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bettyfrommars · 6 months

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I'm on Fire

biker!eddie x fem!reader

Part 16: All Along the Watchtower

series masterlist playlist

18+ONLY

There is a lot of healing in this chapter, some smut and allusions to smut, alcohol consumption, lots of love, but also some new characters drop into the scene and there will be some angst at the end. If you have come this far in the story, you know what to expect. There will be song lyrics from the band Tool. Steve with an OC character. Mention of healing wounds, a dead body, chemo treatments, and plenty of unprotected sex.

word count: 6.8k

a/n: I mentioned in a post the other day that, instead of 2 final chapters of 10-11k, that I'd be splitting them up and doing four more posts with less words, so there will be several more parts to come. I know it's been almost 2 months since the last chapter, but I'm looking forward to giving this most of my attention for the rest of the year. I have so much love for those of you who are still with me.

"There must be some kind of way outta here Said the joker to the thief There's too much confusion I can't get no relief..."

-- Jimi Hendrix, All Along the Watchtower

The aftermath of everything that conspired in the parking lot that night was a whirlwind.

There were way too many witnesses for the cops not to get involved, but there was also an underlying mutual respect for an outlaw level of revenge justice when someone hurts one of your own. When bystanders and club members were questioned as to who made the final killshot, there was a contagious memory loss that made everyone shrug and shake their heads.

Collectively, no one saw anything.

Everyone saw Wayne, but also—no they did not.

Wayne was going through chemo treatments and hadn’t been an active member of the club for years; no one in law enforcement would ever expect him to be involved, and everyone silently agreed to keep it that way.

Charlene caught a stray bullet in the shoulder, and even lied straight-faced to the police about what had happened. She waited for someone to blame her, somehow, for Craig’s death, but no one pointed fingers, they all just acted like their memories had been erased. Inside the ambulance on the gurney, she caught Steve looking across the parking lot at her just before the EMT’s shut the doors. His expression remained unresponsive, but he stood and watched the vehicle leave the premises before turning to limp over to Astrid’s truck.

Steve was not in great shape, either, and he almost fell twice when he first tried to stand. Robin caught him on the second stumble and had him brace his arm around her shoulders. The EMT’s tried to get Steve to the hospital, but he refused. Partially because he hated hospitals, and also because there’s no way he could afford a meat wagon escort, let alone whatever bill he racked up while in their care. A handful of ibuprofen, a bag of frozen peas, and some patched together magic from Astrid’s medical bag would have to do.

Before the medics arrived, Eddie grabbed his leather jacket out of one of the saddlebags on his bike and had it wrapped around your shoulders as he pinned you close to him with both arms, as tight as he could without hurting you. “Baby baby baby I’m here, I’m here…never gonna let you go…” he hushed it over and over, trying to calm himself as much as you. You found his eyes were wet when he tipped your chin up gently with his finger, pressing kisses across your skin that was sprinkled with dried blood. He parted your mouth with his tongue, just slightly, letting it graze your top lip. His voice trembled when he said he loved you before sealing the words with another soft kiss.

Still observing from the steps of the hotel, Melanie watched the interaction between you and Eddie, and the realization that he would never be hers ever again finally sank in, hitting the pit of her stomach like a lead weight.

Eddie sat next to you on the back of Hopper’s Bronco and held your hand while you told the Chief about your abduction. Anger curled Eddie’s lip when you recited the horrific events, and his eyes narrowed on Craig getting zipped into a body bag, wishing it were possible to kill someone for a second time.

You sprained your ankle, and had a few surface cuts and bruises, but most of your trauma was internal. You told Eddie you were fine, but he wouldn’t rest until the EMT’s checked you out.

Eddie got the shower temperature at your place just right before helping you in with him so that he could gently wash the blood from your face and shampoo your hair. He took his time soaping every part of you; even had you put all of your weight on him so he could clean your feet with meticulous precision, being extra careful with your bad ankle. He wanted every trace of Craig and all that had happened to be washed away. You swept his wet hair back from his face as he stood to full height, and wrapped your arms around his neck to bring his forehead to yours.

Things got slippery and before you knew it, you were moving Eddie’s hand down between your legs as the steam rose up around you. He didn’t think you’d be ready, not after such a traumatic experience, but then he could feel the slick that had nothing to do with shower water. He ran his big, calloused fingers through your folds, and then worked that button at the top of your slit until it hardened under his fingertips.

You clung to him, letting go of erotic sighs between deep, sensual kisses that felt like you needed each other’s oxygen to survive. “I’ve missed you so much,” you said into the crook of his neck, grabbing the hard curve of his cock to pump at the tip.

“Let me take care of you, baby,” he hushed, dipping two of his fingers inside to give your muscles something to clench around.

A few deep thrusts and then he spun you around, holding you tight so that you wouldn’t slip. The fingers of one hand found your clit again, rolling in circles there, while his other hand came up to cup your breast and pluck at your nipple. You shuddered and tilted your head back so he could suck and nibble at your throat.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life making you mine.”

You writhed in his arms, reaching back to hold his head, while his fingers kept pace and your cunt fluttered. You could feel your knees giving way.

“That’s right, my baby, give it all to me.”

“Fuck!” One more whimper and the orgasm shattered you, making you tremble and sink against him. The thought never occurred to you that you would fall because he had you locked so tight in his embrace.

His hard length rested between your asscheeks, and you turned around to take it into your hand and face him. He held your chin and found your mouth again, pitching his hips into your hand until ropes of his cum were shooting against your leg and into the tub. You took the head of his cock and rubbed it along your slit to spread his seed there, and then took your fingers into your mouth and sucked them clean. Eddie groaned at the sight, grabbing your face again to kiss you long and hard.

The rest of the sex that night was slow and tender, full of breathy words of devotion as your bodies met and became one. Fingers laced, and your legs wrapped around him. Eddie rolled his hips so that you could feel every inch of him inside of you, and you matched his movements, watching his eyes flutter before they opened to meet yours again, lips grazing. For a moment, it was hard to tell where he ended and you began, and you wanted to stay like that forever.

Even though Craig was gone, Eddie was still reluctant to leave you, and he came by several times a day while he was working the tow truck. He brought you soup from the diner, and picked up a potted plant, because he didn’t want you to have to watch flowers die in a vase. He even got special tuna treats for Charlie and stopped off to rent videos for you to watch with you on the couch after he showered and returned from his place.

Besides the time it took to talk to Katie and let her know what happened before she went over to Robin’s, Eddie was the only person you interacted with for the week before it was time to go back to work. You tried to return sooner, but Shana refused. You needed the loud music and the crowds of the Velvet Hammer, they were such a welcome distraction from your thoughts.

It was a part of Eddie’s routine to buy groceries for Wayne every so often, now that he didn’t have as much energy because of chemo, much like Wayne used to do for him back when he was a kid, and his dad would disappear for months at a time. You pulled together the ingredients for one of your grandmother’s favorite casserole dishes and made dinner for them both at the trailer one night, sipping on wine, and listening to your boyfriend and his uncle reminisce on stories from back in the day.

You were taking everyone’s dishes to the sink when you heard Wayne say to Eddie, “that one is a keeper,” and it made your eyes water, for whatever reason. Maybe because you know how much his uncle’s opinion meant to him.

—----

Steve had to be back at work the same night as you, and an hour before, Astrid straddled his lap in one of her silk robes to apply some ointment on his face while he ran his scarred hands up and down her bare thighs. Her skin was soft and smelled of cocoa butter, and her long, curly hair draped over their shoulders like a curtain to keep them safe.

“Don’t punch anyone tonight, okay?” She whispered, scooping hair behind his ear as she tended to the ugly gash on his cheek under the ugly yellow coloring around his eye. “Your fingers need a chance to heal.”

Steve had been at her place on and off since the incident. He’d stay the night, and then be up before the crack of dawn to be back at the house when Oliver woke up. For the first time ever, he canceled a few tattoo appointments so that he could get the rest that the girls had been begging him to take. He hated not having something to do; it made him bounce his knee and grind his teeth so that the muscles in his jaw bulged.

Steve worked a piece of gum inside his mouth and took in Astrid’s face from under hooded eyes, scooting her hips flush to his body, digging his fingers into the meat of her thighs. “Why don’t you come by and see me tonight? I’ll buy you a drink. Maybe I’ll put you on the sink in the bathroom and have some fun like old times.”

One side of her full mouth lifted in a grin. “Tempting,” she leaned in to touch her nose to his. “But I think I might sit this one out.”

“You can sit it out on my face, sugar,” he brought the bright green gum between his front teeth and held it there until she took the chewed piece into her own mouth.

“We’ll see,” and then she slid off of him, resisting his tug on her arm to pull her back down.

He rolled his head along the back of the couch, watching her walk behind him. “Can I at least have my gum back?”

“No,” she answered flatly, disappearing into the kitchen.

—-----

You and Eddie rolled up to the Velvet Hammer just after Steve, and he was finishing a smoke, still straddling his bike in the parking lot when he offered you a raised eyebrow and a two-finger wave. Eddie slid into the spot next to him, facing the red brick exterior, and shut the engine off, planting his feet on either side to keep the beast steady.

“What is this? Bring your old man to work day?” Steve snaked his tongue out over his bottom lip, exhaling smoke from his nose. He had his sunglasses pushed up on his head, squinting against the glow of the sunset, one arm crossed over his chest.

You giggled to yourself while you dismounted, pulling your leg through to avoid the sissy bar that had been at your back. You were used to Steve and his banter. If he was teasing you, it meant he cared about you; it was a bit of a rite of passage. He’d never admit it out loud, but you were special to him now—you were family, and he would look after you like he looked after his own.

“Well,” Eddie took his helmet off and tucked some hair behind his ear, giving his friend a pointed look. “I hear that the security here really sucks.”

“I told him he didn’t have to babysit me tonight,” you piped up, adjusting the backpack on your shoulder that had all of your work clothes inside. Eddie curled his fingers at you, asking for your helmet, so you passed it to him. “But, what can I say? He’s growing on me,” and then you pressed up against his chest, making him puff air out of his nose at the sudden contact, and you kissed the side of his neck.

“I’ll grow for you sweetheart, if you keep it up,” he mumbled.

Steve snorted and threw the butt of his smoke to the pavement. A wave of sudden melancholy washed over him at the sight of the two of you.

He’d been battling with himself the past few days, fighting the urge to call Charlene, to make sure she was okay, even though he hated her guts for what she’d tried to do to his family and everyone else. There was a deep pit of loneliness in her, and when he’d stared into the void, the void had stared back. He recognized a part of himself in her, like a dark foreshadowing for his life 15 years down the road. A life of jumping from partner to partner, trying to gather every crumb of attention because he refused to let one person love him. He told himself that Robin and Oliver were all he needed, but one day Robin would have her own life with a partner, perhaps with Katie, and Oliver would move out and become his own person. He thought about Astrid, and how his mere presence in her life held her back from finding someone who could commit to her and give her the comfortable life she deserved.

“See you inside, freaks,” Steve pulled his sunglasses down over his eyes and favored his right leg with a hitch and a hop on his way to the building, making his wallet chain bounce out to the side.

“Should he be riding his motorcycle with that bad leg?” You asked with your mouth on the leather of Eddie’s shoulder.

“Probably not,” Eddie breathed, watching his friend go. “But you can’t tell Steve shit.”

Eddie escorted you to the back door in the alley and waited for you to be inside before he went around to the front to take the bar entrance. He didn’t plan to stay the whole night, he’d leave for a bit in the middle of your shift and go do some work a the shop, but the fear of losing you—as he had so many people in his life—was still lingering like barbs in his heart, and he only hoped you didn’t get tired of him being around all the time.

In the narrow locker room, you shared a space with Jackie who was also getting ready for her shift. She hugged you violently, and it startled you, because she was not prone to physical displays of affection.

“Bitch, you had me scared to death,” she gushed. “I almost puked from relief when they said you were okay.”

She had her heels on and her already tall, voluptuous frame towered over you. “I missed you too, hooker,” you gave a lopsided grin once she stepped back to look at your face, noting the healing cuts over your lip and eyebrow. “You think my battle scars will milk some extra tips out of people tonight?”

The comment made Jackie scoff a laugh, but her eyes were glossy with emotion, giving a few light squeezes to your shoulders. “You sure you’re good to work tonight? I know Shana would let me cover for you.”

You heaved a long sigh and clanked the metal of your locker open. “The last thing I need is to be at home with my wheels spinning for another night.” Everyone was treating you like glass, and all you wanted was to feel normal again.

Even though you were relieved that the terror that Craig had put you through in your life was finally over, you mourned his death in your own way. He had a mother and a sister out there somewhere who loved him very much and would be devastated by his passing. You’d also never watched someone get shot and killed right in front of you before, and you hoped that you never had to see such a thing again.

Jackie adjusted her red and black Velvet Hammer cap sleeve tee that was tucked into her leather miniskirt, and moved over to apply her maroon lipstick in the mirror, making her mouth into an O shape. The music from the main room was loud when someone opened the hallway door to head over to the kitchen. “That guy John was here asking about you the other day. Remember the big tipper who wanted to be your sugar daddy?”

“I think so,” You said it absently, as if you weren’t sure, pulling your tiny red shorts up your legs.

“He came in alone, sat at the bar for a drink, and I overheard him asking about you, if you were okay,” she unzipped her purse and dug through it. “I guess he heard about what happened.”

Yes, you imagined that he had heard about what happened. You wondered how much Charlene had told him.

Jackie punched her beige time card into the machine on the wall and you followed suit, deep in thought over why John was trying to track you down at the Hammer instead of calling you on the phone.

“Honestly, I’ve missed the fuck out of you,” Jackie said over her shoulder, pulling open the hallway door to the sea of cigarette smoke and the song Wave of Mutilation by The Pixies. “The new girl gets on my nerves.”

You barely had time to ask who the new girl was before a familiar face framed by a platinum blonde bob stood in your path wearing a matching shirt with a tray full of what looked like Jägermeister shots.

It was Erika.

“Oh, you must be the new girl,” you were a bit flustered, but on your list of worries, she was very low. You could tell she was nervous to see you, and wobbled the tray, chewing her gum nervously.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she said in a rush. “That I got a job here, I mean. My sister is friends with Shana and I really needed the money because—-”

You shook your head and gave her a genuine smile that harbored no animosity. “Of course I don’t mind,” you shuffled around her to get to the bar, thinking about how she seemed a bit afraid of you, and there was no need to be. “Did you say hi to Eddie? He’s here.” You reached around to tie a short apron with pockets around your hips.

Her mouth gaped like a dying fish a few times. “Well, I, no…not yet…I mean, I won’t, if you don’t want me to.”

“I don’t mind,” you glanced up and caught Eddie’s eye at the bar. You thought about all of the obstacles, all of the crap life had tried to throw your way to tear the two of you apart, and you’d both weathered the storm to find you were closer than ever. You trusted Eddie with your life, and you knew that he only had eyes for you—he proved it to you every day.

“I wanted you to know that what you did the other night was really badass,” Erika leaned in, eyes sparkling when they met yours. And there it was, an understanding, a mutual truce, an unlikely friendship broadening on the horizon.

Well, a friendship was unlikely, but a truce, at least.

You didn’t know how to take the compliment, but you thanked her, and told her that you liked her earrings, and then you winked at Eddie before heading over to check on your first table. He was at the bar having a Coke and talking to Thumper, who was also a patron that evening, and you could see that he was nodding, pretending to hear what his friend was saying, but all the while, his attention kept shifting to you.

It was one of the last warm nights before the fall weather hit, and so Steve was sitting on his stool out on the pavement, propping the door open with the weight of his back. He surprised himself by realizing he wasn’t in a flirtatious mood. A few hotties who smelled like heaven were basically ready to gobble him up if he let them, but he barely gave their ID’s a glance and waved them through.

He had a thick rubber band from the cash register that he was playing with, stretching it wide with his thumbs. Caught up in one of his daydreams, the rubber band accidentally shot out and almost nailed the person who was stepping up onto the sidewalk.

Astrid ducked just in time for it to zing through her hair instead of nailing her cheek.

Steve experienced a bolt of recognition a second too late and was on his feet, almost knocking the stool over. “Shit, baby, I’m sorry,” but then she started laughing, and they were both smiling when they kissed, teeth knocking together.

She took two steps back so that his eyes could drink her in; the dark maroon dress with a slit up the thigh and generous scoop neck, it was one of her many handmade pieces to make room for her ample hips and hourglass shape. Instead of a shawl, she had on a jean jacket this time, fingers and ears adorned in subtle gold jewelry.

He pushed some thick curls away from her face and planted his lips on her forehead as he spoke. “I missed you.”

“You just saw me a few hours ago,” she tilted her head back to lock her dark eyes onto his. “I came to make sure you behave yourself.”

His smile was rueful—dangerous, even. He wiped his tongue over the point of his gold tooth. “You can’t come here in a dress like that and expect me to behave, sweetheart.”

A group of partiers went to try and stumble through the door, but Steve was quick to shove his hand against the doorframe, blocking them with his tattooed arm. “Need to see ID’s first,” his tone was suddenly that of gruff, tough bouncer Steve, and not the sweet little loverboy from a few seconds ago.

Once he’d given them all a stern look, he hurried back to grab for Astrid’s hands again, rubbing his thumbs over her knuckles. “What’s your poison tonight darlin’? Just tell Shana to put it on my tab.”

She wasn’t about to let Steve pay for her drinks, but she nodded. He tucked a padded stool from the bar just inside the door close to him while she was ordering her gin and tonic, giving Eddie a shoulder squeeze as she waited. When she looked over at Steve again, he patted the seat a few times eagerly so that she would know where to go.

—-------

A while later, as the bar filled up, Eddie was moving his head to the beat of the Muddy Waters tune “I’m your hoochie coochie man” when you came over to give him a back scratch and tuck his hair so you could smooch his ear. The 1958 film The Crawling Eye was playing on the screen above the bar.

“What do you say? Can I be your hoochie coochie man, babe?” he muttered. And then, dropping his gaze to his drink he added softly: “My mom loved Muddy Waters.”

One of the many layers you had yet to peel back on the onion of Eddie Munson was his relationship, or lack thereof, with his mother. You always got the feeling that he didn’t want to talk about it, but more and more, you could feel him opening up on the subject and referencing her, wanting to finally let you know more about that facet of his life. From Robin you knew that she passed away when he was young, but that was the extent of it.

“Your mom had good taste,” you tipped his chin so that he could see your sincerity. “I wish I could’ve met her.”

“Me too,” he blinked his glossy chocolate eyes a few times and took a hard gulp. “I think I might head over to the garage for a couple hours, but I’ll be back to pick you up.”

“You should stay,” Shana, sporting a freshly shaved head and a new tattoo just above her ear, slapped the flat of her hand on the wood of the bar in front of him to get his attention, and then she gestured to the stage. “Divine Filth is playing tonight.”

You could tell that finding out that one of the local bands, Divine Filth, was playing at the Hammer was a welcome surprise for Eddie when you saw his face light up. They were another metal/rock band from a few towns over, you found out, and one of his friends was the lead singer. They’d played dozens of shows with Corroded Coffin over the years, and Eddie used to play lead on a few songs with them.

“They just got back from Pedal to the Metal,” Shana continued. Even you knew that Pedal to the Metal was a huge 3-day rock festival that happened every year up near Chicago, and even Eddie’s band had played there once.

You saw that Eddie was contemplating the news, and weighing his options, gnawing on his bottom lip. You decided to slide down closer, resting your elbow on the bar. “Can’t whatever you have to do at the garage wait? Or maybe one of the guys can handle it? I’d love for you to stay.”

His eyes snapped to yours, and his response was quick. “Yeah, I mean, I’ll stay if you want me to.”

That was all he ever wanted, for you to tell him what you needed. For you to say that you needed him.

You put your forehead to his, fingers twirling in the baby hairs at his neckline. “Stay and be my hoochie coochie man.”

He mouthed a few words to the song against your lips before sinking in for a kiss.

Then, he pushed his soda aside and ordered a beer. Thumper caught wind that he suddenly had a drinking buddy and gave the signal for two shots of “their finest”.

—-----

Meanwhile, at the other end of town, Katie was at Robin’s again. She’d been staying there every night since it all happened. Partly to give you and Eddie some space, but also, on her trip, she’d realized that she didn’t want to be away from her girlfriend any longer than she had to.

She was in love, like head over heels, for the first time in her adult life.

Once Oliver was fast asleep in his bedroom, the two were hustling to take their clothes off, gushing words of love in breathy whispers in the dark, needing to be as close together as possible. Robin was three fingers deep when Katie admitted that she’d never loved anyone this much before, and it made Robin go still, to ask her if she meant it, and to tell her she felt the same.

After their orgasms, Robin was straddling Katie’s lap, tasting her own release on her girlfriend’s tongue, when she decided to finally open up about what had been on her mind lately.

She’d meant to work it into conversation, but instead, she blurted it: “Do you want to move in here? With me…with us?” Her mouth dried up after she asked it, wondering if it was too soon, too ridiculous. She swallowed hard, making a click noise in her throat. “I talked to Steve about it. I haven’t talked to Oliver yet, but I will.”

Katie bucked her hips up so that their swollen lips brushed together, still dripping with cum. She was quiet as she let the idea sink in.

Robin tucked some hair behind her ear and glanced down, reading her silence wrong. “I know it’s not a huge house, and we only have the one bathroom, and I get that it’s not very glamorous to shack up with a woman who already has a kid and a life partner. But I think that I, I think that we, could—”

“You know I’m not the glamorous type,” the other woman interrupted, catching Robin’s chin to run her thumb along her bottom lip. She locked eyes with her. “We could always get a bigger house one day, down the road, all of us. I’m not worried about that.”

“So, you’ll think about it down the road, maybe?”

“Robs, I don’t want to spend another night without you in my bed.”

“You don’t?” She was surprised, but also, not sure if she’d answered her yet or not.

Other than her brother Dan who lived across the country, and a mother she’d never been close with, Katie had rarely known the comforts of family, but she had found what she’d always been missing within the cleave of the Harrington-Buckley clan. It wasn’t a living situation that would suit everyone, but the idea of making a life in that corner of the world had her insides glowing. She’d need to discuss it with you, and give you plenty of notice if you were okay with it. The way things were going with you and Eddie, Katie had a good feeling that the two of you were considering the same merging of households, anyway.

“I’d understand if you didn’t want to. I know this is an unconventional situation, and I wouldn’t blame you for—”

Katie cut her off and put her hands on either side of Robin’s face. Her words bubbled in her chest, a smile soft on her lips. The “yes” she spoke was followed by a nudge of the nose, a suck on her bottom lip, and then she was repeating it over and over as Robin pushed her to the bed and got on top of her.

—--------

You were able to catch the way Eddie’s demeanor softened once he started to relax and ease into the evening. He was laughing at Thumper’s theatrics, chuckling so hard, the apples of his cheeks turned pink. Steve led Astrid by the hand to one of the only two bathrooms at one point, and the next thing you knew, there was a line of 3 or 4 people waiting to use it, so you had to give the door a polite knock, loud enough to be heard over the Jimi Hendrix song that was playing.

Astrid came out adjusting her dress, with no lipstick on, and Steve followed, wiping his mouth suspiciously, and palming the bulge in his jeans. He chuckled at the way your head was cocked, and mumbled a cheeky, “I was on my break,” before heading back to his stool.

When the members of Divine Filth showed up from the back entrance with their instruments, you could tell who the lead singer was immediately; she had a distinct presence. She was small but poised, hair dyed black with one side of her head shaved, and the other side long down to her shoulders. She had on leather pants and a ripped shirt cropped at her waist, with tattoos on her biceps.

She looked around the room, taking stock of the place as the other members went to set up. You were standing to full height after setting some drinks down at a table full of Hell’s Belles when you watched her spot Eddie.

She let out a squeal and headed over to him with a bounce in her step. Eddie sprang off of his stool to return her embrace, lifting her up off her feet in an enthusiastic hug. The second her feet touched the ground again, Eddie was waving you over, wanting to introduce you.

“This is my girl,” he pulled you flush to his side the second you were within arms reach. “Baby, this is my friend Nancy, the lead singer of Divine Filth.”

Nancy Wheeler stuck her hand out for you to shake and told you that she’d already heard a lot about you.

“Yeah, from who?” Eddie was curious because it had been almost a year since he’d talked to Nancy.

“Robin,” she said, and of course, Eddie should have known. She shrugged, “we catch up every now and then. Steve gave me some new ink a few months ago.”

There was melancholy in her voice, and you’d find out later that Robin and Nancy had a brief thing once, back in high school, back when they were always in detention together for destroying school property. Nancy was a pyro in her own right. She had fond memories of letting Steve practice tattooing on both her and Robin in her parents basement while drinking beers they stole from the QuikMart.

“Robin couldn’t make it out tonight,” Eddie let her know in a cautious tone, wondering if she’d had her hopes up.

“Oh I know, she told me,” she said in a rush. “She’s with someone and she’s happy and I’m happy for her.” And if she wasn’t, I’d do something about it, she thought to herself.

You couldn’t tell if she meant every word, or if she was trying to convince herself as she spoke them.

“So, big boy,” Nancy put a hand on her hip, wanting to change the subject, and raised an eyebrow at Eddie, clapping him on the arm. “You going to grace us with your presence on stage tonight?”

Eddie immediately started shaking his head to decline, but you were quick to turn to him with those wide, hopeful eyes, and it made him pause. “Maybe,” he mused, noting your intense interest, and then turned his attention back to Nancy. “My girl has never seen me play before.”

“No shit?” Nancy was genuinely surprised, jaw going slack. “Dude, your man kills it up there. He’s got star power, and I wish he’d get his head out of his ass and come out to do more shows with us.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a little thing called running your own business, and I don’t recommend it,” Eddie grumbled, as one hand reached for the next beer Thumper was passing him and the other smoothed circles on your back.

There were tables waiting, and more people coming in, so you excused yourself and snaked your arm out from around Eddie. He took hold of the back of your neck and guided you back to kiss the side of your head one more time before you were out of reach again.

There was one dancer shimmying down the pole to the song Stinkfist by Tool, and it was the last performance of the evening before Divine Filth started their set. Nancy was up on the stage riser helping to situate things where she wanted them, and the tips were flowing into your pockets just as fast as patrons were knocking back shots. The front door that had once been propped open by Steve’s body was shut now, locking the bar in a dim, red glow, billowing in a smog of nicotine fumes.

“… Just not enough, I need more

Nothing seems to satisfy

I said, I don't want it, I just need it

To breathe, to feel, to know I'm alive…”

Astrid had gone home by then, and Thumper was casually watching the door as Steve made his way over to see Nancy, and every time the door opened, you took a deep breath of the fresh air, trying to clean out your lungs. This time, when you felt the gush of cool breeze flush your skin, you were on the way across the room with a drink order, and you absently looked up to see who was coming in.

“… Finger deep within the borderline

Show me that you love me and that we belong together

Relax, turn around and take my hand…”

You stopped in your tracks when you saw who it was, one foot paused in the air behind you, mid-stride.

There, silhouetted against the backdrop of the street, stood Charlene.

The black bodysuit she had on made her look like Sandy from Grease, but her shoulder was wrapped in a bandage, and standing next to her was a guy in a red shirt, jeans, a wallet chain, and a leather MC kutte with the insignia for Lucifer’s Own on it. He was maybe 30, looked like a blonde version of Rob Lowe, and he had his elbow out for Charlene to hold onto.

Now, you didn’t know all of the politics about biker etiquette, or any “turf” battles like they sang and danced about in musicals, but it was well known that the Hammer was a Coffin Kings bar, and you’d never seen another insignia step foot in the door, other than Hell’s Belles and Eastside Reapers, since you’d started working there.

Thumper caught sight of the guy who had just come in the door and spun on his stool, about to stand up, but Eddie snatched his arm, and you were sure he stiffly told him to sit back down. Eddie found your eyes over a few shoulders that were pressed together in the crowd, and you exchanged a weary look of disbelief.

The blonde biker gave Thumper a feral grin, wiggling the tip of his tongue between his teeth. Charlene seemed more reserved than normal, not as full of herself, and she was very preoccupied with searching the sea of bodies.

You had a good feeling who she was looking for.

You were glad that Erika was there to motion them over to a table that she had just cleaned off. It was in the corner, further away from the bar.

You were just about to go over to ask Eddie who Charlene was with when a customer blocked your path and gave you a multiple drink order out of the blue, and you had to tell them to give you a second while you caught your bearings.

Now you were trying to see where Steve was, to play interference, but it was too late.

“… I can help you change

Tired moments into pleasure

Say the word and we'll be

Well upon our way

Pain and comfort, deep within you

Till you will not want me any other way...”

You spun on your heel to find that Steve had already spotted the newcomers. You watched the muscles in his face tense, standing with his fists balled at his sides for a few seconds, and then Eddie was there, in his face, pushing him back, trying to get him to keep his cool.

The blonde biker at Charlene’s table put his feet up on the seat next to him and lit a cigarette, seemingly without a care in the world.

“It’s not worth it, man,” Eddie grumbled to Steve, holding his hand on chest. “Let’s just have a good time tonight, forget about them.”

Steve’s eyes were locked in the distance, sunglasses now hooked onto the front of his shirt. “What the fuck is she doing here with Billy Hargrove?”

“Who knows what kind of game she’s playing,” he moved to try and block Steve’s view of them. “Listen, if he crosses a line, we’ll bounce him, otherwise we let it ride, got it? There’s too many eyes on us here tonight to cause a scene, especially after last week.”

In a strange turn of events, Shana, the manager, came out from behind the bar and went over to greet Charlene and her companion. She shook both of their hands, and the two women appeared to know each other.

“...Knuckle deep inside the borderline

This may hurt a little but it's something you'll get used to..."

“Hey,” you squished your way in between some people at the bar, and caught Shana’s attention when she returned. “How do you know those two?”

Shana cracked open a few beer tops as she spoke. “She’s some rich lady, I only met her yesterday. Stephen, one of the owners, sold his share of the Hammer to her and moved to Florida literally in the middle of the night.”

“… I'll keep digging

Till I feel something

Elbow deep inside the borderline

Show me that you love me and that we belong together…”

You made a sour face, trying to understand what Shana was telling you, but then, realization dawned just as she was sharing the final bit of information with you:

“Charlene Gregson is part owner of the Velvet Hammer now.”

Part 17

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I love you all! I have some fun things planned for the few final chapters of this story, I'm even working on a holiday special💗 Your thoughtful commentary and reblogs always mean so much to me.

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Taglist: @notsobubblybaby @unfocused81 @aysheashea @etherealglimmer@manicmagicmayhem @dream-a-little-nightmare@chaoticgood-munson @emxcast @rhirojo @bexreadstoomuch @micheledawn1975 @falling-solar-system @secretdryrose @whatwedontdointheshadows @miarosso @seventhlevelofhell @corrodedcoffincumslut @lofaewrites @goldyghoul @chloe-6123 @kelsiegrin @chelebelletx @stylesxmunson @dandelionnfluff @clincallyonline17 @tlclick73 @eddiemunson95 @sidthedollface2 @hideoutside @truffleshuffle12 @tenthmoon @texasblues@emilyslutface@mmunson86@onegirlmanytales@laylaloves-ed@dashingdeb16@eddiiiieeee @ick90 @dashingdeb16 @polyestermonster @trixyvixx @atomickaratel8dy @kiyastrf94 @allthingsjoeq @eddiesxangel @razzieth @corrodeddeadlydoll @erinekc

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson series #I'm on Fire #biker!eddie munson #biker!steve #Eddie Munson smut #Eddie Munson in love #Eddie munson angst #Steve Harrington angst #biker au #stranger things au #Eddie Munson au #older eddie munson

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hwaightme · 11 months

Text

This world

THIS IS 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI FOR BIKER!HWA'S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut) (masterlist) (join taglist)

🏍️ pairing: biker!seonghwa x f!reader 🏍️ genre: romance, fluff, action, smut, strangers to lovers, slight enemies to lovers, smidgen of angst, sprinkles of comedy 🏍️ summary: caught between the past and present, you search for a new beginning in night city as a mechanic at outlaw customs. how will a fateful encounter with seonghwa, the leader of the blue birds, help you feel alive? 🏍️ wordcount: 16.2k 🏍️ warnings/tags: biker!hwa, quick edit, likely inaccuracies in mechanics and motorcycles, mechanic!yunho, businessman!jongho, biker!yeosang, mechanic!reader, tattooed!reader, gang life/activity, misuse of lore terminology, language, food, wounds/injuries, pain, bike chases and dangerous tricks, talk of death/rebirth, identity searching, imagery and setting inspired by outlaw trailers, lmk if anything else 🏍️ a/n: i gave myself a one day break, listened to a dream i had... and this happened. totally was not spooked today and rushed to edit in a feverish state... always, any notes, reblogs and comments are appreciated, much love~

🏍️ a/n pt2: biker!hwa supremacy also spreads to the exchange event hosted by @kflixnet for @qqtxt (and thank you @alohajun for organising!) - hope you enjoy!!

🏍️ perma-taglist: @doom-fics @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @cqndiedcherries @uwuheeseungie @cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @ssaboala @jaehunnyy @kitten4sannie @maddkitt @yunbug

🏍️ cannot be tagged: @mystar1024

🏍️ nsfw tags: condom used, slow, a dom!leaning reader with a soft!hwa, handjob, slight edging, praise, save a bike - ride a biker, focus on intimacy and emotional experience, some mutual masturbation, f!masturbation, literally just two people in love with each other, cuddling and implied aftercare

The artificial suns of Night City shone bright in a palette of neon hues, so vivid and vibrant that one could almost forget that there had ever been a real star in the first place. Kids wished on blinking lightbulbs and travellers followed endless expanses of darkness, more accustomed to uncertainty than the belief that there was a veritable ally in the form of a celestial sign or a constellation. Everyone wore the same perfume: an acrid concoction of smog, grease and disgust that lingered whenever a visitor from another district came by, blending to form a hatred for all things that existed outside of the palace of neon. This was the palace that you had willingly made your home, and found that if you were to shut your eyes and then dare to peek through your lashes at the kaleidoscopic landscape, it took on the shape of an eloquent illusion of divinity. A rudimentary vision, a utopia carved out in impermanence, commanded by wishful thinking and a desire for anything except what you had known. This was your new home, and you were going to try as you might to cling to it, and find peace amidst the suffocating starless expanse.

You had arrived without a particular plan in mind, with only a rucksack and the tattoos decorating your skin to keep you company on your journey. The only persistent parasite that gnawed at your flesh and jolted you awake like a scalding whip when the roads seemed to be endless, was a burning desire to erase anything, everything that served as a reminder. While you were a believer in growing from the past, and reflecting on it, treating each memory and learned skill as a stepping stone towards a better future, the weight of each step was overwhelming, the gaps between them unbearable, and soon enough, you found yourself to be stretched too thin over your own existence, to the point where you had gained an alarming transparency, one tiny step away from disappearing into the lack of self that you had wholly succumbed to until your sudden evaporation and accidental escape to Night City.

At the same time, you were not entirely ungrateful for the ‘you’ you had become. The miscellaneous arsenal of know-how and street smarts landed you a job, had you settled into a group of people who did not seem too bad and most importantly did not ask too many questions, gave you a roof over your head and had you working long hours in the garage from the get-go. That, from your experience, was the best way to forget and to start anew. So long as you did not speak to your clients more than necessary, instead focusing on their priceless metal steeds that you had the pleasure of tinkering with for hours on end. In this way, you got to see your clients at their most vulnerable, scrutinising you but so helpless that it nearly made you laugh, comparing the scene to a child watching their mother patch up a toy that they had torn after playing a little too roughly.

This approach turned out to be the one that won the big bucks in the city. Less talk, more trust. And resulted in the previously sceptical owners of the mechanic shop you had strolled into on your first day in town, passively protecting the shell of the self that you carried, uncaring for what fate had in store, to finally begin to warm up to you and treat you less like a pest, and more like a colleague. Only took them a couple of months. Though it would be foolish to hope for anything else, so you had simply settled into the rhythm of waking up, heading downstairs from the crammed studio that they had offered you - a stuffy dark corner, definitely the humblest abode but more than enough to crash in and more than generous for a person who had been a total stranger, and going to a different open cave in the garage and workshop, this time one dedicated to all things motorcycle. Since Outlaw Customs, a name which you had found incredibly comedic and ironic considering a high percentage of the clientele fit the shop description, was primarily for automobiles, there was not much dedicated to the untameable beauties that you loved so much. The head of the shop, a young man by the name of Jeong Yunho who you swore spent more time under cars than under those neon lights outside, did motorcycle repairs mainly out of necessity, following the recipes for replacement, so to speak. The locals knew that to see his craftsmanship, mastery and artistry at work, they needed to let him get his hands on a car. Of course, it did not mean that he could not fix bikes, far from that, in fact, over the years and especially after another mechanic shop was busted by the forces and forced to close for something or other - no one could ever guess what new crime was added to the list on any given day, Yunho was proud to say that he did not need to consult his hefty stack of manuals for when the most regular clients came by. But it did still mean that when he found out that he could pass off the task to a new hire, he did it in a split second, without sparing it a single thought.

As such, it was you, your beloved corner in the workshop, and a tranquillity under those buzzing fluorescent bulbs lined up on the ceiling. Not talking much, mainly business, occasionally sharing a laugh with your coworkers. They were easy to like, that much you had gathered over the months of being paid in shelter, food, water, and whatever else you needed so long as you kept on working to keep the brutes of Night City happy and the engines roaring. While the other guy in charge, Choi Jongho, an initially unreadable, unpredictable man who appeared in the store at random and mainly handled the ‘financials’, whatever it meant and you sure as all things bad were not about to get your nose in that side of the business, was somewhat less cordial with you, your nonchalance when it came to social interaction had put him at ease, along with, how he had it, your hands that told your story. Interesting what he could spot under the machine grease and fading ink.

It was another timeless day where Jongho was out for what he called ‘negotiations’ - again you did not need to know what it meant so long as the parts kept coming, Yunho was messing about with an old mustang that the customer said could be changed according to the mechanic’s own tastes, and you were idle, having just completed a re-flash of an engine control unit for a rider who apparently had nothing to lose and let you fully reconfigure his precious in the hopes of improving rideability. Same old for you, but nevertheless exciting when a new person gets so vulnerable so as to give their bike up with only faith in their hands, and in yours.

Wheeling the bike away from the main platform, you parked it right at the empty section by the brick wall lining the inner part of the garage, the aftermath of a miniature spring clean you had carried out to prep the workspace for a higher volume of bikes coming through. After patting the seat, as if lulling the machine into a slumber, you covered it with a tarp to protect it from any other dust or sparks - and subconsciously, from curious eyes if there were any that would peek into the shop. You stood up straight, taking the towel from your shoulder and attempting to wipe off the remains of your work, though much like your boss, who was now humming some random tune that he probably heard at one of the underground clubs, took pride in each stain, each streak of dirt. It was a reminder that you were here, you were present and alive, and that you were doing what others could never do exactly like you could. If anything, it was a breath of fresh air, the only one that could be ever taken in any Sector, in any City that existed in this nation, and you were almost convinced that this spread to the whole world.

Finding the stool on wheels that apparently used to belong to a nearby barbershop until that closed down, you sat down and sighed, rocking side to side by repeatedly pushing yourself with your feet before getting tired of the motion and rolling across to a workbench that you and Yunho had managed to craft out of a multi-shelved storage unit abandoned on the street, clearly another Sector’s kind donation to the local community, and you were not too proud nor picky. Picking up a brake pedal - a part off a ruined Kawasaki Ninja 2H/R that the universe threw into your arms after the wreck and helped you salvage, somewhat out of respect for the beast that it had been in its heyday, somewhat because you wondered if you could make it work on a horrific Frankenstein’s monster hybrid someday, or another bike of the same make, you twisted it, metal glinting white. The weight of memories, the feeling of it pressing against the foot despite the thick layers of rubber on the boot. Everything about that bike was as hypnotising as a dancing open flame, stunning, an engineering masterpiece, and one that you were praying to revisit, re-experience even if it was the last thing you were to ever do. Perhaps in a distant dream. Replacing the component in a top drawer of the bench, you got to work on signing off on the work completed, not that anyone even had a legal signature anymore, it was more of a quick doodle to hint at the work completed, just in case if the rider were to find themselves too far away, and had no method of fixing faults and could not recall the mods made. As if that would ever happen; you exhaled sharply, finishing the swift sketch and folding the paper in half, then into quarters and dropping the pen to let it hit the back wall. It was suspiciously peaceful at the OC, you concluded, unsettling. Only Yunho going about his business, the artificial cylindrical suns, and the neon climbing from the outside and coating the front entrance to the garage in shades of blue, purple and magenta.

You waited in suspense, having caught the echoes of an engine in the far distance - still a few too many blocks away from you to determine what the source of it was exactly, but nevertheless, your instincts and the obvious approach of the sound was telling you that you were soon going to find out. Shutting your eyes, you made out an odd stuttering, reminiscent of a coughing fit in a human, as if the air system was out of tune, totally whack on the poor vehicle. The heart ached. Who could possibly mistreat a bike in such a way? Clutching onto the fabric of your black cargo trousers that you had decided would be something of a uniform for you, you listened on, confused. The rumble was familiar, albeit torn up and in need of a fix. Nonetheless, this was a powerful steed, a respectable monster that you could not wait to dissect and reassemble. Hands beginning to burn with excitement, heart starting to race, you stared off into the wall, waiting for the customer to arrive and made your guesses as to what the motorcycle could be like any mechanic in need of a fun pastime would. If you guessed correctly, you were in for an exhilarating time.

Soon enough, you heard the bike grind to a halt outside of the shop, and the thump of feet hitting the concrete. Not yet looking up, you waited for the figure to approach and cross the line that marked the end of the driveway and the beginning of the garage. Hearing Yunho make a move to roll out from under the car, evidently after having seen the boots form below and recognising them, you began your own sign of common courtesy and moved to turn and stand from the stool.

“Good time of day, welcome to Outlaw Customs how may I-”

“Rear wheel is busted and the mudguard’s wrecked on the right edge, and the spark plugs need replacing - totally fouling. Can you do that in two hours? I’m on a tight schedule.

You froze, the politeness caught in your throat and fizzling out to be replaced with an astonishment at the crudeness. Raising your head to let yourself inspect the man before you fully, you found that he looked every bit like the arrogance that had oozed from the first words he spoke to you. The flashy black and orange outfit, the glimmering belt buckle, the damn chains… the usual lowlife from a gang who had nothing better to do than to be the pretty boy. Slowly, your hope for the particular bike you had placed mental bets on dissipated, to be replaced by a wish that this hoodlum had a standard no-name, beat up and totally not worth the money ride that you could half-ass and let him disappear.

With a sigh, you heaved yourself forward, approaching the biker with a cold resolve and purposefully taking your time with every movement, seeing as the less you had to speak, the higher were the chances that you were not going to cuss this man out and focus on the work you had set out for you. Knowing the bikers from these parts, either they were too knowledgeable and could diagnose correctly enough, or they were so utterly wrong that you wanted to bash their head in. Time would tell which one of the two this guy was. Before you could get a word in, much to your fortune, Yunho was by your side and wiping his hands to give the black-haired man a firm handshake. You noted that the visitor was shorter than your boss, giving you a slight inner satisfaction for an unknown reason, but you bit any remarks back and remained stone faced, seeing as you were not sure just how hostile this man was going to be towards you.

“Seonghwa, long time no see!” your boss greeted the man who now had a name, very animated, amiable. You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head in a silent question.

“I see you have a new hire. Business doing well?” being addressed in third person was unsettling, but it was better than attempting to hold eye contact with the biker who gave you the urge to forget professionalism and throw a punch at lightning speed. It was hilarious how quickly your instincts returned to you in such circumstances.

“Guess you could say that, thanks to her, mainly.” with a playful smugness Yunho responded, placing a hand on your shoulder. If you did not know better, you would think that he was showing off, but his glance at you, a quick check, and his gestures made you think of your brother. Bittersweet, but still a fond series of chapters.

“Oh?” it was impossible to tell whether Seonghwa was mocking you or just taking the piss of the tenseness that he brought with him, but the bugger dared to pretend to be pleased with your presence, nearly making you scowl. But you were too good at treating people with an unnerving neutrality, so an unperturbed mechanic ready to inspect the ride you remained, much to the biker’s dissatisfaction.

You could tell that he put up a front of sorts, an attention-seeking, egoistic and merciless front, the presentation of the mentality of a murderer on the road, the man who would not hesitate to lead you into a ruin just for laughs. It was always fun to dismantle the nerve cells of such bastards; all you needed was his bike. His eyes found yours quickly enough, confident, unwavering, and your lips curled into a close-mouthed smile as if you were not just pondering the destruction of his ego. A flash of what could only be described as curiosity passed over his irises, and you swore you saw his pupils adjust as if they were a camera lens ready to capture you. His gaze travelled down your body and back up again, studying you, taking you in, settling on the tattoos that adorned your forearms and were revealed by you having pushed up the sleeves of the black turtleneck you were wearing. What was he searching for, you asked yourself before you noticed the solitary, dangling earring on his left ear discovering a single silver feather on its end. Of course he had to be a Blue Bird. Of course he had to be a so-called peace keeper of the city. No wonder he was so full of himself, at least upon first meeting. Now you really wanted to see his bike.

“Motor master, I tell you. Can sort out your beauty in no time.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Seonghwa squinted, earning an eye roll from your boss.

“Got you, yeah. Anyways, meet Y/N,” the man turned to you once again, seeing how your expression remained unchanged, “she’ll be finding common ground with your bike from now on. “Noticing how neither of you spoke nor made a move to greet, Yunho raised his hands and continued while ambling back to the car, “Now, now, don’t talk over one another, you will have plenty of time to chat.”

“So,” you began, not wishing to remain unproductive any longer and wanting to rid yourself of this client as soon as possible, “Seongh-”

“Mars.”

“Mars?”

“You address me as Mars.” he commanded, crossing his arms, the corner of his lip curling up as you searched for the right response, but quickly falling as you suppressed the desire to sneer and merely adjusted yourself to the pesky, petty demands. You had met worse, much worse than the urban chic version of hierarchy and names. Mars was something you could deal with easily enough, and gave you a lot more insight than Seonghwa could imagine.

“Mars, care to show me your bike?”

“Mm. Follow me, Y/N.” he emphasised your name, as if the fact that you did not have a title nor a nickname gave him some odd power trip - to be frank, it would not be surprising if this actually was the case.

As you followed him out to the front, you noticed his gait was ever so slightly out of balance, a miniscule limp, likely following an injury. Again, something so common with your customers, but made you soften up the tiniest bit - in some senses Seonghwa reminded you of a wild animal that was pretending to be strong. Frustrating, yes, but he was out there trying his best to survive in the way that he knew and could. Much like everybody else, including yourself. You kept your gaze trained on the man’s back as you walked on until you very quickly found yourself right in front of the beast whose roar you had heard from all that distance away. You broke into a full grin, making Seonghwa’s brows knit together as he became perplexed. As it turned out, your prediction was more than right, and before you was a gorgeous, sleek, though having seen some battles, Suzuki Hayabusa. Customised, adored and kept pristine from what you could see. The damage that the motorised excellence had sustained looked to be new, perhaps even acquired a mere couple of hours ago, but other than that the steed was the closest you had seen to true love in Night City. It was clear that despite Seonghwa offering not the best impression, the bike told a different story, and as you crouched down to briefly inspect it at proximity, you nearly gasped. Each valve, each tiny detail was treated with kindness and affection, as if this man spent every spare moment only caring for it. The paint did made you want to giggle, however. Aside from the signature hanja for peregrine falcon, purposefully highlighted with neat strokes of paint to highlight the engineering finesse and power contained in the supreme machine, the motorcycle was completed in a dual tone, with the majority of the body done in a midnight black, and the detailing and smaller body components being done in a copper orange - stunning complement to the outfit of the rider, a full unit of owner and two-wheeler. One body, one mind. If you could start your first impression here, your thoughts of Seonghwa would be a lot more friendly, you determined. But that was the beauty of being a mechanic, you got to know people a lot closer, in secret, unknown to them. This man had a soul on fire. A soul he was attempting to hide, a soul that manifested itself in one of the fastest production motorcycles. And a soul that most certainly knew what was wrong with its metal body - the diagnoses were pleasantly accurate.

“What are you smiling for?”

“Hm, let’s get this beauty in the garage, yeah?”

He obliged, but still did not let you touch the vehicle as he pushed it along until you told him where to leave it. Occupying an old armchair right by the platform where you fixed the bike in place, Seonghwa watched your every move, scrutinised you as you started your work on the Busa, impatient. It was customary for the bikers that came to OC to remain here like a spouse waiting for their loved one to come out of surgery, but his predator-like focus was beginning to get unsettling and ruined your concentration. You could not speak to the bike in front of you, you could not gain its trust while its owner was staring you down like you were about to tear everything apart and turn the motorcycle into scraps. Letting a tool fall onto the mat that you had rolled down on the floor, you raised your head an deadpanned to the man, catching him off-guard:

“It’ll be three hours since I expect you want the guard done up all pretty. Get me jjajangmyeon from the place down the street and I might speed it up to your optimistic two.”

Yunho’s guffaw resonated across the shop as he heard your statement and imagined the shocked look on Seonghwa’s face upon receiving the daring request. Indeed, the man was more than taken aback, curious as to how important you deemed yourself to talk to him in such style. But at the same time, it was beyond amusing. The cheek, the attitude behind a cold and monotone sentence was alluring. There was something more to you than what Yunho had proposed, and that was reassuring. Perhaps you did have the right energy to find common ground with his priceless Suzuki. Still, the first word to escape him as he recoiled from the jab was an airy question of:

“What?” quickly countered with:

“They do late night deals. Half price. If you get there within the next half hour that is. Get Yunho and yourself a bowl while you’re at it and I’ll get the job done to fit your busy schedule and be enviable.”

“Boss, are you hungry?” you called out to Yunho, who was still giggling from under the vehicle, making it appear as if the car itself was caught in a comedy.

“Aye.”

“Done then, Mars, would you be a dear and do an orbit there and back?” you could not stop yourself from bringing his chosen, given or acquired through a brutal climb name into the mix. The opportunity was just too much of a low hanging fruit to not take it.

You were playing with fire, that much was certain. You could tell that he was contemplating putting you on a hitlist; not something that you were not used to, seeing as you were still in a client-facing role even if a lot of your time was spent with silent steely beauties. But you took a risk with Seonghwa, you ceased to be careful, spurred on by the euphoric prospect of treating the customised, souped up and customised Hayabusa, and took a shot in the dark with your forwardness. As the blood that was pumping in your ears got louder with every passing moment, and you began to doubt whether this was the right call to make to get some along time with the steed, Seonghwa stirred after his ponderings. Rising from the armchair, the chains that adorned his neck glinting under the lights, he stretched more for show than for comfort and exhaled through his nose, suppressing a chuckle.

“Ask for jjamppong on top of that and I will snap your arms in half.”

“You are too kind.” catching him mid turn, you responded, making him look back, and give you a playful, mischievous glance over his shoulder, almost boyish, as if the two of you were good friends that were used to the banter.

Releasing a breath that you did not realise you had been holding after the man disappeared from view, you returned to the Suzuki that was gracing your vision. Yunho’s laughter had subsided, and once again the buzz of the lights was the only thing that was between you and total silence. Diving into your work, you read the story etched into the curves, the miniscule dents, the scratches that were invisible to the naked eye but still there, hinting at just how much the bike and, evidently, the rider went through. The fixes were going to be complicated, but nothing that you could not do with what you had in the shop. You rested a hand on the engine, thinking of your next move, and of the dark glimmering orbs of the biker whose soul was still right here with you, watching, inspecting, but attempting, bit by bit, to trust that you would do the mechanical masterpiece justice. Of course you would, you were getting a late dinner for it after all. Besides, it was easy to love such a stunning bike, especially when you could see that it was truly loved by its owner. A soft smile on your face, you leaned forward and got back to dismantling a broken detail from the main body, already excited for the inner workings you would see behind it; the closest thing to true light that one could get in the sadistic, somnolent city of neon and night.

After the first appointment came another, and another, and more after that. The Busa almost became your personal project as what had previously been menial tasks carried out by an amateur mechanic and devilish rider, now fell to you. You knew this motorcycle better than you knew all of your tattoos, that much you were sure of. From the piping to the seating to the turbocharger you had installed, it was clear enough that Seonghwa was more than willing to let you tinker with the bike as much as he wanted you too, which with every unscheduled drop in became longer and longer. At times, Yunho would be there to participate in some idle chatter, other times, it was merely you and him on your own, either in a perfect stillness, with only the bike making the music and talking for you both, or with the occasional question thrown in either direction.

You had found out bit by bit that Seonghwa was, as you had assumed, a member of the Blue Birds - the local crew of vigilantes, from what your boss and your ghost of a boss had told you. Brutal and unforgiving, they had taken it upon themselves to maintain something of an order in the district, though you never asked for the details on how exactly they did it. You had learned over your lifetime to ask less, unless it was about mechanics; that was always a safe bet, and a point that you would always return to if you felt the conversation going into a direction that you did not wish to explore. All other inquiries normally answered themselves from what you noticed - for instance, the limp was now gone, to be replaced by rather grim looking knuckles. But again, no comment from you. It was above your pay grade. Seonghwa, at some point, had also caught onto your avoidance and tendency to cling onto bikes for conversation, but had taken it upon himself to probe further and further through what you considered to be a strong enough barrier, to figure out why exactly was one of your tattoos on the right forearm a mark that he had avoided at all costs when he was still a youngster back in the place he used to go home, many kilometres away, now reachable through highways to hell. He could not ask directly, not when you could clog up his air filters or ruin the braking system right then and there, but curiosity was getting the better of him as the weeks turned into months, and you were doing your regular check up on the Busa.

“What’s your favourite bike, Y/N?”

“Why the sudden question?”

“Why answer a question with a question?”

“Hm… yours is pretty good.” you tried to brush his inquiry away, even though your mind instantly went to the answer, and remained stuck. You could hear the engine resonate in your chest, and could feel the handles in your palms, as you gripped onto them, tighter, tighter and turned. The feeling of a machine coming to life right beneath you, ready to race into the darkness and obey your every instruction. Turn after turn after turn. Somewhere along that race, you lost your soul, and longed for it. Blinking slowly, you hoped that Seonghwa would leave the conversation where it was, but knew that he was going to do everything except that.

“No but really. Every mechanic, every biker has their favourites. Hell, even Yunho has one and he doesn’t really work on them anymore.” leaning forward to rest his head in the palm of his hand as his elbow positioned itself on his right thigh, he focused on your response, down to the body language and each one of your cells could feel it.

“Hard to pick.” Again, vague, but you wanted to get away, hide yourself. The sensation of the brakes, how the loyal companion to your every conquest could glide across the streets and halt just when you wanted it to, make impossible turns and let you caress the ground through thick gloves that have seen the wildest tricks and fastest getaways… it was all far too vivid. Too much for you to bring up while you were trying to work. Swallowing your spit, you shook your head slightly as Seonghwa commented that you were not responding to him.

“What do you want me to say?”

“What you are thinking about.”

“And what am I thinking about?” abandoning the Busa, you gave the body a wipe with towel and dropped it to the floor, raising yourself up you fell onto the spinny stool, and eyed Seonghwa right back, despising the smirk that was threatening to break out on his lips that were far to soft and lush for a damn outlaw.

“The bike. Your bike. You used to ride, didn’t you?”

“...Hm.”

“I can feel it. No need to pretend.” he had already formed his suspicions. In fact, he had put two and two together a long enough time ago. All he needed was a confirmation, a mention of that same bike that he had heard of, a name to a face that had haunted him for as long as he was leading the Blue Birds.

“Yeah. I did. Not anymore though.” your voice grew colder, dismissive as you turned to look out at the neon lights. A flicker caught your attention - the sign for the Japanese restaurant that opened and closed only when the owner wanted to was caught in a starlike sparkling, the fluctuating light making it seem as though the luminescence was alive. Alive. Curious choice of words.

“What was it?”

“It?”

“Let’s start with the bike.”

“Is this an interrogation?”

“Just curious, no biggie.”

Afraid of what you could say if you were to dive into elaborating your memories and sentimentality, you stood up and walked to the work bench, retrieving the component that you had brought with you to the city, and kept it with you at all times. Giving it one last look, you strode over to an expectant and enthusiastic Seonghwa, motioning for him to stretch out his hands. As you watched him inspect the item, turning it and checking each nook and cranny, your heart felt heavy. Was it really that long since the brake pedal was attached to the swift stunner? A glorious ink black, with piping of the skeleton completed in a vibrant poisonous green. A nightmare. Your love, your priceless dream.

“A Kawasaki?” he whispered half to himself. So it was how he had indeed attempted to predict.

“Kawasaki Ninja H2R.”

“Two hundred and twenty-eight kilowatts without ram-air?”

“I played around with that.”

“Sure you did. Wow. Really that’s pretty.”

“Mhm.” you took the brake pedal from Seonghwa’s hands, returning it back to the drawer.

Suddenly, it all felt too real. The last moments raw, the feeling that the motorcycle was still with you, still outside, parked and patiently waiting for you, was too clear in your head that you had attempted to train to believe that that stage in your life was over. Done. Finished. You had crossed the metaphorical finish line and that was all there was to it. But Seonghwa was not letting up, instead choosing to dig into the wound and watch as blood began to trickle.

“Now that explains it.”

“What?” you knew you were going to regret asking, but did so still.

“The tattoo.”

“What tattoo?” your eyes narrowed as you propped yourself against the bench and crossed your arms.

“The one on your arm. The right one.” he pointed as if he just won a game of spot the difference, leaving you irritated.

“What of it? I have many.”

“Not one that belongs to the Black Pirates. I am no fool, Y/N. I’ve seen the mark before and truthfully, I am surprised you are still alive.”

“I am too.” you huffed, finding your boots to be awfully interesting.

“Sacrificed the bike?”

You did not answer. You did not want to answer because it was clear that Seonghwa could answer the question for you. And for that, you loathed him in that given moment, despite overall finding his company to be almost comforting in recent weeks. In reality, the Kawasaki saved you from utter demise. Sliding on its side across the highway at record speed, sparks flying in the air and the screeching penetrating through your helmet to embed itself into your bones, the bike made it seem as though you were truly done for when, as luck would have it, you had gotten away with only a few scratches and a lot of foliage clinging to the torn up leather you had worn. As you had made your leap off the out of control beauty, the hero fighting its last battle it collided with cement to split and crumble into smithereens, the fuel tank pierced and beginning to seep out the fluid. A couple of gunshots later, and the bike was caught aflame, and all you could see from the group below where you had fallen, was the occasional licks, smoke and more sparks, your soul departing the metal body. The brake pedal, by some odd circumstance, had flown off and landed in your direction, nearly crashing into your visor. You had cradled it in your hands, sliding down on your back further and further to the moist earth beneath the highway until you were totally concealed from all viewpoints, hidden by pillars and rusted armature. When you were sure that those who you had called family, called friends, called comrades sped away, confident that you were there splattered on the cement and roasting, thanks to the bag that had been left on the seats serving practically as a dummy, you had begun to weep, never knowing for what, but certain that you were not yourself anymore. You had died.

Unbeknownst to you, as your vision blurred and mist settled to accompany the rising melancholia, Seonghwa had risen from the armchair and cautiously stepped closer and closer to you, until he was barely an arm’s reach away. Gaze drifting, you only took notice of the change when the knuckles came into view. Those bruised, bloodied knuckles, obviously treated by a person who knew nothing about caring for themselves. Silly man. A silly, silly man who wanted to put up a front; a front that might just have been yours, and your family’s ruin.

“Hey, are you-”

“No.” you retorted before he could accentuate what you deemed to be your weakness. Pushing yourself off the bench you were about to make a beeline for somewhere, anywhere, make up and excuse, but felt a gentle hand wrap around your wrist. Shocked, you stilled yourself and attempted to tug, only feeling the grip getting stronger until Seonghwa pulled you towards him, so that you would be face to face.

“I-... I’m sorry. I know how much this hurts and-”

“Do you?” cold, you hissed.

“...I can see it. I am sorry for your loss. And I am sorry for making you relive it.”

A smile, ones that graced those who had little to lose and little to wish for except perhaps a restart as another person, in another body, in another time and life, melted over you as you tested the strength of Seonghwa’s hold another time. Not budging. You did not dare to check his expression, for you knew that it would make you crack.

“Do you need any-”

“One more word and I will snap your arms in half.” recalling your first meeting, you muttered the empty threat.

“You are too kind.” he echoed, deliberating whether to give himself up to the urge and pull you closer.

So it was you who he had heard about after all. The demon on the roads, Icarus who had gotten too close to the sun of power, and was violently shoved from the pedestal of grace and familial leadership into the torment, into the abyss, stripped of all you knew and had. He had learned about you through fable-like gossip that his childhood friend, who caught up with the wrong crowd and became a member of the Black Pirates had shared over a couple of drinks when Seonghwa had visited. Same night he had shared that he wanted to leave, but as it had turned out, he was someone not quite lucky to make an escape and someone who Seonghwa was meant to forget. But besides the passing of another, someone who he could not save even though he tried, never did he think that the beast on the Kawasaki would be you. The you that he had come to know. The sensitive, albeit snarky and strong-headed you. The you who was a gifted mechanic, a woman who breathed the craft, the art, the science, the life that was that of a biker. Never before did he see anyone treat the Busa with such respect, nor make such accurate guesses about the fights and chases that it had participated in. Looking back, it should have been obvious that you had a history. You knew more than you ever let on. Perhaps you knew Seonghwa like he knew the streets of Night City, and now, your true past.

“The… yeah the Hayabusa’s done. By the way.” you tried to veer the conversation away, and fortunately this time, Seonghwa agreed.

“Thank you.”

“Standard rate.”

“Yep.”

“Everything is sort-”

“May I-”

You shot him an aggressive, piercing gaze, threatened by the change in tone. Far from his usual upbeat lilt, it was deeper, slower, sticky and sweet like molasses and you did not want to get pulled in. You clambered for air, for any relief away from his man, the man who had so openly shared his soul with you. He stammered and cleared his throat, finally letting go of your wrist. The sharp change in temperature was nearly unwelcome as the ghost of his soft fingers remained, caressing your flesh.

“Would you want to join a patrol now?” the inquiry, hanging in the air, dangling like a treat as the adrenaline rushed across your body. You had to feel guilty, surely, after having mourned the loss of your beloved Kawasaki and just revisited its final minutes, you had no right to be looking forward to another rush. You did not need it. You should not need it nor want it. And yet, you found yourself nodding almost immediately, much to Seonghwa’s delight. A reassuring warm hand on your upper arm, a lean forward letting Seonghwa catch your glossy eyes, him asking when you can close up shop and you mumbling that you were done for the day, or night. It was alway nighttime. The soothing blanket of navy blue, sleepy over the streets that you were about to explore under Seonghwa’s guidance.

As the dark haired man settle on the bike and appeared to adjust his wristwatch, holding his helmet while you found a spare displayed on one of the shelves - showed marks of wear and tear but good enough for a couple rides more, he felt his heartbeat turn erratic, and what was normally a bearable thrum turn into an erratic, unbelievable pace that only amplified in his skull and quickened once your arms were wrapped around his torso, holding onto him, your body pressed against his. If there was ever a hazard on the road for him, it was this. Your intoxicating closeness that made him want to ride forever more, never stopping if that meant that you could stay exactly where you were. How you were. It was surreal that the rider, the legend that he had grown to respect from the tales, was the woman that he had now grown to love.

As he sped down the streets, the neon had shone down on you in different colours, a bolder, more optimistic palette that made you beam right back. You clutched onto Seonghwa’s leather jacket, seeking more support as the exhilaration began to overwhelm you. It had been far too long since the last time you felt the wind hit you in this way, you felt the engine rushing you on between the trees of the concrete jungle, the windows and doors, the stray passers-by zooming right past you as the bike accelerated. It was not the same, of course, nothing could ever be, but the feeling, that distant feeling and warm memory was enough to remind you that you indeed were alive and you had the future to look to. A future that Seonghwa wanted to help you find. Hugging him tighter, you let yourself be carried away from the shop you closed up, away from the pleasant routine you had aimed to settle into all the way towards a moment of freedom and that familiar rush.

When you arrived at the destination, which turned out to be an abandoned parking lot under an equally barren road, illuminated only by a single streetlight with two bulbs, you noticed that there were a few people already gathered, including some familiar faces who were chatting away while wheeling their rides out of what you would describe as some concealed warehouse into better starting positions. Feeling a wave of shyness, you did not move as Seonghwa stopped the bike and stretched his legs out to balance it. Only after you sense more movement, and approaching footsteps did your arms snake away on their own accord and tug at your helmet. The man seemed to sense this since, as soon as his own helmet was off, he turned to you to whisper a quick “you okay?”. You feebly nodded, and found the ground with your military-style boots.

Quickly enough, a man approached Seonghwa, and the two exchanged a handshake and a couple of words. You recognised him fast enough - while he had not come to the shop nearly enough to be considered a regular, and judging from how heavily modded his MV Agusta Rush was it was clear that he preferred to do most, if not all repairs himself, Yeosang was a memorable figure. His hair, approaching shoulder length, and the long black and red leather jacket with cutouts that flowed behind him as he hit top speed made him stand out to you, and his endearing disposition and innate warmth as he discussed all matters within your comfort made him something of a friend. He waved to you, excited that you had decided to join the patrol, agreeing with Seonghwa that it was an honour to see you on the urban tracks. You bit your lower lip, wondering just how far word about you had travelled after your supposed passing, and whether this word would travel right back down to the south again after your impulsive appearance right here, among the Blue Birds.

“So you riding with us? Right?” Yeosang finally addressed you, his voice jolting you out of your musings.

“I suppose so,” after giving Seonghwa one final look and receiving a reassuring smile, you responded.

“Great, then, follow me.” As Yeosang spun on his heel and led you towards the warehouse, you let yourself wonder out loud.

“Were you all waiting for me or something?”

“Well, yes and no. We’ve heard stories, then Mars has really taken to you and well, that comes with a lot of getting to know you, and then Yunho shared a couple things-”

“What in the-”

“Don’t be too surprised. We keep our tabs on everyone. Just in case.” he chuckled and elaborated on the miniature dossier that had accumulated - he was not going to rat out the fact that it was mainly his leader not realising that he was discussing you at longer time periods than was customary for a standard biker and mechanic relationship.

“Guess I’m a bit rusty in that department.” you pondered the networks, the informers that had existed back in your town, and how sometimes you even had to ‘do some less than appealing kinds of convincing’ to get updates, but shook the image away as you entered the dimly lit warehouse.

“Let’s hope you aren’t when it comes to riding.” You stood back, letting Yeosang turn on another lamp, something probably found in a trash pile but still functional enough to be a source of illumination, only to reveal a breath-taking beauty.

“Now, of course it isn’t the Kawasaki,” Yeosang paused, patting the seat of the black and red motorcycle that you could sense was studying you, checking if you were strong enough to handle it, “but it is still quite impressive. Aprilia RSV4-”

“1100 Factory. Grunty engine, sweet chassis. Good engineering.”

“You can say that again. Here, give it a try.”

You stepped towards the breathing machine. The beast in slumber, awaiting a boost, a nudge awake and it was ready to roar and leave all those in this lot behind. It was a captivating system of mechanisms, all working in unison to create what was going to be a revival for you. A revival on the road. As you sat down on the bike, feeling its energy ooze through you and appreciating its almost youthful vigour, your mind traversed its maze-like avenues back to the Kawasaki. This was far from your precious. Far from who you had been. Far from the soul that you had lost back then. Gorgeous, without a doubt, an astounding piece of work that the streets would be grateful for gracing them, but that was how you had to treat it. As much as a part of you desired a renaissance, that same thrill, it was obviously unachievable. Nothing was the same, nor could be, including you. The place where the tattoo of the Black Pirates still decorated your skin ached with dull throbs as you leaned forward and tested your movements, your fluidity with the motorcycle. This was going to do; this had to do for that one last thrill before you could say goodbye to the dream of re-experience - the final nail in the coffin of a phantom that had you delusionally hoping for that sense of belonging and sense of being undefeatable to return to you. The Aprilia was the Aprilia, and you were you. The need for speed, the desire to rule the roads and exist in discord and chaos had died with the Kawasaki Ninja H2R, and the you now was searching for peace. The peace that you could read in Seonghwa’s eyes. The peace that he was offering in the form of unconditional support, in the form of pieces of his own soul to ignite the one you were patiently cultivating in your hollow chest. To let the blaze warm you, nurture the affection you yearned for, and let you breathe again. You gripped the handles of the bike, and turned on the ignition, casting a permission-seeking side glance to Yeosang, who merely nodded. As it rolled out of position and you flipped the foot that anchored it in balance, and let yourself be regarded by Seonghwa and his fellow bikers, the revelation finally came, that this was the new life that you had hoped for. The life that you had wanted to experience, not a reworking, but a clean slate. A new home that you hoped to discover in Night City.

Once everyone was in position, and Yeosang gave you a helmet that was fitted with a communication system that let the Blue Birds converse while on patrol, you followed Seonghwa out, having been given a designated position and role in the formation. It felt like the old times, but in reverse. Instead of organising havoc, the group was organising peace. Instead of planning heists, the group was hoping to stop crime that happened under the noses of those who purposefully disregarded it, focusing on new age delinquency that manifested itself as banal expression and creativity. The city was different now, it had to be. Suddenly, you were astounded and amazed by it, by the intricacies of every corner, the affection with which the citizens of the sector had decorated their storefronts and windows, even though if a government-arranged bust was to be organised, and the forces, nicknamed the Guardians were to march down these streets, these homes would be the first to be annihilated. Risking their own lives these marvellous people decided to spread joy and share colour. There was hope in Night City, there was hope in this district where the desire to live and thrive could not be put out.

Blue, purple, magenta, pink, orange, yellow, red, green, purest white and inkiest black, every shade and every saturation was jumping out at you even through the visor. You felt at ease, one with your surroundings as Seonghwa’s soothing voice issued the final command before the group were to split, leaving you, Seonghwa and Yeosang alone and zooming down the central street, empty from the lack of business after a particularly nasty raid. You noted remnants of shattered glass and a charcoal black storefront, one of the downsides of living in an area where law was more questionable than local dealings. But even then, you felt more alive than before.

“How are you feeling, Red?” a nickname thought of on the spot for ease of callouts thanks to the accents on the Aprilia.

“Good, Mars.”

“Good?” Yeosang echoed, and you could swear you heard an amused giggle from his mic.

“Very good, Greece,” you would never not be amused with the choice of name for your friend, the word ‘sculpture’, to highlight his heavenly visuals, had apparently been deemed too long to work.

Seonghwa could hear the joy in your voice, stronger than he had ever experienced it before, even when you joked around with him or revealed to him a particularly high quality part that Jongho had produced by some unmentionable connections. Previously, there had been barriers that you had accumulated with each season of your new existence, hardened by your trials and tribulations as a person who technically was not supposed to exist. Less talk, more business. Less emotion, more control over your behaviour, your being in the effort of maintaining an image of strength, much like he had done when he had first met you.

When Seonghwa had first laid eyes on you, you seemed to be the closest thing there was to a human version of ice. You appeared to be dismissive and disinterested in him, in what he could bring, and that was vexing. He, as Mars of the Blue Bird gang, had gotten used to have the room freeze as he walked in, only to combust into hot flames an instant after, but definitely not come face to face with someone who was sombre, and with their lack of a reaction made Seonghwa feel as though, in reality, he was not that important. He had made a promise to himself after finding out about the Kawasaki rider of the Black Pirates, that if there was anyone he would listen to and learn from, it would be them. From the technique to the daredevil spirit, that was the kind of rider he had always wanted to be. At the same time, as days turned to weeks turned to months, and the image of you and the rider became one in his mind, Seonghwa came to understand that truly, the rider was an illusion. A fantasy that he had built in his mind that could not compare to the wise woman that had transformed his Hayabusa, and his own heart. He wanted to learn you, and learn anything else with you. And to hear the spark within you, to feel your passion for finding yourself begin to return to you was the final sign that he needed to fully comprehend what he had been searching for. For that smile to never leave your face, for him to bring you food just because, for you to be side by side in this race against harsh reality, fighting the odds and making it through to a land where there was true light, away from the land of neon farce.

As you sped down the neverending roads, checking each turn and alleyway for activity, an odd trepidation crept into your chest, and fluttered like a moth fighting for its spot on a bulb. The same feeling as when you had been out with your so-called crew, checking the outskirts of your hometown that fateful night. Your inner alarm rolled out of a restless sleep, and began to clang against your brain, once, twice more and more until it became unbearable and you cried out for the group to stop. The unexpected call startled the duo, and they barely had time to process the action as the three of you instinctively skid to a halt, leaving hot trailmarks on the road. A hum. An unsettling hum that came before a certain ruin spread across your surroundings, and you took off your helmet to tune into it in an attempt to decipher anything at all. Seonghwa and Yeosang followed suit, perplexed, contemplating you as you darted from one side to the other turning your head and getting a grasp of what could be the source of the thrum. A revving. A sickening revving in the far distance, picked up by you as you whispered to your team.

“You hear that?”

“Hear what?” Yeosang asked back, running a hand through his hair.

“The hum.”

“Hum?”

“Where are we right now?”

“Southernmost district, kind of outside of Night City, but still our area.” Seonghwa responded promptly, alerted by your concern.

“We need to leave.”

“But the patrol-” Yeosang tried to argue, but you cut him off.

“Now. We need to leave now.”

“Why?”

The engines became even louder, and if you were not going to move now, you would never move again.

“Surveillance Point South, Guardians Helmets on, MOVE!” you commanded, disregarding any hint of formality as you shoved the helmet back onto your head and twisted the bike to go back. The men followed suit, and in good time, as in one of your mirrors, you saw the first flash of white appear from around the corner.

“GO!”

Bless technology, bless the engineers who crafted these magnificent motorcycles; you were praying and praising every person who had ever contributed to the creation of these beauties, these roaring urban animals as you accelerated to top speed in seconds and swerved down a random street, one that you had no clue where it led to. Calming yourself to the level where you were able to ask a question, you hurriedly shouted into the mic:

“Mars!”

“Turn right at the end, Greece flanks on the left.”

“Gotcha chief.”

“Update on tail?” You continued as the initial wave of automatic movements subsided, and in came the need for fast, adaptive strategy. You were not about to make the same mistakes again. This could not happen. You had to trust yourself, trust Seonghwa and Yeosang. They should not suffer the same way you had done. Ever.

“Five Guardians. Gear - standard. They were not expecting us.” Yeosang communicated back, pressing himself into the motorcycle as the three of you sped down the street only to burst into another and swerve to the appointed direction.

“Well that’s a plus,” you huffed and accelerated more after completing the dangerously sharp turn. The Guardians were quick to repeat the motion, and were aggressively catching up to your trio.

“There’s a highway under construction, we can lose them there.” Seonghwa offered, clearly disturbed by the closeness of the forces, practically breathing down his neck.

“How far?”

“How fast can you go?”

“Lead.” a quick ‘yes’ in agreement, and Seonghwa issued an order:

“Greece, split on the fork and find Crow. If you get a tail then spiral the shit out of them.”

“Aye.”

“Good luck.” With one last wish, serving as a hopefully temporary farewell, Yeosang rolled away his own response blending into static as the connection grew weaker, only to fully break:

“Good lu-”

And just like that, it was you, Seonghwa, and four remaining Guardians, who evidently had decided that Yeosang was not their main target, leaving only one to tail him. You cursed under your breath, and clearly the mic was a lot more sensitive than you had initially expected, because as soon as the utterance left your mouth Seonghwa’s voice reverberated against your eardrums.

“Just a bit more, okay? Trust me we’ll get there-”

A gunshot stops the man mid-sentence, and you blindly followed him as he countersteered to make another sharp turn into a much more narrow street, forcing the group of four to slow down considerably and giving you an extra few valuable seconds.

“Are guns part of standard gear?” Shocked by the similarity between the gang you had been part of and your present followers, you managed to ask.

“Yes, unfortunately.”

“Well isn’t this a fun time.”

“Glad you are enjoying it. Turn in five then turn left.”

Before you knew it, you were entering the meandering manoeuvre from street to alley to a series of pedestrian passageways, fully expecting Seonghwa to still be by your side, but as you entered another road, zooming ahead, you took note that your partner was nowhere to be seen, along with another two Guardians. The ones behind you, thanks to the maze of stairs and tight spots down the path he had directed you through, the Guardians were trailing behind, the distance having grown to a more secure one, at least until you felt the bike, which you were not totally used to, hit a pothole on the road and start to wobble, forcing you to overreact - counterintuitive to any professional behaviour. Your yelps finally made Seonghwa return through the speakers asking as to what exactly happened. To the best of your ability you choked out the cause of your surprise, while loosening your grip and regaining at least some control by slowly rolling off the throttle.

“I leave you for one second and that happens?”

“Last time I was alone and being chased I-”

“Did not have me, to your left-” As you had balanced yourself out and returned to breaking any speed limit imaginable, you noted the familiar black and orange Hayabusa merge into the lane to your left, followed by one Guardian.

“Where is their friend?”

“Took an arrow to the knee,” out of the corner of your visor’s allowable view, you saw Seonghwa accelerate until he was a little in the front and he waved what could only be a particularly menacing pistol.

“That is one hell of a bow.” You pondered when and where he could have produced a gun from, and finally realised why most of the time he kept his jacket zipped up unless he was off vigilante duty.

As you approached the winding highways-to-be, you swore you were barely breathing. With only three Guardians remaining on your tail it should be easier, an escape should feel closer, but you could not settle into any form of focus, instead only speeding towards an oblivion. Another one, your final one. The fear that you had been living with, the repetition that you had wrongfully longed for, was it about to happen? You fell quiet as you saw the road curve higher and higher to another level, and followed its flow. Seonghwa let you flow forwards, turning back to return the gunfire that the white-clad spawns of the so-called law restarted, missing one by a few centimetres, but in this way forcing them to enter the same state from which you recovered. Luckily, they did not have as reflexive of a control over the vehicle, and toppled to veer and hit one of the borders, denting it and giving up the chase. Two to go.

Entranced by the openness of the location, you raised your head to find a night sky, clearer than the one you were used to back in Night City. It was similar to the countryside around your hometown, how the stars came around to glint and help you recollect your thoughts by emphasising that everything on this earth, compared to the infinite expanse of the universe, was small enough to brush off. It had always made you feel briefly light, relieved, free. How you wished you could fly-

“Ready to fly?”

“Literally?” you cried out, returning back to the matter at hand.

“I sure hope you remember how to recover from a high jump on a bike because that is our only chance.”

“What the-”

“Three.”

“Two.

“One.”

“May the suspension system be ever in our favour,” you muttered, embracing the oncoming drop as you avoided the cones that marked the end of the construction zone and led into a drop onto the highway below.

Your mind cleared, and you focused on the head level balance point in front of you, which just so happened to be the straight line of the horizon. Your body moved back to ease the weight on the front end, and as you saw the drop come into view, raised yourself up on the foot pegs and pushed with all your might, bending your legs into the motion as you felt the suspension respond to you and compress before rising again. Instantaneously, you blipped the throttle, giving the Aprilia that final burst, propelling you and lifting you right when the front wheel hit the jumping point you had marked out. Keeping your head up, you let yourself feel the arc that you made together with the bike, eagerly watched your surroundings blur as you continued your calculated fall, and giggled as you heard Seonghwa let out a loud proclamation of “awesome!” as you landed the jump and remained fully in control of the temperamental steed.

The Guardians had stopped themselves before the leap, clearly not having the borderline death-seeking move programmed into their ridiculous training schemes, nor into their own obedient, law-abiding cells. With the southernmost district, and as such, the Guardian patrol point long behind you, it was now a matter of finding a place to slow down and figure out a safe way home. You laughed airily as the adrenaline egged you on, making you feel like you could take on the entire world, your gang of traitors and snakes, and the masked tyrants that had been chasing you and all that you considered valuable in your new chapter. You survived. Finally, you survived.

When the empty highway hinted at an exit on the other side, in unspoken agreement the two of you hopped the inexistent border between lanes and swerved into the turn, re-entering the city from a different angle, fully avoiding the southern district. As neon began to occupy your vision once more, the lines of blue, purple, magenta starting to line the streets of your home, you let out a sigh of relief, coming down from the rush of a good chase. As soon as the two of you ensured that there was no hint of Guardians in your vicinity, Seonghwa signalled for you to slow down and stop in a secluded square that was located between the outstretched segments of an abandoned residential block, the doors taped shut with signs proclaiming ‘demolition’ plastered over fading graffiti.

Hopping off his bike and leaving the helmet and gloves on the seat, he rushed to help you out, the exhaustion from diving headfirst into something that had not been in your active arsenal for a while. Wobbly legs, dizziness and an urge to listen to gravity for once nearly had you stumbling off the bike and onto the cracked pavement, if not for the strong arms, stabilising you by positioning themselves at your waist, and bringing you flush against Seonghwa’s toned body. Through the haze of a numbing fatigue, you could finally make out the slightest tang of gun smoke, blending with an aroma of a sweet perfume, pronounced as he had burned up from the prolonged pressure and thrill. Smoke and vanilla. And you were alive to take it all in. You raised your arms, searching for him, trying to feel out an anchor in the renaissance, clamber out of the ashes that were still coating you in a weight of a past that you had now shed. Fingers flittering across the black tank top, left exposed as he had unzipped the jacket, travelled around his sides to find his lower back and hook themselves together. You let yourself be consumed by the feeling of safety, the feeling of having overcome yourself and finding someone, the one person who was ready to pick you up again. Your body shook as a sob that you were unknowingly holding back flew from your now light heart and into the omniscient night, but all you could feel was warmth. A reliable embrace that was going nowhere, a man who knew who you were, who you had been, and let you decide for yourself who you wanted to become-

“Mars-” you mumbled, pressing your face into Seonghwa in an attempt to let the fabric swallow your emotion.

“-Seonghwa.”

“Huh?” you wanted to look at him, at his dark eyes that held the sky, the universe within them, but the soothing circles that he was drawing on your back as he began to rock gently while keeping you in his arms made you remain in the same position, right against him. With him.

“Seonghwa. Hwa. Whatever nickname you think of but… just. Seonghwa, Y/N. Call me Seonghwa.” you chuckled through the tears that started to decorate your cheeks, earning a confused hum from the biker.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Cheeky.”

“At least we are not threatening each other with grievous bodily harm anymore.” you tried to squeeze him in a way to emphasise your joke, but earned a surprised pained yelp from the man, followed by a pursing of the lips as you darted to face him.

“Seonghwa?” it was obvious that the new address made him soften considerably, but your worry did not subside. “Are you hurt?”

“It’s nothing really, regular st-”

“Where, Seonghwa, where?” you used his own name against him, forgetting your own overwhelmed state and turning your attention to him.

He was entranced by the way your eyes glistened in the darkness, how the tears that stained your cheeks were only adding to your image. Nothing would make him look differently at you. Nothing ever. And if he had to race against time itself to be able to hold onto you like this, he would do it. He would fight all of the Guardians and Black Pirates combined if it meant that you could smile. You needed to smile. He tried to ease the concern, but the wound that he had acquired during the chase was becoming nearly unbearable. Instead of fighting you, he tilted his head to his left and lifted his arm while keeping the other on your waist. Getting the hint, you flipped the bottom of the cropped jacket and gasped as you saw torn material, reddened, irritated skin, and a mixture of coagulated and still-trickling blood concentrated around where what could only be a bullet grazed Seonghwa’s stunning, tanned skin.

“What the- and you are just here? Standing? You need treatment, stat!” admonishing his self-disregard, you leaned to inspect the wound more closely, only to have Seonghwa attempt to flip the jacket back and dig his fingers into your side.

“I am fine, I swear-”

“Do you know anyone who can fix this?” not quite in the know of any medical terms, you resorted to treating the wound as though it was a damaged component, except a lot more distressing, and obviously causing a lot more lateral harm than any scratch or even piercing tear could to cold metal.

“...Not really, no,” after a long pause, he responded. Lowering his arm, Seonghwa returned to his previous hold, except this time, moving until his face was only centimetres away from yours.

“Well then, you know me, I have a first aid kit at my cave.” your voice quivered as you at the man before you. You could tell, he was new too, also reborn from the chaos. Neither of you could predict, but it was obvious that now, that light that you had been chasing was within reach.

“So you can fix bikes and people?”

“Bikes, yes. People? Not really. But I would like for you to see another day please.

“It really isn’t that bad.”

“Then why are you in pain?”

“Because I have been staring at your lips for the past minute and still have not kissed you.”

You blinked once, twice as whatever words were in your throat remained there and fell right back down to be set on fire by what you could only describe as the blowing of multiple fuses. You were not quite sure when the two of you managed to lean so impossibly close to one another, but your arms were fully relaxed, having succumbed to the sensation of his hands dancing across your hips testing the waters, and your vision was occupied by Seonghwa, and Seonghwa alone. His gaze, once again, trailed down from your eyes down to your lips, slow, confident alluring. Ignoring whatever pain he was experiencing, dulling it with a different, more tantalising ache. With your breathing growing more shallow by the second, you were not sure what to expect of Seonghwa in this instant; perhaps more accurately, you were terrified of how this would change your new life. He was taking his time as though he was reading a book, trying to decipher what you were feeling, and while he was more than ready to lean in an destroy what was left of the gap between you, your swift hands that wiped what remained of the moisture on your cheeks and a playful smirk on your lips forced him into a childish pout.

“And you won’t, unless you let me patch you up.”

“And I can kiss you after?”

“...Deal.” to hell with it all, you continued soundlessly.

As rapidly as the moment had developed, it ceased to persist, with Seonghwa detangling himself from you and telling you to grab your helmet while pressing a couple of buttons that were concealed on his wristwatch.

“What about the bike?”

“Yeo will sort out the bike. I just pinged him with the coordinates.”

“You have a spy watch?” amazed, you exclaimed.

“Nifty, huh? Blue Bird exclusive.”

“I need to speak to the engineers in your circle, I need to absorb some skills from them.”

“I can see you’ll be speaking to Yeo more and more soon, then. He is quite the techy guy.”

As you were about to hop onto the bike, you thought once more about the injury, and tapped the already seated Seonghwa on the shoulder. Flipping open his visor, the man moved his chin forward, prompting you to go on.

“Scooch back.”

“But I can-”

“No buts. You are injured, and this is a hazard,” receiving a groan in response, you refused to pause, “besides, I can’t exactly hold on to you now, can I?”

That seemed to do the trick as the previously proud, arrogant man obeyed your command and slid away from the handlebar, but as soon as you were in position, revealed that potentially, it was not you winning here as he relished in the opportunity to embrace you for the entire trip back to OC, occasionally distracting you by letting his hands roam your torso, leaving you dangerously close to pulling over. But you had enough experience of being stoic, and Seonghwa still had much to learn about you, so you kept a steady speed, and greeted the luminescence of your neighbourhood with a relaxed rumble of the Hayabusa.

As you turned on the lights to your studio apartment and the two of you took off your shoes, you sped away to find the green case of health and all things that you were technically not supposed to have in your possession but did anyways. Funnily enough, Seonghwa’s comment had not been too far from the truth; back when you had been in the Black Pirates, a mechanic was fully expected to patch the customers up, as well as the bike, considering that both were normally against the law and had to remain undercover. Even when in certain districts the gang did bribe their way up to have a hand in decision-making, thus making it possible for the members to receive regular treatment, many had gotten used to the quick and easy drive-by healings, and would always choose to trust the person who gave life to their motorcycles over even the most qualified, certified doctor. Such was the rhythm that you had fallen into, the one that transitioned into the you in Night City through a library of skills and odd habits - like keeping the first aid kit right below the sink, the logic being that one could grab the kit, wash their hands and be ready for war, equipped with antiseptic and a plethora of improvisation techniques made up on the spot.

With Seonghwa settled on one of the foldable chairs that you kept to the side for when you wanted to sit while eating instead of leaning over the kitchen counter, you took the other, placed it right in front of the tired man and got to work. Carefully guiding his arms out of the leather jacket, you were left with a far too attractive biker, clad in only a black tank top and the ridiculously expensive chains, and the leather trousers that tightened around his legs as he wriggled a little and took a more comfortable position to sit. The earring with the feather right at the end still dangled in his ear, and his hair, ruffled but retaining some shape thanks to what you thought to be humble use of a styling gel. You needed to avoid his eyes at all costs, the burning eyes that were trained on you, and only you. It did not take an expert to guess what Seonghwa was replaying in his mind the entire time that you were around him. As you lifted the tank top and inspected what was now a dried up mass over a graze, you sighed with relief.

“Good news.”

“Good?” Seonghwa asked back, suspiciously out of breath.

“Yeah. Now, I can’t check for internal bleeding, but outwardly, this is easy enough. Seems that you got really lucky. Very. Over the top kind of lucky actually. Can’t say the same for the jacket though, but at least you are not a wine barrel.”

“Charming.”

“I’ll just clean the thing and put a big bandage on it so that it won’t get infected. I fear that most of the pain is from these old injuries though…” you absent-mindedly traced some of the hematomas, which, judging by their colouration, were well on their way to dissolving into a smoothness, with your fingertips, making the man tense up. He turned his head towards you, glancing back and forth as you inspected the collage of injuries that he had collected on his body.

“We’re fighters though, aren’t we.”

“Fighters need holidays too.”

“Right.”

“You need to park yourself in a garage and give your engine a nice break…” you joked, more to yourself as you turned to bring the green case to your lap for easier searching, keeping one hand in place to hold the cotton top up, until the finger grew tired, “hey could you be a darling and hold your own shirt for me? Cheers.”

Seonghwa jumped into action, enjoying the soft speech, and replaced your hand with his, the digits ever so slightly brushing against one another as he moved to hold onto the material.

“You are in luck.”

“Is that so? Even more than over the top?” ignoring his interjection, you continued:

“Uh-huh. I have hydrocolloid bandages left. This one’s actually barely noticeable, but works like a charm with weeping wounds so, get your flesh over here and you’ll be patched up in no time.” turning, he repositioned himself to allow you to clean the cut, removing some of the attached fabric that had dried with the first droplets, and leaving the redness exposed to the disinfectants, and to the patch. In no time at all, your work was done. Satisfied, you grabbed a tissue out of the packet that was sitting in the kit and cleaned the ointment and adhesive that stuck to you.

“I’m afraid I can’t help with the clothes though. Not my area of expertise.”

“You did more than enough, Y/N. And all this after racing through and out of Night City from five Guardians on a totally new bike.”

“I am a woman of many talents.”

“That’s true…” that honey-sweet, deep voice, slowing into a sultry beckoning as Seonghwa’s hand moved to rest on your knee. A man on a mission after all. You chuckled and snapped the first aid kit shut, easily sauntering from his approaches and enjoying every minute.

“You want hot chocolate?” you asked over your shoulder as you stashed the case back under the sink and shut the cupboard. Nothing was stopping you from being a good host to a very good person. Even though it was rather apparent that Seonghwa was eyeing something else on the menu, the sound of a sweet treat was rather appealing. You were right about him faking drinking coffee after all.

“Yes please.”

As you moved about the kitchen, fetching the cylindrical jar of chocolate powder and getting the coffee machine started for your own beverage of choice, Seonghwa moved to reposition the chairs closer to a table that bore the appearance of an ironing board squashed against the wall until he pulled it down and pushed the two legs at the free end out. Patiently, he admired your studio apartment, your corner of the city that was situated right above the shop. The walls were bare, only decorated with old holes from nails and with the odd scratch here and there. Minimal furniture, with the large dresser probably being donated to you by Yunho. The neatly made bed which judging by the headboard and armrests was also a small sofa, located right beside the window that was covered by wooden blinds roughly painted an off-white, was probably the newest addition to the metres of this room. Undoubtedly, the piece of furniture was acquired after you had moved here, after you had made your bosses certain that you were here to stay. And Seonghwa was going to make sure of it. Night City was now to be your new home, and when you tapped the table to alert him of the hot beverage that you had prepared, now ready and billowing steam out of the mug right in front of him, he revered how beautiful you looked, surrounded by the mechanic shop, by the streets of the district, by the city that he had despised for so long but the one that had helped him find you through mysterious serendipity.

"Thank you." he took a cautious sip, sighing in elation.

"No problem. I'll pretend that chocolate helps with internal bruising and call myself a doctor." You commented while settling beside the vigilante, making him smile.

“How’d you guess I would not want coffee?” you glanced over at your companion while taking a tentative sip once the initial temperature shock had subsided.

“You never order it.”

“But I never-”

“I think we have spent enough time together to know the basics, right?” A bolder swig, and you could feel the caffeine begin to hit your system like a nitro boost.

“Well I seem to be discovering more and more things about you every second, Y/N.”

“And how are you finding it?” you took the quietness as a chance to test him. It was barely a test, but nevertheless, too important to dismiss. The small questions, ones said in passing and ones to be forgotten were almost always the ones that were to be the most important.

“I want to learn more and more, since I simply cannot get enough.”

Momentarily bashful, you looked at the floor and thought of the garage beneath your feet. The place where you had initially determined that this same man who was now unbelievably bold in his expression of his feelings for you was to be your sworn enemy. How times changed, for the better. Regardless of the twists and turns, the ups and downs, even in the deepest night there was a light to find, and a light that was meant to be yours. This new life was your light, and Seonghwa wanted to be part of it. You grinned at the thought, and finally met Seonghwa’s smouldering gaze, fuelled by care, by determination, by the vision of a future.

“You know, I think I thought of a nickname for you, Seonghwa.”

“Oh?” he set down his mug, mirroring you.

“Yeah. I think I’ll call you mine.” you stood up, knowingly ambling to the light switch, listening to the biker following suit.

“Watch out, I might just marry you on the spot if you keep that up.”

“Well, I am not your bride but you may kiss me.”

“Y/N, you are too addictive, and will make me lose my mind.”

“Well then, are you mine?”

“In every lifetime I am yours.”

Enveloped in a new night, illuminated only by the colours that seeped through the half open blinds you ceased to think and rationalise, giving yourself up to instinct as you felt his arms wrap around your waist, twisting you from the wall, coaxing you closer to him, towards his warmth, his heart right there for you to take. It was easy to oblige and you pinched the material of his tank top, prompting him to step even closer, sure that he was practically beaming into the kiss as he nudged himself forward, lifting your head up just a little to prolong the contact. It was as though he was certain that if you were to break apart from one another, you would disappear. He wanted more, needed more. Digits tracing abstract shapes on your back, running through your hair, Seonghwa wanted to remember every detail. Just as he had said, he wanted to learn every part of you.

Lost in paradise, the kiss was electric. A hand that found itself toying with his chains, and proceeding to snake up the back of his neck to tug on his hair just enough to make him shakily exhale made Seonghwa switch his gears. A previous tentativeness, a tender exploration turned into an urgency as his tongue flicked against your lower lip begging for entrance, which you were more than eager to give. You sighed into the passionate call for more that left you breathless. And yet, in these seconds turned into an unprecedented timelessness, if you had to give up every life-saving molecule for even a fraction of nearly impossible unity, you would do it in a heartbeat. The sensation was as though you had finally woken up from a deep slumber, dragged from the somnolent abyss, and every vibration in the air was resonating with you, resonating with Seonghwa.

You felt drunk, dizzy as you guided Seonghwa to the bed, having very quickly memorised the layout of your tiny apartment to the point where you could move around even if there was not a single source of light. In a passionate blur your top was left by the chairs, while your trousers found their place right in front of the bed, together with Seonghwa’s tank top. With every flame that crossed between you, you laid yourself bare to one another, honest and open, and the vulnerability, intimacy you let yourself indulge in marked another beginning. As your nude bodies laid down onto the dark grey sheets, the both of you fervent for more but aware of the importance of honouring every step, Seonghwa suggested, feeling his side remind him of his injury:

“I think you’re going to have to take the lead here, Y/N, I’m a little bruised up.”

“Of course,” you leaned in for another kiss, smiling at the sweetness, “You ready?”

“More than.”

Seonghwa leaned against the pillows and headboard, devoured by lust as you moved further and further down until you reached his exposed member, leaking precum, hard, pleading for you to give it at least some attention. Testing the waters, you languidly rubbed the tip with your thumb in circles coating it in the translucent liquid and making Seonghwa breathe as though there was not enough oxygen. One glance back and you were in awe of the beauty before you. Eyes shut, reddened lips slightly parted, head tilted back as if he was caught in a divine act. The light from the street outside made him look all the more ethereal, and his skin, now an indescribably stunning collage of hues that had crept through the blinds, was a masterpiece that you wanted to honour with your love. As your teasing progressed into a gentle pumping, first of the tip and then with your hand sliding down the entire length, only to stop and give extra care to the base of the member, a low groan reached you - a melody that only encouraged you. Heat pooled to your core as you continued to elicit a string of indecipherable mumbles, a deep moan, and the most magnificent expressions from the man who had never thought you would even cross paths with again. How foolish you had been, masking Seonghwa’s stunning presence, response to your every action, and his eagerness to please you by whispering praises for how good you were making him feel, how amazing you looked and were, and how he was so grateful. Your prior ignorance was almost impossible to even consider now, as you let spit drip down from your mouth onto his dick, adding more lubrication and letting you increase the speed. The wanton sounds of your hand pumping Seonghwa’s throbbing cock, blended with the breaths turning shallow, any moan coming out airy, barely there, were filling you with your own desire, and your free hand quickly moved between your legs, fingers gliding along the folds, finding them to be slick, soaking, needy. You began to run your digits over your now wet clit, rolling over the nub painfully slow in a weak attempt to prevent yourself from cumming too soon, but what used to be a hint of a high only accelerated to a knot at the bottom of your stomach, pulsating and begging for fullness. With how Seonghwa’s hips began to buck up, oblivious to the bruises, the wounds that ghosted and adorned his body, you needed him.

“Hwa…”

“Mmh- yes?”

“May I… ride you?” Through phrases broken up by your choice to quicken the pace of your hand, abusing your clit until a trembling sensation spread over your legs in anticipation of an orgasm, you voiced your desire.

“Please- Y/N I- yes-” equally as shattered, Seonghwa was barely able to respond, moaning as you gave him a chance to recover ever so slightly, letting his member spring free, but more desperate than before for stimulation.

“Do you have condoms?”

“Back pocket, trousers, wallet.” he sighed, pointing at the discarded article at the foot of the bed.

“How’d you even get it in this Sector?” you asked, fishing the item out of his wallet, tearing the packaging and crawling back to unroll it.

“Con… tra… band,” he enunciated through your swift actions, biting his lower lip as he felt your heat press against him, your hand guiding the cock between your folds as you rocked back and forth.

“Vigilantes indeed. Protecting in all kinds of ways.”

“Are you kidding me?” Seonghwa groaned at the sorry attempt of a joke, his mind conflicted between the humour and the unbearable closeness of your pussy, lined up against his tip.

“I’m not the one smuggling condoms, though I have nothing to say but thank you, darling.”

Lowering yourself onto the member, bit by bit until he bottomed out inside you, you leaned forward, consumed by the euphoric feeling. Seonghwa took this as a chance to caress the side of your face, draw a line against your jaw and lead you towards him with soft fingers under your chin. Placing one kiss, another on your lips, and peppering your cheeks and nose with loving pecks, he encouraged you. He wanted to ensure that you felt loved, and only loved. When you began to move, hands finding the headboard for better balance and as a security measure so that you would not hurt Seonghwa, his gaze stayed on your face, bearing witness to the single most gorgeous view of his mortality.

He gave himself up to you, something that he would have never imagined, but something that felt so right that he was terrified of thinking how his life would be had he never met you. Seonghwa let you control the pace, and when your walls tightened around his dick with your climax fast-approaching, did nothing to stop you, deny you of the ecstasy, much to his own fortune, for the cries of his name as you reached your high and rode it out, leading him to his own heavenly demise were now permanently etched into his brain. Never before did anything of his sound so captivating. Never before did he think that he could see a light in this dark city, in his dark path. But there she was, an angel in his arms, falling forwards, a barely noticeable shake still over taking her as she nuzzled into the crook of his neck, your lustful fever accentuated by the coolness of the metal necklaces. Seonghwa kissed your cheek once again, then your forehead and the crown of your head, thanking you, adoring you, and as the minutes ticked past, finding his footing in the post-coital bliss, and nudging for you to clean up with him, so the oasis you had created in your four walls could last longer, and you could drift into the sunniest dreams in each other’s embrace.

As you laid in Seonghwa’s arms, flushed from the shower and changed into an oversized t-shirt, his leg lazily thrown over yours and breath tickling your exposed skin, you felt even more alive. As he pulled you closer to him, and with the hand that was fully on the other side of you reached out to rest his palm on the back of yours, and let your fingers intertwine, you let yourself fall into a serenity that you had never known, and listened to his heartbeat through the tee you had given him, a rhythm that you never wanted to forget, a soul that helped yours truly come back from a place of no return. Seonghwa traced the tattoos on your skin, whispering about their marvel, their story, pointing out his favourites, the details that put every piece together into one flowing design. He repeated, again and again, his adoration for you, kissing your earlobe only to say it once more, accompanied by his favourite sound: the syllables that made up your name. In rare moments like this, everything felt easy, within reach. In this time and space that existed after a revival, a self-discovery and a promise of a new beginning, you were ready to take the scenic route.

“Hwa, could you pass me the C-spanner?”

“Ah, the mechanic’s scythe, sure thing.” you rolled your eyes and grinned, accepting the tool from Seonghwa’s outstretched hand. You were working on a swanky new Yamaha that had been added to the general Blue Bird collection after a certain Aprilia had been turned into scraps in the name of security. Not that you knew anything though - after all that was not you, and you did not exist at all in the databases of the Guardians, having flown under the radar thanks to some quick camera wipes, and security checks around Night City. Your new beginning was greeting you with open arms.

As you adjusted the pre-load on the rear shock absorbers, Seonghwa noticed something that reminded him of cling film peeking out from under your sleeve and letting his curiosity get the better of him, inched towards you, around the bike and giving you barely a second to register his intentions, poked at the plastic.

“What’s that, love?”

“A little upgrade.” you smiled to yourself and continued to make adjustments to the energetic beast.

“A tattoo?” he inquired, taking the c-spanner from your hand and laying it down on the ground. You spun on your old stool to face him.

“Mhm…”

“Show me?”

“I don’t know… probably won’t be clear enough through the film and I don’t want to ruin it so…”

“C’mon Y/N, weren’t you gushing about it to me just yesterday? How Seonghwa would adore it and-”

“Don’t sell me out, bossman.” you retorted, faking a glare at Yunho who was in the depths of a discussion about component orders with Jongho and evidently, was getting more and more bored.

“And focus on the papers, Yunho.” the latter rapid-fired after you, making Yunho groan and shift his attention away.

“So?” Seonghwa nudged your foot with his, shoving his hands in his pockets. Clearly, whatever tailor he knew in this city was a magic person, because even months after the turning point in your identity, a switch in time that let you open your eyes to a beautiful new world, the beloved biker pseudo-uniform in black and orange hues was pristine, seamless, bearing no signs of any gunshots, nor of any tears nor grazes.

You stood up, and cautiously rolled up your sleeve to reveal a transparent bandage that covered your fresh ink. Another restart, another call for a new step in the form of a single blue feather, with a stunning gradient and black detailing. As Seonghwa peered at the design, open-mouthed and silent before nearly squeezing the air out of you as he hugged you as tightly as he possibly could and spun you around, you blinked away the last of your doubts that had been stuck to you from before the fateful arrival to Night City. In the most unexpected places, surrounded by the most unexpected people, time was finally on your side, and let you slowly but surely take steps towards the you that you were happy being. The you that was loved and could love. The you that turned a fresh new leaf, and was more alive than ever.

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thelargefrye · 11 months

Text

OPERATION OUTLAW: BEFORE THE BOOM ... 23:43 (18+)

PREV MEMBER | M.LIST | NEXT MEMBER

pairing : wooyoung x f!reader

genre : cyberpunk-western, ateez biker gang au, smut, hurt / comfort

word count : 4k

warnings : language, wooyoung gets his bike taken by authorities, a lot of like crying and hints of self doubt (?), wooyoung calls yn a lot of petnames (babe, pretty girl, my pretty y/n)

smut warnings : unprotected sex, sex in a van, slight marking

note : a @cultofdionysusnet collab! this is apart of an eight piece story, so in order to get the full picture, it is recommended to read the other members as well.

check out the fic playlist [ here ]

you and wooyoung have been partners since you both joined the gang. but recently things just haven't been the same especially with the recent mission slowly approaching faster and faster.

"hey woo, its your turn to go get the food," san says from the back of the van. he moves to where he's closer to the front seats, where you and wooyoung are sitting.

"what? i went last time," wooyoung says, looking at his friend with an almost disgusted face.

"yeah, but that cute girl is working at yeosang's work tonight," san says and you can tell that for whatever reason, he's trying to get wooyoung out of the van.

"hm? what girl?" you ask curious that this is the first time you're hearing about this.

"ah, don't worry about it," he says before shooting san a dirty look. "is there anything you want?" he asks san, a frown painting his lips.

"the usual," san says with a smirk.

"what do you want?" wooyoung ask, turning to you. you can't help but note that coldness in his tone as he talks to you.

"oh, um, the usual," you tell him and nods before grabbing his phone and wallet before getting out of the van. you watch him through the windshield as he walks down the street and around the corner to where the restaurant yeosang had been working at is.

when wooyoung is out of sight, that's when you suddenly turn around and look at san with sharp eyes. your sudden motion seems to take him by surprise as you note the look of said surprise on his face.

"why did you make him go get food? it was my turn?" you asked with a raised eyebrow. you couldn't help but wonder why san wanted your partner out of the van.

"because i wanted to talk to you," he says moving back to his spot before he's patting the seat next to him, beckoning you to join him.

"talk?" you say as you get out of the van and round the back before joining him. you sit yourself on the makeshift bag that had seemingly been both yours and wooyoung's bed for the past few months– well it had been before recently. wooyoung one night suddenly switching to the other side of the van with san. the two of them squished up on san's own makeshift bed. "what do we need to talk about?"

san lets out a sigh before he's looking at you. "the mission we are going on tomorrow, wooyoung doesn't want you coming along. he asked hongjoong to take you off,” he says and you can only look at him in shock.

wooyoung asked hongjoong to take you off the mission? but the two of you always go on missions together, no matter how dangerous they are.

the news definitely didn't help the unsettling storm of moths flying around in your stomach. it was hard not to notice how wooyoung was slowly distancing himself from you. however, there was only so far he could go when you were both trapped in this small van with one other person.

the two of you have been partners since you joined the resistance. wooyoung taking you under his wing basically and always keeping you close to him. any mission you did, wooyoung went along with you and vice versa. wherever wooyoung was, you weren't too far behind. but recently that hasn't been the case. was he getting tired of you? that's the only thing that could explain when he suddenly leaves on his bike at random times. was he just trying to get away from you?

fuck, you think you're going to be sick. was wooyoung really getting tired of you?

“why?” is all you can ask, looking at your other partner who only shrugs his shoulders.

“i think he’s just worried about something going wrong. he doesn’t want you getting caught or hurt,” san explains but it still doesn’t make you any less hurt by it. does he think you can’t handle yourself? "but that's not the only thing i wanted to talk to you about," he says, gaining your attention before you could go too deep into thought.

"what else did you want to talk about?"

"i think you should tell wooyoung how you feel. i'm tired of seeing you both pinning after each other. there's too much tension between the two of you and not enough space for all three of us and it in this van."

"there's no tension san, and besides, you're one to talk about tension and confessions," you say and san can only huff at your words.

"i'm being serious. you guys are basically married with how you act and live. might as well air your feelings out to each other, don't know when you'll get a more perfect chance than this," he tells you and you know he's right.

"obviously not recently," you begin, "wooyoung has barely spoken to me these past few days and he kept going off to who knows where during the day. that's why the fucking authorities took his bike."

the two of you were so close to each other. you were his cardinal, his pretty girl, babe, his y/n. that's why it was so easy to fall in love with him. but it seemed like you and wooyoung weren't ever going to be anything more than partners in trying to take the government and the android guardians down.

"wooyoung is just being–

he is interrupted by the van doors swinging open. promptly startling you both, but you let out a sigh when you see its only wooyoung back with food.

wooyoung's eyes immediately meet yours and you see his relaxed face turn tense when he notices how upset you look. he then turns to san, sending him a glare before asking, "what did you say to her? why is y/n upset?"

it was crazy how despite wooyoung's recent attitude towards you, he can still tell when you're upset. the fact that he even asked or noticed catches you off guard. maybe he can only tell because that's what you get for spending every waking (and sleeping) moment together.

"i told her about the mission," san says, leaving it at that and avoid mentioning the other thing he brought up.

wooyoung looks like a deer in headlights when san's words settle in. and then you watch him look between you and san before his eyes rest on you and your hurt face. he opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but closes it before he looks away from you, ashamed.

"why did you ask hongjoong to take me off the mission? why didn't you talk to me about it?" you ask, the hurt clearly in your voice as you question him.

"y/n... can we talk about it later," wooyoung says, eyes casted downward as to avoid yours. he comes into the van, closing the door behind him as he hands you your food and san his. you honestly don't think you can sit next to him, so you opt to move beside san.

the three of you ate in silence, tension high and noodles shitty as always. you got about five bites in before you lost your appetite and set your noodles aside before climbing out of the back and returning to your seat in the front.

you can hear wooyoung and san whispering to each other, but you honestly don't care about what they have to say. they're probably talking about the mission, which only makes you not care more, but also upsets you more. if wooyoung really did ask hongjoong to take you off the mission the protect you, then why didn't he say anything? why didn't he talk to you about it instead of going behind your back.

"hey y/n," san's voice brings you out of your thoughts as you look up into the rearview mirror, eyes immediately meeting wooyoung's before they move to meet san's. "have you heard from mingi and koa yet?" he asks and you shake your head.

"no," you say, "probably fucking off somewhere," you add with an annoyed sigh as you turn to move your eyes out the window.

you can't help the unsettling feeling in your stomach as you let your mind wander. san mentioning some girl at the restaurant comes back up and you can't help but wonder why san would bring it up to wooyoung. did san want you to confess to wooyoung, so he could let you down. tell you that he was interested in someone else? you can't help the nauseous wave that washes over you at the thought of having to face wooyoung's rejection and still having to work with you.

unless... no. he wouldn't do that would he? does this also have something to do with wooyoung not wanting you on the mission? did wooyoung not want to be partners anymore? did he not want to see you after rejecting you, knowing that you love him? fuck, you think you're going to be sick. you let your head fall in your hands as you try to will the sudden nausea away.

"babe, are you okay?" wooyoung's voice is full of concern as he moves forwards towards where you are sitting. stuff is blocking him from fully reaching you and you are glad for that, not knowing if you could handle wooyoung being any closer.

"i-i need some air," you say, throwing the door open and practically throwing yourself onto the sidewalk. you squat down next to the van and allowing it to hide you from any prying eyes. you hear some movement in the van before wooyoung is stepping out, face full of worry as he rushes over to you.

"y/n, are you okay? what's wrong?" he asks, squatting down next to you.

"i just... i just need a second," you say, taking a deep breath as wooyoung rubs circles into your back. you wish him trying to comfort you was more soothing, but it wasn't. the two of you stay like this for a few moments and you're grateful how wooyoung doesn't speak. despite the things you were previously thinking, you still love wooyoung and the yearning for him near you was still strong.

it was only when you felt cramps in your legs, them slowly beginning to fall asleep is when you stood up. "where's san?" you ask, realizing the boxer was nowhere to be seen.

"he left a while ago," he says, guiding you to the back of the van and helping you inside. "i asked him to leave, so we could talk."

you choose to stay silent as you sit down where san had previously been sitting while wooyoung sits across from you.

"that bastard... san wasn't supposed to tell you. i wanted to," he starts off immediately and you can't help but feel nervous at how he jumps right into it.

"why?" its weak and soft, but wooyoung still hears it.

"i... i wanted to make sure you were safe. the whole mission is just... it's just too dangerous. i wanted to know you would be safe," he says but you can't help the little voice in the back of your head wanting to argue with him.

"are you sure it's not because of something else?" the little voice wins.

but wooyoung looks at you confused, "why would there be something else, babe?"

"i don't know. we always go on missions together and suddenly you don't. you go behind my back with it, like you were trying to hide it, hide something from me."

"what are you trying to get at?"

"it just seems like you don't want to be partners anymore. first it's this mission and then soon it'll slowly add up before boom... we aren't partners anymore, and you're carrying on with your life and i'm left behind," you don't look at wooyoung. don't want to see the guilty expression on his face knowing that you probably called him out.

but not looking at him makes you realize the tears that were running down your face and dripping onto your hands that laid in your lap.

"no, y/n... that's, fuck– that's crazy," you hear him say before he's moving closer. his hands come up to cup your cheeks, so you have to look at him. "i will never leave you behind. i promised you when you joined that we would stick together. this mission, i don't know what will happen– hey, stop crying pretty girl – i can get caught, it's happened plenty of times already, but if you got caught... that's something i wouldn't be able to handle. i just want you to be safe because i..."

"because what?" you ask, searching his eyes in hopes of seeing the one emotion you want him to feel towards. the same emotion you feel towards him.

"because i love you, isn't that obvious," he says, wiping your tears away before he kisses you. you couldn't help the surprise that took over you before you realized what was going on and hurriedly kissed wooyoung back.

you ran your fingers through his semi-long hair and you can't help but grip it in order to help ground yourself. this didn't feel real, wooyoung confessing his feelings right before kissing you. it felt like a dream.

you broke the kiss, the both of you breathless and wooyoung rests his forehead against yours. his eyes never looking away from yours and you can't help but feel a little nervous from his stare. you slip one of your hands out his hair, the other one resting on the back of his neck, fiddling with the ends of his hair. you always did like playing with his hair.

"this isn't a dream is it?" you ask him and wooyoung cracks a smile at you.

"no babe, its not a dream," he answers back before pressing another kiss to your lips.

"this feels like a lot is happening right now," you confess, your stomach twisting up in a rather ugly feeling. wooyoung furrows his eyebrows as he pulls away a little bit, but he reaches over to hold your hand and gives it a comforting squeeze.

"i understand, babe, i shouldn't have kept this all from you plus with the mission tomorrow... we don't have a lot of time left to talk," he says and you nod your head. "i wasted a lot of time already by not talking to you sooner."

"what are you going to do now?" you ask, feeling an odd sense of confidence rush through you as you look at wooyoung.

"let me make it up to you with another kiss," he says, face coming extremely close to your own, forehead resting against your own.

"i think i'm gonna need more than just a kiss for the emotional hell you put me through, woo," you say, moving your head away from your partner and gently pushing at his forehead to tease him.

wooyoung lets out a small laugh before he's pulling you closer to him and moving you to sit next to him on your makeshift bed.

wooyoung pushes you gently by the shoulders, having you lay down on your shared makeshift bed. wooyoung moves to hover over you before he's kissing you again, his uses one of his hands to keep himself propped up while his other hand roams your body. his free hand then goes to fiddle with the buttons of your shirt and you're surprised by how effortlessly he's unbuttoning your shirt with one hand.

you can't help the moan that escapes you as wooyoung softly gropes and squeezes your breast over your bralette. you feel him smile in your kiss before he's pulling away to look down at you.

"is this what you had in mind?" he asked as he sits up to straddle your hips before he's unbuttoning his own shirt.

"hmm, actually i thinking more of a massage, but i guess this can work too," you tease, allowing your hands to come up and feel wooyoung's chest. he lets out a sigh, head tilting back as he feels your hands roam his chest.

wooyoung the leans down, lips trailing from your jaw, neck, collarbone, and finally down to your chest. you feel him leave small love bites on your skin before he's either pressing a wet kiss to the spot and licking at your skin. either way he's sending a wave of pleasurable goosebumps over your skin.

"woo..." you moan out softly, pushing at his shirt to reveal his shoulders. wooyoung senses you trying to remove his shirt and helps you by effortlessly removing it and tossing it somewhere beside you both.

"my pretty y/n," he says as he kisses down your stomach, stopping at the waistband of your pants. he hums softly before he's undoing the button and zipper of your pants. it takes a moment to get your pants off, the cramped space of the van not doing either of you any favors. but wooyoung is quickly going back to kissing your body, grabbing your ankle and kissing up your calf and thigh before he reaches your underwear.

wooyoung rubs you through your underwear and you let out a moan due to the friction it causes. you can see the grin that overtakes his features before he's pressing a kiss to your cunt. you can't help but want to roll your eyes at how he's teasing you.

"aren't you supposed to be making this up to me? not teasing me?" you question as you run a hand through his hair. wooyoung nuzzles into your hand before moving back up to hover over you.

"who knew you had no patience when it comes to getting dick," he teases before pressing a deep kiss to your lips. "fine, i won't tease," he says before hooking his finger in your underwear and removing them a lot more easily than your pants. he leans back down to your pussy, "next time i'll make sure to kiss you properly," he whispers and you roll your eyes, letting out a small laugh as well.

wooyoung smiles at you before he's removing his pants and underwear, and you also quickly remove your shirt and bralette. once you both are naked, wooyoung is quick to settle between your legs. you can't help but think how unreal this is, almost like its too good to be true. you've loved wooyoung for as long as you can remember and to have him confess and between your legs in the same night. unreal.

"hey, what's wrong, babe?" he asks, calling you that silly yet endearing nickname he's always called you. wooyoung's hand comes up to your face and wipes away your tears that you didn't even know you had. "do you want to stop?"

"no... no, i'm just... i'm just so happy. i love you, wooyoung," you tell him and he smiles at you, leaning down to kiss you. swallowing the moans that leaves you as he pushes his cock inside you.

you immediately wrap your arms around wooyoung, one hand running through his hair the nth time tonight while the other runs down his back. your legs wrap around his waist as he thrusts into you.

"f-fuck, woo! ah!" you moan out, back arching as he continues to thrust inside of you. his cock stretching you out and continuously getting closer to hitting your sweet spot.

"you're so tight, y/n, fuck– it feels really good," he says as he repositions himself, your legs unwrapping around his waist as he grabs your hips in a tight grip.

you could feel wooyoung's thrust start to pick up and along with his hips moving faster, you noticed the van also slowly start to shake. you help but think about how if anyone walked by, they would immediately know what you and wooyoung were doing. the thought makes you clench around your partner who lets out a moan.

"f-fuck babe! you can't clench around me like that, i might not last much longer if you do," wooyoung tells you and you can't help but smile at your lover.

"what are you? some hormonal teenage boy?" you attempt to tease, but your laugh turns into a startled moan when wooyoung hits your sweet spot. the pleasure shoots a chill down your spine and wooyoung takes a moment to laugh at you.

"s-so cute, babe. you're my pretty y/nnie aren't you? this is all just for me," he says as one of his hands come to intertwine with your own.

at this point you can feel the whole van start to shake as your orgasm draws closer and closer. you let out a string of sounds that are a mixture of moans, curses, and wooyoung's name. but honestly, he isn't any better as his thrust start to become sloppy.

"are you close w-woo? you gonna come inside me?" you ask using your free hand to run up and down his chest. you can't help but admire the thin layer of sweat on his skin, you notice a bead of sweat running down his face as he moves one last time to hover over you.

wooyoung smashes his lips to yours in one last heated kiss before the both of you are coming with a call of each other's names. wooyoung's hips still inside you as you feel him paint your walls with his seed. the feeling of him filling you up leaves you breathless for a moment as you lay there while your partner presses open mouth kisses to your sweaty skin.

"i love you," he whispers as the two of you lay there still connected.

"i love you, too," you say back, holding wooyoung close to you.

"y/n..." he trails off but doesn't finish and so you let out a small 'hmm' to encourage him to talk. "y/n," why is he just calling out your name?

"wooyoung," you say back. "wooyoung?"

"y/n! hey, babe!" your eyes snap open at the sound of wooyoung's voice as you feel him gently shove at your shoulder.

"what?" you ask with a groan as you feel the sleep melt away as you wake up.

wait. wake up? fuck... was that– was that all a dream?

"gosh what kind of dream were you having, babe?" he asks as you turn to look at him with shocked eyes. your eyes drift to the van clock to realize its only 11:43, fuck. "you kept calling my name? are you okay?" wooyoung adds looking at you with a raised eyebrow. "also you got some drool on your chin."

you can't help but feel embarrassed by the fact that not only did you have a wet dream about wooyoung, but you also drooled. you wipe away the quickly drying drool before you turn to see san still sitting in the back of the van, also looking at you with worry.

"yeah, i dreamed that you were a giant chicken that was chasing me," you say in an attempt to wipe the growing smirk off his face.

"tsk, brat," he mumbles, looking away from you and back down at his phone. "you'll be smirking and laughing when you're by yourself tomorrow," he adds and that's when you remember the mission him and san are going on tomorrow.

"come on, woo, i know you'll miss me," you tease, the dream you just had giving you confidence boost and wooyoung turns to you with a raised eyebrow.

"did me as a giant chicken chasing you give you a confidence boost or something?" he asks and you shrug your shoulders.

"something like that," you say as you turn to look at him. you both share a rather heated glance at each other. wooyoung turns to send san a knowing look making the boxer let out a sigh.

"yeah, yeah, i'll see you guys later," he says before making his way out of the van. once the doors close and you are left alone with your partner.

"why don't you tell me more about your dream now?"

you let out a small laugh, "sure."

#operation outlaw: before the boom #cultofdionysusnet #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez blurbs #ateez wooyoung x reader #wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #ateez smut

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ravennaortiz · 17 days

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Your Boyfriend is a Bitch headcanon SOA version

Summary: How the guys would react if they overheard some guy hitting on you and telling that your boyfriend is a bitch. Inspiration came from the song below.

Tag List: @keyweegirlie @hatersaremymotivators @meera10 @youngadult9016 @littlefrogbrain

Our sweet Juice is amused at first that goofy grin plastered on his face as he sips his beer. He figures it was obvious that you are with him since the guy literally stepped in between you two as you guys were sitting and talking at the clubhouses bar. Guy must just be to caught up in how beautiful his Old Lady is. Then he hears the guy tell you that your boyfriend is a bitch and he could take him. "Alright buddy" laughs Juice that goofy grin slipping into a tight smile as he grabs his shoulder. Slipping off the stool he steers the guy out the door. "Be back in a bit babe" he calls over his shoulder to you.

"Surprise surprise he couldn't take me. Guess you are stuck with me" states Juice smugly as he rejoins you giving you a kiss on the forehead.

Chibs has grown used to the "youngins" hitting on you and such. He used to be quick to swing but your calming nature had him using patience and words a little more often now than his fist. This time though he puts the young man through one of the tables. It's hard to say whose more shocked between the three of you. "Think you can do her better Laddie?" Chibs chuckles darkly as he shakes his head at the trembling man under him. "Why don't you join me and my Ole Lady here in the bedroom. One of us can learn some pointers".

Happy turned away from the pool table when he heard the new prospects response to your decline of a date. Your wide eyed expression, tight smile and nervous chuckle when his eyes met yours told him he had in fact heard the idiot correctly. It was nothing to the prospects expression as he turned to see who you were looking at. Happy simply rolled his toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other for a moment before speaking. "I'm her bitch boyfriend.

Jax is swinging fists before the guy knows what is happening. He demands the guy to answer him between every hard blow. "Think I'm still a bitch?" Are you blind? Couldn't see her crow? The ring?" "Did you miss my arm around her waist?". Jax only relents when Chibs and Opie pull him off the guy. Without another word he pulls you to the dorm hallway to relieve some more of his anger in a more enjoyable way.

Half-Sack is quick to be in the guys face. Newly patched he feels he has a lot to prove still. He makes it clear he doesn't need a gun to win a fight. Which does not last long and leaves the guy hitting on you knocked out and being dragged out of the clubhouse by Happy.

At first Tig thinks you and Kozik are playing a joke on him when you two tell him what happened inside while you were getting a drink. The two of you loved to rile him up and play jokes on him. He also can't wrap his mind around who in their right mind would tell his gorgeous, pregnant wife that she could do better and they could do her better. Especially not after you two had been together for ten years. The tears that start to well up though have him up on his feet and inside, dragging the man out by his kutte. Once he gets your nod of confirmation he pulls him toward the ring.

Opie while usually level headed and one to think things through before reacting. Can't help but to punch the guy in his face before he can even get his sentence out. While he agrees with the guy that you can in fact do better than an outlaw biker, no one else gets to say it.

Kozik would have let it slide. Being called a bitch and stuff did not bother him. What bothered him was how uncomfortable you got and how the guy would not back off. The quiet whisper of his government name from your lips had him grabbing the offending guy into a chokehold and yanking him out of the clubhouse to teach him a lesson on respect.

Rat had his teeth gritted as he served drinks from behind the bar. Still being a prospect he was limited on what he could do to a patched member, let alone the VP of another visiting charter. "You have my permission to handle that" stated Jax as he came around the bar, having heard what was happening. Rat nodded his head in appreciation before yanking the guy over the bar top. There were perks to dating the sister of the mother charters President.

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#Spotify #ravennasmasterlist #sons of anarchy #soa fanfic #soa fandom #soa fanfics #soa headcanon #soa headcanons #soa imagine #soa imagines #juice ortiz #happy lowman #chibs telford #tig trager #half sack epps #opie winston #herman kozik #soa ratboy #jax teller

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foreverdolly · 2 years

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tattooed heart | biker!austin butler x reader

summary: austin is the club president of a local outlaw biker gang- a one percenter. he lies, he kills and he doesn't apologize for it. he was one weakness- you. when he gets a distressed late night call from you he's quick to come to your rescue. the only problem? your own father was in the same motorcycle club that austin now runs, and after his death you cut all contact. when you two see each other again emotions run high and things get. . . a little out of control.

pairings: biker!austin butler x reader

word count: 12,074

warnings/notes: SMUT! violence, brief mention of dv (your ex), cursing, spitting, choking, blood play, unprotected sex, creampie, austin is obsessed with you, but what’s new? this one is wild and i might have to make it a series if ya'll like it enough, so feedback would be awesome.

masterlist

“That’s why you’re the treasurer, Marcus. You don’t run jack shit around here. You crunch the numbers, give them to me, and that’s what I go off of. That’s the definition of your job around here.” Austin sat up a little straighter in his leather work chair, jabbing his finger into the desk hard enough to rattle it as he spoke. “I don’t need you getting all high and mighty, trying to take charge of things. Xavier let all of you fuckers do whatever the hell you wanted while I was locked up, but I’m back now, so things are going back to the way they were.” All Austin wanted to do was go home and shower. It was nearly one in the morning, and he had barely gotten a wink of sleep over the last three days. The blonde had expected the Vice President to keep up with all of the prospects, club funds, and the general upkeep of the building as well as it’s members. It wasn’t too much to ask, right? Not when you were getting paid handsomely for it. Austin continued to run the more illegal practices himself while he rotted away in prison for two years, not trusting anyone else to do it. This- the mess on his desk- was the exact reason why he didn’t trust anyone.

Marcus swallowed thickly, watching his boss nervously, as though he was a ticking time-bomb just waiting to go off. And maybe Austin was. He felt like it was only a matter of time before he absolutely flipped shit and destroyed either something or someone. No one had been keeping up with anything while he was gone. Austin had continued flowing money into this place, while all they did with it was buy booze, women, and lord knows what else. The building was an absolute wreck. There were holes in the walls, half of the toilets in the entire building no longer worked, and to make matters worse an enemy Club had broken into their garage two months ago and had stolen three of Austin’s classic bikes while he was still away. No one had the balls to call him up and tell him.

What a nice fucking welcome home present.

“If I come back here tomorrow and these papers aren’t dated and filed when I get back? I’ll have your fucking head,” He stood up roughly, leaning forward so that he could get right in Marcus’s face. “Are we clear?” His voice was eerily calm, using the same tone that he would when speaking to a child. The middle aged bald man hurriedly nodded, fumbling forward so that he could start scooping up the mass of papers. Austin kicked the leather chair he had just stood up from, hearing it clatter into the wall roughly behind him. “And fucking fix whatever the hell I just broke.” He muttered before walking out his office door. A few members were still hanging around, laughing amongst themselves as they sat around a poker table talking. The dumb assholes had the audacity to have their feet kicked up on the table, drinking Jack Daniel’s and shooting the shit as though they hadn’t absolutely destroyed the place. Austin’s eye twitched as he walked behind the bar, grabbing a fresh pack of Marlboros before sauntering over towards them. “What’s so funny guys?” They froze as they heard their President’s voice, all looking up at him with fearful, glassy eyes. “No, don’t quiet down now. I want to know what’s so fucking funny.” Austin had been out of prison for all of three days. The first two days he had tried to readjust to normal life, and today he was expecting to come back to the club, maybe fix a few things that were out of place, and then go about business as usual.

He could barely sleep in his bed, now completely unused to a regular mattress, which had made it nearly impossible to keep his already ridiculous anger issues under control. Not only that, but he no longer had a bitch-boy bunkie to boss around and wannabe gangsters to treat as punching bags whenever he needed to let off some steam. Then he comes back to this? He was shaking, his sharp jawline ticking as he clenched and unclenched his teeth. He could barely resist the urge to bash the new member’s face into the table until the fuck stopped twitching.

“You know what. . .” Austin grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He began wagging pointer finger at the group, all of them already shifting in their seats as they waited for the shit show that was bound to start any second. “I think I know what’s funny.” Austin grabbed an empty bottle of whiskey, lazily dragging it across the table before gripping it in his large hand. He stared down at the label for a few seconds, taking a steadying breath in through his nose before he finally looked back at the table. They flinched away from his heated gaze, the older member’s beginning to cower as they recognized the murderous intent in his eyes. “It’s how fucking disgusting this place is!” He reared back and tossed the glass against the wall behind them, the thing hitting the wooden surface so hard that it practically turned to dust. They all covered their heads, pushing their way out of their seats in an attempt to get away. “If you boys want to stay here and drink for the rest of the night, then by all means. Do it. But clean this place up first!” He stalked across the club, slamming the front door closed so hard that it shook the hinges, before straddling his Harley.

The long drive home did wonders for his mood, but riding always did that for him. The cold air forced his hair off of his forehead and felt good against his hot face. Austin used the time that it took him to get from the club to his house to think.

He never used to be the type of person to overthink. If something upset him, he’d try his damndest to push it from his mind completely. If the unwanted thought ever bubbled back up to the surface, he’d punch something and move on with his day. He didn’t like wasting time worrying about things that were out of his control.

But he liked to worry about you.

In the thirty minutes that it had taken for him to get home, somehow his mind had landed on the subject of. . . well. . . you. He wondered where you were, how you were doing, and for a second he worried about whether or not you had learned to hate him over time. Austin knew that he wasn’t a very well liked person, and for good reason. People either feared him or were taught to. It was how he had functioned his entire life. How he had been raised. Lying, stealing, and killing were just a way of life for him. A means to an end, really. He had learned it from his father, and his father had learned it from his.

Austin came from a long line of outlaws. They did whatever the fuck they wanted and never apologized for it. You join the Club knowing that there is a possibility that you might not make it out alive. Only the strong survive, and Austin had been bred to be mean because of it. Your father had been the same way. The two of your parents had grown up together, and had both been the leaders of the very same Club that Austin now ran.

You had been raised up right alongside him, and to say that he didn’t have a soft spot for you would be a damn lie. Austin had one weakness, and that was you. He hated feeling vulnerable. He absolutely couldn’t stand it, but he never could shake you, no matter how hard he had tried growing up. You had hollowed out his bones, and sunk deep deep deep into his marrow. You were just as much a part of him as his own flesh and blood.

You weren’t cut out for the life that you had been born into though. All that senseless killing always got to you. It got to you bad. This wasn’t what you would have chosen for yourself- The One Percenters. You were tired of keeping your distance from people on the outside, too afraid to get them caught up in all the wrong things. You wanted a normal life. You had wanted to get out. Once you're in the club though, even if you’re born into it, it’s hard to leave. Your father had been the Vice President, meaning you had heard just about all of the comings and goings of the Clubs activities. Having you out of sight was a liability. Austin didn’t know what it meant to live a normal life, but he could understand the attachment you had to the idea. He could imagine that sort of life for himself too, but only if you were involved. There was no point if you weren’t.

Loving you was the only good thing Austin had ever done in his life.

Whenever your father died, he knew what would happen. He knew that the door to your cage had been busted wide open, and it was only natural for you to want to fly out. He didn’t harbor any anger towards you for it. It was the way that you had chosen to go about it that upset him so much.

He wished you would have at least left a note.

If you were going to disappear, then that meant that you had to disappear for good. That meant that Austin, who was next in line to take his father’s place, had to go. No call, no text, and no warning. He hadn’t even gotten a proper goodbye. One second he was holding your sobbing form at the funeral, and the next second you were gone. It was almost like your old life meant nothing to you at all. Like Austin meant nothing at all. It had crushed him. Totally and utterly devastated him. It was the kind of hurt that you never got over, no matter how many years passed. Time didn’t heal all wounds. You had taken a big piece of him with you, and it was a part of him that couldn’t heal over; couldn’t be replaced.

Weeks went by. Then months. Then years. He didn’t know if you had moved out of state. He didn’t even know if you were alive. That was the part that kept him thinking. Kept him worried. The thought of you being hurt haunted his nightmares, and caused him to wake up the next morning teary eyed and shaky. He couldn’t protect you if he didn’t know where you were. He couldn’t keep you safe like he had when you were younger. Austin had spent nearly every day with you for twenty- two years. Trying to live without you was like learning how to walk again after losing a leg. It just. . . it was never the same. A day didn’t go by that he didn’t think about you. Austin stayed true to your wishes though, even in his own grief. He didn’t look for you, and if anyone asked him if he knew where you were he’d merely say that you were off studying abroad. He’d lied about having tabs on you.

So here he was five years later, still thinking about a girl that couldn’t care less about him. Austin didn’t have the ability to open up his heart anymore than he already had. It just wasn’t big enough. Every fiber- every inch: you owned it. You had him in the palm of your hand, and that’s where he’s always stayed.

Becoming the Club President was the only thing he really could do, unless he wanted to incur his father’s wrath. So he maimed and he killed and he schemed his way to the top.

But Icarus had flown to the sun on wax wings, and even he had eventually fallen.

The murders continued to pile up, and no matter how careful he had been with everything, eventually he too had fallen from grace. Prison wasn’t too bad, not when you had seen and done the things that Austin had throughout his entire life. The first thing he had done was pick a fight with the biggest fucker in the place, and no one had messed with him after he had been sent back from The Hole. Sure, some of the men locked up in there were bigger than Austin was, but he didn’t need a shank to be tough. Austin was a mean motherfucker, and he wasn’t opposed to killing with his bare hands. He wasn’t afraid to get messy. He had spent two years like that, holed up in his room with people avoiding him like he was the plague. People who knew who he was began to talk, and the word quickly got out. He didn’t need to click up. Nobody approached him.

He thought about you a lot while he was locked up. There was no way to escape those thoughts or numb the pain that they brought with them. No, instead he took the brunt of it all. He thought about all of the things he had said to you over the years that he had come to regret. The worst part were the things that he never did get the nerve to actually tell you. He wished that he had told you that he loved you, even just once. Even if you didn’t return the sentiment, then he could have at least gotten the chance to say that he had tried. He thought about what his life could have been like if he hadn’t followed his father’s lead. If you had stayed and had given him a reason to change, maybe then he wouldn’t be in these fucked up situations.

Because the shittiest part is that Austin would have liked the opportunity to have lived a normal life with you. A life where he didn’t have to kill just to survive. A life that he could have actually been proud of. Sure, the money was great, but it wasn’t worth it. He would have been happy living in a boring suburban neighborhood in a boring little town, and driving a boring family car. He would have found a way to make it all work out. He could have given that all to you. He should have given that all to you.

But life never turns out the way that you want it to. So he stewed in all that regret while he rotted away in prison. He had been told that he could very well spend the rest of his life there. People from enemy Clubs had heard about him being locked up, and took it as an opportunity to snitch. They rattled off name after name of people that had gone “missing”, stating that he was to blame.

And he was.

His lawyer had called him on a Thursday morning and told him that some mistakes had been made with his booking papers, and a lot of the witnesses were suddenly taking back their statements. The trial didn’t have a leg to stand on after that. Austin, after only two years, was a free man.

But he didn’t feel free. Not really, at least.

So when he got back to his house after the shit show with the Club, he had stalked right up the stairs and shut himself away in his room. The shower that he took was quick, purely habit as he scrubbed his body as quickly as he could. He barely even took the time to dry himself off, tossing his towel onto the floor next to the clothes hamper, and climbing straight into bed. Austin had rolled himself up in his old duvet and melted into his pillows, and for the first night in almost a week he actually fell asleep. He was a light sleeper though, so the second his phone started ringing he was up, wide eyed and reaching for the gun that he kept tucked in his bed frame. After his heart had stopped pounding from the initial panic, he picked up. “Hello?” He grumbled, rubbing his sleepy eyes roughly with the palm of his hand while he tried desperately to wake himself up. His members knew better than to wake him up this early over something that wasn’t an emergency. “This better be good. What fuckin’ time is it?” He squinted his eyes as he turned his head to look at the bedside table, trying hard to get the blurriness out of his vision as he focused on the digital numbers of his clock: 3:24. He hadn’t even been asleep for two hours. His lips parted, ready to lay into the person on the other line. Then he heard it.

“Aus?”

Your voice. It was your voice.

The second that the sound of it reached his ears, he nearly doubled over. Austin had heard once before that a person’s voice is the first thing that you forget about a person as time goes on. For the first year he had been terrified that he might forget the gorgeous, unrestrained sound of your laughter or the lilting, melodic pitch to your voice. He had replayed memories over again and again in his head, hoping to hang on to the exact way you sounded, but over time he must have gotten it wrong. Your voice was far more beautiful than he remembered.

He sat up in bed, quick to push the comforter off of himself so that he could get up. He couldn’t think of a single good reason why would be calling him after five years, and so late into the night. No matter how beautiful your voice was, he could hear the panic in your tone. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. His heart had flown into his throat, and he found it hard to walk as he stumbled around his room in the dark, trying to find a pair of pants. He didn’t know why, but he felt like he had to get to you right away. Everything would be alright if he could just see you. Touch you. He could hear you sniffling softly, tears in your voice as you softly said his name again, almost too quiet for him to hear. It felt like he was breaking. His hands shook as he struggled to pull his shirt over his head, quickly pressing the phone back up to his ear when he heard something loud echoing on the other end. “Talk to me, baby.” He murmured, opening the door to his bedroom so that he could take the stairs two at a time, rushing to grab his motorcycle boots that he had by the front door. “I need you to come get me.” You were whispering into the phone, trying to keep as quiet as possible.

So you must not be alone. He held the phone against his ear with his shoulder as he tied his boots up, rushing to double knot them before grabbing his keys and wallet. “I-It’s bad.” That was too vague, and he was beginning to spiral into a panic. He was used to making sure that things went smoothly. Austin was an insanely capable person- but he felt helpless. “What’s bad?” He locked the door behind himself before jogging to the back of his house so that he could grab his bike out of the garage. He could hear your distress. “Y/n, please.” He begged after the sound of your sniffles began to get too much for him. His heart couldn’t take it. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt. He couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t breathe now that he knew you were in possible danger. You didn’t answer him, and for a second he was afraid that you had hung up. He pulled the phone away from his cheek, letting out a breath of relief when he saw that the call was still active. “Alright, tell me where you are at least. I’m coming, okay?” You whispered an unfamiliar address to him, and he was quick to type it into his GPS.

He nearly died when he saw the estimated arrival time. Nearly bent over and puked all over his beat up old boots. You had been right under his nose the entire time. Twenty seven minutes. He had been twenty seven minutes from you this entire goddamn time. “Stay where you are, alright? I’m coming to get you.” He didn’t hang up the phone, merely shoved it into his back pocket. He had a feeling that if he hung the phone up, he might never hear from you again. He had already lost you one time, he couldn’t do it again. Not after hearing the fear in your voice.

Austin couldn’t remember a time that he had ever driven that fast before. If a cop had seen him, they didn’t even bother turning their lights on and trying to pursue. He was like a bullet being shot into the dark. Gone in a flash. He almost felt bad for your neighbors when he pulled into your driveway. He was quick to move his foot against the kickstand, swinging his long leg over the bike so that he could slowly begin approaching the house. All the blinds seemed to be closed, so he couldn’t see if there were any lights on inside. He dug into his back pocket, pressing the phone against his ear. “I think I’m here,” His eyebrow raised as he heard some rustling in the background, but nearly dropped his phone when you screamed. The man had wondered why he had been the one that you called tonight. You must have known the way that he had turned out. He was everything that you supposedly hated, and yet here he was. People didn’t call Austin for help unless they wanted their bike worked on or they needed someone dead.

Seeing as he didn’t see a motorcycle in the driveway, he was guessing it was the latter.

Somebody was in there with you, and you were scared, hurt, dying- fuck, he had no clue what was going on. All he did know was that the front door was locked and he had to get to you. The One Percenters were moraless creatures who usually didn’t give a damn about anybody but their own families. The rules were simple, yet usually easy to work your way around. There was one thing that was sacred though. Never lay your hand on a woman. This was worse though. This was twenty times worse, because whether you knew it or not, you were Austin’s woman. This - whatever was happening in there - warranted death, and if anyone in the Club found out that Austin didn’t kill whatever cock sucker was inside of that house, they’d start to question who he was as a man.

He didn’t remember kicking the door in. He didn’t hear the wood splintering or glass breaking. All he could hear was the pounding of his own heart, the blood rushing in his ears. “Who the fuck is downstairs, Y/n? Huh? Who the fuck did you call?” Austin jogged up the stairs, and the second that he turned the corner he saw the fucker staring right at him. The blonde was quick to try and look around the other man’s shoulders, desperate to find you. He needed to make sure that you were alright first, and then he would decide what he would do. He had just gotten out of prison, and he didn’t want to go back any time soon. Killing the fucker was out of the question. Half of the neighborhood must have heard him break down the door, and he was sure that he had a time limit. The cops would pull up any second.

“Who the fuck are you?” Austin liked it when people tried to act tough. Your boyfriend must have thought that he actually stood some sort of a chance.

Austin didn’t answer at first, just squared off his shoulders as he waited for you to come out of the room. He could see you in the shadows, trying to walk up to the door, but the other man was quick to hold out his arm, using his body to keep you trapped. That didn’t sit well with Austin. “Hey!” He screamed, blue eyes narrowed on the other man. “She’s coming with me.” For a second the other guy just stood there, his arm pressed against your chest as he kept you trapped in the room.

“Are you fucking stupid? I’m not letting her go anywhere with you.” Austin had only gotten a quick glance of your face, what with the house being so dark, but he could see a bruise on your cheek. Whether it was fresh or old, he didn’t know. All he knew was that you had been hit. In the blink of an eye Austin had lunged forward, grabbing the man by the front of the shirt and ripping him out of the doorway. He used the man’s weight against him, tossing him onto the floor like a ragdoll before climbing over the fucker. He began bringing his tattooed fist down, connecting it with the other man’s face again and again. Your boyfriend must have hit his head during the fall, because he was too stunned to move for a few moments. Too stunned to fight back. He tried to buck Austin off of him, but the blonde was like a rabid animal. His eyes were wild, his breathing was erratic, and he couldn’t find it in himself to stop.

He knew that he shouldn’t be doing this sort of thing in front of you though. He had to stop for your sake. Austin grabbed the man by the front of his shirt again, hearing the stitches beginning to pop with the strength of his hold as he yanked him up, wanting them to be face to face to get his point across. “If she wasn’t here right now I would fucking gut you. Do you understand?” Austin had popped blood vessels in both of the man’s eyes, and he could tell that he was having a hard time focusing on anything else other than the immense pain in his face. The President was used to vocal answers at his orders. “Speak!” Austin screamed right into the man’s back, watching him flinch back. “Y-Yes.” Your boyfriend’s voice was quiet, but it was something. Ever so slowly the blonde stood up and off of the man’s chest, stepping around him so that he could get to you.

You had been crying at some point, but had stopped right around the time that you had heard Austin arrive. He made sure that his grip was light on your wrist as he reached out to grab you, bringing you into his chest so that he could wrap his arm around you. He had you, and you were safe. He kept repeating that to himself, trying desperately to contain his anger. Austin started to walk you down the hall, but stopped as he noticed the man on the ground, watching you closely as you walked past.

“Don’t fucking look at her.” Austin let go of you, motioning for you to make your way down the stairs. For a few seconds it looked like you weren’t going to obey him, almost like you were worried for the other man’s safety. The look in Austin’s eyes pushed you forward though. Made you want to get the hell out of that house and away from that horrible, horrible man. Austin looked at you like you mattered. You were safe with him, you knew it. Once you were down the stairs and out of sight, Austin reared his foot back, aiming for his upper chest. It didn’t take too many pounds of pressure to break someone’s clavicle, and he could tell by the satisfying wet popping noise that he had done just that.

“God, I’ve barely even touched you and you’re screaming like a little bitch.” Austin crouched down, resting his elbows against his thighs as he took in the sight of him. He wanted to make sure that he memorized the fuckers face, because if he ever saw him out in public. . .

“If you so much as breathe her name again and I find out? I will hunt you down like the dog that you are and skin you alive. I’ll rip every tooth out of your goddamn head and burn you down until you’re nothing but ash and I’ll make sure you’re still alive for all of it.” And with that Austin calmly stood up and made his way down the stairs, feeling around in his back pocket for his keys and phone. You were standing outside beside his bike, your arms wrapped around yourself tightly. “Hey,” He called out to you, reaching out to rub your shoulders up and down. “You’re going to be okay.” You melted into his soothing touch, because it was Austin.

Leaving Austin behind had been one of the hardest decisions that you ever had to make, but you had done it in the hopes of being able to actually live. Now that he stood in front of you, his blonde hair wind mussed and eyes wide, it really hit you just how much you had missed him. The way that he was looking at you now, you also realized that he was still very much your Austin. Just. . . with a lot more tattoos. “I want to make sure that you’re alright, but we have to get out of here. The cops will be here any minute, and the last thing I want is to be charged with breaking and entering along with assault and battery.” He was quick to hop onto his bike, turning his body to gently pat the leather seat behind him. “Come on. You remember how to do this, right?” He teased softly, trying to lighten the mood. It was becoming hard not to stare at you. Even bruised and tearstained, you were still the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

He thought that he might go mad with tenderness at the mere sight of your face. You wiped at your cheeks roughly with the back of your hand before flashing him a shaky smile, climbing on back and wrapping your arms around him. He tried not to allow himself to get too excited as he felt your cheek press against his shoulder. He tried not to allow himself to hope.

Unbeknownst to Austin, you were currently feeling the exact same way. You didn’t want to allow yourself to get sucked back into the Outlaw lifestyle, but if you thought that it was hard to say goodbye to Austin back then, now it would be soul crushing. No one had ever cared as much about you as Austin did, and seeing the way that he had protected you tonight? It put thoughts in your head. It made you doubt whether or not the life that you had been trying to live was really for you or not. You had tried your hand at being the dotting, innocent girlfriend in the hopes of getting everything you had ever thought that you wanted. A white picket fence, a stable future, and a loving partner that you could settle down with. You wanted to get married and have a family.

You weren’t shocked by how far out into the wildness Austin lived. He was up on a mountain, the roads long and winding. Anybody that didn’t know the twists and turns like the back of their hand would get lost. The biker had always felt most comfortable in nature, and it made sense that he would want to be away from the hustle and bustle of their overpopulated city. Not only that, but it would make it near impossible for anyone that Austin didn’t want to know where he lived to find out.

His house was a humble two story wood cabin with a large porch and dark green shutters. Time and weather had caused the paint to begin to chip off, and the grass and weeds in the front yard were overgrown. The place was still beautiful, but in need of some basic repairs and upkeep. “I’ve been gone for a little while, so it doesn’t look the best.” He mumbled, sticking his house key into the knob before opening the door wide for you. You could feel his eyes on you the entire way up the porch steps. It made your skin heat up and the hair raise on the back of your neck. After being tightly pressed against his back for nearly thirty minutes, you were finding it hard to look at him. You hadn’t allowed yourself to really stare at him since that first time you saw him walking up the stairs to you, because what you had seen, even in the dark, had knocked the breath out of your lungs. He had always been gorgeous, what with his sandy blonde locks and bright blue eyes. His lazy smile had always lit a fire inside of you, and the nervous habit that he had of biting his lips always left them plush and oh so pink.

So as you brushed past him you couldn’t help but look up. You let your eyes soak up the sight of him.

And you instantly regretted it.

Never in all of your life had you ever seen a more beautiful man. His eyes were still that same antique bottle-blue that you loved so much, framed by thick, heavy lashes. Under the light of the porch his hair looked like liquid gold, now wavy and wild from the wind. His gorgeous, boarding on effeminate facial features were a stark contrast to the rest of him. He had filled out over time, his shoulders broad and strong. You could see his muscles even through the black shirt that he wore. His arms looked more than capable, the veins visible after the physical strain of the fight- and they were completely tattooed. There wasn’t an inch of skin that was visible to you that wasn’t covered- aside from his neck and face. Even his knuckles were tattooed, albeit badly bloodied, and suddenly you were overcome with the urge to grab his hands and examine them. You wanted to trace the line of all of his tattoos. Ask him what each one meant to him.

You knew that you were being obvious with your staring, but you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander down. He was wearing light wash jeans on his long legs, the hem of his pants tucked over his bulky black boots. You had wondered what that rattling sound was that you heard when he jumped up onto the porch earlier, but you could now see that he was wearing a chain wallet. After a second he cleared his throat, closing the door behind you. “You’re probably exhausted. Uh. . . Let’s get you to bed, yeah?” He nodded almost to himself, his throat working as he thickly swallowed. “Let me just take a shower, and then I’ll move down to the couch.” He grabbed the banister as he walked up the stairs, his boots thumping loudly against the wood.

The spell hadn’t been broken, but you took a second now that he was out of sight to look around the living room. He had a leather couch, a dark brown blanket tossed over the black of it haphazardly. The coffee table had a few beer bottles on it, but other than that the house looked clean. He had always taken good care of his things. Austin was a man of pride, and he liked to keep the things in his life orderly. The cabin was warm and cozy, the polar opposite of the home that he had been raised in. Austin was what some would consider Outlaw royalty, and with the kind of jobs that they took, the money poured in quickly. His childhood home had been a gaudy palace; extravagant walls had been built sky high to help hide the skeletons that had been stuffed into every closet.

This house felt lived in though. This felt less like just a place for him to sleep, and more so a safe haven for him to crawl back to after a long day at work. It made you feel more comfortable as you slowly made your way up the stairs behind him, following him into his bedroom. This room was also clean, aside from the overflowing clothes hamper. His furniture was black and minimalistic, and directly to the side of his king size bed were french doors that led out to a small balcony that overlooked his backyard. “You have a nice house. . . It’s very you.” You complimented, moving over to the bed so that you could awkwardly sit down. He was in the bathroom, riffling around in one of his cabinets before he found what it was that he wanted. He moved back into his bedroom, showing you a small washcloth that he had wet with cold water. “Let me clean you up a little bit.” He mumbled, sitting down next to you on the bed so that he could run the cloth over your cheek. You hissed, flinching back and out of his touch. Your bruised cheek was starting to get more and more sore as the seconds passed, the initial adrenaline finally working it’s way out of your system. He apologized under his breath, reaching out to grab the back of your head so that he could keep you in place. He was gentler this time as he ran the cloth over your face. “That’s going to be a nasty bruise tomorrow, but other than that you look-” He stopped himself for a second, as if he just realized how close he was to you. For a few seconds the two of you just stared at each other, taking in the small changes that time had made to each other’s features. “Aren’t you going to go take a shower?” Your voice sounded small. Unsure. The trauma of the night was beginning to sink in, and even though you wanted to ask him a hundred questions, you knew that a few moments alone in the room would do you some good. You needed to breathe, and maybe cry a little bit. You didn’t want him there for that. You wanted to be able to fall apart in private.

He seemed to get the hint. Austin nodded his head, wordlessly standing up and tossing the wet cloth into the laundry basket. He started to close the bathroom door behind him, but you were quick to call out to him. “Wait!” He paused, whipping his head back as he stared at you expectantly. He was eager to hear what you wanted to say, almost like he was waiting for something in particular. “Can you leave the door open?” You weren’t sure why, but the room almost felt too big, like it might swallow you up if you were left alone. You at least wanted to know that he was just another room away. He looked a little confused for a second, but nodded anyway. He understood that there were things that had happened before he had gotten there. Things that had been said to you that were beginning to weigh heavy. Your bones felt too brittle to carry the burden of them. “Of course.” He left the door open a crack, and you politely turned your head, letting him get undressed without your watchful eyes.

You could hear his clothing hit the floor, one garment at a time. First it was the loud thudding of his boots hitting the checkered tiles, then the soft fluttering of his t-shirt. Ever so slowly you leaned back against the bed, letting your feet dangle uselessly over the side. Your heart began to pound as you heard the zipper of his pants, then the soft jingling of his wallet as he placed it down on the sink counter. “Are you alright?” He finally spoke up. You turned your head then, looking through the doorway of the bathroom. You caught his reflection in the mirror, and he held your gaze. It wasn’t just his arms and hands that were tattooed. Your suspicions had been correct- he was absolutely covered. He let you stare at him, watching you patiently as your eyes moved from one tattoo to the next. He seemed to be a fan of the old american style, all thick black and red lines. He had always been perfect, but now? Your eyes felt like they would start to burn if you stared at him for too long. The sight of him was almost too much.

He felt the same way about you though. He watched the way your hair was spread out around your head, your lips glossy and parted slightly as you thought about how to answer that question. He could feel his pulse in his throat, and the sight of you laid out on his bed? He had to take a step away from the mirror, turning on the showerhead to hide himself away. “I will be. I’m just glad you got there when you did.” Because you were sure that it would have gotten worse. Your ex boyfriend had always been self conscious, and he liked to take it out on you. When you were home just a few minutes late from work, he thought that you were cheating. If you turned your phone over after texting a friend, then you must be talking shit. It was a never ending pattern of pointing fingers, accusations, and brutal screaming matches. You were raised to stand up for yourself though. You refused to allow yourself to be spoken down to or made to feel like a fool. Tonight. . . tonight was the straw that broke the camel's back. You always knew that he could be ruthless with his words, but you never suspected that he would ever hit you. The One Percenters were horrible people, but you’d never seen your father raise a hand to your mother. There’d be occasional bickering and drunken screaming matches, but the next day they would be attached at the hip like nothing ever happened. You just expected that was how things were supposed to be.

This new life that you had insisted on living wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be. Maybe you had screamed too loud, or maybe you had pushed your boyfriend too far. . . but he hadn’t pulled his punch either. You absentmindedly pressed your finger against your cheek, feeling how hot the bruise was under your touch. You were sure that tomorrow it would be swollen and purple, but for now it was just an angry red.

“Did he do that a lot?” Austin closed the shower curtain behind him as he spoke, ducking his tall frame under the shower head. He closed his eyes tightly, letting the water soak through his hair and warm his face. “Hit you, I mean.” He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer, because it might make him want to turn right back around and finish the job. “No. . . tonight was the first time.” A beat. “And the last.” He nodded his head softly, placing his shoulder against the cool tile. The stark differences in temperature made his skin raise with goosebumps. He knew that tonight wasn’t the night to question you. You had been through enough, but he wanted answers.

He wanted to know why you had to shut him out so completely. There were things that you wanted to know about him too. Things you had been wondering over the years but were never able to ask.

“So you’re the new boss, huh?” He scrubbed at the crusted blood on his hands, chewing on his lower lip as he hesitated. “Yeah.” You filled your cheeks with air, closing your eyes tightly before releasing it with a loud sigh. “Is the Club doing well?” Austin wasn’t sure if you really cared about how they were all doing. You hated it enough to leave, but you were trying to make small talk, so he humored you. “It’s a wreck. I nearly broke Marcus’s neck this afternoon when I saw the state of things.” You hummed, remembering the older man’s laziness. Your father had hated him. “So I guess you’re not doing too hot as the president then.” He let out a quick laugh, the sound echoing in the bathroom. Your lip twitched up into a small smile at the sound of it. It was the first time you had heard him laugh in years. It was a nice sound.

“I was locked up for two years. They know to act right when I’m around. They took advantage of the fact that I wasn’t there to watch over them.” You sat up quickly, looking into the bathroom. The mirror was beginning to fog up, and the shower curtain was drawn shut. “Prison?” You questioned. “Yeah, prison. I set fire to one of Howard’s buildings. Burned up at least a million dollars worth of product. It was originally arsen, but then some of his men started snitching. A couple of other charges were pinned against me. They got dropped though, don’t worry.” You rolled your eyes, letting out a small huff. This was exactly what you didn’t want for him. He was too good for all of this bullshit. Too smart. “Well I’m glad you’re out then.” You weren’t sure what else to say. He could tell by your tone of voice that you weren’t pleased, and he didn’t take too kindly to feeling judged. He clenched his jaw, the muscle ticking as he tried to stop himself from saying something. He never did have a filter though.

“You still had my number saved in your phone.” He finally spoke up, his voice huskier than it was just a second ago. You swallowed, licking your lips nervously. This was one of the questions that you didn’t want to answer. You knew exactly where this conversation would go, and you didn’t have the energy for it. “Yeah, I did.”

“Why though?” You heard him suck in a small breath. “No call. No text. Five years is an awfully long time.” You took a second to breathe, taking in the smell of the soap that he was using. It was wafting out from the bathroom, mixing in with the natural pine scent of his home. “I didn’t want to confuse you.” You regretted phrasing it that way. You even went as far as to bite your tongue the second that the words left your lips. It was true though. You didn’t want to confuse him or yourself. You set boundaries. Hard boundaries, and it was painful for the both of you. He let out a humorless laugh, the callous sound making you flinch. You wanted to cover your ears and curl up into a small ball. You hated how cold you were suddenly coming off. This wasn’t how you guys used to act around each other. You were both walking on eggshells. The two of you were acting like strangers, and it physically hurt. Your words tugged at Austin’s heart. Kinda made him want to cry.

“Yeah. . . Yeah. You definitely wouldn’t want to confuse me. You’re right.” He spat the words out like they were poison, pulling the showercurtain to the side so that he could lean his head out. He stared at your blurry reflection in the mirror. “That’s such a half assed response, and you know it. Bull-fucking-shit. You wanted to live some perfect little life, and I didn’t fit the bill, right? I wasn’t good enough, so you cut me out like I never existed at all.” Your jaw dropped and you were quick to stand up and off of the bed. Your heart was beginning to pound again, your adrenaline kicking back up as he raised his voice at you. “I’m not going to accept that response, so you better come up with a better one, Y/n. We grew up together. You tossed me to the side like I was garbage and then only called me when you wanted me to knock a few of your ex’s teeth out.” He pulled the showercurtain shut roughly, the fabric rustling.

You didn’t want to fight. You didn’t want to play into this. You took a few steadying breaths, picking at the skin of your nail with your thumb before speaking up. “I don’t want to do this with you, Austin. Not tonight.” Even though he couldn’t see you, you still threw your hands up in the air. Austin had a temper. You should have known saying something like that would have gotten him riled up.

“No, I’ve waited five years for this conversation. Five. So no, this can’t wait until tomorrow.” You rolled your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose as you tried to keep your own anger under control. “Can’t you be a little bit more sensitive to the situation? Jesus christ, Aus. Tonight isn’t the night. Leave it!” He laughed then. Loud, uncontrolled laughter. The kind with absolutely no humor behind it. All emotions. “You’re crazy. . .” You mumbled under your breath, taking a step closer to the bathroom.

“Yes! Yes I am.” He was quick to snap back, supposedly hearing you even over the running water. “Crazy for thinking that you actually cared about me. I gave you the space that you so desperately wanted. . . but god dammit- I would have taken anything you had given me. You could have texted me. Emailed me. You could have called me from a payphone. Send me a mother fucking smoke signal! Scraps. You’ve got me begging for scraps, Y/n.” He was acting as though the two of you had been something more than just childhood friends. Nonetheless, your stomach still churned with guilt. You were beginning to feel like a wounded animal being backed into a corner. You were in the wrong. You knew that you were, but you weren’t going to be made to feel like an asshole twice in one night.

“Well fuck me for wanting a fresh start, Austin. Fuck me for wanting to feel safe for once in my god damn life! I knew what would happen eventually. I didn’t want to get myself mixed up in this fucked up lifestyle any more than I already was.”Could he really not see where you were coming from? He was talking about setting fire to a drug lord’s storage building like it was nothing. How could he not see how messed up this all was? “You knew what would happen? Meaning. . . you knew how I would turn out. Am I getting that right? You just knew I’d turn out like my father, so instead of mentioning it to me and giving me the chance to talk to you, you just disappeared. Yeah, cause that’s a normal response.” Your jaw dropped. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “Are you really trying to tell me what a normal response is? Seriously?” He scoffed, but you continued. “You kill people, Austin. Kill them.”

He didn’t respond, but you kept going. “What you just said? It's a moot point. You turned out just like your father.” He was the one that had brought it up, so he didn’t really have a reason to be so angry. He still ripped the shower curtain back open though, sticking his whole torso out so that he could stare at you through the crack in the door. “Don’t you dare fucking say that shit to me. Don’t even try it.” His voice shook as he tried to keep himself from shouting. “You have no idea what plans I had for my life. You know I didn’t want to do this shit. You knew I wanted to try and get out too. It might have been easy for you, but it sure as hell wouldn’t have been that way for me.” Austin had always talked a big game while growing up, but he never acted on it. Was it so wrong that you never took him seriously?

“I thought that you were just blowing smoke up my ass.” You were torn. Seeing him again was nice. . . too nice. It made you want to stay and suffer through whatever aggression he had saved up for you. This was getting to be too much though. You didn’t have a way of escaping, and your boyfriend had broken your phone after he saw that you were talking to Austin. You ran a shaky hand through your hair, feeling your eyes well up with unshed tears. “I fucked up, okay? I did you wrong, I know. Can you not see why I did all of it though? Can you not see where I’m coming from, even just a little bit?” You kept your voice quiet and even, and it seemed to work. You could hear Austin taking steadying breaths. You knew that he cared about you- maybe even in a romantic way- but you had no idea that it was to this extent. You loved Austin. You had ever since you were kids, but you saw what kind of a person his father was. You didn’t want to put yourself in that situation. You didn’t want to end up like your mother, yet here you were, standing in his bathroom with a bruised cheek and an even more damaged ego.

“I would have gotten out with you. I would have found some way to hide the both of us. Burner phones, hideaway houses- anything. Fuck. . . anything.” He had probably stopped bathing a while ago. He was using the shower as an excuse to hide himself away from you. If he looked at you he was sure that he would break down. Get too vulnerable. The anger was steadily burning away, like alcohol to a flame, and all that was left was a crippling sadness. He leaned his forehead against the tile, closing his eyes tightly. You both knew where this was going, and neither of you were ready for it. It had to be said though. It couldn’t wait anymore.

You had to lean against the bathroom doorway, your legs feeling too shaky and unstable underneath you. “But now you’re in too deep.” Your voice was thick with unshed tears, the realization of the situation hitting you like a ton of bricks.

Because Austin loved you. And you loved Austin. He was caught in a trap, and there was no getting out. “I’m branded for life. I-I’ve done so much shit, Y/n.” He was trying hard not to cry. He hated crying more than anything, even if it was you that he was doing it in front of. He refused to appear weak.

You didn’t want to know how many people he had hurt over the years. How many people he had killed. “There’s no way you would have meant it, Austin. You would have eventually regretted it. I did what I had to-” “I loved you. I really fucking loved you.”

The words hung in the air for a second. Echoed around the bathroom and reverberated in your chest. There it was. The words the two of you had never had to say out loud because it had been crystal clear your whole lives. No matter who the two of you dated, it was always there. It was the reason why nothing ever worked out. Nothing ever stuck, and feelings never evolved. Because he was always there with that wide childlike smile and those big blue eyes. Austin was always there to save the day, always there to help you out when you needed him the most. He had never complained either. Not even once. No one could ever replace him. He had always been the love of your life, and for him it was the same. “I wouldn’t have left you. Not ever. I wanted a life with you. . . were you really that blind? Was I not as obvious as I always thought that I was? Do you need me to spell it out for you now?” You stumbled away from the door and into the bathroom, reaching out for the showercurtain and gripping it hard in your hand. “I would have risked my life trying to get the both of us-” You ripped the showercurtain back in one swift move, staring at him wide eyed.

He didn’t shy away from your gaze either. He turned to face you, his sandy hair clinging to his cheeks and neck as he looked at you. Despite all of the anger and all of the sadness that was settling into the pit of his stomach, his eyes still softened when he looked at you. It was almost as though you two were seeing each other for the first time that night. Really seeing each other. Austin looked at you like you were the only thing that really mattered. Like you’d hung the fucking moon. No one except for Austin had ever looked at you with eyes so sad and yet so lovely. You didn’t just hear the words that he had said, but you had felt them too. It sent your heart into overdrive.

You stepped into the shower, clothes and all, and wrapped your arms around him tight. You had done twenty seven years of waiting.

No more.

You pressed your lips against Austin’s, and the second that you did he had you pinned up against the tile wall, the cold ceramic pressing hard against your back while the water relentlessly streamed down your front. You were soaked within seconds, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the feel of his warm, naked body pressed up against you. Your lips moved against one another’s in a furious display of passion- all teeth and tongues. The two of you kissed as though you had been doing it for years- everything fell right into place. His soft lips moved in sync with yours, warm water pouring into your open mouths, but you swallowed it all. You wanted to take everything that he was willing to give you. His strong hands grabbed at your hips, fingers pulling against your wet clothes that were acting like a second skin. He pressed even harder against you, breathing you in.

You took the opportunity to move your hands down his strong shoulders, to the muscles of his back, fingertips dragging against his skin as he softly took your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking it into his mouth. The noise you made spurred him on. He wondered how he could have survived so long without having you this way.

He felt that if you ever stopped kissing him that he might die. He needed you like he needed air. Your hands explored his exposed skin, fingertips pressing against every ridge and sharp edge of his muscle. They made their way down until they were pinned in between your chests, slowly inching inching inching- “Please.” He gasped into your open mouth, blue eyes opening to look into your own. He wasn’t above begging you. Wasn’t above falling to his knees if it meant that he could have you. Your fingers brushed against his length, thumb sliding along his head. It felt like the air had been punched out of him. The feeling of your small hand wrapped around his cock was almost too much. Because it was you.

You were touching him. You were touching him.

You pumped your hand a few times, eyebrows furrowing in concentration. He melted against you, leaning his shoulder against the wall as he pressed his forehead into the top of your head, nuzzling his nose into your wet hair. “Let me fuck you. God, let me fuck you.” His muscles shook as he tried to hold himself back. He squeezed his eyes shut so hard that he saw stars behind his eyelids. He wasn’t used to steering off his own urges. He was used to acting out on his anger. Acting out on all that hate that had turned him surly over the years. He felt you nod, and in a second he was fumbling to turn the water off. In the blink of an eye he had your legs wrapped around his waist, the two of you dripping water. He didn’t care. Not at all, because he had you laid back against the bed before you could even object. His eager hands were ripping at your wet clothes, peeling them off of you as quickly as his shaky hands would let him. His chest was already rising and falling at a rapid pace, eyes half lidded, lips a bright pink from your constant lip-locking. You let your eyes dip down, and god you nearly came just at the sight of him. You pushed your wet hair out of your eyes, arching your back as you tried to help him remove your pants. His eyes were darting across your body, trying to look everywhere- memorize every inch of you. “You’re beautiful. So, so beautiful.” He assured you as he slipped your pants down your legs, tossing them into a soggy heap on the floor.

You wanted to tell him to just go ahead and take you. You needed his cock inside of you.

You didn’t care about the foreplay. You just needed to feel him. You couldn’t think of anything else aside from him. Your mind was like a broken record. Because the sheer size of him alone was bringing you to near tears, but it was the desperation in his eyes that was your undoing. It was the way his strong, large hands shook as they danced over your body. They grabbed your hips, ran across your heaving stomach as you gulped back deep breaths, and squeezed your breasts tight. You couldn’t find the words to tell him that you wanted him to go ahead and make love to you. Couldn’t shape the syllables. Your tongue felt too thick in your mouth, and your throat felt like it was closing up.

He gave your lips a warm kiss, trailing them down your chin and along the front of your throat. He paused there, feeling your pounding pulse against his mouth, letting his tongue lap against the wet skin. The sensation of his lips against you had you tilting your head back, your thighs pressing against his length. The both of you moaned at the same, his deep voice vibrating against your throat. His hands moved down your body, sliding easily along your soaked skin. He stopped once he found what he was looking for- and good god you thought your heart was going to stop. Austin pressed his fingers against your folds, feeling your slick, feeling everything. “Ah, fuck.”

Everything about you was beautiful. Your body, your expressions, and the little noises he seemed to be effortlessly pulling out of you. The feel of you wasn’t enough though- he couldn’t survive off of that alone. He needed to taste you. He slid down your body removing his hands so that he could place them at your thighs, pulling them apart so that he could get a good look at you. You raised up on your elbows, watching him with half lidded eyes as he just laid there on his stomach and stared. If this had been anyone else you would have been self conscious, but you saw the look in his eyes. Saw the way his tongue darted out and licked his lips. “This is the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.” He was in complete awe of you. He knew that if he ever got lucky enough to see you laid bare in front of him like this, that you would be beautiful, but this? It was too much. You were too much. Even if this was just a one time thing for you, there couldn’t be anyone again for him. Not after this. You had ruined him. Completely.

You had reached into his chest and ripped out his heart, and he was alright with that.

He separated your folds with his fingers, really drinking you all in before he finally pressed his lips against you. You were quick to cry out, back arching up and off of the bed as your hand flew down, gripping at his wet hair. He set a devastating pace, his tongue flattening out as he licked along your clit, two fingers moving up to slip inside of your entrance. His fingers immediately curled inside of you, pressing against all of the right places. You were glad that he didn’t have any neighbors, because you screamed. How long had it been since someone had taken the time to pleasure you? Too long. Your thighs tried to close, the pleasure becoming too much. It was building too quickly- and you didn’t want to cum yet.

“Stop. Stop- please.” He didn’t stop though. His eyes flew open, watching you as he felt your walls begin to flutter. He wanted to watch you come undone. “I want to cum on your cock- please.” That made him pause. You tightened around his fingers as he slowly pulled his face away from your core, his needy eyes pinning you down. “You asked so nicely,” He slowly pulled his fingers out, crawling back over you like a wild animal. His gaze was too heated. You had to turn your head to the side and shut your eyes tight. “Please, Austin.” He purred. Purred.

“Such a good girl,” He pressed his fingers against your lips- the ones that had been inside of you- and you opened your mouth. He pressed his fingers against your tongue, watching you hungrily as you sucked them clean. “So perfect.” He mumbled. You couldn’t take it. You’d never felt so needy in your life. Your quivering thighs moved to wrap around his middle, positioning him at your entrance yourself. That was the final push that he needed.

“Fuck! Austin!” You screamed as he thrust into you. Every. Inch. You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see. Couldn’t feel anything else but him. He was the only thing that existed. Your eyes shut tight, but the hand that wasn’t holding himself up quickly moved to your face, grabbing your chin in his hand tightly. “Eyes open.” And you obeyed. You hated authority. You always fought against it, but there was just something about him. You couldn’t deny him.

His hips snapped against you at a pace that you didn’t think was possible. He fucked you like he was hoping your bones would meld. Like he could somehow absorb into your body. He was inside inside inside. Pressing against every part of you. He continued to hold your face in his hand, his grip tightening as he let out a growl of pleasure. His eyes fluttered, mouth dropping open as he pressed you into the bed. It had been years since he had been with a woman, and even if he hadn’t the pleasure would still have been too much for him. Because you were his woman.

His one.

He raised up on his knees, reaching down to grab your hip so that he could take you with him. The angle. The angle. He was fucking you so deep that it hurt. Brought tears to your eyes. But it was good. Too good. His other hand reached out, grabbing the headboard for leverage, his torso leaning over you as his hips continued their near impossible pace. “Oh fuck.” He wished he could have taken a picture of your face, but he settled with storing it deep into his memory. He wanted to relive this moment. Again and again. His cock twitched inside of you, you bliss stricken expression almost too much. He didn’t want to cum. He wasn’t done yet. His hold on the bed frame tightened, and you let out a yelp as you heard the wood crack behind you. He hissed, clenching his teeth in pain as he felt the splintered wood dig into his palm.

You turned your head just in time to see a few drops of blood soak into the sheets, dripping off of his hand. Your eyes widened, and you were quick to turn your head. You were going to ask him if he was okay, but the second you saw the look on his face you knew that he was more than okay. The pain kept his orgasm at bay- snapped him out of it. He tightened his hold on the splintered wood, the muscles in his jaw working as he clenched and unclenched his teeth. After a second he put all of his wait on his knees, fucking up into you so that he could remove his hand. He took a second to look down at the deep gashes, licking his lips before his eyes found you again. He could have needed stitches- he didn’t care. He dropped his injured palm down to your neck, wrapping his fingers around your throat. You could feel the hot blood smear against your skin, and you weren’t sure why- but never in your life had you ever experienced anything quite so sensual. So personal.

Because he was marking you.

He added pressure to his hold on your throat, cutting off airflow. You reached up, clawing at his arms and his chest, mouth opening as you let out a strangled cry. You were cumming. You could feel it.

He could too. It pushed him to fuck into you harder, his large palm still pressed against your throat, two of his fingers moving up to pull at your bottom lip. He hooked his fingers into your mouth, pulling it open for him- and then he spit. Spit.

You swallowed it too.

Then you came undone. Eyes rolled back, head pressed hard against the mattress, and thighs quivering. He pulled an orgasm out of you so earth shattering that you were sure that you wouldn’t have been able to breathe, even if he wasn’t still choking you. Your walls clamped down around him, and that was all it took to have him following close behind. He came with your name on his lips. Again and again he said it, driving his cum deep deep deep inside of you. He loosened his hold on your throat, and you sucked in a breath, choking on it. Your chest heaved as you tried to regulate your heart, and he was in a sad state as well. He was gulping down air, blue eyes wide, his arms shaking as he loosened his hold on you.

Slowly he pulled out, looking down as he watched with grave interest as his cum began leaking out of your entrance. He moved his hand down, using his fingers to gather it up. Pushing it back in. For a few seconds the two of you just stayed there, staring at each other, trying hard to calm yourselves down. “L-Let me get a towel.” He could barely speak. His mouth felt numb and his eyes felt wet. “No,” You shook your head, licking your dry lips. You shut your eyes for a second, listening to the pounding of your heart and his panting breaths. “Leave it.”

“Okay. . .” He trailed off, and you opened your eyes just in time to see the realization dawn on him. “Okay.” His eyes softened, his lips twitching up into a small smile. You wanted him. All of him. It was acceptance, no matter how vague. You wanted this. You loved him. You loved him so much it felt like you might burst, your ribs aching under the pressure of it all. You were fucked. This life- no matter how messed up you thought it was- you could make it work. You would make it work, because it was Austin.

Your Austin.

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moanz111 · 10 months

Text

final round - choi san

🥊 pairing: boxer/fighter!choi san x boxing coach!gn!reader

🥊 genre: angst, fluff, strangers to lovers, dystopian au

🥊 summary: surviving in a city of outlaws has never been easy, with your days filled with emptiness and fear, and your only comfort being the weekly boxing matches in an underground club. but when you accidentally meet san, promising you a new beginning, your whole world is about to turn upside down.

🥊 featuring: biker!hwa; biker!yeosang; boxing coach/manager!wooyoung; cowboy(????)!mingi; oc!jay

🥊 wc: 5.9 k

🥊 warnings/tags: english is not my native language so there can be mistakes; descriptions of fighting/injuries/bleeding; setting is inspired by ateez's lore and the outlaw album (it's not accurate, just took some details from it, terminology can be inaccurate); use of pet names (angel); reader has an older brother; jay (reader's friend) doesn't represent any real person; there can be inaccuracies about boxing (i tried my best); mentions of guns/shooting (no one is harmed!!); repressive government; mentions of loss of family members/friends; reader is a bartender too; descriptions of kissing; lmk if i've missed something

credits for all the used graphics belong to their rightful owners!

🥊 note: happy (late) birthday to one of my favourite artists and people, sannie!

after all, i decided to post this fic even though i'm on a break lmao i feel a little bit more comfortable with posting it now and am doing better! and also i just couldn't wait to share this with you so...

i had so much fun writing this and got so inspired by ateez's album that i just had to do something about it. i'm trying a different genre this time so i hope you enjoy reading it!!

also, i'm super awkward when writing kissing scenes, help.

any form of feedback is greatly appreciated so don't be shy to reblog with your thoughts, comment or send me an ask! it really means a lot to me and keeps me motivated!

Sweat dripped down your forehead, tickling your chin and neck as you gripped tightly the ring ropes, lunging your body forward with excitement. Even though you’d never admit it out loud, the adrenaline running through your veins during the intense boxing matches you attended every weekend made you feel more alive than ever. The way the two boxers threw fierce punches at each other was not exactly abiding by the game’s rules but no one around you seemed to care or even notice.

Living in a world where tomorrow might never come, these were the only moments you could be your most authentic self without the mask of acquiescence on. This world was sick, filled with horrors and demons, haunting you even in your dreams and watching your every step. However, this world was beautiful too, filled with secretly exchanged hopeful glances and little reasons to look up at the grey sky, praying better days would come.

What you were doing right now - smiling, screaming, the sole act of feeling was illegal but the thrill that filled your body was something you were willing to risk your life for. You had made your decision a long time ago - the rules didn’t matter to you anymore.

“A win for Black Serpent,” you heard the referee shout in an attempt to fight the hundreds of voices, drowning his own as the champion threw his red boxing gloves at the public. Blue and purple marks painted his features and his almost closed left eye was swollen but the triumphant grin plastered on his face told you, as usual, his injuries were not one of his problems.

Such a show-off, you thought when your friend waved at you from the ring, flexing his biceps proudly. It wasn’t surprising to you that he won tonight’s match. During the few years you’d known Jay, you’d never seen him lose. Having been a professional competitor in the past, as he had told you when you first met, the underground club’s matches were his way to escape the harsh reality and remember the good old times.

Plus, you’d seen the bags full of cash from bets after a successful night. After all, that was why you had become his “accomplice” or as he liked referring to you - his devil accountant. The job was simple enough and you didn’t mind the extra income - working as a bartender at the local bar came with its perks but with the money you made you could never possibly afford a place of your own, neither did it give you the comfort you could run away one day from this awful blackhole. So you gladly kept track of the bets for Jay’s matches and sometimes you even helped him train as you knew a thing or two about boxing yourself.

Tonight was no different. As you pushed your way through the crowd, collecting the bills, you saw a lot of familiar faces who greeted you warmly. At least some of them. Others - weren’t so friendly, swearing and even refusing to give you the money, overcome by anger after losing, but they knew better than to test you. No one wanted Jay’s wrath upon them.

“I think you forgot about me, angel,” you heard a raspy voice behind you just as you were about to call it a day and go to the locker room where Jay was waiting for you. Turning around, you were, to say the least confused. The man before you wore a grey hoodie over his head, hiding his features, and matching sweatpants, looking nothing like the usual visitors of the fight club. He was tall but muscular - you could see it even though his baggy clothes left much to the imagination. His broad shoulders and confident stance told you he was much more than he led you to believe. Was he another competitor?

Looking down at his stretched-out hand, you saw a few bills folded in his palm. A cat-like smirk formed on your lips. “Though night for you, huh?” “I don’t like voting in favour of my biggest competition,” the man laughed as you took the money, writing down the amount in your notebook. Jay was going to be pleased with tonight’s profit which meant another celebration for him and another babysitting gig for you.

However, the stranger’s words made you wonder what exactly his intention was. If he was telling the truth, then why bother betting if Jay was his next match? With his face engulfed in shadows and mystery, his aura alone sent shivers down your spine, alarming you for danger. Taking a step away from the man, you folded your arms before your chest. “What is your deal?”

He tilted his head to one side, regarding you quietly like a predator about to chase his next prey. Closing the distance between you in a matter of seconds, he leaned down to your right ear, whispering softly, his breath hot against your neck, “You’ll find out soon, angel.”

Still in a daze after your encounter with the stranger, you watched him pull away from you, shooting you one last mischievous smirk before diving into the crowd. Shaking your head, you let out a deep sigh.

Trouble always found its way to you.

The deafening sound of the morning alarm, signaling it was time for everyone to go to work, rang in your ears as you walked to the bar where you worked during the day. The sun was still hiding under the horizon and the sky was painted in a mix of deep blue, purple, and orange. The streets were empty without a single soul in sight except you and the black stray cat that accompanied you every day on your way. It brought you a sense of comfort - to have a small friend by your side in these lonely times of the day.

Forming genuine connections with other human beings was almost impossible. There were many stories about heartless betrayals, travelling from person to person in this city of outlaws. Today’s friend could easily turn into tomorrow's enemy. However, right now this place was your everything and all you could do is learn how to survive. You’d heard of other faraway cities where people had it way worse than you did and were much more repressed by the titanic power of the Guardians. Sometimes you were even grateful you were surrounded by outcasts and criminals rather than a white sea of masks, pointing guns at your face.

Here, the inhabitants had found their ways of rebelling right under the government's nose without being noticed and the bar you were currently opening was one of their favourite places to do it. You'd witnessed hundreds of pieces of intel being exchanged for contraband and hundreds of unfulfilled plans for the future dying under the dim yellow lights. Still, no one gave up. That was the only rule everyone followed wholeheartedly - better surrender and lose your life than give up your dreams and hopes and become a dead man walking.

Pushing your thoughts away, you braced yourself for yet another day during which you had to take on the role of the oblivious bartender. Your job was to keep your mouth shut and eyes closed so when you saw one of your regulars enter the building, looking suspiciously around, you almost laughed.

“Good morning, Mingi,” you greeted him leaning on the broom you were swiping the floor with to take a proper look at him. His cowboy boots and hat, the usual, now shabby, long brown coat and the chains dangling at his neck as he walked slowly towards you gave away that he was meeting someone important today. The tall and lean man oozed confidence and threat just by standing and you were glad you were on his good side.

You'd met Mingi on your very first day as a bartender and quickly developed a soft spot for him. You weren't aware of exactly what he was doing except sitting around with you and being a menace to your boss but there were dozens of wanted posters around the city, including on the wall behind the countertop you mixed beverages on. The portrait drawing sure did him justice and you'd always been perplexed as to how the Guardians hadn't caught him yet.

In your eyes Mingi was good-natured and considerate, always asking about your day and throwing a joke or two to make you smile but you'd seen his nasty side too. That was why when he pulled out his pistol from his holster belt and placed it on top of the bar as he sat down on his usual spot, you felt shivers run down your spine.

“Don't worry, Y/N,” said Mingi, turning to look at you with a reassuring smile. If you got paid every time you heard him say this before destroying everything and everyone on his way, you would've been a millionaire. Sighing heavily, you walked over to him to stand behind the bar and took his pistol in your hands. Earning a surprised squeal from the man, you shook your head.

“You're the reason I'm not getting paid, cowboy. The amount of repairs we’ve made in a month is insane.”

“I'm sorry,” Mingi answered with a pout. Your boss wasn't going to be happy he came here again. You could only imagine the old man's smile as he put up these wanted posters. Hell, if he could turn in Mingi himself, he would be on cloud nine. “But be careful and don't shoot anyone.”

“You worry about yourself,” you sighed and pointed behind him. A young man was entering the bar, humming an unknown-to-you melody and carrying a bag over his shoulder. Sunglasses hid his eyes and a grin showed off his dimples.

“You didn't tell me your friend was such a beauty, Mingi,” the man whistled, eyeing you from head to toe after he removed his glasses, placing them on top of his head. You felt heat burn up your cheeks and you found it hard to hold his intense stare. Now being able to properly look at his face, some sort of recognition passed through your mind but you couldn't wrap your head around where you'd seen him before.

As the newcomer sat down next to Mingi, you couldn't stifle your laugh this time. They reminded you of a comedic duo from the comic books you used to read as a child, now long gone and turned into ashes, with the newcomer dressed casually in a black and white shirt, the fabric flowing around his body and a few buttons undone, showing his collarbones, and Mingi in his “official” attire with a serious look on his face and furrowed brows.

“Don't even think of laying a finger on Y/N, Wooyoung,” warned Mingi as your friend took out a white envelope from his coat’s pockets, handing it to the other man. A silent look, holding thousands of words, was exchanged by them before Wooyoung swiftly hid it under his shirt. “We can talk comfortably here. They won't say anything.”

“My lips are sealed,” you made a motion as if you locked them with a key and threw it in Wooyoung’s direction, earning a loud laugh from him.

“I like them. We should recruit them.”

“Absolutely no,” Mingi sternly refused, scolding both of you with a glance. “Let's talk business now.”

Mindlessly washing the shot glasses and polishing them, you listened to the two men’s conversation, pretending none of what they said was surely granting them a death sentence. The images they described with pretty words and empty promises filled your heart with longing for a distant land where everything you'd ever dreamt of was real.

Where there existed other sounds - other than your heartbeat and the screeching alarm.

Where you could look up at the sky and see the stars - not the brown clouds of dust and pain.

Where emotions like sorrow and fear were replaced by joy and comfort.

So you listened and listened until you'd memorised every single sentence, hoping to dream of this new world tonight.

“The others will call for us soon. We just need to wait for a sign,” said Wooyoung, getting up from his seat and stretching his limbs. “San has a match tomorrow so if- no…when he wins, we'll have enough money for the next mission.”

A match?

A lightbulb lit up at the back of your mind as your memories took you to last night’s events. The stranger's words made much more sense than before and you were pretty sure you'd seen Wooyoung, lurking in the shadows and grinning after Jay’s final victorious blow. Keeping this information to yourself, you remained silent even when Wooyoung gave you a knowing look.

“His opponent is pretty tough and so is his coach…,” he trailed off, playing with his silver earrings, shimmering under the first morning rays.

“Good luck then. I'll see you in a week,” Mingi answered, shaking his accomplice’s hand as he too got up to leave. Glancing at you, he placed a few bills on the counter, way too many than needed. “For the special service today.”

“You don't have to-”

“And a bet for Black Serpent.”

“Jerk,” whined Wooyoung, rolling his eyes and earning another warning look from Mingi to whom you returned the pistol you took earlier. “I look forward to our little dance tomorrow, Y/N.”

Giving you a playful wink, Wooyoung took his bag and trailed after Mingi who was already striding to the exit, talking about manners and social norms which you found amusing.

At least, he didn't vandalise property today.

“The underdog vs. the big champion, huh,” Jay hummed as he traced his finger over his opponent's name on the list, placed at the fight club’s entrance. The match was only a few hours away and unable to sleep from excitement, you'd dragged your friend to the ring to practice some extra time. You didn't know what kind of fighter San was but better be prepared than sorry later. The rumors about him going around in the underground club didn’t give you much information either - some said he was ruthless and vicious, others - just a showoff. One thing was sure though - he had an incredible win rate with his name at the top of the rank list at least once a month.

“Isn't it a bit cocky to call yourself the big champion,” you teased Jay as you pushed him inside the locker room so he could change into his practice clothes. You noticed one other locker was closed and were curious who else would've come here at that time of the day. Only champions and their coaches were allowed in when there wasn't a match.

“I know my worth, Y/N,” Jay sighed while rolling bandages over his wounded knuckles. The bruises from his last match were still visible on his body and you wondered if they ever healed. You also mentally noted he had cut his hair down to a buzzcut again. He was serious about tonight then. Not that you expected anything different. San was the only person who could challenge him for his title. “I'm not a loser.”

“Sure, now get up. We have a lot of work to do.”

“Jay, cover-up,” you shouted while monitoring your friend’s warm-up match, feeling your nerves slowly getting to you. You weren't exactly surprised when you found out the other fighter in the club and Jay’s opponent was the stranger you’d met the other night and of course, Wooyoung was his cornerman and manager.

San’s presence turned coaching Jay into a challenge, unlike any other time. His movements were practiced and calculated, his punches swift and precise. The white tank top he was wearing revealed his toned body and well-defined muscles and made you stare more than to your liking. His sharp features and handsome face mixed with his professionalism were a weapon San used well on the ring since you could see Jay was intimidated probably for the first time. Wooyoung’s annoyingly proud smile didn't help either.

Blood was dripping down San’s chin from a cut, gifted to him by Jay after one of his blows, and sweat formed on his forehead as he counterattacked, delivering a strong punch on your friend's face. Their match resembled a passionate and intimate dance that you weren't supposed to witness. Their pride and skills were on the line.

“Parry, Jay,” you once again yelled and seconds later the final bell rang, putting an end to their spar before your friend could react, taking a painful hook from San. Getting up from your chair, you went up to the ring and handed Jay a water bottle which he splashed on his face with a groan. You praised yourself for taking your first aid kit before leaving your apartment. If he was so beaten up right now, you didn't want to imagine what both of them were going to look like by the end of the night.

“You sure know a lot about boxing, Y/N,” San said, breathing heavily as he took his gloves off, throwing them at Wooyoung. It was the first time he addressed you directly today and you were taken by surprise when he jumped off the ring, coming closer to you. His face was glistening and his brown eyes were burning with passion you'd never seen before. Sure, Jay enjoyed fighting but you knew it wasn't the same as it used to be for him. San, however, had the eagerness to learn and win as a newbie even though his skills made you believe he was as good as a coach. Maybe even better than most. “Where did you learn?”

“Let's say I'm very observant,” you answered quietly, trying to avert his attention away from you and the topic. Still, the sting in your heart, forming as memories flooded your mind reminded you of the past you were so willing to escape from. You could still smell the distinctive scent of your brother’s gloves. The thrill that came with each victory. The pain that filled your being after leaving your past life behind without looking back. What had even happened with your family and friends? Were they alive? Were they safe?

“I'd call this more than just “being observant”,” Wooyoung joined the conversation, pulling you out of your thoughts. He put his arm around your shoulders, squeezing them tightly and you whined. “We hit the jackpot, San.”

“What do you mean?”

“We have an offer for you, Y/N.”

The next few months after the official match between San and Jay passed in a daze for you. Someone had to pinch you. Hard.

Wooyoung, you’d realised, was a gambling addict. There wasn't any other logical explanation behind his behaviour. Whatever you did or said, he turned into a bet out of which only one of you could emerge as a winner.

So just like that, after that practice match, he and San had made a proposal that was too difficult to decline and simple enough to follow. If San won, you'd coach him for his next matches and join their small group of outlaws. As they told you - they needed someone competent on their side. If Jay won, you'd go on your way and forget about it. Not that this was possible.

You would've lied if you’d said you had been surprised when San delivered the final victorious blow that night. Secretly, you had hoped for this turn of events not much to your friend’s liking. While you were patching up his wounded and bleeding face, whispering comforting words, your betraying heart was accelerating with your mind plagued by thoughts of San.

Today was no different. As you watched San practice his kicks on a punching bag in the fight club, you caught yourself blushing at one of his particularly precise deliveries. Boxing is my thing, I guess, you thought when he halted his movements to drink some water and pulled his tank top over his head, showing off his toned body.

Moments like this were routine for you at this point - just both of you sitting in silence, only his heavy breathing audible - him practicing and you observing. San’s progress was outstanding and this left you jobless - he didn’t need your directions anymore that much. You didn't feel the need to fill the space with small talk or pointless conversations when you were with him and thought of him as someone who had always been part of your life.

Intimidating at first glance, San was, in reality, the kindest person you had ever met. He cared deeply about the people he loved, always making sure to put them first above everything else. He was also thoughtful and considerate - attentive to everyone’s needs and was always there when you needed him the most. San brought you comfort unlike anyone else and you told him things you hadn't even dared before. Your relationship was progressing fast - with a lot of skipped steps, blurring the line between friends and lovers but you didn't mind. Labels weren't needed for you to feel what you did towards him. Not when you had so few opportunities to be together.

You two often daydreamed about this new world he and his friends liked talking about. He wanted to stop fighting - hurting people was what he hated doing the most but their group needed the money desperately. There was no other choice for him but to sacrifice himself every day. San, instead, wanted to build a home for his loved ones and create a safe space for them where they could be together and where he could protect them.

“You can't protect everyone, San”, you had told him the day he shared his plans with you while both of you were sitting on the cold floor of the locker room, shoulder to shoulder. His proximity had your head spinning and you found it hard to focus on his words. San held your hands, tracing circles mindlessly on them, before bringing them to his lips.

“I have to do what I can, though. I can't just give up on any of you,” he had answered, whispering into your skin, goosebumps forming all over your body. Before that, you hadn't considered yourself that important to him and his words made your heart skip a few beats.

“I know what it feels like…,” The lump in your throat and the painful memories of your family had tears forming in your eyes that you tried blinking away. No point in crying when you didn't have the power to change the past. San brought his big hands to your face, cupping your cheeks, forcing you to look at him, and you tried pulling away. The pity and guilt in his eyes were something you wanted to erase forever.

“You can't just run away from your demons, Y/N. Sometimes you have to face them.”

So you had wept in his arms, telling him your life's story for the first time and he had brushed every fear, doubt, and pain away with his soft touches and gentle gaze.

You had grown up in the Outlaw City’s outskirts, in a restricted area where the Guardians’ influence and presence weren't as noticeable. The people were happy - you remembered seeing children playing freely, people reading and drawing and creating with all their might without being disturbed.

Your parents were ordinary people, working ordinary jobs and living an ordinary life. You and your older brother, however, were nothing like them. The fighting rebellious spirit was something you had no idea who passed down to both of you but you were grateful to whoever ancestor was responsible for it.

You two always found ways to get into trouble - from stealing a guitar from one of the contraband gangs in the city to compose silly songs to your brother learning how to box only to enter underground tournaments to earn some extra income for your family. He had learned from the older kids a trick or two and you had made it your life's purpose to follow him around until he taught you too.

You missed those days dearly. The mornings when you would spar together under the blazing sun for hours. The nights when you would go to the restricted area of the city to fight and then run back home with the money you'd made before someone else took it from you. Every day was a game of survival, but you were happy. You had your brother - your only pillar in this dark world.

Until one day everything changed.

That day, the Guardians had come in groups to your city, taking every child or adult in their way, destroying every last piece of safety. You remembered your last moments with your family before they took them away. Your brother screaming at you to run, your father fighting the white-dressed Guardian, and your mother crying in fear. You had tried saving them but to no avail. At least, you didn't know if they had survived and there was no one you could ask. Five years had passed since.

You found your new home in Outlaw City where everyone was a runaway like you and where no one would ask where you'd come from. Your only resolve was to pray that your family was safe and sound and that one day you would find them. This time you were more prepared than ever, you were ready to protect them at the price of anything. So as San wiped away your tears with his thumbs, you felt the heavy burden of your past lift itself from your shoulders.

“I hate myself for leaving them every day, San,” you confess with a shaky voice, trying to calm yourself down.

“The only thing you could do is survive, angel,” he whispered, putting his hands on your shoulders, and squeezing them. Looking at his bruised face, you reminded yourself that everyone here carried their own scars - both visible and invisible, and your heart hurt even more. “It was the same for me. I had to leave my family behind when I came here so I found a new one. Not that it’ll ever stop hurting any less. All eight of us are the same at heart. We all want the same thing.”

A new world to come, you thought and smiled, thinking of Mingi’s passionate speech from the last time you saw him at the bar. He had told you all about their plans and wanted you to be part of them. To join their found family.

Now, returning to reality, you regarded San curiously and a little afraid as he came to stand in front of your chair, leaning down to place a kiss on top of your head. Blushing at the affection in his eyes, you cleared your throat, searching for the right words. A week had passed since this moment and none of you had said anything about it so you couldn't help but feel flustered at his every word and action towards you.

“How was I today, coach?” San chuckled, gently tracing the sides of your face with his fingertips, rough from the endless fighting.

“Could be better,” you gave him your usual response, San grinning and showing his dimples.

“I have to work harder. But maybe if you stared less...”

“And maybe if you paid less attention to me...”

“That's impossible,” San concluded, crouching down, placing his palms on top of your thighs, and you ran your hands through his messy dark locks. With glinting eyes, he excitedly added, “After tonight’s match some of the boys and I will have a meeting. They want you to come.”

“They?”

“I,” the seriousness in his voice made you let out a laugh and your stomach tightened with anticipation. You had only met Mingi and Wooyoung before with the rest of the boys surrounded by a mist of mystery, with only having heard stories about them. The fact that San was letting you get closer to the people he cherished the most didn't help your fluttering heart either.

“Can't wait.”

San had dragged you out of the fight club and drove you to your apartment to freshen up before meeting the boys with his old van that, who knew how, still functioned. As he had told you while focused on the bumpy road ahead, the vehicle had turned into, both a prison and a temporary home for him and Wooyoung while they were on the run from the Guardians. Guilt washed over you when San described all of their sleepless nights, fighting the demons following them right behind even in their dreams while you were hiding between the four walls of the safety of your home. Mingi’s wanted posters, his constant cautiousness, and the silver pistol always attached to his hip made so much more sense now.

Unfortunately, the Guardians had taken notice of them way too early into their secret operations against the government, and now as you were sitting in front of the boys - their features, illuminated by the dim lighting of the storage house you were in, your heart filled with hurt. In the few hours, you got to know Yeosang and Seonghwa, speeding through the highways every night in search of valuable intel and doing all they could to survive another day, your admiration grew with every next moment spent with them.

Sitting on one of your favourite fluffy blankets on the floor in a circle, eating an improvised dinner consisting of cold chicken nuggets provided by Yeosang, you felt more at home than ever. Mingi and Wooyoung��s silly bickering and friendly teasing, Seonghwa’s warm welcome, Yeosang’s kind smile, and San’s calming presence next to you, filled you with joy, and for the first time in a while, you forgot about the outside world.

“It’s a pity the others couldn’t come today,” said Seonghwa with a sigh as he passed on to you the chocolate bar all of you were sharing. You hadn’t seen one in ages, nor tasted it. Yeosang had just shrugged indifferently earlier at your genuine surprise, telling you he could get one inside the city for you anytime you craved it.

So now playing with the piece in your mouth, letting the sweetness tickle your taste buds, you hummed in agreement. The rest of the group had to stay undercover for a little longer before joining you. “They would’ve loved to meet you, Y/N.”

“They will,” San joined, squeezing your hand and rubbing his thumb over it. Turning your head to look at him, you were met with his dark eyes, shimmering with a glow as if hundreds of stars were in them. You slowly found yourself being pulled by the gravity of his gaze, unable to look away.

“Now, can you two not do this,” whined Wooyoung, earning a playful slap on his thigh from Seonghwa, followed by Mingi and Yeosang’s laughs. “I have to put up with you every day at the club. I’m going to start vomiting rainbows soon.”

“Get a life, Woo,” said Mingi, winking at you. Usually, you could fight back and tease Wooyoung but tonight, embarrassment washed over you after his words. “Leave the lovebirds alone.”

Just then, still holding your hand firmly, San pulled you up gently so now both of you were standing. “Then let’s get out of here.”

The distant hooting of owls, coming deep from the woods, the light chilly late-night breeze, carrying the smell of pines, and San’s warm touch against your skin engulfed your senses, making your head spin. With your eyes closed, all you could do was trust the man as he guided you through the darkness around you.

“Can I open my eyes,” you asked once again with your previous attempts to get a positive answer out of him being unsuccessful. His deep chuckle vibrated through your body, his hand letting go of yours. Longing for his touch again, you reached forward for him but only brushed through the air.

“I’ve got you, angel,” San’s raspy voice now came from behind you and you felt him put his hands on your shoulders. “You can open them now.”

The view before your eyes made you tear up and a lump formed in your throat, every word you wanted to utter getting caught up in it. The little fireflies, swinging around in a slow dance around you, their comforting glow, reminding you of those you used to catch in the hot summer nights in front of your childhood house with your brother, the vast field you were standing in the middle of, and the tickling in your legs from the overgrown grass were all images and sensations you thought you’d never see or feel again for the rest of your life.

“How did you find this place,” you whispered, too afraid someone would take this moment away from you.

“It’s my special place. I think the Guardians have forgotten about it,” said softly San, moving to stand in front of you with a warm smile on his face. “Now I can finally share it with someone else.”

“Do you come here often?”

“Yes, whenever I need to clear my head,” he trailed off, laughing. “And some time away from Wooyoung. The van can be suffocating as much as I enjoy living with him.”

You wondered if this beautiful place was next on the Guardian’s list for destruction. If you’d be able to come back ever again. If it too would disappear with every trace you’d left.

“You’re frowning again,” San’s voice pulled you out of your trance, making you focus on him instead. His face was almost indiscernible in the night, but his eyes and the silver chain, shining around his neck, were illuminated by the moonlight. “You do this often.”

“I guess I’m not used to things like this.” Genuine in a world full of lies. “I feel like you’ll disappear.”

Taking a step closer to you, San put a finger under your chin, your eyes finding his once again. The electrifying feeling of his touch made you dizzy. Now, you could hear his steady heartbeat, with yours drumming in your ears. “I’ll never leave you, angel.”

The moment his lips found yours, enveloping them in a soft kiss, you lost all of your senses and surrendered yourself to him. At first, his touch was gentle as if San was afraid he would hurt you, but once your hands found his neck, your fingers toying with his hair, he got more desperate for you. His own trailed slowly down the sides of your body, wrapping them around your waist and pulling you closer to him. Already out of breath, you felt a fire ignite in your soul that only San could put out.

He left your lips only to place a few shy kisses down your neck, your heart picking up its rate, slamming against your ribcage. Leaving you gasping and wanting more, San pulled away seconds later, the love and adoration you saw in his eyes making you lose your bearings completely. Cupping your cheeks and bringing his face closer, he rubbed your nose gently with his before placing a kiss on your forehead.

“The final round is coming soon, Y/N,” he murmured when you closed the distance between you, hugging him around his waist and burrowing your face at the crook of his neck. You took in his scent - woody and musky, hypnotizing you. “We’ll see the new world together.”

Even if that was just an empty promise and even if this new world never came to life, you didn’t care.

All you needed was San there with you - everything else was bearable.

final round, © moanz111

please do not modify, copy, repost, or translate.

#final round - moanz111 #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #ateez scenarios #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #san x y/n #san x reader #san x you #ateez au #ateez fluff #ateez angst #san fluff #san angst

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beomcoups · 1 year

Text

Now that’s 90′s- A Seventeen Collab

Hosted by @beomcoups and @mingsolo

Drive in theaters... mall hopping on the weekends... confessing your watching TRL and Daria on MTV. The 90s were all about being fresh, nostalgic and keeping it real. Who better to star in this 90′s collab other than SVT? Below are the authors that are going to be taking us through the decade, one Seventeen boy at a time.

S. Coups

→ Cry-Baby by @duhnova

→ pairing: biker!choi seungcheol x fem!reader

→ genre: fluff, angst, opposites attract, drama, kind of college au, smut

→ summary: decked out in leather and riding a harley davidson like he’s got business with the devil, choi seungcheol was the talk of your small town. everyone looked down on him and when you come home for the first time since starting uni you find it hard to believe that the pouty lipped kid you tossed off the merry-go-round when you were six was some slick haired delinquent. → rating: 18+

Jeonghan

→ [he Emperor and I] by @flurrys-creativity

→ pairing: emperor!Jeonghan x Reader

→ genre: royal au, the king and I 1999 animation au, s2l, romance, fluff, humour, angst, eventual smut

→ summary: You travel as a teacher to Caratland on the request of emperor Jeonghan. Though the emperor wasn't what you expected, neither was your stay in the foreign land. Especially with Jeonghan using every chance he got to tease you.

→ rating: 18+

Joshua

→ [Stop, Kiss] by @hobeemin

→ pairing: joshua hong x poc!(f) reader

→ genre: romance, angst, drama, fluff, college au, 90s au (based on Can’t Hardly Wait)

→ summary: joshua wasn’t what you called popular back in high school, in fact, he was practically invisible. what happens when he runs into his childhood crush in college after growing into his looks? awhole lot of shenanigans ensue.

→ rating: 18+

Jun

→ Ugh! As If! by @ wongyuseokie → pairing: College Student Junhui x Female Reader

→ genre: established relationship, pwp, fluff, smut

→ summary: Your boyfriend decided to take you into a drive-in movie for date night, only problem? He looks scrumptious, and now your task is to make sure he knows just how good he looks, without the others knowing.

→ rating: 18+

Hoshi

→ [Caller #17] by @beomcoups

→ pairing: jock!Hoshi x college radio dj!reader (femme)

→ genre: 90’s au. strangers to lovers au, fluff, angst,

→ summary: You could name 10 things that you hate about him easily. But when you bond together over music, those things slowly turn into love instead.

→ rating: 18+

Wonwoo

→ [PAUSE + PLAY] by @mingsolo

→ pairing: wonwoo x gn!reader

→ genre: 90s au, fluff, humor

→ summary: Your new job at the VHS store starts to get interesting when a handsome young man comes to the counter with a bunch of interesting picks.

→ rating: nc17

Woozi

→ You Drive Me Crazy (But It Feels Alright) by @wooahaeproductions

→ pairing: Lee Jihoon x Female Reader

→ genre: angst, fluff, smut

→ summary: You and your neighbor, Jihoon used to be best friends as kids. As time passed, unfortunate events and the cliques of junior high tore the two of you apart. Several years later, you find yourselves in the same college but the two of you actively avoid each other and some people would even say you were enemies. As fate would have it, breakups lead you both to wonder if there's ever a chance to rekindle the friendship.

→ rating: 18+ read here

→ 60 Billion by @onlyseokmins pt. 1 pt. 2

→ pairing: Lee Seokmin x Female Reader

→ genre: smut, action!au, apocalyptic/post-apocalyptic!au, space western!au, enemies to comrades to lovers!au, angst, fluff

→ summary: How did a legendary bounty promised for turning in the wasteland's most infamous outlaw transform into a sick, little inside betting joke amongst your traveling companions? Though you have no idea why they're doing it… you sure as hell don't want that very same gunslinger comrade worth sixty billion double dollars to know anything about it either — but oops — looks like he already does! Damn you and your temper, some unhelpful lip-loosening alcohol, and one no-good, sorry excuse of a preacher you sometimes think of as a friend.

→ rating: 18+

Mingyu

→ Agent K by @milfgyuu

→ pairing: Kim Mingyu x Fem!Reader

→ genre: Men In Black!AU, 90’s!AU, Humor, Action, Romance (smut?)

→ summary: You’re the agency's top recruit five years running and your reward? Getting stuck with a rookie as your new partner. Not only is he a walking disaster but he’s also the director’s grandson. You’re tasked with both keeping him alive and in line when he tries to sweet talk his way into melting your icy professional exterior.

→ rating: 18+

Minghao

→ BREAK AND RETURN by @cheolism

→ pairing: brother's-bandmate!minghao x f!reader

→ genre: 90s au, smut, fwb/fucking your brother's friend

→ summary: last week minghao did what he thought was best and put an end to your fling. he sees you again before band practice and can't help but give in to his desires.

→ rating: 18+

Seungkwan

→ once upon a summer by @the-boy-meets-evil

→ pairing: Seungkwan x fem!reader

→ genre: 90s!au, summer love | fluff and some angst

→ summary: Every summer kind of goes the same. The population of your usually sleepy beach town doubles and you bust your ass to make enough money to last through the slow season. But a new face blows into town like a whirlwind and he’s determined to catch your eye. Only one problem: he’s here for the summer and you’re married to this town.

→ rating:18+

Vernon

→ Natsukashii by @flurrys-creativity

→ pairing: Vernon x Reader (probably fem)

→ genre: Jurassic Park AU, 90s AU, acquaintances to lovers/distant friends to lovers, Fluff, Angst

→ summary: It should have been a fun weekend trip but after the boat got caught by a storm and crashed on one of the dinosaur islands, you got separated from the group. You nearly despaired until Vernon found you.

→ rating: sfw and 15+

Dino

→ Four Page Letter by @shuadotcom

→ pairing: Lee Chan x Fem!Reader

→ genre: Fluff, smut, mild angst

→ summary: Chan has always been just one of your step-brother’s best friends. He’s also been in love with you for as long as everyone remembers, but you never paid him much mind - that is until you decide to return home after many years away and you see the man he’s become. He goes from being your little brother’s best friend to being the perfect man for you in a matter of months. Now the questions are who wants who more and will either of you do anything about your feelings?

→ rating: 18+

#that's so 90s #Seventeen collab #svt collab #svt fanfic #seventeen fics #k-vanity #kvanity #thekpopuniverse #kpop fanfic #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #my collabs

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insanethrottlebikernews · 2 years

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7,000 attend funeral for Hells Angels leader Ralph "Sonny" Barger

7,000 attend funeral for Hells Angels leader Ralph “Sonny” Barger

Subscribe to the Insane Throttle Biker News YouTube Channel. Mon-Fri 8amcst Get your LIVE Biker News Thousands of people gathered at the Stockton 99 Speedway on Saturday for the funeral of Ralph “Sonny” Barger, longtime president and founding member of the Oakland chapter of the Hells Angels motorcycle club. It was an event the San Joaquin County Sheriff’s Office warned on Friday could become…

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#000 attend funeral for Hells Angels leader Ralph "Sonny" Barger #bandidos mc #Biker News #biker news 1%#bikie news #hells angels #insane throttle #mongols motorcycle club #motorcycle club #motorcycles #outlaw biker news #outlaw biker news 1%#outlaw motorcycle club #outlaw motorcycle gang

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tumbleweed-writes · 1 month

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Death and the Lady: Chapter Six Chibs Telford X Reader

I'm on a roll with these updates people

CHAPTER FOUR FOUND HERE

TAG LIST:

@youngadult9016 @mrsfilipchibstelford @mamawiggers1980 @ravennaortiz @liveinsteadofdreaming

Chapter Six: Hen

Y/N hated to admit that being on the back of a motorcycle really did feel as easy as…well riding a bike. She was quite sure that the old saying It’s as easy as riding a bike wasn’t exactly reserved for this kind of bike though.

She would be a big fat liar of course if she tried to claim that she didn’t feel her grip tightening around Chibs’ waist, her blunt nails digging into his stomach at the occasional turn that seemed far too sudden. She of course had noticed the slight rumble of his torso as she’d done this, hinting he’d taken notice of how startled she’d seemed and found it amusing.

She was almost tempted to slap him on the back of the head for laughing at her, but she had a distinct feeling that the helmet he wore would protect him from any significant impact.

She was also certain that smacking outlaw bikers on the back of the head usually wasn’t a bright plan. However one might argue that she’d never been known not to be the type to fully dive into less bright plans.

She could admit that being anywhere near a motorcycle still filled her gut with the tiniest hint of dread given her brother’s past. After what had happened she’d been almost certain she’d never step foot near a motorcycle ever again.

Jackson Teller had been the one to change that which had been a shock considering how volatile her interactions had been with him at times back then. He’d convinced her it was exposure therapy of sorts. Somehow back during those days even with their fucked up bond, she’d trusted him enough to allow it. She’d told herself it would be cathartic for her.

It had been therapeutic in a way; riding on the back of a Harley had felt freeing. It had been a way to face her fear and her anguish over what the act of being on a bike had done to her brother head on. It had probably been the healthiest way she’d tried to cleanse herself of her despair back then.

Though she knew her other methods exorcizing her demons during those days had not been healthy. Meaningless sex, booze, pot, and the occasional Xanax had not done her many favors.

Y/N could remember a teacher she’d had in elementary school who had told her father, during a parent-teacher conference, that Y/N, although a sweet child, tended to have a mischievous and impulsive spirit that often got her into trouble.

Y/N guessed she’d not outgrown that personality trait by the time she reached her later teens and very early twenties. She was still impulsive. Her misery over her brother had just made her all the more willing to embrace this personality fault.

Those years had been years of chaos and she had considered herself lucky to have made it out alive. Back then she’d not really cared if she lived or died. Really she’d been chasing high after high knowing that the rush of meaningless sex, the daze of booze or pot, and the rush of being in such a dangerous environment gave her a thrill. It was a distraction from her misery. In between those distractions she’d been in a horrible state.

She’d had no life path and no real sense of self. Each day was lived as though it might be her last and she’d found often she didn’t care if it was her last.

When it had all become too much, when she’d hit rock bottom, and when she could no longer run from her pain, her father had helped pick her up and gotten her the hell out of dodge. She had left without even saying goodbye.

A therapist she’d seen for a time in New York had helped her work through the choices she’d made during those years as a friend of SAMCRO.

She’d sought out the therapy having realized of course that changing her environment from California to New York had not quite changed how she felt emotionally. She’d changed the environment but not rid herself of the core of the problem. Instead of partying and engaging in casual sex, she’d begun to isolate herself and shut down any hint of social activities appropriate for a girl her age.

She’d shut down instead of jumping into danger and it was still damaging to her state of mind.

Therapy had helped, it had helped a lot. She’d realized that people tended to give therapy a bad rep. She’d been able to discuss SAMCRO of course not going into too much detail about the hint of illegal activity she’d maybe become a little aware of. She’d described them as just being the outlaw bikers who provided a space for her to disappear in.

Her therapist had helped Y/N to understand that she was so miserable and so heartbroken back then that she’d used SAMCRO’s clubhouse and the chaos that came with the men who inhabited it as a way to not confront any difficult emotions she had over her brother. She had wanted to disappear in the chaos because it was easier than the reality of her life.

She would like to believe that since then her way of dealing with her emotions was a little less damaging to both her physical and her emotional health. She still had a glass of wine on occasion. She might smoke a joint if she had the opportunity though she tended to want to stay clearheaded given the seriousness of her line of work. She wasn’t interested in hooking up with a guy anymore for the thrill of it. She was certain she only wanted a man in her bed because he deserved to be there.

She didn’t allow her vices to consume her anymore.

She liked to believe that she was able to indulge in moderation at least.

It seemed that one thing had not changed in the years of developing all those healthy coping skills; being on the back of a motorcycle still felt cathartic. Though it had been years since she’d been on the back of anyone’s Harley, she had to admit that the feeling of freedom and exaltation was still present.

Y/N really hated to admit it, but the man she was currently experiencing this ride with might be slightly contributing to the enjoyment she felt being on the back of a bike.

She hated to admit that she enjoyed the firm feel of him in front of her. His waist held a little extra heft but she could feel the tension of his abs as he shifted his body during turns. She had a feeling that even with the extra pounds that Chibs was strong and more than capable of handling himself. He seemed sturdy and dependable. She almost felt protected in the strangest way. It was a thought that she found alarming.

She hated to admit that the vibration underneath her was quite enjoyable, making her skin flush just the slightest and causing a bit of a heat to spread through her. She refused to put too much thought down this rabbit hole of course. There was no way in hell the Scot in front of her would ever know she was getting off just a tiny bit. He’d never let that one go if he knew.

She also hated to admit that she found the scent of the Scotsman in front of her kind of appealing. It was hard not to notice it. She had her face practically buried against his back after all and her arms wrapped around his midsection.

He smelled like the leather of his kutte. The scent was a familiar one that she’d not taken in in such a long time. It was a scent that gave her mixed emotions. It represented both lust, excitement, and the slightest hint of despair for her.

It was a confusing mix of feelings to have all at once.

She tried not to focus too hard on the feelings the scent of the leather kutte gave her, focusing instead on the other smells he carried. There was the scent of cigarettes of course, Marlboro brand from what she guessed. There was a hint of soap and shampoo, the scents surprisingly fresh smelling. There was an undertone of mint which she assumed came from either his soap or his hair. She spotted a hint of aftershave and old spice deodorant. She could spot a small hint of cologne as well. It was a pleasant smell; musk and bergamot.

She was pleased to find that unlike some of her past dates, Chibs seemed to understand that less was more when it came to cologne. She’d dated a few guys who wore so much cologne that it gave her the worst headache.

It seemed Chibs understood that a slight hint of the cologne was all that was needed. There was no need to bathe in the stuff. She had a distinct feeling this had to do with his age. Most young guys in her experience could overdo it when it came to things like cologne and aftershave.

She had a feeling that Chibs had been alive long enough to know that less was best where it mattered.

The realization that she actually enjoyed the way the Scotsman smelled troubled her.

She was once again taken over with that strange sense of security and comfort. It seemed like a contradiction; the outlaw biker giving her any sense of comfort.

She hated to admit that she was almost disappointed when the ride ended when they finally arrived at the diner Chibs was insisting would be well worth the ride.

Y/N reluctantly allowed Chibs to take her hand in his, giving her some stability as she dismounted the back of the bike.

She ignored the slight smirk on his lips and removed her helmet, thankful she’d been smart enough to always keep extra hair ties in her purse. She knew well enough to know that helmet hair was a pain in the ass.

The hair ties in her purse could help when she had to work at the crematorium. The cremator could put off a lot of heat and smoke. Cremation during the summer was especially hellish. She found that it was ideal to keep her hair pulled up when she was working at the crematorium both to keep her hair out of her face and to deal with the intense heat.

She pulled the hair tie from her hair running her fingers through her long hair pretending that she didn’t notice him watching her. It didn’t give her the sense that she was under a microscope the same way she’d felt when Deputy Hale had studied her so deeply. It felt more like she was being admired; like some fine piece of art or a glittering jewel.

It made those butterflies she was attempting to deny flutter all too much.

She tried not to scowl as he spoke a knowing look in his eyes. “Did ya enjoy the ride?”

“It was alright.” She replied keeping her voice nonchalant, not wanting to allow him the satisfaction of knowing just how much she enjoyed herself.

Chibs smirked at the comment, having to kind of enjoy that she was this difficult. He was once again reminded that it had been far too long since a woman had given him this much sass or required this much labor. He was enjoying the effort she was taking. It was a game that he was determined to win.

They didn’t say anything truly of significance again until they sat down and ordered. Y/N sat back in the booth studying her surroundings. The diner seemed to be a mom and pop establishment typical of most of the businesses in Charming.

It was old looking but thankfully clean. The waitresses still wore those old fashioned looking dresses that weren't entirely flattering. A jukebox sat in the corner of the diner though it wasn’t playing. There was bar seating and an old soda and malt machine in full view.

She failed to see just why Chibs had been so insistent that they take a trip this far out when there were similar diners closer to Charming’s city limit.

She held the observation in almost sure that the distance required for dinner had been purposeful by her date as a means to take a long ride with her.

Y/N took a long sip of her diet coke before finally working up the nerve to say the words breaking the silence. She already knew the answer, but she wanted to hear the admission straight from the horse’s mouth. “So, am I correct to assume that the open bags of sugar the town has been abuzz over were your doing?”

Chibs smirked amused by the euphemism she was using for the empty graves found in Charming’s cemetery. He could distinctly remember the way she’d referred to the corpses SAMCRO had borrowed from her as cups of sugar.

“Aye, though’ it migh’ help ya out. Once those cups of sugar were discovered figured ya didn’t want too many questions ‘bout how ya lost track of the sugar…figured another empty bag migh’ set ya up as an innocent.” Chibs remarked, shrugging his shoulders, almost tempted to admit that the staged grave robbery, from the body that Half-Sack didn’t dig up originally, was Chibs’ own idea.

He could still remember the words he’d said at Chapel as he tried to convince SAMCRO to allow it so soon after they’d gotten the two bodies from Y/n. The original empty grave had not yet been discovered so they still had some time to cover the tracks. “It jus ain’ bout covern’ our tracks here. The Lodi P.D. is gonna have some questions fer Y/N once they identify those bodies we got from her. Migh’ be bes’ to make it really appear as though she’s an innocent who knew nothin bout how those bodies wound up outta her care. The cops exhume the grave the Prospect didn’t dig up already, they migh’ have some questions fer Y/N bout how she didn’t notice the body was missin’ when she allegedly buried it. The cops comin’ knockin’ at her door migh’ spook her. Gotta keep our new friend feelin’ safe and untouchable. I’ll take care of it myself tonigh’ me an my Prospect. No one will be the wiser.”

Much to Chibs’ relief his insistence on taking the reins on covering up Y/N’s misdeed had appeared to his brothers as just Chibs trying to stop Y/N from getting cold feet about her new business arrangement with SAMCRO.

They’d viewed it as a protection for the club instead of an act of care for their new associate.

He’d managed to hide the fact that he wanted to cover up for her actions simply because he felt protective of her. He cared about protecting her from the consequences of her actions.

Chibs hadn’t done the digging of course. That had all been on his Prospect.

He’d sat by on a nearby tombstone smoking as he watched Half-Sack do all the work. He had at least shone a flashlight on the Prospect giving him the light he needed in the pitch black night.

Chibs had set back on that tombstone a proud sense of satisfaction washing over him an amusing thought crossing his mind: there was no better way to let a lass know you fancied her than staging a grave robbery for her.

He was just thankful that no one had spotted them. They had seemed to be the only living souls in the cemetery that night.

He could remember the scene as they finally reached their goal.

Half-Sack groaned gazing up at his Sponsor the older Scotsman nearly out of sight by now given how deep the hole had grown. They’d been at this for hours now. Why were graves even so deep? He made a silent note to himself to ask Y/N though he had a feeling that her answer would unnerve him. The chick completely unnerved him even with as attractive as she was. The fact that she could embalm him alive if she wanted to made Half-Sack’s last remaining ball want to retreat into his body. “This is so fucked up. I can’t believe I’m doing this again. It’s been less than a month and this is the second grave I’ve dug up. This is so wrong.”

“Shut up, jus’ be thankful there ain’ a body at the end of the task Prospect. Quit yer whinin’ and keep diggin’ if ya wanna earn that Top Rocker.” Chibs had remarked zero sympathy in his voice for his young protege's moral dilemma.

When the shovel had finally hit a hard surface, Chibs had helped Half Sack at least push back the concrete burial vault, prying the casket open with a tire iron giving the act all the more of an amateur look as the fine heavy wood of the casket splintered somewhat with the force of the tire iron.

Chibs chuckled as he shone the tiny flashlight he’d brought along into the casket only to spot sacks of concrete. “Clever lass.”

He gave Half-Sack a slap on the back, unable to hide the pride from his voice at the sight of what was clearly the action of a woman he’d coveted covering her actions. A full casket weighed more than an empty one. She’d known just how to make the casket feel occupied. She was bold to pull off the stunt especially with the risk the family might change their mind about that closed casket service. “Get rid of the concrete, lad. Get it outta the cemetery.”

Chibs was pulled from the memory as Y/N let out a small sigh resisting the urge to scold both Chibs and SAMCRO for leaving her high and dry to deal with the effects of the little grave robbery stunt all alone. “I would have appreciated some heads up.”

Chibs gave her a small smile not above stating the obvious. “Figured yer natural reaction to seein’ the empty bag of sugar had been discovered would be more favorable than a manufactured one.”

She let out a huff not amused to admit that he had a point. She was a decent actress but she wasn’t sure she was able to put on an Oscar worthy performance of being shocked by a grave robbery that she knew about.

She was stunned as Chibs spoke a surprising amount of concern evident in his voice. “How are ya doin’ with all this?”

She shrugged her shoulders, so tempted to mention the nightmares she’d been having, the ones where she followed Chibs himself into a cemetery or down into her embalming room only to be pulled away screaming by the ice cold unforgiving arms of the dead.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to admit that she might be mentally suffering just the slightest. She didn’t want to appear to be a weak link to SAMCRO. “I’m fine, everything is just fine.”

Chibs raised a brow not quite believing her. He shoved the desire to press her and call her out, sure he didn’t want to spend this date arguing with her.

He was certain pissing her off wasn’t going to win him any future dates.

He was determined to win future dates. He would grovel if that’s what it took. He was man enough to grovel for something he wanted this badly.

He spoke up thankfully changing the subject. “How long ya been back in town. Jax said a few months?”

She frowned, not entirely thrilled that Jackson Teller had been discussing her behind her back. She shut down the annoyance telling herself that most likely the information had come up when SAMCRO had first decided to come to her for those favors. “Officially a little over three months now.”

“How do ya like it? It changed much since ya left?” He asked taking a sip from the glass of water he’d ordered.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders almost sure she didn’t like the shift in conversation. She sighed knowing that this was what was expected on a date. “It’s fine. It honestly feels like Charming has always been in stasis compared to the outside world. I guess that’s how people like it though; small business is in and big business stays away. Taxes stay low and things feel secure. It feels like nothing changed around here in my time away…but I know that’s not true. It seems like in so many ways everything changed.”

She paused knowing her statement about changes most likely made very little sense. She was sure it wasn’t helping her appear any less mentally unbalanced.

She cleared her throat fast to speak again. “It’s quieter than New York. I enjoy that. The city was loud..too many people and too many noises. I felt like I got lost in the crowd there and work was far busier. The cost of living here is also a nice change. Rent back in the city was killing me.”

“Aye, mus’ be nice ta be back home at leas’. Ya know back in yer’ childhood home.” Chibs replied, still watching her so closely that the odd feeling she was being admired set in once again.

Y/N sighed surprised that she found herself being honest. “It is in some ways. It’s kind of lonely though to be honest. The house has always felt too big and now that it’s just me it’s more noticeable…it’s too quiet…and not just because of all the dead people who are sometimes in the basement.”

She twisted her lips, her cheeks flushing slightly as their waitress passed by the table, the woman’s eyes widening, apparently she catching the statement about dead people in the basement.

Chibs smirked, apparently having noticed it as well. It seemed that they both came to the mutual choice that it was a little too impolite to laugh at the poor woman.

He spoke nodding his head not helping but to address her coworker. “At leas’ ya got Skeeter runnin’ round durin the day righ? He seems like he’s loud nough judgin’ by yer scoldin him over the yelling.”

He paused the words leaving his lips before he could stop them. “Ya seem close. Jugin’ by the looks he was sendin’ me tonigh’ can’t say he’s happy yer goin’ out with the likes of me.”

She raised an eyebrow not spotting jealousy the way some men seemed to do upon finding out a girl they were interested in just so happened to have a male friend.

She’d had a few boyfriends in the past take issue with the few male friends she’d had back in New York. Of course those friends had been work associates. Most of her friends were work associates back home.

She’d found it annoying; the jealousy that some guys showed over their girlfriends having male friends. She didn’t understand the thought process behind the concept that a man and a woman couldn’t be friends without there being some sort of weird repressed sexual desire rumbling under the surface.

Human beings might be innately sexual beings, but that didn’t mean that mentally they weren’t able to form bonds without sex being the driving point.

When past boyfriends had presented the idea that men and women couldn’t be friends, Y/N was inclined to bring up the existence of bisexuals.

If one couldn’t be friends with a person due to some kind of hidden underlying sexual desire, then wouldn’t bisexuals be friendless? After all it would seem that bisexuals would be left with no friends if sexual desire was part of friendship in the opposite sex. Bisexuals were attracted to both men and women so sexual desire would certainly be an issue if this suggestion that friendships didn’t exist without wanting to bang someone.

Of course this observation had never changed her boyfriends’ minds. If anything the argument had just pissed them off. They’d accused her of being a smartass and trying to talk her way out of a situation she didn’t like once again. She’d of course realized that those boyfriends struggled to connect too many critical thinking points together. There was nothing less sexy than an idiot in her opinion.

She was pleased and somewhat impressed to find that Chibs didn’t seem concerned about her having an opposite sex friend.

She suddenly remembered her old roommate's observation about the difference between younger men and older men.

It seemed that perhaps in the past she’d been experiencing the reactions of boys and not the reaction of men. She was quickly reminded that perhaps Chibs was more of a man than a boy.

She shrugged her shoulders pretending that she wasn’t making this little mental observation. “Skeeter has known me since I was fifteen. He’s protective of me because of how long he’s known me. He was my father’s apprentice. He went to mortuary school down in Southern California somewhere but he wanted to come home to do his apprenticeship. He begged my father to take him under his guidance. My dad saw something in him because Skeeter was the only apprentice he ever took on…aside from me being somewhat of an unofficial apprentice.”

She paused, shaking her head a small laugh leaving her. “Skeeter actually lived in our attic for a while while he was working as an apprentice…I sometimes to this day miss the sound of him moving around up there. It was kind of a white noise when I was falling asleep at night, as odd as that sounds. In a lot of ways it felt like he was just part of the house. He was like some strange sibling we kept locked upstairs. I was a horrible teenager to be honest…mouthy and constantly pushing the limits, I used to make a game of irritating poor Skeeter…I was a pest. I’d hide in the viewing rooms and jump out and scare him as he rounded the corner. It was an asshole move honestly. It’s incredible he didn’t lock me in a casket as awful as I was. I think he kind of enjoyed the pestering to be honest. He doesn’t have much of a family.”

She paused again, her lips downturning slightly. “He was good to my father up until the very end. He adored my father honestly…I think he saw the dad he never had…which makes sense. My father had a big heart. That was his greatest asset in the business. When my dad got sick…Skeeter picked up the slack. I was too far away and my father wasn’t about to let me come home just yet. When I first saw my father’s will I almost expected Skeeter to get the business or at least be made a partner…It all went to me though…and Skeeter, surprisingly, feels no ill will about it. He wasn’t sticking around because he expected to get anything out of it. He understands the family business stays in the family.”

She let out a small bitter laugh. “I’m amazed he hasn’t moved on. He wasn’t joking around tonight. He is fully licensed, he’s been licensed longer than I have. He could very well move on and probably even start his own business instead of working under the same person who used to torment him when she was a teenager…Taking over the family business hasn’t been a walk in the park. The place has been around for as long as it has, and my dad had to maintain it. Between maintaining it and his failing health the bills piled up. You’d think they’d have been forgotten when he died, but I’m his lucky heir and his debt is my inheritance. Somehow Skeeter has stuck around even with the occasional dip in his paychecks”.

“He’s loyal to ya, no’ jus’ cause of yer da. He respects ya’. I could see it tonigh’. He considers ya’ a friend.” Chibs provided his heart twisting at the mention of her debts, an unfamiliar feeling settling in his belly; guilt.

SAMCRO had taken advantage of her desperation hadn’t they? Her inheritance of debts had been used against her as a way to get her to cooperate with the Sons' needs.

He shoved back the guilt focusing on the small smile she gave him as she nodded her head. “He’s probably my best friend…he’s actually probably my only friend, as sad as that sounds.”

“I’m sure that ain’ true.” Chibs replied a bit overtaken by the sudden realization that the girl he’d been admiring was much like him deep down inside…lonely.

She shook her head, a small bitter laugh leaving her. “It is, trust me. It’s always been that way. I never had many friends even growing up. No one wanted to have sleepovers at the corpse house.”

She paused, rolling her eyes at the memory of the cruel nickname local kids had given her house when she was growing up. She had to wonder at times if it was still called that by the local kids. “Most of the kids I grew up with thought of my home as the place they went to when their grandparent died. I was a reminder of a shit time. I had my brother at least…but he was five years older than me. So he didn’t always want me tagging along behind Jax, Opie, and him.”

Chibs frowned, thrown off by the familiar names. “Yer brother knew Jax and Opie?”

Y/N felt a lump develop in the back of her throat wondering how she’d gotten into this conversation. She guessed the subject was unavoidable now. “Daniel was in the same grade as Jackson and Opie growing up. They didn’t really hang out until middle school…to be honest I’m sure my brother was more of a third wheel given how close Jax and Opie were…never saw one without the other. My brother was…he struggled more than me I think.”

She paused hating that she was even going into this entire story. She had a feeling though that Chibs most likely would hear the story from some third source. She knew that local gossips were all too familiar with the sad tale of Y/N’s poor crazy older brother.

She took a sip from her drink as she continued. “I was never afraid of the family business. Death has always felt like an old friend in some ways. I saw it as something I wanted to understand. My father’s line of work made me curious. My brother though…death terrified him. I mean…he was older when our mom died. I was only four, so I didn’t remember it or really understand it. My brother understood it though. Our mom died suddenly, she had a heart defect…wasn’t even aware of it. She just went to sleep one night, went into cardiac arrest and never woke up…my father went to sleep with a living wife and woke up a widower.”

She paused again a heavy sigh leaving her knowing that these tales were usually reserved for a therapist.

She figured if Chibs was going to find out about her family she’d rather he hear it from her than hear rumors from the gossips of Charming. She had a feeling some of the Sons were no strangers to the stories about her family. She’d rather Chibs hear it from her than his brothers. “My father actually embalmed her body for the funeral…I think he saw it as an act of love…one last act of love. That’s what funerals are really, a last showing of love for those we’ve lost. I didn’t understand how my father could have the strength to prepare her body…until my father died and I did the same for my father’s body…uh.”

She paused, turning her gaze from Chibs far too fearful to see discomfort she was sure would wash over his features at that confession. She spoke again, a sigh leaving her as she pretended to focus on the salt and pepper shakers on the table. “I’m getting off topic…my mom dying, it really hit my brother hard…As he got older, the fear he felt just got worse... he just got angry…then he started hanging around Jackson and Opie and they took him under their wings. I think they encouraged him to be honest. I’m sure my brother might have Prospected for the SAMCRO right along with Jackson and Opie...if my dad hadn't talked him into a community college.”

Y/N felt her throat grow tight, hating how the story continued. She placed her hands down in front of her flat on the table trying to will herself to keep talking. “My brother got into Harleys while he was a teenager…Jackson and Opie’s influence. While my brother was taking classes out in Stockton, Jackson helped him get a bike of his own...My brother was a pretty decent rider most of the time. He could get pretty reckless sometimes though. He might have been afraid of death, but he wasn’t scared of teasing it. I think the Harley made him feel powerful. He wasn’t afraid on the bike. He got into a fight…an argument with my dad over the holiday break about the idea of possibly going to mortuary school. He rode off on his bike and it was nasty out…rainy. My brother was upset and with the weather…there was an accident. My brother went over the handlebars and hit his head hard, fractured his skull…It was bad enough that he landed in critical condition up at Saint Thomas….he was never the same after that. Damage to the frontal and temporal lobe…that’s what the doctors said. My brother changed…I don’t know if you know much about that area of the brain, but it controls a lot of things like judgment, emotional responses, impulse control, and even memory. The last time my brother lived at home he tried to kill me.”

Chibs felt a chill run down his spine at the final part of her statement. He’d been trying to wrap his brain around everything she’d just told him from her brother’s connection to Jax and Opie, to her mother’s death, to her father embalming her mother and Y/N embalming her father. The final statement both shocked him and made those protective tendencies he’d noticed popping up for Y/N come fully to the surface.

She was shocked by the warmth of a hand sliding along hers. She dared to look up stunned to meet Chibs’ eyes. She’d feared seeing disgust or perhaps pity. She knew those stories about her father and brother usually made people pale.

She stared into his eyes, not surprised by the stunned expression on his face. She was overtaken by how nice his hand felt over hers. His hands were as rough as she’d expected, but his touch was gentle.

She spoke knowing she had to elaborate a bit further on her last statement. “Like I said…Daniel struggles with his impulse control and emotional regulation. So when he gets mad, he lashes out and it’s full force. I made him angry. I was making breakfast for him and he didn’t like that I wasn’t making him what he wanted. I was tired and overwhelmed and I wanted to be doing something else to be honest…he got upset and it escalated. He’s much larger than me…my father and he were both big guys…The next thing I know he’s standing over me trying to strangle me and my vision is blurring. If my dad hadn’t yanked him off me…well I’m sure you can come to your own conclusion. After that my father had him institutionalized."

She sighed, shaking her head, her eyes growing damp. “I was eighteen years old…and I was scared. I loved him…He didn’t mean anything by it…He just, he doesn’t have that filter that stops him from lashing out. Every emotion is so strong. After the anger passed he was sobbing and confused. My dad knew he couldn’t live in the family home anymore…just wasn’t safe for him or us. He’s been in the state hospital out in Lodi ever since. I know it sounds awful to say it…but sometimes I wish he’d died in the accident. Dying might have been more merciful than the hell he lives in now.”

Chibs felt those protective little tendencies he felt towards her growing all the stronger easily able to picture her so young and terrified the person she adored so much attacking her.

“I don’ think it sounds awful to feel that way. Somethings are more cruel than death.” Chibs replied surprised that he found the reassurance so easily.

He took her by shock reaching across the table his fingertips wiping one of the tears she’d failed to stop.

She was surprised by the statement and the act of drying her tears, almost sure he’d be disgusted that she could say such a thing about her own brother.

He spoke, reluctantly pulling his hand from her cheek but keeping her other hand under his grasp. He decided to take a risk and bring up the observations he’d made over the course of knowing her thus far. “I’m guessin yer brother…the history there is why ya ad Jackie Boy ain’ exactly tradin’ friendship bracelets.”

She was surprised by the small laugh that left her at the thought of trading friendship bracelets with outlaw bikers though she knew it was only an expression. She sighed debating how far to go into that story. It seemed a little too heavy after already dumping so much trauma on him.

“It’s part of it…there’s more there…maybe I’ll tell you everything someday. Let’s just say after my brother…after he was institutionalized I went over to SAMCRO’s clubhouse and tried to kick Jackson in the balls.”

Chibs widened his eyes both amused and stunned by the confession. He was far too interested in the concept of an eighteen year old girl being bold enough to march into an outlaw biker clubhouse and threaten the Prince of SAMCRO.

The confession was enough of a tidbit of information that it made her seeming unwillingness to go into more details about her past with SAMCRO tolerable. “In the balls, lass?”

She sighed a small laugh leaving her. “I was extremely drunk, it should be noted…I think it was the first time I ever got drunk…probably my first drink. My father didn’t exactly lock his liquor cabinet back then. I was pissed and intoxicated…a pretty deadly combination. Jackson probably should have kicked me out…but he managed to get me outside and talk me down…He let me scream at him and maybe attempt to hit him though I couldn’t do much damage to the guy given my state I mean he was like 23, he wasn’t about to hit a barely legal teenager.”

Chibs widened his eyes trying to imagine the scenario she was describing. He was still impressed by the brass balls on her even if those balls had been clearly aided by booze.

She spoke again, shaking her head. “The rest is a very long story that I promise I’ll tell you someday.”

He furrowed his brow wanting to coax her into telling him now, but he bit his tongue though telling himself that a promise to tell him more later was a promise to have these kinds of talks beyond just this date.

He kept his hand over hers not helping but to cling onto the implication that there would be the opportunity to learn more.

He was overtaken with the thought that after hearing all he’d heard tonight, those protective tendencies he’d began to feel popping up over her were going nowhere.

He remembered his words to Clay earlier in the evening. He was interested in far more than just sex with the woman sitting across from him.

—----------------------------------------------------

Y/N had been surprised by the request to take another ride after dinner. She’d been even more surprised that she was perfectly happy to comply with the request.

She’d been relieved that the remainder of their dinner had been much less dramatic as far as conversation went.

She’d felt thankful that Chibs had found a way to make the conversation much lighter, quickly going into a story telling her about something truly dumb Half-Sack had done earlier that day.

As dinner had worn on Y/N was surprised to find that she was kind of fond of the way Chibs spoke about the prospect. It was almost sort of sweet in a strange way. He called the younger man an absolute idiot, but it was clear that he loved him.

She was surprised as the bike managed to head out to a more secluded area not far from the diner.

It was a hilly bit of land not far from some warehouses, it all seemed to be undeveloped property that was far enough off the road where no one would disturb them.

She raised an eyebrow feeling a little uncertain as he’d parked the bike helping her dismount it again.

She watched him dig though the saddlebags on the Harley. She'd found it amusing as he had gone into probably too much detail explaining to her that this particular bike was the one he reserved for runs and longer travels. He'd explained it over dinner admitting that he loved a good long ride but the bike he used in his day to day life wasn't really made for such a long trip.

She spoke not helping but to tease him as he pulled out an old looking blanket that looked as though it had seen better days as well as a small camping lantern. “I hope you didn’t have any hopes of getting lucky because you brought a blanket. I don’t really put out on the first date these days..especially in such a public place.”

“Aye nex’ date then?” He replied earning a soft swat to the side from her, the action far more playful than he’d been expecting.

He was certain that if he’d made that type of comment to her just a day ago she might have slapped him.

He spoke again wanting to make his intentions clear. “Not tryin’ to get laid, Hen…no’ tonigh’ at least.”

She watched him spread the blanket down on the ground, her cheeks flushing over both the statement and the odd petname.

She’d not imagined being referred to as a farm animal might actually feel flattering. She spoke a small huff leaving her. “Hen?”

“Scottish, lass. Jus’ what ya call a younger woman yer fond of back home…kinda like callin ya sweetheart.” He remarked a hint of a smirk crossing his lips, finding her reaction kind of adorable.

She felt her cheeks flush further. She couldn’t stop the words from leaving her surprised it felt easy to flirt with him especially after all her insistence that this was the last thing she needed. “So, you’re fond of me?”

“Oh yeah, if ya ain’ noticed it yet, I clearly need to step up my game.” Chibs was fast to respond, holding his hand out to her as he stood up.

She ignored the voice in the back of her head telling her this was an awful idea as she stepped forward letting him take his hand in hers the touch just as soft as it had been at dinner.

He spoke nodding down at the blanket. “Sit with me, Hen.”

She decided to ignore the voice in the back of her brain that told her sitting led to lying which led to all the things you could do while lying down.

She sat by his side not surprised as he reached out his hand clasping over hers again. He nodded up at the sky. “See this is wha’ I wanted ya to see.”

She stared up at the night sky surprised to see that the stars were just as clear as they’d been that night in the cemetery.

They seemed much more pleasant tonight than they’d seemed that night in the cemetery.

She spoke recalling the talk they’d had that night while she was digging a hole for those cremains. “Is it comparable to what you described back home?”

“Nah, no’ even close…Think who I’m lookin’ at it with makes it less disappointing though.” He admitted taking a chance to peek over at her relieved that she seemed as entranced by the night sky as he’d hoped.

He spoke again clearing his throat. "I use to take rides out to the countryside back home...late a nigh' would look up at the sky an' think."

"What'd you think about?" She dared to ask not pulling her eyes from the sky. She could see why it might be nice to sit and stare at the stars. There was a peace that came with it.

"Lotta shite. It wasn' a happy time in my life. It was righ' after I patched into the Belfast Sons...I had a lot shite goin on at the time...a lotta changes." Chibs responded his throat growing tight thinking of his own past.

He was certain now wasn't the time to dump it all on her. She had seemed so fragile after sharing her own past with him at dinner. He wasn't sure she could take on his baggage, not tonight at least.

He cleared his throat continuing. "Most of the time, I'd just think bout how even if things felt like shite, it didn't really matter too much no' when ya think bout how...the universe is massive. I'm just a speck in it all. There's somthin' kinda freeing ta realize yer a small chunk of a big world that's in a big universe. Makes yer problems seem kinda insignificant no matter how horrible they are."

"I guess I've never thought of it like that...I mean it's a good point. Kind of hard to think about how difficult things feel when you realize you're kind of insignificant against all of this." She replied still staring up at the sky.

He glanced over at her once again finding himself entranced by her.

He had feared she’d think he only had one thing on his mind with this stargazing plan. He’d hoped for it of course, he was a hot blooded male after all and she was a gorgeous woman.

He was sure he didn’t mind her disinterest in doing anything remotely sexual on a first date. He was surprised to find that sitting here holding her hand staring up at the night sky felt like enough; especially after all she’d shared with him tonight.

She spoke apparently remembering the trauma she’d dumped on him tonight before the food had even arrived to the table. “Sorry if I was a lot tonight. Pretty sure I made a first date feel more like a therapy session.”

He was surprised to hear the vulnerability in her voice. It was unlike the girl who had been full of nothing but sass and facts about her job. He found that the fact that she felt comfortable enough to sound so vulnerable in front of him as a reason to feel honored. He was seeing a side to her; it seemed she might not reveal to many people. “You got no reason to apologize, lass.”

She let out a small laugh shaking her head, her voice the slightest bit self deprecating. “I guess you can see why I don’t ever have many dates. Trauma and the fact that I’m pretty sure I scare most of the male population around here.”

“We all got our share of traumas, love. Luckily their loss seems ta be my gain.” Chibs replied the comment sliding from his lips with so little effort it was obvious he meant it.

He spoke again, deciding to express the sincerity behind his voice. “The men round here don’ know what they’re missin’. Yer smart, gorgeous, tough, and not fraid to give anyone shite.”

She spoke, her cheeks growing all the darker, not accustomed to the praise. “I’m also far too comfortable around dead bodies to the point that I live in a house surrounded by death…on the first floor and the basement at least. I talk about embalming techniques and decay the same way people talk about playing tennis or a new movie they just saw. I am pretty sure I’ve well earned my place as being untouchable by most of the guys in Charming.”

Chibs found the words the sincerity behind them still so apparent. “I don’ care fer tennis and I've never been ‘fraid of death. Trus’ me, Hen yer far from untouchable. All I can think bout mos’ of the time is touchin’ ya.”

She turned her gaze towards his surprised by the heat that spread through her at his words.

She found herself staring into his eyes suddenly realizing she was happy he’d thought to leave his sunglasses behind today. He really did have lovely eyes. It was a shame to hide such beautiful dark eyes behind sunglasses.

She felt any voices that told her that this was an awful idea were too far away to grasp as Chibs and she leaned closer and closer to one another.

They could feel the heat of one another’s breaths, their lips so close to colliding.

A familiar chime broke the spell before their lips had a chance to meet. They both pulled back her cheeks growing much darker from embarrassment and his from frustration.

She reached out grasping her purse pulling her cell phone from it. Chibs watched her as she answered it, her voice suddenly taking a very formal tone. “Yes, of course. I see. I am not within city limits at the moment. I will contact my associate and he will come retrieve the deceased. I will look over everything tonight and we can meet tomorrow to discuss where to go from here.”

Chibs furrowed his brow it hitting him she was most likely speaking to a bereaved family about a loved one who she would apparently be tending to tonight.

She spoke again her voice still quite professional but he did pick up on a hint of compassion that he couldn’t help but to adore as she spoke again. “Of course, I will be in touch with you soon. My condolences for your loss. My associate will be there shortly.”

She hung up her phone clearing her throat clearly noticing Chibs’ eyes on hers and clearly aware of the fact if her phone hadn't rang her lips would very much be pressed to his at the moment.

She was surprised that the thought of pressing her lips to his didn’t send her into a tailspin.

She was sure hours ago if someone had told her that she’d almost kiss the Scottish Son she’d be horrified, certain it was a sign she was sliding back into old habits.

A voice in the back of her brain told her that her old habits hadn’t ever felt this nice.

She spoke, clearing her throat. “Work calls, I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut tonight short.”

“Aye, no’ a problem.” Chibs replied a voice in the back of his head taunting him that he was being cock blocked by the deceased.

He shoved the thought back guilt clouding his mind for being selfish enough that all he could focus on was the lost chance at a kiss when someone was dead. He would find another chance to feel her lips against his.

He spoke as they stood up, Chibs beginning to gather the blanket and lantern. “I’ll get ya back home.”

She wrapped her arms around his torso as they mounted his bike, finding that for once she wasn’t entirely ready to jump right into work.

This was the first time in her life where she realized she actually much preferred the company of someone living than isolation while tending to the dead.

—--------------------------------

Y/N sighed disappointed as the bike pulled up to Y/L/N and Sons Funeral Home. She knew that she needed to get upstairs and shove on something that she’d feel comfortable wearing down in body storage.

She would need to take a look over the deceased Skeeter was currently picking up and make an assessment of what would be required and what options the family could look over tomorrow.

She was reluctant to leave Chibs' side though. It was a surprising realization.

Hours ago she’d been dreading this date and hoping she could just survive it. She’d told herself it was just one date. It was just part of the deal she’d made with him for reduced auto work. She’d wanted her strange admirer to get lost.

Now though, she didn’t want the night to end. She didn’t want Chibs to go anywhere anytime soon.

She took a chance leaning up as Chibs helped her dismount his bike and take off the helmet she’d borrowed tonight. She pressed her lips to his cheek the touch so light it almost didn’t feel real for a moment for Chibs.

He felt his heart lift a strange warm feeling washing over him at the action. She pressed her lips over one of his scarred cheeks she not seeming uncomfortable with the act. The action felt so sweet and so genuine.

He could admit no one had ever kissed his cheek, at least not after what Jimmy O' had done to him. He hadn't had a real romantic relationship with a woman since Fiona, so no opportunity to touch his cheeks had presented itself. He'd not allowed that part of his body to be touched during any of the casual romps he'd shared with the croweaters around SAMCRO's clubhouse. He'd never allowed any of the croweaters to touch his scars. The thought of someone touching such a painful reminder of his past unnerved him. It felt so personal; touching the reminder of his pain. He'd been known to swat the hands of anyone who dared to try to touch those scars away.

The feel of Y/N's lips to one of those scars didn't make him want to shrink away. He had zero desire to swat her away. He was overwhelmed with a sense of comfort as he realized that she was not inclined to shy away from touching a part of him that most people cringed at the sight of.

It was no kiss on the lips, but it was still quite enjoyable. He had to admit that the kiss to one of his scars almost felt more intimate than a kiss to the lips.

She pulled away her cheeks flushing. She knew the kiss to the cheek felt like such a juvenile act almost as though they were teens on their first date and her father should be peeking behind the curtains watching them.

She felt no fear in kissing a part of him that had intimidated her upon their first meeting. She was once again reminded of a thought she'd had when they'd first met. She had no reason to fear the scars; if anything she feared the person who must have done this to him.

She'd found that she wouldn't mind kissing his cheeks more often. Judging by the look in his eyes she guessed not many people showed him such a tender act. It hurt her heart to think that no one showed him any tenderness with as sweet as he'd been tonight.

She wanted badly to press her lips to his but she knew if she kissed him she might just let herself invite him in. If she invited him in she might just tell Skeeter to handle this job all on his lonesome.

Chibs dared to speak taking his shot sure that he’d get the response he wanted after that sweet little kiss to the cheek. He took her hand in his praying to anyone who might be listening to let him get the answer he was hoping for. “Can I see ya again?”

Y/N felt a voice bark out in the back of her mind screaming at her to say no. This was an awful idea. She couldn't agree to another date. Dating him was a surefire way to fall back into the chaos of SAMCRO. He would lead her to ruin.

She felt her heart speak up a little louder than that voice. Her heart reminded her of how he’d listened to her traumas tonight, how he’d held her hand. Her heart told her that he wasn’t afraid of death. He didn't see her as untouchable. In fact, he considered himself lucky to have a chance with her. She'd never met anyone who considered themselves lucky to be by her side.

She knew which part of her body was stronger.

She spoke nodding her head the answer seeming so effortless. “Yes.”

“Aye when, Hen?” he blurted out not having it in him to be ashamed of how desperate he sounded.

He’d always assumed he wasn’t the type to beg for the attentions nor the affections of any woman. Y/N wasn’t just any woman though.

She gave him a soft smile her answer far too cryptic. “Soon, Filip.”

She pressed her lips to his cheek again the touch far too light and far too brief before she parted from him. “Goodnight, Filip.”

“Goodnigh’, Hen. I’ll see ya soon.” Chibs replied reluctantly allowing her hand to pull from his as she headed up the long walkway to her home.

He watched her disappear behind her front door, closing it behind her. He reached up his fingertips brushing across his cheek running along the skin where her lips had pressed against.

His heart felt lighter than it had felt in so long. How could one kiss to the cheek do this to him?

He hadn’t felt this light and this hopeful in so long.

He remembered his words to Clay earlier once again. He wanted a wee bit more than getting his dick wet.

He wanted so much more with her. He wanted it all.

Y/N leaned against the closed door, it taking everything in her not to open that door, march back out there and press her lips to his.

She listened to the rumble of his bike start up, a sign he was pulling away and leaving her for the night.

She twisted the strap of her purse in her hands, it hitting her that she was absolutely screwed.

That voice in the back of her head still screamed as loud as ever that she was making a huge mistake and that she had to be out of her mind for wanting to see Chibs again. The voice screeched that this was a road that would only lead her to heartache and pain. This was an awful idea.

She found herself easily responding to that voice, the reply seeming so simple; she’d never shied away from awful ideas.

Something that felt as wonderful as being with Chibs tonight surely couldn’t be awful nor could it be ruinous.

Y/N realized that even if Chibs led her to ruin she was unwilling to save herself.

If Filip Chibs Telford was destined to be her ruin, then she embraced the road to destruction with open arms.

#tommy flanagan #chibs telford #chibs #chibs sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction #chibs telford x reader #chibs telford fanfiction #sons of anarchy #soa

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dc-marvel-crossovers · 13 days

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The DC/Marvel Crossover server is proud to present our summer Pool Noodle Party! Celebrating the rarest crossover pairs, both platonic and romantic. Courtesy of this post about ships that are too small to count as ships:

For our purposes, a “pool noodle” is a relationship tag that comes up with less than 30 hits on Ao3. Platonic (&) relationships count! Any and all crossover pairings with under 30 existing fics are welcome.

We have six themes. Each theme will have a week for posting creations and a week for celebrating — giving feedback and leaving comments. We’ll share everything that was created the previous week and try to spread the love, but also post rec lists of our favorite older fics that fit the theme.

For anybody who's interested in creating fanworks for existing fic, we'll be posting a list (soon) of fics whose authors have given permission for podfic, moodboards, art, and playlists inspired by their work!

Themes are relatively loose, so your ship might fit multiple themes — that’s fine! Entirely up to you when you post.

Check out the prompt lists! Keep in mind that fics do not have to fit a particular prompt, only the general theme for the week they're posted. These are just for inspiration.

Hackers, Paleolithic weapons, interplanetary romance, etc.

Robin Hood AU

Mia Dearden & Kate Bishop

Eddie and Venom work at the Daily Planet

Tony and Roy in rehab

Venom finds a new host

Kree identity shenanigans

“I’m a doctor, not a _”

Oracle & Jarvis

Clint and Dick knew each other in the circus

Starfire meets the Marvels

Not necessarily femslash, but woman-centric!

Natasha Romanoff/Talia Al Ghul

Birds of Prey crossover

Genderswap

Amanda Waller puts together an all-female team

Captain Britain Peggy Carter

Powerpuff Girls AU

Diana Prince in SHIELD

Selina Kyle as a Widow

Coulson recruits Cassandra Cain

Blorbos who have been resurrected, who live in Daredevil territory, who deal with demonic shit, etc.

Lazarus Pit side effects

Priest!Jason

"I think they came back wrong."

Dumpster bros

Buffy crossover

Nelson & Murdock in Gotham

Orpheus and Eurydice retelling

Angels and demons AU

Clint Barton/John Constantine

-powers, -heroes, -villains, -boys, -girls, and/or -soldiers!

Clark Kent/Steve Rogers

Conner Kent gets adopted

Powers/serum are sexually transmitted

Loki joins the Legion of Doom

“Wait, I have powers in this universe?”

Power swap

Kryptonian biology quirks

Marvel character gets a Lantern ring

Supernatural crossover

Murder as a love language, or at least as a career.

John Wick AU

Ronin!Clint / RedHood!Jason

Outlaws team-up

Gun/knife play

Wade & Slade Wilson are related

Marvel character trains Jason during Lost Days

Someone kills the Joker

The other Winter Soldier

Frank adopts Jason

Alternately, found family! Anything to do with relationships involving more than one person.

Band AU

Team as family (or team as relationship)

Midnighter/Apollo/someone

Werewolf AU

Biker gang AU

“God help us if they ever join forces.”

Teen Titans meet the Young Avengers

Accidental alien planet multi-marriage

"Everybody lives in Clint's apartment building" civilian AU

#dc #marvel #dc marvel crossover #crossover #dcu #mcu #event #pool noodle party #dc fandom events #marvel fandom events #writing prompt

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roguehongsami · 4 months

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Forever Angel.

pairing/s: outlaw!yeosang x fem!fugitive

genre/s: crime, suggestive, au

synopsis: as you're hiking roadside, yeosang decides to give you a ride only to realise you don't have any idea where you're going. he takes you in, but the rest of the members are apprehensive of your presence.

content: domestic violence (insinuated), gun violence, prison break.

word count: 3k

author's note: not my proudest work lol. been in my drafts since 2 dec & just wanted it out. xoxo.

* DISCLAIMER: THIS IS FICTIONAL. IT IS NOT A REPRESENTATION OF KANG YEOSANG'S CHARACTER, PERSONALITY OR BEHAVIOUR. THIS IS SOLELY FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES. *

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ lana del rey // angels forever

Y/N had been walking under the sun for a good two hours. With the clothes on her back and leather jacket held over her shoulder, the only thing that created a buffer between her eyes and the sun was her Tom Mix hat. It was only a matter of time until the soles of her boots melted off, and she was barefoot and begging for an end.

She needed to find shelter before sundown.

A rundown car sped past her, exhaust fumes lingering in the air as it disappeared into the distance. Her brain pounded violently against her skull, a few heat blisters materialising on her body in response to the raised temperatures. The sound of exhaust pipes rumbling, polluting the air, neared.

A black Harley fat bob halted beside her as she slowed in her tracks. The owner's hair was tucked behind his ears, some strands cascading down the sides of his face. A pink heart-shaped birthmark, right by his eye, that called for attention. Sunglasses covered his eyes. He looked like an easy rider. Those weren't common in this part of the province anymore.

He pulled his dimmers over his head, taking in Y/N's figure before speaking. "Need a lift, pretty lady?"

Hand on her hip with her hat shielding most of her face, she uttered, "You offering?"

"Only if you tell me your name, sweetheart. Take off that hat so I can see your pretty face." he flashed his pearly-whites.

She brought her hat down beside her body, revealing two large and nasty bruises on her jaw and under her eye, her bottom lip cut. "It's Y/N."

He grimaced at the sight, at a loss for words. Not wanting to press for news that did not concern him, he instructed her to hop on. She positioned herself behind him on the seater, her hat and jacket nestled between their bodies. Her arms snaked around his torso before he revved the motorcycle and rode off.

The pair stopped by a roadside biker bar named Tripp's Saloon. Very old western, inside and out. A few cars and a variation of Harleys parked out front. The air conditioned interior served as the perfect escape for Y/N. Seated at a booth in the far back corner, Yeosang ordered them food, and not so long after, the waitress was back with their plates.

Being in the sun that long can work up an appetite.

"Tell me, where you headed?" Yeosang popped a fry into his mouth.

Y/N took a swig of her beer. "I haven't really thought it out honestly. I just took myself and went on. A fresh start anywhere would be nice."

Dumbfounded, his eyebrow arched. "So you journeyed into the sun with nothing but the clothes on your back and wishful thinking?"

She shrugged nonchalantly, now downing her fries and onion rings. Her demeanour was relaxed. She had finally cooled down. Any more time in the sun would've resulted in dire consequences.

He motioned gestured at her face with his chin. "And those bruises? They got some' to do with your fresh start?"

He watched as her body tensed up. She took a serviette from the holder, and as she swiped it across her lips, her head hung low. His gaze was fixed on her, awaiting an explanation for her injuries.

"Maybe." she quipped. "He's the sheriff, so nobody ever bat an eye. Would've snuffed me out eventually, so I had to get out."

They dined in silence for the remainder of their meal. Yeosang paid the bill and they were soon back on the road. The sun had took its leave, with millions of twinkling stars taking up space in the black sky. A cool wind blew, the temperatures much kinder than before.

Her head rested on Yeosang's back, taking in the fast-passing view of the endless desert and sparse cacti. The motorcycle begun slowing as Yeosang yielded in front of a cabin. Dried russian thistle dancing on the barren land, the greener kind still rooted in the earth. A black van parked out front along with another fat bob. No sign of life for kilometres, just this cabin isolated from civilization.

The Harley's engine died as Yeosang stepped off. With Y/N's jacket and hat in one hand, he held out his other hand. She took it, reluctantly so, and brought her leg over the motorcycle as they walked toward the entrance. The porch floorboards creaked under their weight. Yeosang knocked in what was presumably morse code. The door opened and they were greeted by a 6'0 tall man with a broad build.

In his baritone, he spoke, "We're bringing alley cats to our hideout now?"

Yeosang pushed Mingi in the chest, causing him to stumble back. He walked past him with Y/N still in hand. "Eat shit." he spat.

Mingi locked the door and followed the pair into the living room. There, the other members were seated and chatting amongst themselves. When their eyes landed on Y/N, all hastily stood at attention. Perplexed, feeling as though they had been infiltrated. A man who stood at 5'7 approached them, finger pointing at her.

"Who is she?" Hongjoong sneered. "Are you trying to get us caught?"

She stood behind Yeosang, feeling like an intruder who had been cornered. Her elevated heart rate made the constant thumping fill up her ears. Her senses were dulled by fear.

Yeosang raised his arm to put distance between himself and Hongjoong. "She's good people, Hongjoong. She just needs shelter."

The others closed in, as they circled around Yeosang and Y/N. He pulled her into a hug, trying to keep her away from the others. He knew bringing her over was risky, but guilt would eat away at his conscious if he did not at least try to lend a helping hand.

Jongho pointed an accusatory finger. "Did she have nowhere else to go?"

"Does she not have a home, or is she a stray?" San chimed, tone laced with disdain.

Y/N escaped the hug, body turned toward San. Her eyes welled as she spoke with a tearful sob. "I can't go back there." she pulled her shirt up to expose her stomach. "I'd get sent to my next life. Please..." she pleaded.

Her torso was covered in bruises, some old and some fresh. The room fell silent, the guys all looking at her injuries. She pulled her shirt back down. Her eyes danced between the crew, taking in all of their shocked expressions.

"Just for the night, I'll be out of your hair by dawn." she spoke firmly.

[ . . . ]

Sleep could not find her. With Yeosang sound asleep beside her, she was unable to relax. Just stared at the ceiling. She hustled out of bed and rummaged through the inside pockets of her jacket. Bringing forth a cigarette and lighter. She found herself seated outside on the porch bench.

As she blew smoke from her mouth, the flavour of tobacco still remained. Her nerves slowly relaxed. The sight of the stars, and the midnight breeze had put her at ease. That pit in her stomach was doing away with itself. She couldn't recall the last time she was this placid. The usual noise in her head had abated. Accustomed to being ruled by fear and suffering. It started off so inconspicuously and before she knew it...

That had been her life for a little over a year.

The floorboards creaked when Yeosang stood by the bench, towering over her as he interrupted her daydreaming. She took another pull of her cigarette before looking up at him. He stood idly.

"So worried about getting killed yet here you are, doing it to yourself." Yeosang spoke bluntly.

Y/N chuckled before taking another pull. "Old habits die hard." she exhaled the smoke.

"When'd you start?"

"High school. I'd gather about ten years now, never looked back."

He stuck his hand out, gesturing her to hand over the cancer stick. She obliged. "That's one nasty habit, I'll tell you that." he threw it down and put it out with his bare foot. "You weren't in bed when I woke."

She sighed as she leaned back. "I've been skittish for so long that sleep don't come easy anymore."

"If you're worried about shelter, I made the others understand your situation. You're staying with us now."

"And I thank you for it." she gave him a small smile. "A year of being a punching bag will unnerve you in ways you can't imagine."

Yeosang stood up, sticking his hand out for Y/N to take. They went back into the cabin, locking the door before proceeding to the bedroom. Laying in bed with no sheets because of the sweltering heat. Facing each other, the sound of their breathing filling the atmosphere. His hand brushed over her face, cupping her cheek. He inched forward, lips locking with hers.

She had not felt this way in so long, as fireworks erupted in her stomach.

As the kiss intensified, their actions grew more aggressive. She winced when a sharp pain from the bruise on her jaw. He apologized and eased his hold. His hand ventured down her hips and between her thighs. Their kisses grew sloppy.

Yeosang got up out of bed to remove his sweats, as Y/N pulled off her underwear. He positioned himself between her legs, bringing her legs up to his waist, making her wince from the pang in her abdominal muscles.

"Switch." her voice low.

As she hovered over him, she leaned in to catch his lips. He positioned himself upright, his arms around her waist. She lowered herself, slowly fitting him. He pulled the sweatshirt that he lent her over her head, exposed her torso and chest. His vest was the last item to be discarded.

Afraid her moans were growing louder, she bit down on her lower lip. One or two escaped but nothing serious. The floorboards creaked and the bed frame squeaked. She went in for a deep kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth.

A light knock on the door startled them, halting all their actions. "A bit louder, please. I can't hear you." Wooyoung said sarcastically.

They broke into fits of giggles, continuing as they were. Calling it a night, Yeosang laid Y/N back down and grabbed the tissues on the bedside to clean her up. He cocooned her in his arms, their bodies tangled with one another.

"That should tire you." he joked.

It had been some days since her arrival. By 9:15, she was wide awake and well rested. She was alone in bed, Yeosang had already started his day hours prior. Before joining the guys, she made the bed and picked up her clothes off the floor. Curtains open to let in some sunshine.

When she finished showering, she rummaged through Yeosang's drawer to find clothes to wear. A white sweatshirt and grey sweatpants sufficed. She stood before the small mirror hanging on the door. Taking in her mildy deformed face, her fingers brushed the bruise under her eye. The swelling was gone, only discolouration remained. The cut on her lip was far from healing.

The guys were gathered in the living room, watching the television. A news broadcast came on, a picture of a police officer was shown right beside the news anchor.

"The body of thirty-two year old Sheriff Max Hynes was discovered this morning in his home by one of his deputies. He was bludgeoned to death with a golf club. The Riverton police department says that they have already identified a possible suspect."

The camera cut to one of the detectives working the case.

"We've interviewed several community members and gathered all the evidence that we could. As of now, we've identified Y/N Reeves as our primary suspect." a picture of Y/N was shown. "We believe she may be on the run. Possibly armed and dangerous. Anyone who sees her, please call your local police department."

Y/N's criminal status was about to complicate their entire operation.

The floorboards creaked as Y/N approached the living room, standing inches away from the couch. They all turned to look at her. She saw the broadcast. She knew she had been caught. Her demeanour was relaxed as her eyes remained glued to the television. Her face wore an emotionless expression.

She rued nothing.

Seonghwa circled the couch and squeezed Y/N's arms. "You realise you're being here compromises us? Huh, answer me!" he yelled from the top of his voice.

Yeosang cut between them and pushed Y/N behind him. "She probably has an explanation, Hwa. Back off!"

Yunho towered over Yeosang, catching Y/N gaze. "With everyone on the lookout for your girlfriend, our cover will be blown if they find her. She needs to leave."

"She ain't going nowhere!" Yeosang bit back. He turned to face her. "Y/N, you said you ran away. What really happened back there?"

"I fled after I clubbed him upright the head. His time was comin', I just sped it up." she spoke coldly. "I was a good woman until I met him."

"Why didn't you just report him in a different district?" Mingi asked.

She turned her head to Mingi who was seated on the couch. "I did. He broke my arm." she lifted her left arm, revealing a healed stitch scar running along her inner forearm. "Said it was nobody's business what went on between us. And you know pigs always look out for their own, they called him as soon as I mentioned his name."

Yeosang waved his arms around, calling for the conversation to end. "Enough. Y'all got your explanation, she's staying."

Hongjoong stood before Yeosang, face stern and lips pressed into a hard line. "You better pray the cops don't come knocking on our door, or it's your head, Kang."

[ . . . ]

The remainder of the day was fairly mundane. While she was sat on the couch before the television, the guys were huddled around the dining table. They spoke in hushed tones whilst they assembled and dismantled mechanical parts. She paid them no mind.

It was dark out. While Yunho and Wooyoung packed away their contraptions, particularly careful with the hourglass artifact, Mingi prepped their dinner. The lot gathered in the living room as they watched the television.

In the distance, the faint wailing of sirens could be heard. The sirens got louder as the squad cars neared. They knew. Everyone scattered as they gathered all their belongings. Making haste to the van, the squad cars closed in as they blocked the van's path.

As Y/N was about to get in, an officer shot at her. The bullet tore into her thigh. She fell to the ground, soil getting in her eyes. Yeosang climbed out to help her but Jongho reeled him back in. The officers ran toward her. As they approached the van, a dim white light shone from inside. When the officers opened the door, all eight men were gone.

With Y/N apprehended, she was admitted into a hospital to treat her wound. Waking up after surgery the next day, she found herself handcuffed to her bed. In the corner of her room sat a detective who was working her case. He grilled her for a few minutes but he didn't get the answers he was looking for.

The detective handed her a picture of the eight men from before. "Just give us Ateez and we'll drop your murder charge."

"For the last time, suit; I don't know who they are." she struggled while handcuffed to the bed. "They took me in after I ran away."

The detective took the photo and said as he walked out the hospital room. "Guess I'll be seeing you in court."

O N E M O N T H L A T E R

Leaving the cafeteria and making her way up the stairs to her cell. Limping, with a crutch to support her. Her trial was swift. She told her truth. Expressing no remorse, she vowed in courtroom full of witnesses that she'd remake said decision should a man ever raise his hand again.

So silent she could hear her heart pumping blood. She laid facing the ceiling, waiting for sleep to come. A commotion broke out in the lower floor as gunshots could be heard. She was quick on her feet as she stood behind the metal bars.

All she saw were guards running in one direction, some plummeting to the floor in their tracks. A posse of masked men ran rampant on each floor. The guard in front of her cell shot a few times before falling to the ground, a wound between his eyes releasing blood. She distanced herself, tripping on her feet and landing on her backside.

One man stopped in front of her cell, a rifle pressed to his chest. She crawled further back with pain shooting in the wound in her thigh. She sat against the wall, shielding herself. The man pointed his firearm at the lock, releasing two shots before the bars opened.

He entered the cell and kneeled before her, pulling his mask over his head. "Y/N?" his husky voice called to her.

She pulled her arms down and her jaw slacked. "Yeosang?"

"Your bruises are all gone." he smiled as he stroked her cheek.

"And I sleep better now." she nodded. "What was that white light in the van? The cops asked me about you lot, why'd they call you 'Ateez'? I have so many questions."

Another one of the masked men stood by the entrance of her cell. He pulled his mask up. Before speaking, he fired a few shots in the direction he came from.

"If you two lovebirds are done with your reunion, we need to leave." Hongjoong announced as he fired more shots. "They're sending back-up."

Yeosang stood as he brought Y/N up with him. "I'll answer all your questions but first, let's get you out. You shouldn't have been here in the first place."

#ateez #kang yeosang #yeosang fluff #roguehongsami

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rookthorne · 1 year

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⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐅𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲

Christmas was a time for family — for being grateful. It just so happened that your family were the biggest bunch of misfits and black sheep, but you wouldn’t have them any other way.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✰ Biker!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ✰ 6.3k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ✰ Tooth rotting fluff, implied smut, alcohol consumption, references to past entries (violence), flashbacks, slight angst (it's only one flashback)

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 ✰ It is finally Christmas, folks! To those who celebrate, and to those that don't, I hope you have a beautiful day with whoever you chose to spend it with, regardless of the occasion. ✰ Thank you for all the love and continued support on this event, it's one of the best gifts I could have ever gotten.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ✰ Merry Fuckin’ Christmas — Masterlist

𝑶𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒇𝒕𝒉 𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔, 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒚 𝒈𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆; 𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒕, 𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒓, 𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒔, 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒔, 𝒇𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑷𝒊𝒙𝒊𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔, 𝒔𝒊𝒙 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔, 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒔, 𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔, 𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔, 𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒔, 𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒓𝒊𝒃𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒐𝒘𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒗𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒋𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒚…

𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The day had arrived, it was finally here. You weren’t sure whether to cry or scream with excitement as soon as you awoke at the crack of dawn once again.

Christmas - you couldn’t believe it. It would be the first one you had spent with your new family, and you spent weeks organising and setting it all up; the past twelve days had been a whirlwind of festivities and excitement. There was not a single moment you could pick as a favourite, because they were all at the top of your list.

The rays of the rising sun illuminated the bedroom, a yellow glow casted into the shadows and you shifted until you lay on your side, facing Bucky’s silhouette with a fond smile. This man - this gorgeous, dangerous, and oh so lovable man - had stolen your heart this year. He had pulled the rug from underneath your feet with that first ride on his Indian, that day at the Marvel Cafe; but he had never let you fall, nor stumble.

Bucky had been the one constant in your life for what felt like forever. Sure, it hadn’t always been flowers and daisies, but even when the times turned turbulent with violence and blood, he had sheltered you and shielded you as best he could. There never once was a hair harmed on your head.

It had been a miracle that that was a fact. Becoming a Queen in an outlaw’s world was a deadly title, breaking even the strongest women down and making them fall to their knees under the weight of the crown. But no, you never faltered. The crown never slipped from how high you held your head. The crown never shifted from its place when you carried your King; bearing his weight when he wasn’t strong enough to stand on his own with his crooked crown.

Being a Queen demanded strength, courage, and a backbone like no other.

And you had risen to the challenge and exceeded all expectations with a ferocity never before seen.

There were times when Bucky saw you through, too. The times when you felt the world would end as you knew it, all of what you had made for yourself in this life to be over. When Bucky had held you in that waiting room in the hospital as the cries of grief filled the air; when you had fallen so dangerously ill that Bucky had taken you to the hospital despite what you wanted, and ended up saving your life; when Bucky had soothed your fears at being abandoned after breaking his only rule.

You were partners. And partners held one another, helped one another, and in this case, loved one another; so much so it was almost overwhelming.

“I love you, so much,” you whispered into the still morning air, the breathy sound not disturbing Bucky as he slept. You lay there for a few moments, still, silent, just savouring the moment; wondering what might have been, and what might be.

Bucky awoke with a snuffle and a wide yawn. “Mornin’, baby,” he rasped, and you smiled.

“Morning, my love.” A loud pop echoed from your shoulder when you stretched, and Bucky winced. “‘M fine,” you mumbled. Bucky’s stubble was rough on your palm when you cupped his cheek, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Merry fuckin’ Christmas, my Queen,” he whispered.

You sighed happily and sidled closer, your forehead coming to rest against his chest where it was the warmest. “Merry fucking Christmas, my King.” Bucky held you close, not in a hurry to greet the big day when he could spend the morning in bed with you, but alas, you had other ideas. “Breakfast?”

Bucky yawned again, nodding slightly before he moved to sit up. “What’re we havin’?”

“Bacon, and eggs, and pancakes,” you looked at him as he stretched his arms above his head, just admiring the planes of his body when he caught your gaze.

“I could always be your breakfast, doll,” Bucky said impishly.

You rolled your eyes and stood from the bed, wrapping yourself in a fluffy robe as you headed towards the kitchen. “You wish, Barnes.”

Breakfast passed without a hitch, but that’s when the real flurry began. Today, you were hosting Christmas lunch - everyone was coming to your home and would arrive within the next six hours, and you could only thank your lucky stars that you had said to each of them to bring a plate of food at least. It would save you meandering and fussing over the small dishes; a small mercy.

Bucky had excused himself to wash up once he finished his overloaded plate, and that left you to your own devices in the kitchen; a standoff between the giant turkey, and your fierce determination to not be bested by poultry.

It was a fight for the ages. One of which Bucky walked in on, freshly showered and too good looking for his own good, and stood in absolute awe. “Babe.” You looked up at the sound of his voice, strained by the fact he was holding back laughter at your predicament. “Do you want some help?”

“No,” you huffed, shifting to the side so you could get better leverage. “I got this; can you start on the potatoes?”

“All right,” Bucky said, dubious over your level of control. You’d show him. “Want me to do the other vegetables too?”

You nodded and powered on while Bucky tackled the mountain of vegetables - his efficiency with a knife as he peeled them made you widen your eyes on more than one occasion. Before long, the vegetables were sorted into trays and ready to be roasted, and the turkey was being tackled by the two of you, as a team, you insisted.

“I think it’s good to go now,” Bucky said, nodding his approval when he stepped back from the accursed fowl. “It’s as good as it’s gonna get, anyway.”

“I haven’t done this since I was a kid,” you sighed. “I would have to agree.”

With Bucky’s help, you manoeuvred the giant turkey into the oven to begin cooking, while the vegetables went into the oven below. “Who knew two ovens would be used, huh?” You mused, setting the timers on both.

Bucky laughed and placed the oven mitts on the counter. “Especially with your cookin’.” You whipped the towel in your hands at his knees and he yelped. “Behave!”

“Stop being an asshole then,” you called over your shoulder while you padded into the dining room, ignoring Bucky’s grumbling as he came to a stop behind you. “We’ll start with the table cloth first, that way we won’t dirty the table with any glitter,” you instructed, pointing at the small boxes stacked by the table and Bucky nodded in agreement. “Let’s go!”

The two of you got to work. With the beautiful burgundy red tablecloth covering the table, you hung garlands of holly from cornice to cornice, and Bucky tackled the indoor lights you had wanted by the curtains. Small decorations lay amongst the organised chaos on the table, mapped around by where the dishes of food would sit.

“Are we goin’ overboard?” Bucky asked suddenly, stepping back to check that the lights he had just hung were even. The tone in his voice gave way to a memory that demanded your focus.

It had been a bad day where nothing had gone your way and you were close to tears. You wanted to go home, you wanted to curl up in bed and sleep the funk off - you knew if you didn’t at least do something that your demons would rear their ugly heads, and Bucky needn’t deal with that.

But fate wanted to have a laugh, your expense was humorous. When you pulled into your driveway, you saw Bucky’s black and gold Indian parked by the garage door. You sighed heavily and after locking up, you headed inside to face the inevitable - better now than later, you thought.

The door swung open with a loud creak and Bucky appeared in the hallway, his hair damp from a shower. “Hey, sweetheart, welcome home,” he greeted, smiling at you as though you hung the moon in the night sky. You smiled, but you felt it not meeting your eyes as it normally would upon seeing him, and Bucky noticed. He paused and put his hands on your shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

“Just a bad day, babe,” you whispered, looking down at your feet. He was having none of that, however. You felt his hand move to your jaw to tilt your head up so he could search your face; scrutinise your fracturing armour with the intent to comfort.

“Tell me,” Bucky whispered. The command was the final crack in your facade.

Your eyes welled up with the suppressed tears, a few tracking down your cheeks before you could stop them. “What if they don’t like me, Buck?” The waver of your voice made you frustrated and you scowled.

“‘They’, baby? Who’s ‘they’?”

“Steve, Peter-” Bucky cut you off by pulling you against his chest, holding you with such strength you could feel the rampant demons in your mind quieten and slink back in defeat.

“They love you, sweetheart, they do,” Bucky said, rocking you soothingly while running a hand up and down your back, the other cradling your head to his chest. “I promise.”

You sobbed brokenly and Bucky sighed. “I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you.”

You looked over and blinked at him owlishly. Didn’t he get it?

“Bucky, it’s our first Christmas,” you stepped down the small ladder and moved to stand in front of him, carefully watching his expression. “I want it to be perfect, you guys are my family and this is one way I know how to say thank you, besides,” you paused, muling over your next words carefully and ignoring the way your heart began to beat faster against your ribs, the tightness in your throat. “Christmas is a time to be grateful for what you have, and I wanna show them, and you, just how grateful I am.”

And there it was, what you had imagined. Bucky, ever stoic and battle-hardened, began to tear up as you spoke, your admission the crack in the dam. “Oh, sweetheart,” he breathed, his voice shaking slightly.

Bucky pulled you against his chest, his grip tight enough to both hold you together and ground you at once. “Let’s make it a good one then, yeah?” He asked, and you nodded, the burn in your throat from unshed tears ebbing away.

A few hours later, the dining room was fully decorated and looking every bit as Christmas-y as it possibly could be with reds and greens, golds and whites. It was a dream come true, and you said so when Bucky pulled you into another hug, holding you to his side while he admired the spectacle of the room. “Shines up nice, doesn’t it?” He breathed.

“Yeah, you do.” Bucky ruffled your hair for the comment, and he headed to the kitchen to check on the food.

“You better get changed,” Bucky pointed to the clock when you rounded the counter, and you gasped. You’d lost track of time. “They’ll be here soon.”

“I’ll be back!” You yelled while jogging down the hall. It was a relief your outfit had already been picked the other day, for which Bucky was very proud of - given his sense of style consisted of plaid shirts or Henleys paired with jeans and leather jackets. You had to give him credit too, he had picked a simple but cute outfit; classy, but still comfortable to host in.

And if there were any accidents with spilt wine, you at least had your own ugly Christmas sweater to match Bucky’s.

Suddenly, as you stared into your wardrobe, you were struck with a memory.

It was the beginning of winter when you had finally coerced Bucky into visiting the shops lining the main street of town. The stores in question were promoting their winter lines of clothing; jackets, jumpers, sweaters, boots, you name it, and with it being your first winter in the small town, you were woefully underprepared for just how damn cold it would be.

“Bucky, please!” You laughed, pulling him along behind you while he pouted and whined. “It won’t take long, I promise.”

“Fine,” he conceded, falling in step beside you as you neared a display rack of puffer jackets. “And then we can go home and warm up.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered distractedly, looking through a rack of colourful puffer jackets, and completely missing the smirk he threw at your obliviousness. “Ah!” You cried, pulling out a dark red jacket, the hood lined with a black fluffy material you couldn’t feel through the barrier of your gloves. It looked soft at least. “This’ll be perfect for you, Buck!”

Bucky just stared at you, his eyebrows furrowing into a hard line. “No,” he said.

“Yes,” you insisted, unzipping it and forcing it over his shoulders - to his credit, he didn’t put up much of a fight. “It’ll keep you warm.” You stood back after you zipped it up and flipped the hood up to cover his snow-mussed hair.

The sight was comical.

You burst into a fit of laughter the longer you stared - Bucky was covered from his head to his knees in the burgundy fabric, the stiffness of the cut didn’t allow for much movement in his arms so they sat slightly raised from his sides, and he had the world’s most exaggerated pout on his lips.

Your phone camera couldn’t have caught it quick enough before Bucky shucked it off with a groan. It was for posterity, of course, he was the President of a club after all.

“Babe?”

You started. Bucky was staring at you from the doorway, a slight smile on his lips when he saw you were in fact dressed, but you were holding his sweater and fiddling with it distractedly as you remembered. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay-” You blanched, your stomach knotting itself over and over with nerves. “Are they here?”

“No,” Bucky assured, leaning against the doorframe. “Jus’ came to check on you, you were takin’ a while, is all.”

You stood and walked over to him, and he held out his arms in an offer of a hug. “Love you, Buck,” you mumbled into his chest, squeezing him tightly.

“Not as much as I love you, sweetheart,” Bucky kissed the top of your head and guided you out of the room. “Now let’s do the finishin’ touches.”

An hour later, you sat on the couch, your knee bouncing in a nervous tic while Bucky organised the plates and cutlery, when the rumbling sound of bikes came from the street. “Buck! They’re here,” you rushed as you stood to look out the window to see Peter and Sam pull into the driveway on their bikes, while Steve drove Nat’s car and parked behind them.

“Let ‘em in!” Bucky called from the kitchen, the clink of cutlery against plates backing his request.

Another vision struck you as you strode to the door, giving you pause.

The clock showed it was five in the afternoon when the doorbell rang. A gentleman, punctual, and good looking? What more could the universe throw at me, you wondered. Bucky, after many attempts to bribe you that were all met with uncertainty, had finally hollered cheerfully when you finally let him pick you up and take you out on a date.

That date was tonight, five on the dot.

You opened the door slowly and the sight that awaited you took your breath away. While you had only seen Bucky in his casual dress, tonight he had gone the extra mile with a pair of black jeans, plain white v-neck shirt, and a worn but neat blazer. Forget good looking, he was downright fucking sexy. “Wow,” you managed, unable to gather the wit to say something half decent and complementary.

Bucky grinned, offering a bouquet of flowers that more or less made your heart skip a beat. “Not too bad yourself, sweetheart,” he said, his gaze roving over your figure. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

It was your first date, and arguably the best one you had ever been on.

A knock on the door pulled you from your reverie and you plastered a big smile on your face - your family will walk through that door, just as Bucky did all those months ago, and they were here to stay.

“Sweets!” Peter cried as you opened the door, the containers of food in his arms balanced precariously as he leant over to meet you halfway for a hug.

“Hey, Pete,” you pointed towards the kitchen, “Bucky’s working away in there, take the food on through!” He did so and you turned to greet Sam, who was already cheerfully smiling.

“Hey, Sweets,” he said happily, bringing you in for a side hug before he strode inside to follow Peter.

Then Nat appeared, looking just as excited as you felt, for once. “Hey!” She pulled you into a hug and rubbed your back, squeezing one last time before pulling back to take the containers from Steve and following Peter and Sam.

“How’re you doin’, darlin’?” Steve asked, hugging you tightly. “Been lookin’ forward to this the whole time.”

“I’m great, Stevie,” you smiled up at him, and he grinned back. “Come in, come in.”

You followed Steve back into the house when you caught sight of Peter in the hallway, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet - he looked like he was going to jump out of his skin in his excitement. It reminded you of the first time you had met him.

The smallest, and youngest member of Bucky’s club had captured your interest the most. It wasn’t from a romantic stand point - Bucky had your heart after all - but Peter, he had been introduced as, was a literal ball of energy with so much enthusiasm that if Bucky ordered him to jump, he would do so only after asking how high.

His sheer level of excitable energy was a lot to take in, but you felt drawn to him - an uncharacteristic maternal urge overtaking you before you could stop it.

“Hello, Peter,” you greeted, shaking his hand. “It’s good to meet you.”

“You too!” Peter rushed, letting go of your hand and gesturing wildly. “Buck-” He stopped suddenly and eyed Bucky, who had turned to talk to Sam, apprehensively. “Boss, h-he’s been telling us all about you, it’s just so great to finally meet you!”

And as it turns out, time didn’t change his level of enthusiasm. That in itself, was a blessing.

“Sweets!” Peter gushed when he caught sight of you. “Can we do presents first?”

Bucky peered around the corner of the kitchen and nodded once before disappearing again. “We can,” you said, gesturing to the living room. “Take a seat and we can all open them, okay?”

If Peter wasn’t a fully grown man, you could have sworn he was a child. His excitement was palpable in the air and you couldn’t help but feel bolstered in your own eagerness. “Everyone, presents,” you called, taking a seat next to Peter while the others filtered in. Bucky sat beside you on the couch and threw an arm over your shoulder.

The exchange of presents went over with minimal cursing, although there were balls of wrapping paper thrown in retaliation for gag gifts - but everyone loved the thoughtfulness of yours, having taken into consideration everything, down to the insignificant details you had heard (or more accurately, overheard) in your decision for each member of your family.

Bucky was especially enamoured with his gift. It was a model of an Indian, identical down to the smallest detail and the absolute shock and jubilation in his expression was worth every penny spent.

“You okay, babe?”

Bucky jolted, having not heard you approach. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, and you frowned. “Jus’ thinkin’, is all.”

“That’s dangerous.”

“Ha, ha,” Bucky deadpanned.

You moved to stand next to him, offering another cup of coffee that he gratefully accepted. “Do you want to tell me what that pretty head of yours was thinking about?”

Bucky only narrowed his eyes in contempt, and you giggled. “I was thinkin’ of my dad,” he explained. “He used to collect model cars and bikes.”

You knew where this was going and you steeled yourself, talking of his father was always painful for him. “Yeah, you’ve mentioned it before.”

“Anyway,” he continued, a faraway look in his eyes. “I’ve always wanted my own, y’know, of my bike. He would have loved it.”

Fighting valiantly against the cry of triumph that built in your chest, you soothed him until he was smiling again, ever oblivious to your plan.

When it came time to open your present, Bucky had taken a leaf from Peter’s book - trembling slightly with apprehension, but most of all, excitement. You noticed this as he handed you a box, the shape very, very familiar. “I knew you were lying,” you giggled, and Bucky just poked his tongue out in retaliation.

The wrapping paper came away easily to reveal a plain box, nondescript and completely void of clues.

“Jus’ open it, doll,” Bucky urged, and you rolled your eyes.

You lifted the lid of the box, peered inside, and the world came to a stop. Your breath caught and you stared, transfixed.

A frame, a beautiful ebony black with gold finishings, held a photo you had never seen before. It was from that fateful day when Bucky had first introduced you to his family as his girlfriend. The party that had transpired was one for the ages, and you knew Nat was taking photos, insisting that she wanted to start scrapbooking again.

You stared at your own photographed smile, breathtaking and blinding, the love and adoration in your gaze as you looked at Bucky while he smiled for the camera - it was too much. “Oh my god,” you whispered, your hand moved to cover your mouth to quieten the sob.

Bucky moved beside you and placed a kiss to your temple, holding you close in your state of shock. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

The frame was placed gently back down into the box, and then the box onto the coffee table. “You okay, Sweets?” Nat asked.

In lieu of an answer, you launched yourself into Bucky’s embrace, colliding against his chest and he let out a quiet, “oof!”

Bucky held you tightly while the others made soft noises of awe. “I love it so much, Bucky, oh my god,” you breathed, clutching at his shirt while you wept. You felt his chest rumble with quiet laughter and he continued to hold you, grounding you against the wave of emotions that threatened to pull you under.

Never in your life had you received such a gift so heartfelt and personal. You almost felt like this was all a dream and you pinched yourself subtly just to make sure - but you weren’t dreaming. Bucky had just listened to you, more than you realised.

You stared at the empty wall in your living room with your hands on your hips, a multitude of plans and ideas fighting to be heard at the sight of a blank canvas.

“What’re you up to, baby?” Bucky asked, coming to stand next to you, oblivious to the turmoil. “You stare any harder at that wall and it’ll crumble.”

“I want to do something,” you trailed off, letting his jab go unacknowledged just this once. You had a mission to focus on. “But I can’t decide.”

“Well,” Bucky sighed, taking a seat on the arm of the recliner. “Do you have any ideas?”

“I’d love to make a picture wall, y’know, like those ones on Pinterest or something.”

Bucky looked at you, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Pinterest?”

“That’s an explanation for another day,” you mumbled, and Bucky huffed a laugh. “But it’s where people hang frames and frames of pictures; family, friends, pets, etcetera, and it fills the empty space. It makes it a home.”

You missed the cunning smile on Bucky’s lips as you turned back to the wall - for once, you were the oblivious one.

With the sound of grumbling bellies, you sat up in Bucky’s lap and declared it to be time for lunch. The table was full to the brim with food, and surrounded on all sides by family; Bucky sat at the head of the table while you sat to his right, Peter was next to you and Sam was at the other end, and Steve sat opposite you, next to Nat.

It triggered another memory, seeing everyone gathered around the table with eager hands and excited conversation.

As an idea to introduce you to the wilder side, Bucky thought it would be a good start to host a cookout, just with him and the club and when the two of you arrived, food in hand, you had been swarmed by the guys and Nat while they gushed about how excited they were.

The meal itself was much calmer compared to the frenzy of your arrival, adding in the drinking game that Peter had foolishly challenged Nat to, it turned out down right hysterical.

“Peter, you’ll regret it,” Steve cautioned, staring at Nat as he spoke as though he could dissuade the redhead from the challenge.

“No I won’t,” Peter insisted. He walked towards the bar and Nat followed. The pressure around your waist made you look over at Bucky, his arrogant smirk only fuelling your trepidation.

“Is he going to be okay?” You whispered, leaning into Bucky’s hold while he chuckled quietly.

“Absolutely not.”

Battling a Russian in a drinking game would have never ended well, no matter who it was, but it was especially unfortunate that it was Peter; he was holed up in the bathroom for hours while Nat cheerily downed another five shots in his absence, nonplussed at how her blood was essentially pure vodka at that point.

The chatter at the table reached a dull roar and it pulled you to your senses, and you cleared your throat loudly. It fell silent while everyone turned their attention to you. “I think we better dig in, guys,” you announced, gesturing at the spread of food heaped on the table. “We can do speeches later.”

No one needed to be told twice.

Plates were filled to the brim and cleared just as quick, and glasses of wine and soda knocked back like shots. A quiet hum of indiscernible talk filled the gaps between the clinking of cutlery while many of them went back for seconds, and before long, everyone sat back in their seats, slouching and sleepy from a belly full of food.

Bucky stirred next to you while you tidied your plate, preparing to take them into the kitchen when he placed a ring-adorned hand on your arm. “Wait a minute, doll,” he whispered and then he got to his feet.

A hush naturally fell over the table when Bucky cleared his throat, and he met everyone’s gaze, one by one, until he looked at you.

“First off,” Bucky began, smiling softly at you before he glanced at the glass in his hand. You turned in your seat and stared, your attention entirely focused on him. “I wanna thank you all for coming into my girl’s home today, you all know how much it means to her, to me.” A murmured ascent went around the table and Peter placed a hand on your shoulder. You placed your hand over his and smiled.

“This year has been one hell of a curveball, both on us and as a club,” Bucky continued, furrowing his brows in thought. “We’ve had deals go south, many close calls, not to fuckin’ mention there’s been times when I came close to losin’ my shit.” Quiet laughter followed the confession and Bucky grinned sheepishly.

“What I’m tryin’ to say, I guess,” Bucky hesitated, and you reached a hand out to hold his free one to give it a reassuring squeeze. He smiled down at you and kept hold of your hand while he continued. “I wouldn’t be sayin’ this shit if Sweets hadn’t come into our lives, for starters,” you giggled at his admission - he was always a softie, just deep, deep down. “But for a man that used to have nothin’, and now I have everythin’ I could have asked for, I’m grateful. It hasn’t always been easy, I’ve fought for what I’ve got every step of the way, but this year made me realise just how fuckin’ lucky I am.”

As Bucky spoke, he kept his head down. But when he finally looked up, his normally bright eyes were misted over and stormy, shining in the light of the room with unshed tears.

The room was silent, but not of tension or bitterness - it was as though they were hanging on every word he spoke, unsure if what they were hearing was real. Bucky had always been the master of stoicity, an unreadable force that was violent in its unpredictability. Though, you knew. You knew exactly just what Bucky was going to say next and you felt that your heart would seize once the words were uttered.

A wolf was always stronger with a pack, and what a pack it was.

You watched as Bucky stormed into the clubhouse, his expression murderous in its hatred, its fury. “Church!” He barked, making Peter jump to his feet beside you, while the others strode into the room. Peter met your eyes briefly before the door closed with a thud.

An hour later and after many muffled shouts, Bucky was the first through the door and while he didn’t look any calmer, he looked collected - a cold, calculating rage that turned your stomach to ice. “Nat,” Bucky said sharply, and her head popped up from behind the bar, a brow raised. “Watch out for her.”

“You got it,” Nat replied, abandoning her mindless cleaning to come sit next to you, your puzzle suddenly the most interesting thing in the room.

Bucky glanced at you, blew a kiss, and stalked out the door. The boys followed, some holding shotguns, others glocks. It was terrifying, but at the sight, you finally understood.

This brotherhood was a pack of wolves - when one was threatened, may whatever god they believed in watch over whoever dared threaten them. No one could hide from the devil, not for long.

“My family is everything to me,” Bucky said, bringing you back to the present, his voice strained with such intense emotion that was mirrored by everyone in the room. “And I love my family, more than anythin’,” he looked at you as he said it, and the dam broke.

“Buck,” you breathed as he sniffled, and you stood up to embrace him, he let you hold him tight while soft voices made their agreement heard.

“We love you, Buck,” Steve said while Nat nodded, a soft, adoring smile upon her face.

“You’re the best, Boss,” Peter agreed, his own eyes misty with unshed tears.

Sam cleared his throat, his expression carefully clear. “We’ll always have our differences, Bucky, but we’re always gonna be family, ain’t no friends in this house.”

Everyone chuckled and you let go of Bucky, guiding him to his seat while he wiped his eyes. “I knew you had heart in there, Buck,” you teasingly whispered, just loud enough for him to hear and he laughed quietly.

It was late when Bucky finally came to bed, following you along like a lost puppy and looking so out of place. You knew it would be hard, especially the first night, but you hadn’t expected it to be this difficult to get him settled in.

“You ready for bed, baby?” You asked quietly, pulling free a set of pyjamas from your closet. The small mumble in reply was as good as you’d get, you thought, and you changed while he stripped his shirt off and sat up against the headboard.

Following suit, you sidled up to him and wrapped your arms around his middle, while one of his came over your shoulder, the other rested atop yours across his stomach. “Wanna watch a movie,” you fumbled for the remote on the bedside table when you felt Bucky nod stiffly. “You’re all right, handsome,” you whispered. It broke your heart that he felt so on edge, but he had wanted this - you couldn’t refuse him.

The movie started and the two of you shifted down the bed so you were laying down, your head on his chest.

“I love you.”

Bucky froze. His body coiled in preparation to tear from the room for fear of rejection, but the admission only made your heart soar. You were floating - Bucky loved you, just like you loved him.

“I love you, too,” you muttered, and you felt the tension in his body bleed away. You knew he had a heart, and here he was, exposing it for you to hold.

And you would hold it, treasure it, as though it was priceless - because it was.

You watched as Steve clapped Bucky on the shoulder, the others looking at him with adoration and reverence - a true leader, one who wasn’t afraid to show the cracks in his armour.

“Okay, since Buck has started it off, it’s only fair that I go next,” you said, and all of their attention turned to you. With a deep breath, you grounded yourself for what was to come.

“I never knew, sitting on the back of Bucky’s bike that day, that my life would change.”

It was silent. Their rapt attention honing in on your words just as they did for Bucky, but you caught Nat’s slight smirk.

“I remember being terrified to sit on Bucky’s bike.” There were smirks and snorts of laughter at your own confession, and you couldn’t help crack a smile. “I hated Carol even more, for being right in the end, mostly. When Bucky asked me to put my arms around him, I could have died then and there,” Bucky laughed and grinned, that adorable nose scrunch made your heart skip a beat. “But, I never, ever, regretted it.”

The Marvel Cafe was a low hive of activity thankfully, and you made your way inside to find Carol. It had been about a week since you had sat behind Bucky on his Indian and he had taken you away, stealing your heart in the process, and you were determined to give Carol a piece of your mind.

You may not have ever appreciated having a wing woman, especially while being so shy, but you had a feeling that Carol had changed your life. The woman deserved some gratitude, at least.

“Is Carol in?” You asked the barista, searching for your friend in the dissipating crowd. The lunch rush was finally ending, you guessed.

“She’s out back,” the barista answered before turning on her heel to stick her head through the open door just behind her station. “Carol, someone’s here for you!”

Carol spontaneously appeared, and her grin was full of smug satisfaction. “Well? How are things?” She directed you to a table and gestured for you to take a seat and you delved into the specifics; how it had been, how you had grown close with Bucky in such a short time, how you enjoyed hanging out and spending time with the club.

“You were right,” you hummed. Carol raised a brow, a smirk growing on her lips. “About him not being as bad. He’s a good man.”

“You’re welcome,” she quipped, her smirk morphing into a wide smile, full of affection and a not-so-hidden jab of ‘I told you so’.

A beat of silence passed where you gathered more courage, before you continued.

“I remember when you took me to a ‘bike meet’,” you pointedly stared at Bucky, but he didn’t look at all abashed for his white lie. Cheeky bastard, you thought. “We ran into that other club, their President and someone else, I think. It was the first time that I had been nervous. But,” you hesitated, the little nugget of information you were about to share exposed you. “I couldn’t help but feel the thrill, I was for sure scared something would happen - it was volatile enough.”

“I knew I was safe, though,” you continued. “I knew nothing would happen to me. And I guess that’s just how it’s been since.” At your admission, Bucky smiled softly. “If I hadn’t jumped on the back of Bucky’s bike all those months ago,” your voice wavered and the tightness in your throat returned, when Nat put her hand up.

“Just a minute, Sweets,” Nat said, reaching for the glasses and the bottle of whiskey that Sam had brought. “I feel like we need a drink for this.”

You laughed and nodded. “I think we do too.”

Nat handed out the glasses, everyone holding theirs as their attention turned to you once more.

“If I hadn’t been foolishly brave,” you continued, determined to force the words of gratitude out - they had to know, they had to know just how important they all were. How important Bucky was. “I would never have gotten the family I have today. A family, full of black sheep and misfits, that would drop everything for one another with no questions asked.”

You sniffled as a tear ran down your cheek. Bucky held your hand tightly, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles soothingly.

“Thank you for everything.” Everyone smiled as you met their gazes, not a single set of eyes dry. “Thank you for being part of me, because I would be lost without the lot of you,” you looked at Bucky, meeting his eyes and staring into his soul, just as you always did. “I would be lost, if it wasn’t for you.”

“To Sweets!” Steve said suddenly, his eyes shining in the light. Everyone’s glasses raised in solidarity, including Bucky’s.

You grabbed your glass again, and raised it. “No,” you said, smiling. “To family.”

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

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