her dark wash jeans peeking through the sides of the chaps.

“I’ll be last since I was the last to sign up. I’ll need to go to the other side after the next couple of guys get tossed though,” she explains, pointing out the small area where they rodeo hands where locking the horse back in. “They’re doing unsaddled first, which is good and bad. Good that it’s out of the way, bad because they’ll know they’ll have somethin to hold on to other than just the riggin.”

“Which is easier for you?”

“Unsaddled or saddled? They’re both pretty easy if you know what you’re doin. Breaking horses is easy, you saw my skill when we broke those thoroughbreds,” she smiles and pushes against his arm with her leg. “Just watch, relax, an enjoy yourself here. Hosea go make bets?”

“Yeah, I think he said he was going to place some on you,” John answers, helping Jack off the fence. “We’ll be back, Jack’s gotta piss.” Scarlet waves at them, fringe dancing as her arm moves, turning back to Arthur and James.

“James, wanna go see the bull I’ll be riding later?” She asks, wrapping her right arm around his shoulders. He eagerly nods up at her and grins, eyes bright.

“Can I?”

“Sure. We’ll go once I’m done with these two events, alright?” She kisses his forehead and hops off the fence. “I reckon I best get over there before I get called out.” She starts to head back to the other side of the fence. She doesn’t get far.

“Wait, Scarlet!” Arthur grabs her hand and tugs her back into his chest. He grins sheepishly down at her and pulls out a red neckerchief that coincidentally matches her outfit. He ties it around her neck and nods. “For good luck,” he prompts. Her fingers brush over the soft fabric and she smiles up at him.

“Thank you, Arthur. I’ll keep it as a reminder that we, together as one, broke six horses in a matter of twelve hours,” she chuckles as she starts walking backwards, her spurs jingling with each step. Arthur watches her as she spins on her heel and gets ushered to the other side of the corral by some rodeo hands.

“Ma likes you, ya know, Mister? I haven’t seen her smile like that in a few years,” James hums as he glances at Arthur.

“Yeah? You think?”

“I know. I overheard her one day, talkin to Papa Dennis, sayin she didn’t want to bring any new guys ‘round me,” he lowers his voice as the next rider climbs over the small fence to get on the horse. “She’s gets sad when I go stay with Pa; I see it in her eyes. They fought once; I remember it scared me. I hid under the table with Frank, my Pa’s dog. Pa said somethin bout me livin with him an Ma said no, that if he wanted that he would grow a pair an stop listenin to his family an what they say bout her; come live with us if he really wanted that. Pa left that night, I don’t know where. He made Ma cry before he left though. I found her in her bedroom, cryin on the floor. I don’t know what Pa did, but it made Momma cry. You’re not gon make Ma cry, are ya?” He looks up at Arthur, same green eyes as Scarlet’s staring back at him. The man sighs and clears his throat, patting James on the back.

“Son, I don’t wanna make your momma cry. That’s the last thing I wanna do,” he assures the boy. He lifts James back onto his shoulders when the boy asks, holding his knees. “You see your Ma?”

“Yeah! She’s climbin the gate now! Look!” James squeals in excitement, tapping Arthur’s hat lightly and pointing across the pen to where Scarlet was slinging herself over the top post, her red fringe and neckerchief standing out in the moonlight. She scans the crowd on the other side of the corral and smiles as she meets her son’s green eyes staring back at her. She lets her gaze travel lower to lock eyes with Arthur, his face scrunched in slight disdain before he notices she’s staring at him. He grins then, waving with one hand.

James holds one of his hands up, signaling his mother to do the same. She grips the rigging tight in her left hand and throws her right hand up just as they open the small gate. The bronco jumps out of the gate, agitated and bucking high. Scarlet grips tight to the rigging, shifting her weight with the stallion. He rears before starting to run, then quickly turning in small circles in hopes of throwing her off. Scarlet laughs and coos to the horse as he continues to thrash.

“Eight! Ten! Twelve!”

Scarlet looses her grip on the rigging and gets bucked onto the bronco’s neck. She curses as he immediately rears and she hits the ground. She jumps up and runs over to one of the two men on horses and he pulls her up, bringing her over to the far side of the pen, letting her climb onto the fence and out of harm’s way. She nods to him and walks over to her group. “That’s seventeen seconds folks! Miss O’Hara takes the unsaddled bronco event!”

“Are you alright?”

“That looked like it hurt!”

“Do you need to sit down?”

“Momma! You did great!”

“You’re not hurt are you?”

Scarlet motions at them to calm down, rolling her shoulders and neck. James taps on Arthur’s shoulders, signaling he wants to be put down. He obliges and the boy runs to Scarlet; she kneels down and catches him in a hug that has her stumbling back a bit. Their laughter sparks happiness in the rest and they relax, joining in the affair.

“I’m alright. I’ve been bucked harder. Still don’t think there’s anythin worse than bein treed or fenced though,” she scoffs, letting James go.

“Treed? Fenced?” Hosea asks, warm smile on his face. “What’s that?”

“Oh uh, basically where the horse can’t get you off by bucking so their dumbass runs into a tree or fence; headfirst, skids and slides you into it, or anythin like that,” she explains and brushes the dirt off her outfit.

“Sounds painful,” Arthur muses. She nods and tips her head up at him.

“Well, congratulations. I just won the bet on you for this. I said you would at least stay on for ten seconds,” Hosea smugly states, patting his chest where he has the money hidden. Scarlet chuckles and shakes her head, nodding to the pen.

“You’re welcome? I didn’t expect them to use the same horse for all eight of us. Normally they let us see which horses are in the line ups and change from each rider or after a coupe.” James tugs on her sleeve, looking between her and Arthur.

“Momma you said we could go see the bulls!” He reminds, bouncing in his boots. Her nose scrunches in thought for a moment before she clicks her tongue.

“You’re right, I did. Come on, we can stop by the barn and check on Fancy and Shamrock,” she suggests and leads the small herd of people through the crowd that’s slowly gathering, people calling out congratulations and some throwing slurs. She brushes them off.

Scarlet takes a deep breath before she climbs up the fence to get on the saddled bronco, a mare this time she notes. She exhales and slings herself over the railing and into the saddle in one quick movement, gripping the heavy, lead lead she’s passed.

Her heartbeat is in her ears, the sound of the crowd -some cheering and booing- slowly fades as her heartbeat slows with time. The gate opens and she hangs tight to the lead, moving and adjusting quickly in the saddle. Her eyes focus on mare’s ears, pinned back as she grunts and snorts below her.

Everything rushes back to her as the mare rears and yanks her head back, nearly smacking Scarlet in the face. Luckily she snatches the reins to the left and quickly adjusts her position in the saddle. The mare spins quickly, attempting to bite at Scarlet’s foot, though she just pulls them back.

The mare finally charges the fence, slamming her side into it. Scarlet lets out a whimper as pain shoots through her right foot as the mare leaps to the left, away from the fence. Scarlet’s pulled from the saddle, her foot caught in the busted fence post. She can hear the announcer saying her time, but it’s fuzzy and she doesn’t catch how long she was actually on for. One of the men on horses’s pulls up beside her, leaning over to help lift her up. She holds herself on the back of the saddle as the man and a few audience members lift the post. She lets out her breath, not realizing she’s holding it, and slips from the horse, laughing as she’s helped through the fencing to Arthur and John.

“Christ, you okay? Sit down,” Arthur barks, forcing her to sit on the ground as he lifts her right leg, gently poking and prodding. She raises a brow at him and laughs, grabbing his hand. She moves it to her thigh where she can already feel a bruise forming.

“My foot is fine, my boot was just caught in the angle. It’s my upper thigh here she caught on the actual post. Fuckin mare, fenced me,” she swears, breaking out into a giggle fit as she leans back, lying on the ground. Hosea walks over and drops her hat on her chest, shaking his head.

“Twenty two seconds, you fool. You could have been severely hurt, why didn’t you get off before she ran you into the post?” He scolds, fear and concern heavy in his tone. Scarlet pushes up to rest back on her elbows, looking up at him.

“Didn’t know she was gon’ fence me. My adrenaline was up and I lost touch with reality,” she admits with a shrug. Arthur helps her to her feet and walks with her back to the gang, John and Hosea trailing behind. She can barely make out John telling Hosea that he couldn’t be too mad because she won yet another round.

Sean’s somehow manages to convince almost everyone to drink with him. Scarlet refuses, saying she needs to be fully focused on staying on the bucking bull since they’re unpredictable. Abigail declines and reminds him she has a son to watch, which in turn makes Arthur refuse as well, motioning to James. Hosea suggests he hold onto the money and things they rest of them have pick-pocketed before they get drunk. They readily agree. Sadie and Javier agree to one drink, reminding them of their steer roping event.

Arthur stops Scarlet before she can begin to climb the gate to get on the bull. She turns in his arms as she holds up a hand to signal she needs a moment, thinking something was wrong with James. He leans down, hands resting on her hips, and brushes his lips against her ear, whispering softly. “Good luck and please be safe. This one looks awful mean.” His warm breath fans down her neck and she shivers, hands subconsciously moving to rest on his forearms.

“Yeah, a’course. Always,” she smiles brightly at him, pulling away when the hands tell her she can either get on the bull or forfeit. She pauses as she’s straddling the top rail, sending a wink to Arthur before dropping down onto the dark bull. Arthur can hear the snorts and heavy hooves beating the ground as the bull tosses its head, its horns waving wildly.

Before he can yell at her to not to go through with this, he sees the gate open one last time. The bull jumps straight up before trying to use his horns to knock her off. She looks like she’s struggling and falls to the side of the bull. She yelps in surprise and yanks herself back up, enraging the bull. He bucks and whips his body to the right, throwing her over his left shoulder. She grunts as she hits the semi-packed dirt.

The bull bellows angrily at her and stamps the ground, kicking dirt up under his stomach and tossing it to the side. She rolls to her feet, snatching her hat, and makes a beeline for the fence as the bull charges. Three men in bright, silly looking outfits yell and distract the bull just long enough for Scarlet to slip out through the fence rails, rolling onto her back at Arthur’s feet.

Her chest heaves as she tries to calm her racing heart and even her breathing, her lungs trying to recover from the spasm of being thrown so hard. Arthur kneels over her, back of his hand running along her cheek gently.

“You good?” He inquires and scoops her up in his arms. She nods, her breathing slowly evening out. He sets her on her feet as they approach their friends. They have their bedrolls, Scarlet presumes from their tents, and are sprawled all out on them; the only sober ones being Abigail, John, Javier, Sadie, and Hosea. She giggles and takes an opened bottle John offers her, chugging the last bit and tossing the bottle to the side. Jack and James are curled up together in the middle of the group, both fast asleep.

“That’s the last event for me of the night. Tomorrow will be the others. If y’all don’t mind, I think I’m gonna go get a bath and go to bed. Hosea, did you get my time for this one?”

“Eleven seconds,” the silver fox replies, nodding to her. “You placed third this go round. I still won some money from betting. Some people were counting you out, I told them you’d be in at least the top three,” he preens as she congratulates him on being able to press his luck on her skill.

“That’s fine, I’ve won two. The barrels will be another victory, pole bendin maybe. I haven’t worked Shasta on it in awhile, but he’s really raring to go, or he was when he saw them earlier,” she comments, leaning on Arthur as she yawns. “But I think it’s bed time. Make sure they all make it back to their tents, could ya? They might get looted just laying about out here like that,” she gestures to the slumped group of people, all in one big cuddle pile.

Arthur lets her go as he picks up James for her, despite her protests. John grabs Jack and they all head back to the hotel, Hosea staying behind to wake the others and have them move to their temporary camp.

The duo couples say goodnight to each other and Arthur helps Scarlet get James into bed. She watches as he tucks her son in, something in her stomach fluttering. She clears her throat as he walks up to her, resting his forehead on hers. She watches his face, his expression.

“Stay?” She breathes as his hand comes up to cradle her cheek in his warm palm. She grips the front of his shirt and pleads, the need to be comforted a little too much for her at the moment. Arthur opens his eyes to stare at her, nodding and gesturing to the wardrobe against the wall. Scarlet releases his shirt, going to change from her rodeo clothes and into a soft, cotton night gown. She climbs into the bed by James as Arthur takes off his gun belt, bandolier, boots, and hat, back still turned to her from when she was changing, before joining her. He sits against the headboard, rubbing her back as she cradles the pillow under her head.

When Arthur believes Scarlet is fully asleep, he slips from the bed, pulling his boots and gear back on. He glances back at them, Scarlet rolling over to face where he just was lying. He smiles when she pulls the pillow close to her as she settles back down, closing the door quietly behind him. John’s leaning on the wall in the hall, lighting a cigarette; he offers Arthur one. They step outside and glance towards the group camp, each taking slow drags, neither speaking.

Arthur snuffs our his cigarette when it’s short and nods to John who glances back at the hotel. He heads to the camp while Marston makes his way back inside to his and Abigail’s room. Arthur crouches and flops down on his bedroll, letting out a low groan. Hosea turns to face him, sitting up slightly.

“You’re not stayin the night again?” His tone is teasing, but there’s a real question in his words, watching the man he considers a son. Arthur shakes his head and undoes his gun belt and removes it and his bandolier again, setting them off to the side. He lies on his back and rests his hat over his eyes, a sign he doesn’t want to talk about it. Hosea respects his choice and lies back down as well. “Goodnight, Son.”

“Night, Hosea,” he mumbles from under his hat. He rests his hands on his chest, fingers laced together as he crosses his right ankle over his left.

Scarlet sends James into Arthur’s tent, talking softly with Hosea. They watch as the boy attempts to sneak into the tent, successfully tossing the gun belt and bandolier out of it and also out of Arthur’s reach. They hear Arthur yell as James presumably jumps on the poor, unsuspecting man. Scarlet laughs as her son walks out of the tent triumphantly, Arthur’s hat on his head. It’s too big and falls into his eyes but he merely upturns his face and beams at his mother.

“I got it, Ma! He missed when he tried to get it back. He tripped on the bedrolls,” the boy laughs, running behind Scarlet as Arthur emerges from the tent. Hosea smiles and pats Scarlet’s shoulder as he goes to get coffee.

“Mornin, Arthur,” she greets as he gets closer, she’s dressed in her rodeo gear again. She’s even got the neckerchief around her neck. His lips quirk up at that.

“Was that your idea or his? Sending your spawn to wake me?” His question is playful, sending a faux glare to James who only laughs louder and hides completely behind Scarlet.

“Both? Mine was to steal your hat, the waking you up was just a bonus,” she smiles at him, hand going behind her to rest on James’ shoulder, pulling him to her side and out from behind her.

“Well, he’s lucky I like him, his Momma too,” he teases, winking at the boy. James puts a hand on the top of the hat as Arthur lunges for him. Scarlet sidesteps as the man wraps his arm around her son and tickles him. She watches in amusement as James’ squealing laughter resounds around their small camp, making everyone stop and turn to them. Jack runs over and pulls on Arthur’s arm.

“No, no, stop tickling James, Uncle Arthur!” The younger boy cries, tugging harder on his arm. Arthur stops his assault on James and picks Jack up with his other arm, tickling him instead. James tries to catch his breath as Jack takes his place. “Not me! Uncle Arthur!” Jack squeals, laughter falling from him in waves. Arthur cedes his actions and sets the boy down, crouching and ruffling Jack’s hair before the boy runs over to Abigail, smiling.

The mothers share a look and Scarlet turns to James, nodding her head to Arthur. James takes the hat from his head and holds it out to the man. “He’s so good with children,” she comments. Abigail nods, eyes shifting from Scarlet to Arthur, smiling.

“Yeah, he is.”

“Here’s your hat back, Sir,” James says as Arthur straightens from his crouch. He takes his hat and smiles down at him, patting his shoulder with his free hand. He puts his hat back on and walks with James back to the rest of the group.

“We’re down to the last two events of the rodeo! First up we have pole bending! In this event, a horse and rider must run the length of the six posted poles, weavin between them, turn sharply around, run the length back weavin back through them,” the announcer calls as a non participant demonstrates how it’s supposed to be done correctly, though not as quickly as it’s to be done..

Scarlet is in the barn, triple checking Shasta’s saddle is tight enough so it, nor she will fall or slip off. The Buckskin nickers at her, bobbing his head in anticipation. She ties the excess strip of leather through the ring on the saddle and makes sure it’s tight. He paws the stall door as she turns and reaches into her side bag. She pulls out a carrot and Shasta’s ears prick forward, snorting at her as he sniffs at it.

“Ready, Shasta boy? I know I ain’t ridden you in awhile but let’s see if we can’t beat our time of eighteen seconds!” She encourages the large animal. He nibbles the end of the carrot and she rolls it so he can have the whole thing, palm flat as he takes it from her hand. “Good boy. Let’s go,” she takes his reins in hand and leads him out the stall and out to the corral with an opening.

“Y’all ready?” Arthur calls as Scarlet steers Shasta over to them. She nods and pats Shasta’s neck, clicking her tongue. He tosses his head and rears as she jumps into the saddle.

“Yep. This is a timed event but it’s more for how fast you can be, not how long you can stay on like the other three,” she explains as Shasta drops back down to all fours, pawing the ground restlessly. She shushes him and makes sure the knot in her reins are tight before resting it on the horn.

“Good luck, we’re cheerin fer ya, Lass!” Sean calls with a wave, headed over to the fence to watch. Jack, James, Arthur, and Abigail stay with her for a moment.

“Be safe, don’t scare us no more like yesterday!” Abigail scolds lightly, joking underlining her tone. Scarlet just tips her hat with a grin.

“No promises,” she replies and clicks her tongue, urging Shasta towards the opening where the other riders are waiting on their horses. James and Arthur follow beside her. “Happy birthday, James,” She leans down and presses a kiss to his cheek before sitting back up, gripping Arthur’s forearm before letting go as Shasta starts prancing in place. “Okay, Boy! Easy,” she soothes and spins him a few times before he trots closer to the group of five other riders.

They share stories of previous rodeos, their horses, and how for a couple of them, it’s their first time participating in this event. The other veteran riders try to give tips and tricks to get a faster time, Scarlet listens but doesn’t comment. She knows exactly how she and Shasta need to run this to get a good time. It helps that he’s got excess energy he needs to burn off.

Before Scarlet knows it, she’s the last one up. She walks Shasta to the opening, hesitating a moment. Her body language shifts and Shasta pins his ears forward, letting out a loud whinny as he rears. When he pulls his front feet down, he shoots with the power from his hind legs, jumping from the rear to propel himself forward. She holds his reins tight, restricting his head movements. “Faster, Boy! Faster! There ya go! Wait until we turn!” She cheers him on, timing her turn just right. Shasta spins on his front hooves, quickly spinning and weaving back through the six poles. Scarlet lets him have his head, the reins slack. He kicks up sand as he crosses the opening again, tossing his head with a neigh.

“Sixteen seconds!” The announcer shouts in disbelief, double taking at his platinum pocket watch. Shasta holds his tail and head high, snorting as he passes by the rest. Scarlet pats his neck, rubbing him down.

“That’s my boy!” She praises, letting him celebrate with the light trotting he’s doing. She laughs at his personality, shaking her head good-naturedly. “I gotta go get Fancy saddled, Shas. Let’s go.” The stallion prances his way back to the barn, heading straight for Fancy’s stall. The mare gets to her feet. She nickers and takes in the prancing Shasta, tail flicking around.

Scarlet slides off the Bucksin and ties his reins to the post by Fancy’s stall, quickly undoing the buckle and pulling off his saddle, setting it on his stall door. Fancy straightens her head when she sees the old brown saddle Scarlet reaches for on the hitching post.

“Ready for some barrels, Fancy?” She inquires, unbolting the stall. Fancy pushes it open and walks out, turning so her left side is facing Scarlet, watching her rider intently. Scarlet laughs and grabs her halter, pulling her head down to give her a kiss on her nose. “You’re more than ready, ain’tcha?” She lays a black and silver blanket down on her back before hefting the saddle over the mare’s back. Fancy stands patiently as she gets saddled, nipping lightly at Scarlet’s arm when the saddle is a little tight. Scarlet immediately loosens it and adjusts her stirrups up a little more.

She grabs the matching bit set and slips it over her ears and into her mouth, over her tongue without issue. “Let’s go girl,” she coos and walks the mare out to the group who have packed up their camp and are waiting with the wagon by an empty spot off to the side of the corral, Smoke and Shamrock harnessed in it.

Hosea approaches her on Silver Dollar, informing her that they’re ready to leave when she’s done with the event and collects her winnings from the previous day’s events and if she has any after the barrels. She agrees and climbs into the saddle, having to immediately hold back on the reins when Fancy tries to dart into the corral. She apologizes to Hosea and watches as the second rider runs into the corral and starts around the barrels. They’ve all gone to the left side first, she notes.

She’s waiting with Fancy at the opening when the fifth rider runs out, cheering his Thoroughbred. Scarlet pets Fancy’s neck and murmurs encouragement, giving out all the slack on the reins for Fancy.

The mustang darts up the middle and cuts to the right barrel first, whipping herself around it so close that Scarlet’s knee knocks into it. Just as soon as she’s there, she’s crossing to the left barrel, cutting diagonal slightly to round the farther side and turn left. She’s as close as on the first barrel, Scarlet cursing as she feels her knee make contact again, though the barrel doesn’t move. Fancy dashes back to the center and up to the farthest barrel, cutting around it from the right to the left, spinning her weight on her front hooves, shoving off and booking it back out the corral, snorting.

“Folks! That concludes the Rhodes rodeo! Please standby for a few moments while we tally the times here for the barrels, as well as the overall score from yesterday and today! Feel free to look around at the broncos and bulls we brought and talk with the participants,” the announcer states, the man leaving his post to go meet with the timers.

“Yes! Who is my good girl? You are, Fancy!” Scarlet cheers and drops from the saddle, leaving the reins on her neck as she grabs her horse’s halter. Fancy tosses her head as best she can without yanking away from her rider then nuzzles her face into Scarlet’s chest, nickering in delight. She leads the mare to her wagon, tying her to the back and thanking her friends as they congratulate her on her time as well as giving praise to Fancy, their excitement warming her heart.

“You didn’t knock over any barrels! It looked like you almost hit them,” Javier states, helping her into the back of the wagon to join the party. She leans against the side, one leg hanging off the back as she sits up.

“Oh my knee knocked them, no doubt. But the closer you get, the faster you can turn. It also helps that Fancy knows how to throw her weight to her front legs and whip her rear around. I’ve found that makes us turn a lot easier and a lot faster,” she replies, ruffling said mare’s mane. She snorts and turns to look at Shasta, who Arthur’s leading over. His saddle just resting on his back, not tied. “Well look at you, Cowboy. Didn’t think he liked anyone else save for James. How’d you manage to untie him without him bitin you?”

“A couple of the other riders were in the barn. I heard them sayin somethin about your horse and I found them plannin to make off with him. Or try to anyway. He didn’t like them more than he doesn’t like me I reckon. Ain’t that right, Shasta?” The stallion tosses his head and nudges Arthur, a silent request for him to walk closer so he can stand by Fancy. Arthur obliges the horse and ties him next to Fancy, climbing onto the other side of the wagon, mirroring Scarlet’s seated position. “Apparently they were mad you won the bronc events. By the sound of it you have the last two in the bag too.”

“Here’s to hopin then. My poor boy, those mean people wanted to steal you?” She croons to her stallion. He nickers and rests his head on her leg, nibbling at the boot of her bent foot. She giggles and brushes a hand down the piece of mane on his forehead, scratching behind his ears with her other hand. “Wanna go see with me?”

Arthur nods and slips off the wagon, holding a hand to help her down. She clicks her tongue twice and Shasta takes a few steps back, pulling his head from her lap. James crawls over Sean and Javier, much to their dismay, and jumps down, grabbing his mom’s hand.

“I wanna come too! Where we going?” He looks up between the adults, smile wide and eyes bright. Scarlet nods, happily agreeing, happy her son wants to go with her. Arthur sweeps his arm in front of him, smiling at James.

“After you,” he states, falling into step with the mother and son. They walk back to the corral, joining the small crowd that’s gathering around the far end where the announcer and timers are.

“Alright, is everyone here? Can everyone hear me?” There’s screaming and yelling from all around before it goes quiet, not even the crickets being heard. “Alright! For the fastest pole bendin and barrel racer, we have Scarlet O’Hara!” The announcement causes cheers to break out among the women and some men, the rest grumble or flat out boo the result. “Alright, alright! That’s enough. The winner for overall best time for all events is...Scarlet as well! Mrs. O’Hara, please come up here!” Scarlet and Arthur glance at each other at the mention of ‘Mrs’ but she shrugs it off and makes her way up to the front, James trailing behind, still holding her hand. Arthur hangs back a little before following and standing near the front, deciding it’d be best to be close if something breaks out.

“Is there anything you’d like to say? How did you stay on the broncs so long? How’s that mare of yours so fast?” The announcer floods her with questions, the crowd yelling they want to know as well. She smiles and shrugs, gently pulling James close to her.

“My mare, Fancy was my Ma’s horse. My Ma used to barrel race her too, so she knows how to race. The broncs were easy, it’s just like breaking a horse; a very angry an agitated horse. If you’re new to rodeos, you want to try your hand at breakin a couple horses, be they young ones you raise or wild ones you catch. Time yourself,” she suggests as she accepts the money stacks from the announcer, thanking him. “Thank you, Rhodes! It’s been fun,” she concludes and steps away with James. Arthur’s at her side in a heartbeat, hand on her elbow as he leans in.

“They’re watchin us. Let’s leave on the horses so they don’t follow the wagon back. We’ll put James on the wagon,” he whispers to her, draping his arm over her so to the onlookers it looks like he was praising her. She nods and puts James in front of them, telling him he’s going to ride back with Uncle John, Aunt Abigail, Jack, and the others.

When they reach the wagon, Scarlet quickly unties Shasta and Fancy while Arthur hoists James into the back, ordering him to stay down and close to the front. He explains the situation to the others who nod in agreement. Hosea, John, Javier, and Sean are to keep lookout; John and Abigail to drive back to Horseshoe Overlook while he and Scarlet lead any followers away from them. Javier and Sean climb on their respective horses, guns on their backs and loaded. Scarlet quickly saddles Shasta with the help of Sadie, using Arthur’s saddle, putting her saddle in the wagon. Sadie climbs onto the blood bay and rides on the left with Hosea. Scarlet turns Shasta for Arthur.

“Climb up-”

“You want me to ride Shasta?”

“Well, Fancy’s not one to listen to males, but if you wanna ride her, be my guest. Smoke is harnessed in with Shamrock, so it’s not like we can take them. We don’t have the time to switch Smoke for Shasta,” she sasses and throws the reins over both horses. Arthur sighs but nods, pulling himself onto Shasta’s back. She climbs on Fancy and leans close to Hosea, slipping him the last of the prize money she received. “Hold on to that til we get back?”

Before he can answer she’s pulling Shasta where the rein meets his halter, making him walk despite wanting to run and buck the unusual weight off his back. They watch and wait patiently until the wagon is out of sight, Scarlet turning to Arthur.

“Ya sure he’s not gon’ buck me?” He asks as he notes Shasta’s pinned back ears and light prancing.

“No, he won’t,” the stern reply is meant for Shasta, who flicks his ears forward before pinning them back again. “Don’t make me ask Fancy to have you behave, Shas,” she warns. Fancy lifts her head and stares at Shasta, almost as if waiting for him to disobey. The standardbred snorts in defeat and flicks his ears forward. “Good boy. Get used to Arthur an his weight. He might be ridin you for awhile dependin on this situation,” she adds, letting her horses know they might be needing to run. They both neigh in response and paw the ground, awaiting orders.

“We good?”

“Yeah, should be. Try an give him a command. Get him walkin,” she suggests and leans her forearms on the metal horn. Arthur squeezes his thighs against Shasta, clicking his tongue as he’s watched Scarlet do numerous times. Shasta snorts in annoyance but walks around Fancy for him. Scarlet praises her stubborn horse and reaches over to pat him as reward.

“Keep being good to Arthur an I’ll get you somethin nice,” she promises, turning Fancy to ride out the other side of town and around. “Arthur, keep close. There’s raiders in Lemoyne here and they don’t care who or what you are. An be ready to run at a moment’s notice. That’s all the chance we might have if ambushed. Shasta knows to go to Valentine if anythin happens. Fancy will go to camp first to see if anyone’s there then Valentine. She’ll cause a ruckus an get attention drawn to her if anythin happens to me. I also have a special whistle I use for her if I can’t speak. If I go down, get back to camp. Don’t try to rescue me, leave an come back with reinforcements,” she whispers as they ride through the town, both observing their surroundings.

“I’m not leaving you,” he grunts at her, looking at her to see her staring at him. She sighs and nods.

“Fine. Fire fight it’ll be if anythin does go wrong. But I warned you,” she points a finger at him before urging Fancy to a gallop. Shasta prances to the side a moment before riding beside Fancy at her pace, tossing his head.

The duo are just about at the Lemoyne line when two riders come on either side of them, riding too close for comfort. Fancy nickers in warning and Shasta snorts, kicking a little as the rider forces them to ride closer, Arthur and Scarlet’s knees rubbing as they ride.

“What are you two doin out here? You lost?”

“Hey, ain’t you that pretty lady who won a few of the events at our rodeo?” One of the two riders questions, leaning over close to her. She shakes her head and frowns, shifting her weight just enough for Fancy to catch her unspoken command.

“No? There was a woman who won events? That’s new,” she feigns innocence, stealing a glance to Arthur who clenches his jaw. She taps Shasta’s shoulder with her knee, a silent order for him to follow Fancy’s lead.

“Nice try, but there’s not a lot of ladies wearing black chaps and shirts with red fringe,” the second rider sneers, both raiders drawing their guns.

“How’s ‘bout you just give us your winnings for protection in Lemoyne?” The first rider offers, switching his reins to hold in his left, the same hand he’s holding his gun with. Scarlet nods and reaches into her shirt, pausing momentarily as shock and fear passes across her face.

“It appears I’ve already been robbed, fellers,” She lies and squeezes Fancy’s sides twice and the mare kicks out to her left, hitting the horse and making it collapse, causing the raider to fall and be rolled over. Shasta kicks to the right at the same time Fancy goes left, hitting the second raider off his horse completely.

“Run!” Scarlet orders, spurring Fancy and giving her her head. Arthur kicks Shasta and the Buckskin bucks for a second before charging after Fancy; his strides long, catching up to the mustang in no time.

They cross from Lemoyne back into New Hanover and Scarlet sighs, urging her horses to gradually slow up when their breathing becomes labored. Arthur shakes his head and turns to her.

“What the hell was that?” He asks, patting Shasta. Scarlet blows a raspberry and turns to make sure they’re not being followed.

“Lemoyne county Raiders. Bunch of right bastards they are. Unfortunately they’re a group that, I believe, fought for the south and they won’t put the past behind them; continuing the rebellion with kids they pick up. A bad lot, though not as bad as the O’Driscolls,” she answers, petting Fancy. The two horses toss their heads and snort, Shasta trying to pull the reins from Arthur’s hands. “Oi! Cut that out,” she swats Shasta’s ear when he tries to grab a rein again, startling him slightly so he prances away.

“I’ve got him. I’m not gettin thrown by the likes of him. I’ve dealt with worse,” he shrugs as he adjusts the reins so there’s less for Shasta to potentially get a hold of. Scarlet nods and they make their way back to camp, enjoying the other’s company.

“Hey! Who goes t’ere?” Sean calls out, gun ready to fire.

“It’s just us, ya Irish twat,” Scarlet calls back, accent coming out a bit. Arthur laughs lightly, covering it as a cough. They hitch the horses to one of the hitching posts and Scarlet makes an attempt to find Hosea; Dutch stops her with a whistle. She feels her face heat up as she turns to Dutch.

“Well what do we have here? Little miss rodeo queen?” He teases, holding his arms open as though he were presenting her like a prize. She rolls her eyes and nods slightly, smiling at him.

“Somethin like that. Did Hosea already talk to you?” She tries to change the subject, hoping he doesn’t want too much detail.

“No, why? Did somethin happen?”

“Wha-? No! I uhh just gave him the money I earned from the events I won an he won the majority of the bets placed against me to win. I was just gon’ give you half, kinda as a thanks for helpin me an takin not only myself but my son in too,” she quickly reassures the leader, eyes downcast. Dutch nods -she can see his shadow on the ground in front of her- and smiles, clapping her shoulder.

“That’s my girl,” Dutch praises, taking out a cigar to smoke. Scarlet giggles and shakes her head, bringing her gaze back to meet his.

“I’m not your girl. I don’t belong to anybody,” she quips, stepping back from him. “But I would like to change so holler if you need me,” She excuses herself.

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fluffmugger · 5 years

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introspectivenavelgazer said: I’m curious about your thoughts OH HOLD ON BB I GOT OPINIONS. ITS BAD.

sabacc said: ah, the disturbing things bingo movie oh no. nononoo. Make no mistake. This was not a “nooope” situation. There was precisely one moment in a teaser that actually triggered me, and that was so fucking poorly done in the end product I ACTUALLY ENDED UP LAUGHING. I’m not exaggerating, check the post. First time I saw that it pulled a very hard visceral cord, and when the Kersh scene came up in the movie, I was huddled up in my chair, hoodie on, ear blocking ready to ride out that wave of programmed fear. Instead, I fucking laughed because the whole thing was so fucking ridiculous. What was a deft, vicious piece of editing got completely fucking wrecked. And that’s pretty much what happened to the story, that film was a hot mess of absolute bullshit. It not only completely fucked up the overarching themes of the original story, it made no fcking narrative sense in and of itself as a movie verse Lo, there be spoilers...

While some parts I can understand for expediency - such as sidelining Audra and shifting Bill’s obsessive run to IT being based on a local child that he ultimately fails to save, why the fuck have Audra in it in the first place? A five second appearance so ...wha, you can make a running joke on Bill sucking at writing endings that’s just an endless sledge against King? What was the fucking point of that? Likewise the inclusion of Silver, stripped down to a single cameo that only got vaguely saved because it put him in the place where he could meet aforementioned kid (now living in Bill’s old house in a most contrived of plot points but I will allow it because it works) and form an emotional connection. The whole reason for them standing to face IT is shifted from the pact they formed - the childhood vow they could never break - to Beverley instead somehow magically seeing the future while trapped in the deadlights, and realising that if they didn’t finish IT once and for all, even after the cycle they would all eventually take their own lives like Stan did, unable to live with the taint. While this could be a interesting take in and of itself - if you do not face the demons of your childhood, they will destroy you one way or another - it completely shifts the core motivation to one of self interest. Initially the Losers (especially Bill) did actually take on IT from a position of self interest (and young Bill actually has a moment of self agony over it, is he only leading his friends into a deadly crusade because he wants vengeance for Georgie? Does he have that right? Is he nothing but a “selfish little shit waving a tin sword”), but it became so much more, and these children became monster slayers. It’s the hero’s journey. And shifting that makes it a corruption, not into a subversion. It was also so damned messily handled - it could have been interesting , the idealism of childhood shifting to pragmatism of adulthood, but it was reduced to a handwave threat, and they didn’t need to be threatened. The original story had a whole intertwined creep that was fucking beautiful, this veneer of adults in control of their own lives and destiny being stripped away in thin layers, with the Losers gradually beginning to dimly perceive they are simply parts of some great cosmic machinery and their illusions of control and indeed their entire lives are all just that - illusions. The undermining of reality and stripping of power were great Adult Fears that played fucking beautifully in the book. The silent unspoken Imposter Syndrome, hinted at, but never directly addressed, that all their successes were simply due to being touched by IT. In the movie? Oh man we’re all gonna kill ourselves if we don’t fix this and it means ...nothing to the characters. Seriously. They all still walk anyway. And way too much fucking time is wasted on characters abruptly deciding to leave only to Not At The Last Second. It’s just a big fat clumsy mess.

They completely chunked out Bowers taking Mike out of the final battle, yet still included him in the film - Why? what was the fucking purpose? They also intimated that IT was responsible for killing his father - ironically the one fucking murder Bowers did commit - and adult Bowers was delightfully played, but he served no fucking purpose whatsoever. Not to drop them to the lesser number of power (5 as opposed to 7), not to drive them into the sewers, what was the fucking purpose of having him there? He shows up, doesn’t even break Eddie’s arm (so there’s your other purpose of resetting the gameboard to the positions of the last confrontation) gets stabbed, gets killed, and they go on la de da.

Michael’s story is absolutely fucked into unrecognisability. I’ve already ranted about killing off his parents - it’s a dumb fucking decision and I will never fucking excuse it. William Hanlon is a key player in the books, inadvertently preparing his son for his role of watchman. This is completely lost to the most basic of fucking racial stereotypes. Holy shit they actually refer to his parents as fucking crack heads at one point (although this is later revealed to be a fake out by Pennywise), but what does it serve? While you can argue that removing him is what destabilises Mikes character THERE IS NO FUCKING REASON TO HAVE AN UNSTABLE MIKE. In the sequel, Mike is clinging to sanity by less than the skin of his teeth, drugging Bill against his will at one point, actively leading everyone into danger with a false promise of victory and generally acting like a desperate fucking madman. Why take a dignified black character and turn him into an unstable Kassandra? You don’t need a fucking unstable Kassandra, the very nature of what IT is, and its horrific, aeons-long parasitic relationship with Derry is so fucking unbelievable in and of itself it does that for you.

Likewise Eddie’s adult career is suddenly changed to being a ...investment? insurance? boring person thing? what the shit? Why not have him own the goddamn largest fleet private chauffeurs? Why change? that one tied back into his navigation skills at least, and there’s serious coin in that shit. And fucking hell do not get me started on fucking Myra fucking hell if you want to touch a complex and fucked up relationship like that, you don’t handwave it. His entire rampant hypochondria is shifted to something closer to ...smart arse with some small neuroses? Ok, but you’re telling me this..why? what is the purpose of this?

Completely out of left field, Richie is heavily intimated to be Queer. Ok. But they then go on to jam in additional homophobia (and this is on top of Mellon’s death that to be fucking honest is shot way too fucking far on the side of “lookit the smartmouth gay get stomped”) and Pennywise threatening to reveal Richies Great Secret to the point I literally leaned over and asked His Lordship “The script writer does know this is set in the fucking 21st century, right?” It could have been a fascinating side story of a man whose trauma keeps himself in a cage even when he doesn’t have to, but it’s not. It’s a hot mess of what the fuck let’s throw a gay (but not too obviously gay we’ll do it so we can claim he’s not so it still sells in china and we have plausible deniability hide your queers, hide your queers!) in just so we can kill the object of his affection. YOU DON’T NEED TO AMP UP THE ANGST OVER EDDIES DEATH. WE ALL KNOW ITS COMING. AND IT HURTS. You know what woulda been ground breaking? You’ve laid the groundwork with Beverley already, have Richie in the deadlights as he is, have Eddie do his Big Damn Hero Save, and then have richie see what’s coming and shove eddie out of the way. Having Richie die instead of Eddie? Holy crap, no one would have seen that coming. It would have blown up fucking everyone, film, telemovie and book fans alike. (Also holy shit adult richie, far from being the smart, funny man we all know is a wanker. His comments at the chinese dinner party have none of the genuine humour of the book or even the Curry adaptation, he comes across as a mean spirited bullying dickhead that you’d all go to the toilet at the same time and climb out the window to avoid. In a kid it’s funny. Kids have no filters. From an adult, it’s fucking poison)

We also have all these elements of childhood coming back, but there is no purpose to them in the film. In the book, it’s the wheel turning, the gameboard sliding back to where it was last time they faced IT, a very real embodiment of unfinished business and an inability to escape your childhood - a fact the characters are very well aware of and in varying ways horrified by their own regressions - but in the film it’s just leaving the audience wondering why are they doing that? why’s that there. what the fuck man. why have bill stutter? So you connect the adults to the kids by using the broadest fucking flanderised tropes possible? It doesn’t even stand on its own two feet, it relies on way too much back knowledge from other sources. And it reeks as it they bolted on large chunks of some other horror movie script that was presented to the studio and changed the names. There’s no psychological implications, there’s no deftness, hell there’s no fucking chemistry with any of the fucking actors. It’s reduced to a jumpscare gore fest. It doesn't even compare to the first half. It got so bad that by the second act I was literally pointing at the screen and BAM right on cue, there was the jumpscare. That’s how fucking predictable it is. The CGI was shithouse (I actually burst out laughing during the Paul Bunyan scene as well as the Kersh one it was so fucking bad) the ending is..my god they literally prance around him screaming “fucking clown” until he shrinks, they pluck his heart and crush it. Fuck me, the Curry adaptation had its problems but the savage, ritualistic destruction of IT as they all fell to their knees around and tore it apart with their bare hands had fucking balls at least. And BTW, it’s only the caverns and the house on neibolt street that get destroyed, the rest of the town is just fuckin’ dandy and it’s like DUDE THE TOWN WAS LITERALLY BUILT ON IT. DERRY CANNOT SURVIVE WITHOUT IT. IT’S A PARALLEL FOR THE HORRIFIC CANKER AT THE HEART OF EVERY “LOVELY” AMERICAN SMALL TOWN. THIS IS ABSOLUTELY SOMETHING TO PLAY WITH. and then, THEN they end it with a letter from Stan. See, Stan didn’t kill himself because in one brief, horrific instant he remembered everything, and even as a child knew he couldn’t face it again and bailed, no... he knew he was going to buckle and killed himself so..he wouldn’t die they wouldn’t all die what. the fuck. was the purpose. of THAT.

In short, it was a phoned in, badly written, badly edited piece of shit, completely purposeless and not even worthy of its predecessor.

#IT

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theyrejustadream-away · 6 years

Text

Soulmate!Jimin

Park Jimin; fluff

Happy late birthday Jimin! We love you!

Word count: 1769

Alright yall welcome to my first official bullet scenario

Let’s see how this goes

Ok anyways

It’s Jimin’s birthday and I wanna do something special for him

I hope he gets better,, i know it isn’t serious but still

And the whole soulmate AU is something i love wholeheartedly and i want to write one

Let’s get it (imagine jungkook saying that)

So Jimin’s a junior in college

Jimin is pretty well known on campus for his dancing and although he isn’t as outgoing or social as Taehyung or Jungkook, he still is pretty popular

Mainly because he’s hot but

So being a junior, he basically knows most of the “secrets” on campus

Like where to hang out, study, eat breakfast, you name it and he’ll tell you

Oh yeah he’s such a sweetheart

Will walk you to where you need to go if it’s dark out

Carries your books if you look like you’re about to drop them

The whole “prince charming” deal, it’s understandable if hordes of girls chase after him

Who wouldnt, right?

Welp with the creation of the Soulmate System, it sorta gets rid of the idea of unnecessary crushes

Which seems sad BUT it reduces heartbreak and all the sad stuff that comes from failed relationships

So the way it works is that everyone has a black rectangle on the inside of their left wrist

And everytime they speak to their soulmate, the rectangle gets lighter and lighter until you can read the name

Of course there are flaws and your soulmate might have a different person on their wrist or you just never end up meeting them

But we aren’t gonna talk about that, this is going to be a happy one!!

Back to Jimin

As i was saying, he always knows what places to hit up

And of course, the only way to know this is if he goes there himself

One day, he finished his last class of the day and stepped outside only to get hit with a strong gust of wind and a sudden chill

Its F A L L

Which means cafes!! Warm drinks!! Sweaters!!

Once he composes himself and fixes his hair, he starts wandering through the city surrounding his college

After drifting from place to place, he finally spots a small coffee shop that’s hidden by a fancy department store

Like it’s literally right next to the store but it’s so minimalistic that you just dont really notice it

But he does!!

So he goes in and he’s just met with warmth and soft piano melodies coming from above and the smell of something sweet in the oven and he just melts

This is exactly what he needs

Walking up to the counter, he looks at the menu and decides to get something simple

Because if this place cant make a good cappuccino then it fails in his eyes

Speaking of eyes

As he was collecting his change from the cashier, you just happened to walk in for your shift

And boy did his heart do a weird thing in his chest and he just couldnt take his eyes off of you

Honestly you were just in your uniform (white button down, navy apron, dark pants, hair up) and not in the best of moods because you may or may not have forgotten to turn on the alarm and was late for your first class

Always double check your alarms friends

Basically you were just not looking your best at the moment

But did Jimin think that?

N O PE

The poor boy almost left his wallet at the counter because he just couldnt stop looking at you

Although that may sound creepy at first, it was more of a ‘who is this angel in front of me’ stare with eyes bright and shining to the point where it was just endearing

That didnt stop the person behind him from coughing and letting him know that there is a full line right behind him ohmygod jimIN MOVE

You, on the other hand, didn’t notice a thing and went to your station where you made drinks and call out people’s names and all that jazz

He picked a seat near the back of the cafe after he ordered, where he had a view of everything

And by everything, i mean you

“She’s so pretty wow i want to talk to her but what if she thinks im weird??? What would i even say? How would i eve-”

“Jimin? Your order is ready”

“Ohmygod she said my name what do i do??”

“Jimin? Is there a Jimin here?”

“Ye-Yes!”

His voice cracks and he feels his face heat up

Gone is the charming and confident Jimin

Hello to the shy and clumsy Jimin

The poor boy almost spills his drink because he’s nervous and his voice already cracked and you’re giggling

Bless your soul for trying to hide it behind your hand and spare him the embarrassment

But you laughing isn’t helping because now he’s even more red and thinking ‘wow your laugh is so cute can you literally get any more adorable’

“Does coffee make you this nervous?”

“No, it’s the cute girl giving it to me”

He’s thankful that he didn’t embarrass himself anymore and somewhat recovered

Because now you’re the blushing one (he’s still a little pink from before but he decided he enjoys seeing you flustered more than anything)

Eventually he had to leave because wow it’s late and he still has homework to do

So he sadly walks out, taking a glance at where you were working but you were busy with another customer so you didn’t see him look at you

BUT he comes back almost everyday just to see you

It does a number on his wallet but hey, who needs money when you’re in college, right?

I’m kidding being a college kid is so expensive ohmygod

Everytime he comes by, he always tries to make you blush or laugh

Maybe at the same time

He just wants to get to know you better because you’re a really sweet person and he has this urge to hold your hand or hug you or kiss you but he pushes it down

At the same time, the mark on the inside of his wrist has been getting lighter and lighter

He can faintly make out the name hidden and he oh so desperately wants it to be you

You, on the other hand, could read the name on your wrist

Guess what?

It says Jimin!

You were so happy the day you found out

And when you saw him the next day you were just !!!!!!!

But he didn’t say anything about it.. Not even a small hint to let you know he knew

So you were confused

Did he just not like you in that way?

Or even worse

What if you weren’t his soulmate?

You confided in your best friend once you got back home after seeing him

“He didn’t even mention the mark? What if it isn’t my name?”

“Does he know your name?”

“..I think he does?”

“Wait how are you not sure??? Haven’t you guys been talking for a month now?”

A few days passed and Jimin still doesnt know your name

But his wrist says ‘Y/N’ and he can’t remember anyone with that name

So he decides that today is the day he’ll ask you for your name

Because he’s also worried that he isnt your soulmate

You knew his name already, and if he was destined to be yours why hadn’t you told him?

Did you not like him?

He kept stressing over it for hours on end and his roommate finally told him to go out and ask

Although it was just to stop Jimin from pacing around their shared dorm and making his roommate dizzy from all his sudden movements

And being Jimin, he dresses up and styles his hair

To be honest, if you hadn’t already fallen for him then you definitely did when he walked through the doors

“If your man taking you out on a date, he looks hOT”

“Jackson shut up i swear i’m going to spill hot coffee on yo- hi Jimin!”

It all goes according to plan at first

He hasn’t embarrassed himself or had his voice crack

He goes and waits near you, and since there weren’t many customers you could talk to him without having another cranky customer yell at you

looking at you, old man who came in and ordered hot water. who even does that what it wrong with you

You were still a little upset that he hadn’t mentioned anything about his mark

But you acted as if nothing was wrong

So when he just says “What’s your name?” without even saying hi, your heart sort of knew what was going to happen before you did

It started beating faster and a smile was threatening to show but before you did anything dumb, you answered

“y/n… why?”

And he gives the brightest smile, like the Sun can fight me because Jimin’s smile outshines it in this very moment

“Because I think you’re meant to be mine”

Cue the various aww’s coming from your coworkers and that sweet old couple who’s been shipping the both of you ever since Jimin brought you a lily he saw on his way that ‘reminded him of you’

Jackson also starts screaming a little and jumping because finally you two pieced it altogether

Jackson knew ever since you asked him about your whole dilemma because once you took a sick day and he ended up talking to Jimin

And coincidentally saw Jimin’s wrist and went :D

But he couldn’t say anything because he wanted the both of you to reach that conclusion on your own

Still, it was really obvious that there was something there

Back to Jimin and you,,

As soon as he said that you ran around the counter and tackled him in a huge hug

Jimin didn’t see that coming but he caught you in time and he sort of stumbled back but who cares because ohmygod he finally gets to hug you

This is all he’s been dreaming of

He feels so warm and soft and smells a little like peppermint and you can hear his heart beating just as fast and yours and his whole body is shaking with laughter because he really can’t do anything other than smile and laugh

He’s hugging you tightly and everything felt right in the world

Jimin found his other half and you found yours too!

hope you enjoyed <3

#park jimin #bts #jimin #bts jimin #bts fluff #jimin fluff #bullet scenario #fluff #soulmate au #love yourself #FIRST ONE ON THE NEW ACCOUNT #ESKETIT

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mirrorofliterature · 6 years

Photo

teach me (but I already know)

chapter 1: how do you hold this?

A story from a while ago centred around pining, stupidity and the odd game of tennis. Enjoy the journey best friends Magnus and Alec will take. Inspired by a prompt I asked @magnusbicon for. Read on AO3.

The sun-dappled their kitchen, the lack of curtains apparent; it was beautiful, but its brightness was unwanted by both of them.

"Alexander," Magnus moaned, striding into their kitchen in his worn dressing gown, "turn the sun off."

Alec stifled a snort. "Can't, Magnus."

"It's 7 o'clock. Why didn't we choose easy professions?" Magnus collapsed on a stool and leaned against the kitchen bench - a thin layer of 'marble' - his hair falling into his eyes.

It had been quite the something getting used to morning Magnus, but it had made the most sense to move in together after college.

Their respective jobs were gruelling, but the pay was decent enough together that they could afford a - whilst small - nice, two bedroom apartment in Brooklyn, though the view wasn't that great, just of the grey industrial buildings next door.

Alec looked at Magnus in exasperation before moving behind the counter to pour out their coffee from the stewing pot. "Because we're passionate people, Magnus, and 'I want a vocation, not a soulless job!'"

"Why do you know me so well?" Magnus complained, though the warm glint in his eyes underlining it said otherwise.

"Because we're best friends. Now," Alec said, shoving a coffee towards Magnus with a little more force than necessary, "drink this before you say something you will regret. I'll make some pancakes, we've got enough time."

At this, Magnus' eyes widened and he nearly spat his coffee out. "The last time you tried to cook pancakes, I think my tongue wanted to commit suicide." Fatigue forgotten, Magnus walked into the kitchen quickly, almost tripping over the tiles. "Shoo!"

"Alright," Alec said, grinning, walking out. "Now, pancakes?"

"Fine," Magnus relented, pulling out the frying pan. "I don't have to leave for another hour. You?"

"Because I had that night shift last night," Alec replied, stifling a yawn, "I don't have to come in till ten so I thought I'd do the laundry and maybe read a little."

Magnus froze from where he was getting the milk out of the fridge. "The laundry?"

Alec laughed, shaking his head. "Magnus, it's not going to explode. Don't you trust me?"

"Yes," Magnus replied indignantly, placing the eggs on the counter, "but my clothes are delicate!"

Alec rolled his eyes. "I know how to take care of your clothes, Magnus - because I know how to take care of you."

"Hm," Magnus said, surveying Alec as his face softened. "I guess you do. D'you want chocolate?"

"God, yes," Alec groaned, "tomorrow's Friday, but I think I need something to keep me going."

"You always have me," Magnus said casually, whilst his head was buried in the cupboard, searching for the chocolate sauce. The pantry was a tad cluttered.

"Yeah," Alec replied, momentarily checking Magnus out, "I do. As do you me."

Just not in the way I want to, he thought, resigned yet still looking forward to the hour of playful banter stretched out before him.

...

“Are you sure, Madzie?”

Madzie nodded, determination sparkling in her dark brown eyes along with intelligence. "Do it. There are more positions than just D Major."

Magnus slowly peeled off the white lines that he had only put on Madzie's tiny violin last year - a 1/2 violin. "Why don't we start with A Major, then?" he asked, handing her the violin.

The violin was cheap - plastic, and pathetically obvious in contrast to Magnus' treasured, ancient yet highly expensive violin - but it was clear that it was well loved with the way it shone under the fluorescent lighting.

Madzie groaned. "I don't like scales," she muttered. "Are there any songs in A Major that I can play?"

No one likes scales, Magnus thought idly. Even though the elementary school he worked at was the lowest paid out of all of his four jobs - being an in school violin teacher was certainly a chaotic profession - it was the enthusiasm and innocence of the students who he worked with here that made it his favourite.

Madzie was an extremely prolific violinist for a seven-year-old, especially for one who had only picked up the instrument a year ago. She was probably going to do her Grade 1 Exam early next year at this rate.

Magnus ruffled around with some of the loose music sheets in his briefcase. "How about," he said, pausing at a piece and humming in appreciation, "do you like Harry Potter, Madzie?"

Madzie blinked, a small smile gracing her face. "It's alright, I guess. Don't know much about it. Why?" she asked, frowning.

"There's a piece called Leaving Hogwarts that's quite nice. You know your friend, Zoe?" Madzie nodded. "I've been talking with Mr Fell, and he thinks that both of you are around the same level in your respective instruments. How would you like to do a duet with her?"

Madzie's face lit up. "That'd be nice," she said, which for her was basically a squeal of excitement, for she used her words sparingly yet effectively, "I've heard Zoe, she's quite good at the piano. Can I at least see the piece first though, Mr Bane, please?"

Magnus smiled and slid the sheet onto the music stand - again, it was flimsy and dull, had almost broken more times than Magnus could count. "Do you want me to play it first, together or do you want to try it alone?"

"Together," Madzie ordered solemnly, picking up her carbon bow.

As Magnus picked up his own bow - dark cherry wood - and though he looked massive in comparison to Madzie, they fit well together as he let the music flow through him.

His vibrato was soft; he was playing pp because this was Madzie's time to shine; and shine she did, as she was sight reading and this was only her second year playing, her mistakes clumsy yet fixed almost instantly, and all in all, Magnus was proud of Madzie.

However, Madzie wasn't just a student - she was also almost like a niece to him, the adopted daughter of his dear friend Catarina, but she still insisted on calling him Mr Bane in school. He had only known her for a few years, after all.

Being a teacher wasn't the most rewarding job, and having multiple jobs, and therefore multiple bosses, to please made it even harder - but at the end of the day, at least Magnus knew he could return to his best friend Alec at their home, who understood, as his job as a police officer wasn't exactly the most forgiving either.

And he was happy with that.

Even if his heart secretly yearned for more.

...

Alec sighed, signing off on another cold case. There seemed to be an endless amount of criminals whose faces would be hidden for eternity; Alec got irrationally pissed off at every one like nothing else.

Well, maybe his own unrequited love for his best friend stung a little bit more.

However, that was irrelevant now. Alec had joined his current precinct fresh out of Police Academy at 21, after also having completed a degree in Criminal Justice as his college major at NYU - which co-incidentally was where he had met Magnus, even though they had not been doing the same courses - with Law as his minor. So, therefore, he had more than completed the three years prerequisite to being promoted to a detective.

Which was his dream. Whilst he enjoyed being a police officer, the thought of being a detective was just so much more enticing. In preparation for his potential promotion, he was about to undertake a part-time Computer Forensics degree - again at NYU. But he would never become a detective if he didn't speak up about his wishes.

Which brought him to this moment. Standing outside Santiago's office with bated breath, having just knocked on the door and now simply waiting for the anticipated 'come in' in cold dread.

There it was.

Raphael Santiago was a man a few years older than Alec who had climbed the ranks to Captain in record-breaking speed. He was prone to wearing sharp suits with bleached ties when not in action and today was no exception.

"Lightwood?" Raphael said, putting down his pen, "what is it that you need?"

Raphael was also an impeccably formal man. Though they had known each other for years, as Raphael's mother Guadapale had adopted Magnus when he was 14 and Raphael 17 - they were brothers - he still referred to Alec as his last name at work.

"Santiago." Alec remained standing. "I would like to express my interest in becoming a detective and to be further considered for any future detective promotions."

Raphael simply nodded, pulling out a notebook and his discarded pen. He jotted something down. "Thank you, Lightwood. I will take this into consideration."

Alec's ambition was no secret to those who even remotely knew him. He closed the door quietly, his shoulders slumping a little as he walked back to his desk to sign off on some more cold cases. Contrary to the stereotypes, Alec found the completion of paperwork satisfying and even somewhat enjoyable, which Magnus liked to tease him about.

"How'd you go?" asked Simon, not bothering to lower his voice, as soon as Alec sat down.

Simon had been a recently turned music from accounting major when Alec had first met him, though his minor had surprisingly been consistently Law. In an interesting turn of events, Simon had ended up following Alec to Police Academy.

He also was proud of the fact that he had introduced Alec and Magnus.

Anyway, Alec had tolerated Simon for years now and grudgingly had admitted that the boy was like another (annoying) younger brother that he felt obligated to take care of. Simon had shed many a tear that day.

"Fine," said Alec, flipping open a case. "Now, be quiet."

...

"You're not cooking, Alexander, unless you can show me a certificate for a cooking class by a certified professional. Whilst you're at that, take Izzy with you."

Alec pouted. You mistook salt for sugar only five times and then you weren't allowed to cook in your own home. "Fine. Take away?"

Magnus sighed and burrowed further into his mountain of blankets on the couch. "Please."

Alec opened up a drawer, got out their collection of menus and started to idly flip through them. "Pizza?"

Magnus scrunched his nose up in a way that Alec tried to not think as adorable. "Not feeling it."

"Hm..." Alec continued to flip, "Burger King?"

Magnus' eyes lit up. "You know me too well. Do they order in, 'cause I'm not going anywhere."

"It's really not that cold, Magnus," Alec muttered, putting the rest of the brochures away and jumping up to sit on the counter.

"The heater isn't working and we're in New York and it's nearly winter, I think I'm entitled to think that it's that cold, Alexander."

"But they do. Order in, that is." Alec got off the counter to pick up his phone, brushing off Magnus' complaint. "The usual?"

"Of course," Magnus scoffed, "I can't betray my onion rings like that."

...

They were lounging on their couches - plural, as they were both couch hogs - eating chips and trying not to get grease onto them.

"You know," Magnus said, his voice slightly muffled by all of the blankets surrounding him, "Madzie is quite talented."

"Is she?" asked Alec, looking over his glass of water. "So no parents have come in and roasted you yet?"

"No," Magnus scoffed, "I am a reputable teacher. Though," he admitted, "Raphael hasn't told me anything shocking about your performance yet."

Alec sighed. "Magnus, please. You know three other people in my precinct and all of them have passed on several messages from you at some point in the last four years; it's quite disconcerting."

Magnus sat up, his brown eyes narrowed. "It's a dangerous profession and you, sir," he said, pulling his other hand out of his blankets to point an accusing finger at Alec, "don't know the meaning of the word break."

"Like you're one to talk. And you're cleaning up your mess," Alec added, watching Magnus' fries teeter frighteningly close to the ground.

"Hmph," said Magnus, pulling out the offenders and eating them. "That reminds me, I don't have anything to drink!"

Magnus started to struggle out of his blankets and Alec rolled his eyes. "I offered."

"I don't want water," Magnus muttered, slumping back into the couch, "I want something proper-"

"I thought we agreed on no alcohol on school nights because someone can't control themselves," Alec said, raising his eyebrow.

"We did," Magnus muttered dejectedly. Then he blinked, an uncannily conniving smile spreading across his face. "Dear Alexander," he almost purred.

"Yes?"

"Could you pretty please get me one glass of champagne and I promise we get to watch whatever you want tonight and I won't be judgemental," Magnus said, pouting.

So Alec relented. He was only a man, after all, and - "Fine. But the cheap stuff and if you spill it you're paying for the dry-cleaning."

...

"You want to watch what?"

"Magnus, just because it's Hallmark, doesn't mean that it is sappy. Or only suitable for saps. Also," Alec added, shuffling around the kitchen - after extensive training, he was permitted to make microwave popcorn, "I thought we agreed on no judgement."

"Fine," Magnus said, sulking. "Why are we watching the latest episode though?"

"Because I want to." Alec slipped in the bag of popcorn and put the microwave on.

Magnus swivelled around and glared at him, though there was more concern than heat in his gaze. "ALEXANDER! Step away from the microwave now, it's bad for you."

"Sure, mum," Alec muttered under his breath.

"What was that?" Magnus asked, his voice dangerously low.

"Something true," Alec replied innocently. "Anyway, we're watching the latest episode of Murder, She Baked because I've seen all of the others. With Izzy," he added at Magnus' oddly crestfallen look, "which I probably should've done this time, but she's swamped with work at the moment, and she practically forced me to go ahead."

The microwave dinged and Alec instantly retrieved it, having neglected to follow through with his best friend's nagging. "Now. Popcorn and let's hope Hannah doesn't get herself killed this time. The cat is adorable, though."

As the credits rolled, Magnus threw Alec a slightly guilty look over the couch. "I've read the books and I'm hoping they don't follow with the love triangle, didn't even end well."

"And I'm the sap here," Alec sniped, pouring the popcorn into a large bowl and wincing at the larger than average amount of kernels as well as blackened pieces. "Now," he said, "budge over."

Magnus looked at him imperiously. "Why?"

"Because it's cold and you're hogging all of the blankets." Alec placed the popcorn onto Magnus' lap and slid onto the couch. "Now, no talking or no popcorn."

This kind of casual physical contact with Magnus was ordinary, comfortable almost.

But it wasn't in the way Alec secretly wanted.

...

"Promise me that you will never run towards the person with the gun, Magnus."

"What," Magnus gasped. "How dare you insinuate - ok, fair warning. But it's him?"

"I called it," said Alec smugly. "Now, shut up."

And so Magnus remained in relative quiet - except for the stifled laughs and a shocked - "ok, then" - before the credits started to roll.

"It was good," Magnus admitted reluctantly. "What time is it?" he asked, stifling a yawn.

Alec didn't even bother looking at the clock. "For bed. You've got the snooty school tomorrow, remember?"

Magnus groaned, pulling the blankets closer towards himself and further away from Alec. "Don't remind me. Fine, I'll go to bed."

As Magnus shuffled off to his room, Alec ran after him. "You can't steal all of the blankets. Give me one before you disappear."

Magnus peeled the outer one - the fluffiest one - off reluctantly. "Fine. I guess something that pretty shouldn't freeze to death."

Alec sighed and grabbed the blanket, ignoring Magnus' casual flirting. "What are you doing after work tomorrow?"

"Not much," Magnus admitted, yawning.

"Me neither. See you tomorrow," Alec said, patting Magnus on the shoulder before padding off to his bedroom.

Living with your best friend was pretty good. It only had some minor drawbacks, such as it was even harder to not spill out your heart and soul accidentally to them.

"G'night, Alexander."

"Goodnight. Don't stay up on your phone," he added sternly. "You need your sleep."

"So do you. I'll call the electrician after work tomorrow." And then Magnus slipped into his room, because another undeniable drawback about living with your best friend was that it was too easy to chat until the next day.

...

"Are you sure?"

Alec shrugged. "I haven't played in years, but it couldn't be that hard."

Magnus narrowed his eyes before taking his violin out of his case, caressing the instrument with extreme care. "Be careful."

"Of course I will be," Alec said reassuringly.

He picked up the violin, tucked it under his left chin and winced. Had it always been this uncomfortable?

"Alexander, darling, you have to put this on first." Magnus handed Alec his shoulder rest - a cushion of sorts between his shoulder and the hard wood of the violin.

"Oh," Alec said, annoyed. "I forgot." And then he picked up the bow and roughly pulled it across one of the middle strings. Or maybe both.

“Alexander,” Magnus laughed, shaking his head and wincing a little, “that was abysmal.”

“Yeah,” Alec said, continuing to glide his bow over the strings in a particularly ugly way, producing an ear-splitting screech, even though his lessons were now flooding back to him, “I’ve never done this before.”

Which was, strictly speaking, true. He hadn’t ever played this badly on purpose before.

“Hm,” Magnus said, tsking at the careless way Alec was holding the violin, his back slouched and palm pressed up against its neck, “d’you want some lessons, darling? Your last ones clearly weren't any good."

“Sure,” Alec replied, itching to stand up straight and take care of the violin properly, “if you’re willing, if it isn’t too much for you,” he added hurriedly.

Magnus paused. “Darling, we’ve been best friends for seven years and we live in the same apartment. I think I can find the time to teach you how to play this beautiful instrument. You’re treating it dreadfully,” Magnus suddenly added, swooping it from under Alec’s chin and hugging it, “it was making me dreadfully anxious.”

Well. This was going to be interesting.

Maybe he should have admitted to Magnus that he had only been rusty and he did, genuinely, know how to adequately play the instrument, but the prospect of Magnus teaching him how to play the violin, in the gentle and caring way he did, was simply too tempting.

"We can have a hit tomorrow, if you want," Alec offered, "of, you know, tennis. Izzy offered."

Magnus raised his eyebrows as he slipped his violin back securely into his case. "Izzy plays?"

"She dragged me and Jace off for a year of lessons when we were 15," Alec said, rubbing the back of his neck. "As well as a season of local competition. It was... interesting. I prefer Archery, but it should be fun. And you said you played a while back..."

"I did," Magnus confirmed, swinging his vibrant violin case up onto his back to put it away, "that should be fun."

…

After about the fifth time Magnus volleyed the ball over the fence, Alec sighed and jogged down to the other side of the court.

“Magnus,” he said, the wind ripping through his hair, “that was horrible. I thought you said you had played before?”

Izzy looked up from where she was sprawled on a bench, flicking through a magazine and gave Magnus a look.

“It’s been a while,” Magnus muttered, reaching up to fix his dragon ear cuff.

Why he was wearing that whilst playing tennis, Alec had no clue. Or his multitude of necklaces and rings.

“Well,” Alec said, raising his eyebrow, “perhaps we should start off with what you’re wearing.”

Magnus pouted, continuing to fiddle with his ear cuff.

“It’s inappropriate. The ear cuff can stay, but everything else – shoo!”

Magnus reluctantly, but slowly, took off the offending jewellery.

He does look good in them, Alec thought idly. “We’re going home.”

Alec ignored Magnus’ protest of ‘but we only just got here!’ and started to run off to collect the poor balls from the bushes Magnus had sent them into.

…

Catarina sighed. "What is it?"

Magnus walked up to his bedroom's window, peering through it to make sure that Alec was still occupied with talking to Isabelle.

"Alexander," he said mournfully, "he offered to teach me how to play tennis and I accepted like the fool I am!"

"But you know how to play tennis," Catarina replied, clearly confused.

"Beside the point," Magnus said, dismissing Catarina's perfectly reasonable remark. He put his phone on speaker, threw it onto his bed and collapsed dramatically next to it. "How am I supposed to survive?"

"Finally tell him how you feel? It has been literal years, Magnus, and we're all sick of your pining."

Magnus gasped as if he had been mortally wounded. "Confess? Are you out of your mind? Catarina, you of all people know that I cannot risk my friendship with Alexander for something as silly as feelings."

Magnus could feel Catarina's eye roll vibrating through the phone. "Magnus, they're not just 'feelings' or a silly crush. You're in love with him, and I'm pretty sure he feels the same way about you."

"Don't get my hopes up," Magnus said sorrowfully, "he doesn't. That is preposterous. Anyway, back to the matter at hand; the tennis lessons. It's going to be torture."

"Magnus," Catarina started patiently.

"I'm going to die a glorious death!" Magnus moaned, burying his head into his pillow.

"Shut up, idiot," she finished. "You're going to be fine."

"I'm also going to be giving Alec violin lessons," Magnus added in a much more relaxed manner. "He apparently already had lessons years ago, but the darling was terrible."

There was a long stretch of silence in which Magnus only knew Catarina hadn't hung up due to the lack of a beep.

"You've got this, Magnus," Catarina said in a softer voice. "You're 25, you're successful in your career, I think you can handle seeing Alec's muscles for a few hours. Ok?"

"Ok," Magnus replied slowly, playing with the fringes of one of his blankets. "Thank you, Catarina. Love you."

"Love you too," she said before hanging up.

Magnus could hear the rhythmical, even thumps of Alec's footsteps approaching and sat up, placing his phone on charge.

The front door creaked open and Magnus padded up to meet Alec.

"Hi," Alec panted, "Izzy wouldn't stop talking." His dark hair was sticking up, uncharacteristically all over the place. "I'll have a shower, then Brooklyn 99?"

Magnus nodded, rubbing his fingers together. "Sounds good."

Magnus shuffled off into the kitchen in his grey slacks and started on the popcorn.

On the stove. Because it tasted better and it was considerably healthier; he could also be trusted with it.

But certainly not with anybody's heart.

#my writing #malec fic #mutual pining #tmbiak #best friends to lovers #oblivious idiots #roomates

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