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jincherie · 4 years

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say so | knj & ksj [m]

! — COMMISSION — !

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

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

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

— masterlist | posted; 17.08.2020

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You—!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

X – x – x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No way. No way.

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

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

X – x – x

You’re ashamed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can only resign yourself to your fate.

x - x - x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"MINA!"

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

x- x - x

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

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

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

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

“y/n! Over here!”

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

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

It’s probably the butterflies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then, there’s you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

x x x x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s a special performance, tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was it made... for you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you cannot believe the atrocity of your luck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

x x x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Off you go, sweetheart!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, y/n, just a moment!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

x - x - x

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

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

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

That you’d missed so much.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yah!”

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

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

“Woah, bubs, are you okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey!”

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

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

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

x - x - x - x

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then had come the show.

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

Until tonight, that is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, at least now they know what to do.

x — x — x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mr. Leigh? What did you want to t—”

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

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

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

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

You don’t even know where to begin.

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t lie.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

x - x

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

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

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

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

“Ah-ah, bubs.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like this? Not likely.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, I’m—”

Flash. Click.

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

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

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

“Jin!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Click.

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

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

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

“Are you ready, baby?”

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

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

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

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

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

Who are you to say no?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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thepaperpanda · 3 years

Text

♥ Dangerously Perfect Match ♥ || Part II

♥Part I♥

Summary: You’re the Earl of little settlement deep inside the forests of Norway. After Ragnar Lothbrok’s death you and your warriors travel to England to support Ragnar’s sons in the battle against Christians. Shortly after a victory, you and Ivar turned out to be a dangerously perfect match?

Warnings: explicit content - smut

Words: 8846

Authors: Cass & Rouge

It's not that you all expected plain sailing, or for winds to be kind, the waves to be gentle; it's that you trusted your ships to carry yourselves to shore no matter the weather. It was a confidence born of faith, of feeling to your bones that with such tenacity you could achieve anything at all. They said it's only impossible until it's done, that was your motto under all skies, upon all seas.

Thankfully, Gods fostered your attempts of getting back to Norway - despite the storms and heavy rain, all the longships made it back to the homeland.

A smile spread across your lips, it was good to be back home.

Dressed in your usual attire with addition of a new warm cloak gifted by Ivar, you stood at the front of your ship. Holding the ropes tightly you turned to your troops. "We made it, friends! Gods blessed us and allowed us to return home so we can fight yet another day!,” You yelled and your people's voices reared loudly.

Ivar kept his eyes fixed on you since the moment you left England. He wasn't truly happy with you sailing among your warriors but it's your decision, with which he couldn't argue. They needed their Earl after all. He rolled head back to rest it against the wooden edge of the boat.

"Land sighted, master!," One of his men shouted.

"Drop the canvas," Ivar ordered as he propped head on the edge of the boat to admire the beautifulness of the shoreline.

Of course, his glance also moved to look at you. Oh, how he missed your body next to his.

Hvitserk's tone pulled him out of thoughtfulness. "Are you sure it's a good idea? Harald Finehair isn't a person you can fully trust."

"I trust no one," Ivar snapped back. "I have the last say."

You walked among your people, gently touching the shoulders of your warriors. It was a simple gesture, a little bit of a comfort and small thanks for their loyalty.

For now this was all you could do, to show your gratitude toward them all.

The ship moored in Harald's docks. You heard a lot about him and his ambitions, and honestly you expected much more from his settlement.

After jumping off of your ship you let out a sigh of relief. Solid ground under your feet. "I hope you didn't miss me too much, Ivar?," You asked him with a cocky smile which was partially hidden by your mask. Since it was damaged in the battle you didn't bother to fix it or make a new you. It was enough your scars weren't fully visible.

Ivar's blue eyes glistened in the rays of the setting sun, and his long lashes casted a little shadow on his clearly defined cheeks. "You need to answer this question to yourself, dear Earl."

After these words he passed you, offering you a mischievous grin as he did.

Hvitserk, who jumped out of the boat on the pier, gave you a long glance, his brows cocked. "Why are you questioning such an obvious thing?"

The red line on his nose reminded you about your last true interaction back in York. "It's called teasing, Hvitserk. Men love it. It's time to learn it."

Humming, you quickly boarded the ship that brothers traveled in. You crouched in front of the bishop and gently caressed his cheek to see if he even survived the long trip.

Man instantly reacted to your touch; he winced and spat right into your face. "Get off me, heathen whore."

You flinched and growled, wiping the spit of your face. Getting up to your feet, you pointed at one of your men. "Bring me one of my furs." Once the fur was in your hands, you wrapped it around the man that just insulted you. "Since Ivar has big predictions when it comes to you. The last thing we want is you getting ill."

Bishop was glaring up at you, not being sure whether you were mocking him or not. Your behavior was completely out of anything he could have expected. Deep inside Heahmund appreciated the fur being wrapped around his shoulders as he was cold.

"Now. You should be all warm," you muttered, tucking the fur in all the right places to shield him completely from the bitter cold. "Now, you can say that a heathen whore helped you." After those words you simply walked away to join Ivar and Hvitserk.

Two men tugged on the ropes wrapped tightly around his neck and wrists, pulling bishop behind them. He hated his position, but it was still better than death from pagans hands.

Harald groaned annoyed, getting comfortable in his throne. Last thing he expected or really needed was Ragnarssons visiting him. He already knew that young Ivar meant troubles. King watched them walk inside the great hall.

Hvitserk was the first one in, taking a comfortable for him spot on one of the tables, while Ivar shuffled behind with his crutch.

To his surprise there was one more visitor; a young woman in a mask. Suddenly the visit became much more interesting. "Ivar and Hvitserk Lothbrok. Why did you not return to Kattegat? I can also see you brought an interesting guest," Harald said with his deep, hoarse voice, pointing his finger at you.

Ivar stopped at the podium and leaned his weight on his crutches. "She's my guest," he said, pointing his chin on you. "You know we couldn't return to Kattegat. That witch, Lagherta, is still a Queen. Me and my brother are looking for alliances that could let us overtake the throne. The throne that belongs to us."

Harald raised from his throne and walked closer to the guests, nodding his head. "Ah, yes. As I can see your need for revenge on Lagertha is burning with a flame that will never go out." King smiled and took your hands into his much bigger and warmer palms. "I know the sons of Ragnar but I have never seen you with any of them. Who are you?"

"My people call me Earl Wolf but my name is Y/N. It's an honor to meet the future king of whole Norway," you said with your voice sweet as honey.

"The pleasure is all mine, Y/N," Harald said before placing a kiss to your palm.

Ivar kept his face straight but the fact you let Harald touch you pierced his heart like a cold needle. "Can we get to the planning? I am not going to spend another hour waiting for you two to exchange pleasantries," young man growled.

Hvitserk, who observed the entire situation while standing in the back of the chamber, snorted quietly. He would never think his brother fell in love so easily.

"Ivar. You brought a beautiful woman in and don't even let me take all of her beauty in," king rolled his eyes.

"As a lady, you flatter me but as the Earl I need to agree. We came here in important matters," you said. "social talks can wait until much calmer times. I can promise you we will have a moment for ourselves."

Listening to you, Harald smiled softly and nodded. "Beautiful and smart. Let's get to planning then. Ivar, I am listening. What do you expect?"

Ivar turned head to throw you a cold glance; did you just plan to spend some time with Harald? Did you really say it aloud in his presence?

"Let's get somewhere where not many curious eyes are on us."

Hvitserk, seeing how his brother and rest are moving to another chamber, followed them.

Oh, Ivar was mad. This is exactly what you wanted, your plan was to rile him up and to see if something interesting will happen. You followed them to be present during the planning.

Talks were long and boring.

Ivar and Harald were arguing for a long time and it wasn't about troops anymore.

The youngest Ragnarson wanted to be the king of the Kattegat after chasing Lagertha, Bjørn and Ubbe away.

At the same time Harald wanted to carry on his great dream of ruling whole Norway.

Thankfully, in the end, they somehow found a way to agree on something.

"You will be a king but when you die the title is passed on me," Harald said, rubbing his forehead.

You let out a little yawn and rubbed your eyes tired. Travel and long boring planning took a toll on you.

Hvitserk didn't say anything during talks; instead, he ate at least four apples and was playing with his little dagger which he used to cut the fruits. It wasn't his thing, all the great planning. All he wanted to do was to return back to Kattegat which was his true home. He didn't really want to stand against Bjørn or Ubbe, but did he have other choice? The decision was made the day he got out of the ship to join his youngest brother.

Ivar put his chalice on the table, nodding briefly at Harald's words. "Sounds like we have it. Just don't be surprised if I'll rule for many long years." The Boneless got up from the chair he sat at and using his crutches, he slowly walked off.

"My men will take care of that Christian prisoner of yours, Ivar," Harald said. "Whatever his point is. If I were you I would just kill him."

You let a soft sigh and decided to join Hvitserk, silently asking him for a piece of an apple.

"But you're not me," Ivar smirked widely at Harald and left.

Hvitserk was highly surprised by your request, but of course, as he had a good soul, he shared one huge apple with you, cutting it in half so it would be easier for you to eat. "You're welcome," he muttered slightly.

"Thank you, Hvitserk. You are a kind soul," you gave him a sweet smile and looked at Harald. "My king? May I know where I can find our prisoner?”

When you received the seeked answer, you bowed your head and walked off.

Bishop was held in a barn, tied to a metal pole in the middle which provided the stability to the roof and construction itself.

His hands were weak as he was forced to hold them above his head for the entire time. The blood circulation faltered and he barely could feel his fingers anymore. Yet, bishop Heahmund was praying quietly. Man was saturated with the intelligent energy of countless prayers - as such being able to carry out supernatural acts. "Credo in Deum Patrem omnipotentem, Creatorem caeli et terrae; et in Iesum Christum, Filium eius unicum, Dominum nostrum...," He was whispering all the time.

You stopped in the door and watched him, praying, it was quite an interesting sight.

"Those have to be a made up babble. No one speaks like this," saying this, you stepped inside and smiled seeing your fur on him, so you dared to point it out. "They let you keep it."

"What do you want, heathen?," He asked weakly. "If you came to kill me, I'll gladly accept my faith. I'm ready, in my God.

As if nothing ever happened, you simply placed yourself on his laps. "You know... I am just a heathen to you but I do have a real name. Maybe I should call you Christian from now on? What do you say, Heahmund?” You presented him the piece of an apple you got from Hvitserk and smiled innocently. "I also brought you this."

"Get off me, woman," he tried to kick you off, but your hips pressed to his side's strongly, holding him motionless. "I don't need your mercy!"

"It's not a mercy. It's called help, you Christian don't know what it is?," You asked with a smile, purposely pressing your hand into him. "Come on, I am sure you are hungry."

He indeed was hungry. Heahmund parted his lips, waiting for you to slip a slice of apple into his mouth.

"Good boy. See? I am not so bad," you chuckled and slipped the slice into his mouth. "I'll get you more if you will want."

He chewed viciously, gagging himself with a not fully chewed piece of the fruit. Truth was he was starving for the last few days and he would give everything for a piece of bread.

"Slow down, we are not going to starve you. I'll make sure of this," you said quietly, touching his shoulder.

He almost gasped as the skin under his clothes were bruised and swollen.

"Right, they got you bad during that battle. Maybe I should undress you and take care of these injuries?," You asked in a hushed voice. "I am sure you would feel much better. You need to be in good shape since Ivar has great plans for you."

Bishop's eyes fixed on your face. He hated your touch on his body but you didn't try to kill him.

Looking him in the eyes your hand started to unbutton the upper part of his armor, not breaking the eye contact for even one second.

Little did you know a pair of incredibly blue eyes were watching your every move. Ivar leant his forehead against the wooden wall of the barn, clenching teeth and rolling palm in a fist. He offered you everything, yet you were still chasing the fucking, useless priest. What man had that he didn't? He felt a strange thing, a twinge of envy.

Slowly you pulled away the armor and hissed, seeing his injury. "Oh, you poor thing, just look at what they did to you." You hand gently touched his skin, making sure to not press the blue and purple spots.

You could hear noises outside the building.

Bishop's eyes widened as he looked past you.

Three warriors, every of them armed in axes walked out of the darkness of the room. "Earl Wolf, you're going with us. Now."

You glared over your shoulder with bored and annoyed look

"What do you want, huh? I am busy, who is even summoning me in such a terrible moment?," You almost growled.

"Now," one of the men repeated and showed the exit with his ax.

Rolling your eyes you let out a loud sigh. "Maybe we will return to that. Only Gods know."

You adjusted Bishop's clothes as much as you could before getting up from his knees. Turning to the warrior you shrugged. "Lead the way," you said and followed them.

They walked in a silence through empty paths of settlement, eventually stopping in front of a little hut almost at the edge of it.

One of them pointed at the door and they turned with their backs to the building.

There was not much you could do but follow this game but honestly you were also really excited to see what is hidden behind the door. After taking a deep breath, you stepped inside.

The hut seemed empty and the only source of light inside were candles standing on the shelves around the chamber and hanging in the metal candle holders attached to the ceiling.

The sweet scent of mead filled the room, and you could spot a chalice full of alcohol placed at the table.

On the right side of the hut there stood a bed with many furs on top of it; it looked inviting. In the end the place was cozy and warm. Next to the chalice you found a piece of paper with one word written on it: UNDRESS.

You walked around the place. It was interesting, who set it up? There were two possible options. Harald who looked really interested in you or Ivar wanted to return the favor from York. That could be fun. Taking the chalice you sat down on the bed.

After drinking a few little sips of the really tasty mead you started to undress.

This actually felt good, as much as you loved your clothes the thick leather was annoying after too many hours in it. Naked, you laid down on the bed and waited.

Suddenly, the candles standing closest to the bed faded away. Then, the candles at the table, and the last to fade were the ones in candle holders.

You sat up and frowned. "Great," muttering, you lied back down, you weren't going to light those candles again.

And then, out of sudden, you could feel a soft touch on your ankle, followed by a hum. Your body's first idea was to react and protect yourself by kicking whoever tried to sneak on you but somehow you stopped yourself. The muscles only twitched a little. Giggling you shook your head. "Ivar, love. Don't do this, I do not want to hurt you."

"Prescient, aren't you?," His voice husky as he crawled fully out of the shadows. His hand placed against your leg and moved up , to rest on your knee as he brushed his full lips against your calf.

You let out a short laugh and hummed. "No other man would do such a thing for me. I am more than sure it was you. Besides, I recognized your hand, love."

Oh, if you could only see the grimace on his face. He continued to brush his lips against your soft, delicate skin until he reached your thighs. Only then he let go of your body and focused on getting on the bed, which was easy for him after all those years of crawling and supporting his upper body part on hands.

"But to send armed guards for me. That was... Interesting idea and the whole preparation for this? I feel like a real princess, you surprised me," you hummed and removed the mask that was still placed on your face. It won't be needed anyway.

He didn't reply, just slipped one of his hands between your thighs, forcing you gently to parted legs. His skilled fingers pressed to your pussy, where he rubbed little circles. "Was it wise to tease me with King Harald?"

"For this all? Of course it was," you said with a humor in your voice and opened your legs to give him as much access as he only needed. "I loved your face, this was my goal, sweetie."

"Was it?," He whispered as his fingers slipped lower to be gently shifted inside of your pussy. "Mmm, nice and wet."

"Yes it was. Everyone can fuck but build it up? It makes stuff more fun and pleasurable," you answered his question and let out a quiet sound. "Wet for my king."

He rolled to his side and to his belly in the end, diving right between your legs. He trailed the tip of his tongue up and down your clit, offering you a few long licks, then Ivar wrapped his mouth fully around your pussy, sucking on it lightly.

You gasped and let out a quiet moan. He was learning fast, he was making you proud.

He let you put your legs on his strong shoulders as he continued to eat your pussy out, humming in appreciation of the taste you left on his tongue. Soon, his mouth was accompanied by two of his slender fingers, slipping rhythmically in and out of your slick cunt.

"You like it? Don't you? You love it after our first night," you said playfully. Your hand moved into his hair to keep him close the whole other hand traveled up your breasts to tease your nipples.

Ivar growled which sent a little vibrations to your slick pussy. He placed a kiss to it and spat on it to make you even wetter than before. His fingers in you were joined by his long, skilled tongue as he tried his best to lick your inner walls and suck in your sweet juices.

His action made you shiver and moan for him even louder. Biting your lips hard, you nuzzled to the furs beneath your body, focusing on the pleasure he was giving you.

He fingered you until you cum hardly around his fingers. Ivar gave one last lick and sucked his fingers clean, murmuring. "Oh, sweet Y/N, you taste so fucking sweetly I could eat you all day and night long."

Ivar placed kisses to your tummy and licked his way up your body, catching one of your nipples between his teeth, as gently as possible.

The climax washed over you and you tried your best in calming down your breath.

You muttered at the feeling of his mouth and teeth around your sensitive flesh. "I would like to taste myself... Can I?”

Ivar continued with licking his way up your body and finally his lips crushed on yours, and he slipped his tongue past your lips so you could taste yourself.

You returned the kiss and moaned loudly at the sweet taste of your own juices. Dominating his kiss was no use, he was too much into it, both of your hands moved into his hair which to your own surprise were completely loose.

Suddenly, a cold, sharp blade was put to your neck. "I distinctly remember saying I don't like to be mocked," he whispered into your ear.

You gasped loudly and your lips parted. "Ivar... You could warn me that you want to add a knife to bed," swallowing heavily, you could feel the blade against your skin.

"If I would there would be no fun, sweetheart," Ivar kissed your cheek. "Did you enjoy yourself with him? Huh? Did you?," He asked and the blade was pressed more to your skin.

It hit you then. He probably saw you with the Bishop or someone told him. You laughed loudly. "Oh, so this got you going? It made you so angry you planned all of this? Just to pin me down with a knife to my neck?"

"Maybe," he whispered. "I just want to remind you that you're mine, I marked you as mine back in York, and nothing is going to change it."

Ivar hid the knife in his pocket and got off the bed.

You giggled and looked at him while biting your lips. Even if you already knew that Boneless was crazy enough to kill, it didn't frighten you at all. To be completely honest, this action brought a different reaction for you. "I know I am yours. I have never claimed the opposite. You are my lover, my future king," you voice was a soft pur that you knew he loved. Your inner thighs rubbed together in the seek of any friction.

He used his crutches to get to the table and sat on the chair. He refilled the chalice you drank from and downed it quickly.

His eyes glistened in the darkness in a dim moonlight falling onto the chamber through a little window. He was watching you. "Yet you still seemed to seek some adventures. Who is going to be next to be blessed with your body on top of them? Harald? Or maybe my sweet, crazy brother? Or maybe you'll fall for Bjørn?"

You hummed, pretending to think. Your teasing game continued. "King Harald would be a fine adventure, I can already imagine what he sounds like in bed; thanks to that voice of his. Ironside... I heard he is big as a bear, it could be a lot of fun to ride him. Hvitserk... Not really the type of a man I enjoy."

Ivar smirked to himself in the darkness. Oh, he was jealous already, that if you continue, he would simply bathe his dagger in your blood watching how the last ounces of life escape your flesh.

Suddenly, the door opened and a young thrall stepped in. Ivar didn't look at her yet gestured for her to come closer.

You sat up on the bed and watched them with your eyebrow raised.

As the girl brought another jug filled with taste mead, she put it carefully on the table and circled the chair Ivar sat on to gently place her palms on his shoulders. She started massaging him, earning a long moan from him.

"What's your name, sweetie?," Ivar asked, his tone low.

"Katia, my lord," she replied.

"How many springs have you lived?"

"17, my lord."

"The younger the better," Ivar turned his head to the young thrall and pulled her into a short kiss.

You watched them, completely taken aback by his action. Honestly, you felt proud of him in some way. Just a few weeks ago back at York he was all shy and unsure of himself, only to do this. Of course Ivar knew what he was doing because it worked. It worked too well.

The jealousy burned deep inside of you, he gave you a taste of your own action.

Ivar grabbed the woman by hand and pulled her into his lap.

Young thrall pulled her shirts up and straddled his lap. Her arms wrapped around his neck. "I never knew I'll be so close to Ivar the Boneless himself, my master."

"Because you won't be for much longer," you growled as you got up from the bed to move closer to them. Your hand moved into her hair and grabbed a handful, pulling her head away. "Listen to me now, child. If you won't get off him right now and leave, I will make sure to cut you in all of the right places to make sure now man will ever touch you."

That's what Ivar hoped for. "You heard the lady," he looked at the thrall but let himself cup one of her boobs briefly. "Leave now, but stay tuned for maybe you'll be needed to warm my alcove one day."

Young girl hissed but obeyed your words. She got off him and smoothened her dress, quickly leaving.

You chuckled watching her run off.

Humming softly you placed yourself on his lap, and immediately moved into his long, dark hair. "Look at that. Ivar the Boneless, a man who a few weeks ago was afraid to lie with a woman for the very first time. Now is making her envy. Don't you know such a woman can be unpredictable, boy?"

"Is that so sweet Y/N?," Your name rolled from his lips as he moved his head closer to your naked body, inhaling your scent as he brushed his lips against your collarbone, his hands in gloves stroked the curves of your waist.

You giggled and continued to play with his hair, scratching his scalp with your long nails. "Oh yes, just as unpredictable as men can be. I think we saw both today."

Your hands moved to his throat and your small palms wrapped around it, squeezing it a little. "I could strangle you now," you whispered as your grip got a bit stronger. "And I should do this, for a knife you pressed to my throat and that thrall but you are lucky enough that I love you."

He kept face straight, chucking darkly at your sudden outburst. "Oh, I think I need to play with thralls some more as it's keeping you going," he whispered and parted his lips, tracing the tip of his tongue along his perfectly shaped teeth.

"I need to visit our prisoner often too," you nodded with a smile. "I still wish to have him in my bed at least for once... As long as he is loyal to my man and his orders."

Ivar's hand moved to grab your hips strongly. "You're such a tease," he mumbled deeply.

You laughed and rolled your hips against him as your hands slipped to his shoulders. "But it gets you going. You love the idea of misbehaving. It makes you jealous and it leads you to anger," you leaned over to whisper against his lips. "And this, my love, leads you to your desire."

He couldn't pretend any longer; you kept him going. A short moan left his parted lips, and his eyes widened a little.

"Ah! There you go. You couldn't keep it up for too long, huh, Ivar?"

With a soft giggle you slipped off of his laps and placed yourself on the floor right between his legs. It was time to return the favor.

He looked down at you while letting a sad gasp out. His palm was placed to your cheek. "You're like no other woman I met in my short life. You make me lose my head, all for you."

You smiled at him sweetly, nuzzling to his palm. "Maybe because you didn't meet the right ones." Your hands moved down his chest and started to work on his pants so you could move them enough to free his member. "You are like no other men I met in my life. You are brave, ruthless and strong despite your flaws. Wonderful leader, lover and warrior."

He smiled. "Come to me, little one," he demanded in a husky voice.

You didn't like this exact order. All you wanted was to make him feel good but still you followed his order, placing yourself back on his laps. "Your wish is my command, my king."

He reached his hand down his body to guide his cock into your cunt. As he did, he let a loud moan and rolled head back, his hands slipped into your hips to hold you strongly.

A soft moan passed your own lips. Even when he worked you hard back in York, you still felt so fucking tight around him. "Fuck... Ivar," you gasped, grabbing the chair back.

He rested his forehead against your chest, letting out some deep gasps when you were slowly going up and down his shaft.

Your hands moved into his hair, scratching his scalp and keeping him as close to you as possible. Soon you started to move faster, moaning and pulling on his hair.

Ivar let out a long, deep grunt as you tugged on his hair. His hands moved down to rest on your ass as he squeezed the flesh hardly, moaning and brushing his lips against your chest.

When you realized he enjoys the hair pulling you let out a soft laugh and used it to pull his head back so you could kiss him deeply.

Ivar stole a kiss from your lips and parted his, gasping harder and harder as he chased his climax. Soon, he milked your pussy, grunting and groaning as he did.

You moaned his name out at the delightful feeling of his seed flooding your cunt. This triggered your own high and your walls tightened around him.

Ivar's arms wrapped tightly around your waist, his forehead rested against your collarbone, he gasped, a few drops of sweat rolled down his neck and forehead.

You smiled and wrapped your arms around him, just to keep him as close as only possible. Humming quietly, you started to play with his hair. "I love your hair, you should be called finehair," you whispered and giggled at your own joke.

He didn't reply as he was buried deep in his thoughts and he was only about to get off his peak. "Yeah," he managed to mumble softly, nuzzling to you.

You chuckled and massaged his scalp, letting him relax and calm down right in your arms after such a strong climax. "You okay there, Ivar?"

He raised his chin and looked you up right in the eyes. "Yes. Go to bed, I'll join you soon but I have one more thing to deal with."

You frowned softly, cupping his cheek. "Like what?"

"I need to speak to my brother. Nothing much. You stay here and warm bed for me."

You kissed his cheek and nodded. Slowly, you remove yourself from him, growling at the feeling of emptiness. "As you wish, love."

The bed was soft and warm thanks to all the furs. You got comfortable and nuzzled to the pillow. "Don't leave me alone for too long or I will have to go and pay our prisoner another visit."

Ivar shifted his floppy cock back into his pants, and growled playfully at your words. "Don't you be worried about that, I won't be long."

He took his crutches and slowly got up from the chair, throwing you a cocky smirk before leaving. Ivar headed to another hut, located almost at the docs. We stepped in without knocking, just like he had it in the habit of his.

Girl that was currently kissing Hvitser jumped in her place and gasped before looking right at Ivar.

It was one of your shield maidens, the one that took most interest in older Ragnarsson back at York.

Hvitserk sighed deeply, seeing his brother. "Brother, as much as I love your company. This is not the best moment," he said and the girl nuzzled to him, hiding from Ivar's eyes.

Ivar offered the girl a brief nod. "Mmm, you're fast like a lightning, brother," Ivar claimed and shifted a chair for himself, placing it right next to the bed. His blue eyes shifted to the girl. "Be a good, little thrall and leave us for a moment."

"I... I am not a thrall. I am Earl Wolf's shield maiden," girl said.

"Go, Asta. Wait outside, we won't talk for long," Hvitser said, patting her shoulder.

Soon the girl was gone and Hvitserk looked at his brother annoyed. "So! What was so important that you decided to interrupt me right now?"

"Hold your horses, brother, you'll have her pussy soon," Ivar frowned as he moved his glance to make sure the girl closed the door. "Remember our last talk? The talk about relationships and things?"

"Yes, I do but I am still not sure if we really did have this time. You are asking for advice when it comes to relationships and bed... Could be just my drunk dream," Hvitserk muttered, crossing arms over his chest. "What about it, Ivar?"

Younger brother used his crutch to poke his brother's thigh. "Can you not be a dick for once in your lifetime?," Ivar asked, frowning hardly, he ran his other hand through his messy hair. "It worked. And I need to know more of those."

"Ivar. I am glad that it worked but I really don't know what else to tell you," Hvitserk said with a shrug. "Tell me about her."

"Like, listen to this, brother," Ivar was excited at the single thought about things he performed with you. "The things you advised me in your drunken state worked, what I mean is that after eating her out she was more eager for other things. Let's not pretend, you're not only older but many women came and went through your bed, so I hate to admit it, but you're more experienced than I am."

Hvitserk laughed and nodded, rubbing his chin with pride. "Well, of course I am. Just... I can tell she likes it rough. So just go with that, Ivar. Listen to her."

Ivar tilted his head like a puppy while listening to the owner. "How can you say such a thing when you haven't seen her?"

"Then why do you ask me what to do when I haven't seen her in action?," Hvitserk asked with a roll of his eyes. "Listen. Every woman is different, you just need to observe and follow your intent or heart if you are really in love... And have heart."

Ivar didn't comment on his brother's words, he only nodded and got up from his spot. He patted Hvitserk's cheek. "Thanks. You can be useful from time to time."

Asta watched Ivar left the hut and immediately went back inside to join Hvitserk.

Ivar took some time to enjoy himself in the cold air. He walked slowly back to the hut Harald had let him stay in. Door was open so he walked in.

You were already asleep, covered with furs.

Ivar took the sight in, smiling to himself, feeling like his heart was melting for the sweetness overload. He put the crutches on the floor quietly, he got undressed and crawled to the bed. As carefully as it was possible he got on and spooned you from behind.

The following week was filled with preparations for a great battle. Everything had to be just right.

The days were filled with planning and training with your people, making sure they all are ready for the upcoming battle.

Of course whenever you found time you liked to bother the Bishop who actually was free now and somehow agreed to fight on your sides of the conflict.

You screamed out Ivar's name as you both reached your climaxes. The remarkable feeling of his seed filling you because some kind of fixation for yours. You seeked it every night and he was happy and eager to satisfy your common needs.

Humming quietly you lay down on his chest and started to trace random patterns on his chest. "It's tomorrow. I can't wait to leave this place and set a camp... And get ready for the battle," You growled playfully.

Ivar's arm was wrapped loosely around your waist, his fingertips rubbing little circles on your belly as he held you close. "Don't be scared, Y/N, the seer predicted we'll win the battle easily," Ivar assured you and kissed the top of your head. "There's no need to be worried, dear. It's just a formality."

You laughed and looked at him with a cocky smile. "Me? Scared? You're joking! I am more than ready to fight, our last battle in York was so much fun! I craved more since that day."

He looked down at you and pecked your lips briefly. "I would never say you're more bloodthirsty than I am."

You giggled against his lips before kissing that one sensitive spot on his neck. "Is that bad? Is some... Boring, dress wearing, royal lady would be better for you? You dont like me the way I am?”

He moaned at the touch of your lips on the most sensitive spot on his neck; his grasp on your waist tightened. "You're perfect just the way you are."

"Let's get some sleep, love. We need to be rested for tomorrow." You kissed his cheek and then nuzzled to his chest, closing your eyes. Soon, you drifted into slumber.

Travel was exciting.

Everyone was ready for that great fight so were you.

To be honest you couldn't wait, fighting and then ruling by Ivar's was your dream ever since you two clicked just perfectly back in York.

In the camp as well as during negotiation with Lagherta and his brothers you stood there proudly, being by his side and supporting his action.

You fought for him just like you did in York, doing your best to tip the scales of victory on your side.

The battle was long and of course there was a lot of death and suffering.

Just like Ivar assured you that one night, you won. Kattegat was yours and you couldn't be more happy.

The Great Hall opened its door for the new king.

Ivar entered the familiar chambers for the first time since months. He felt like the very important part of his childhood was restored to normality.

People weren't truly keen on the change on the throne, but they could do nothing about it.

Ivar's royal warriors took care of those who didn't want to hail the king. Ivar took a place at the throne that once belonged to his father.

You laughed loudly walking in with Hvitserk and King Harald close behind you, all of you bathed in blood of your enemies.

"You did it Ivar, you won your home back. I need to say I am jealous now!” Harald joked.

You walked around, inspecting the inside of the Great Hall. You already loved the place.

"Of course he did. How could you doubt him."

Saying this you walked closer to your lover and sat on the throne right beside him.

Ivar offered you a smirk, yet tilted his head. "Y/N, what do you think you're doing?"

"Well, I am getting comfortable in my throne, love?," You answered, returning the smirk. "Just as we talked in York. We will be the most powerful couple in the world."

He rolled a little in his place, so he leaned his forearms against armrest. "We? A couple? We were never a couple, sweetheart. I just needed your troops."

You frowned deeply, looking into those beautiful blue eyes you so loved. "Excuse me... But. Your promises, the nights we spend together. Our plans for the future."

He laughed loudly, he didn't really pay attention to the fact there were people in the chamber. "Darling, I would never say you're so silly. You wanted to be fucked so I provided that to you. I just had to make sure you won't change your mind in the day before the battle. Now, get off the throne, it's not yours. You can go back to your sweet, lovely settlement. You're my vassal from now on, I expect you to pay 500 gold pieces every year. If you won't follow, I'll have to flatten your little place to the ground."

You got up from the throne, your eyes never leaving him. How could he do this to you? You shared so much from the past to the future. Did he really lie to you... Why it hurt more than the wounds you suffered during the battle. "Is this some kind of a cruel joke? Because if it is, then better stop, Ivar."

"Do I look like I am joking?," He asked, the smile vanishing from his face, leaving a cold grimace and raised eyebrow as he glanced at you. "Get out of my face."

You couldn't believe it. All the nights you shared, sweet words, the love and dreams... It all was his way of taming you. His way of making sure you will follow him until he achieves his goals. Your heart broke like a thin ice under a pressure. "You are a terrible man, Ivar the Boneless. Ragnar is ashamed of such a son. One that can't keep a promise and can't even avenge his mother fully. I will dance the day you die!” You didn't mean any of those words, it was the pain speaking through your lips. Just like he wanted, you turned around and left the Great Hall.

Hvitserk threw his brother had a cold glance and followed you. "Stop, Y/N! Earl, stop!"

Meantime Harald stormed to the freshly announced king. "What the hell are you doing, Ivar? She is a great warrior, she brought a lot of people, you can't simply send her away and push her off our common matter."

"Our? Mine. Nothing is ours, everything is mine now," Ivar chuckled darkly. "Go on, you can take her. She's nothing but a puppet."

You stopped and pulled out your sword, pointing it right at older Ragnarsson. Your face looked serious but the tears rising in your eyes were visible. "What do you want, Ragnarsson? Came to tell me how stupid I am for trusting your brother?” You growled loudly.

"I had no idea what he was planning for all that time," Hvitserk instinctively raised hand up in the air, showing you he was unarmed. "Don't leave, I bet it can't be discussed and explained."

"Discussed? Explained?! What can be, Hvitserk?! He used my love, my feelings for him to get the troops for his plans," You said, desperately trying to hold your tears. "I wanted to stay here for him but I won't be a rug he can use and throw away as soon as he is done."

"Stop it, you can't leave! You're the only person who still keeps him on the straight and narrow!"

"HOW I DO THAT?!," You yelled as loud as your lungs let you, slowly lowering your sword as your body became too weak suddenly. All the emotions you felt and the post battle injury mixed together now.

"He threw me away as soon as my help became useless for him. I was never needed, coming to York was the biggest mistake of my life."

"Come," not being sure whether it was proper to do, Hvitserk wrapped arms around your figure, offering you his shoulder to lean on. "Take me with you then," Hvitserk asked openly. "I don't want to stay by his side, he's not a sane person. Please. I'll do whatever you order."

You nuzzled to his shoulder, wrapping your arms around him. All you needed now was some kind of closeness, of course you wished it was Ivar but he didn't care any longer. You started to cry into his shoulder, pawing at his back in an attempt to grab something in your hand.

"Now, move," he reminded you. "Let's not wait for him to change his mind and order his hellhounds to burn us alive."

Oldest Ragnarsson led you to the stable where your horse ate hay. He helped you hop on the animal. You sighed deeply, getting comfortable in the saddle. Rubbing your eyes you looked at him. "Thankfully my men are ready to go too," You said, grabbing the reins. "Let's leave him with his wonderful kingdom. Harald can deal with him."

"I don't think he is going to stay either," Hvitserk pulled his horse out of the box and got on his stallion's back.

"I have no idea who would want to stay with him now. Kattegat will burn under his lead," You muttered as your horse moved.

You quickly collected your remaining troops and then you all were on the way home. "Hvitserk?"

Hvitserk, whose horse galloped right behind yours, lined up with you. "Yes?"

"Don't you regret it? Leaving your own youngest and well... Creppled brother? For a woman who broke your nose?," You asked, looking at him.

"No," he replied hardly, being sure of his words. "I was afraid of my dear life. It was the most reasonable decision I've made in my lifetime."

"Let's hope you will feel much better in my home," you told him with a soft smile.

The trip took three day but it was worth it.

Your settlement made you feel better just because you were back home but there was still this void, somewhere inside of you. It felt even worse when you how your warriors greeted their families. Their smiles made you wish you could feel something like this.

Of course, people were happy to see their Earl and you returned to happiness but it wasn't the same.

You led Hvitserk into the Great Hall and as soon as you entered a big wolf's fur was placed on your shoulders, the hood that was made out of the wolf's head was pulled on your head. You laughed and looked at Hvitserk.

Hvitserk didn't think he could be greeted so warmly anywhere. Your people offered him not only furs and good words but also a roof over his head.

You sat on your throne and smiled, looking at your people. Tears will have to wait until you close the door to your room, now it was time to be Earl. "My friends, my warriors, my people. I can't describe how happy I am that God blessed me and our warriors with the chance of returning home," You said loudly and got up. "We lost many but many returned. Tomorrow there will be a feast to welcome the one that returned and honor the one that did not. I also want to introduce my special guest."

Hvitserk, as much as he was against the idea, walked closer to you, offering you a nod.

"This is Hvitserk. Son of Ragnar. Welcome him and be treated as your own because as long as he wants to stay with us. He is a part of our pack," You informed and your people cheered.

Hvitserk cleared his throat. "Thank you, dear Earl. Thank you, dear people. I assure you that I'll protect this settlement until the very last blood drop."

You gave him a sad smile. "You will stay here. There is one more room in Great Hall that wasn't used for years. I will order my thralls to prepare it."

Hvitserk bowed his head. "This is too much, my lady. I'll be fine just by staying among your people. I will stay at the edge of the city."

"I don't ask you as a Earl. I ask you as a friend, I want you to stay here. You will have days to get along with my people," You explained.

Hvitserk didn't complain anymore. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me."

Evening finally came and this one felt weird.

Most nights you shared with Ivar and you missed him and his body.

Letting out a deep sigh you get out of the bath and continue with getting ready for the bed. You put on a soft nightdress and brushed your hair. It felt different.

Since you joined Ivar back at York you didn't really have a chance to clean yourself properly. Suddenly you decided to visit Hvitserk so you got up from your bed and went to his room.

You knocked on the door, waiting for a permission to enter. Maybe he already had some girl over.

"Come in."

Hvitserk was sitting on the floor, his legs crossed and elbows propped on knees as he was meditating. He offered you a nod. "Earl Y/N. What have I done that you honor me with a visit? Do you need my help?"

You sat on the floor next to him and chuckled. "Don't start with all that Earl thing, Hvitserk. I am the same Y/N that broke your nose. No need to use my title."

"Don't need to remind me about the nose all the time," he offered you a little too cocky smirk.

"Just trying to remind you that I am no one special. Sorry" You sighed. "And well... I am here because. I felt lonely."

"Being lonely doesn't mean being sad, yet I hear sadness in your tone and see it in your manner."

You raised your eyebrow. "How being lonely doesn't mean being sad?," Shaking your head you shrugged.

"I just used to spend the night with your brother. It felt good, I felt happy... Loved," You already could feel tears in your eyes.

"Don't cry. You can't change him. He's a spoiled brat who doesn't care about people's feelings. You'll find yourself a man anytime soon, just look at you. Young, beautiful, in charge. All men are losing head for you already."

You sighed and wiped your eyes with a short laugh.

"You are losing head for me as well? Who would want a woman with a face like mine. I should cry for how stupid I was to trust Ivar's love."

"It was not stupidity, what you experienced is used to be called love," he smiled softly.

"Was... Was it too much to ask for? To be loved for once in my life?," You asked, looking at him. "Father, left me to die. Mother didn't care enough to protect you. Brother tried to kill me... Man I loved..." You couldn't finish your sentence.

"You're young, you have your entire life lying ahead. You'll fall in love not once, not twice. The pain is temporary, it will pass as soon as you'll sign a truce with yourself."

"I am young with a face eaten by a wolf," you muttered. "I... I have a stupid question."

"No question is stupid if you think about it."

"Can I stay here tonight? With you?,” you asked. "I don't think I can sleep alone... Not today at least."

"Of course. You provided me with a room with a bed for two. But you can take it full."

"I don't want to take it all. I want to share it with you... I don't want to be alone tonight, Hvitserk."

"Your wish is my command," he replied with a little smile.

You smiled and then climbed to bed. Letting out a sigh you nuzzled to the pillow and wrapped fur around yourself.

Hvitserk spent a few more moments meditating. After that he went to wash his face and neck with cold water. The he slipped into bed with you

"Thank you for that. I need to look pathetic... I am the Earl and I act like a child," you said cringing at your own action.

"Don't judge yourself. I don't mind it. I offered you that I can be a shoulder you can lean in."

"Yes, you did," you nodded and moved closer to nuzzle him. "And I am going to use it tonight."

He straightened his arm to make a room for you. As you put your head to his chest, he lightly wrapped arm around your waist.

You got comfortable and hummed quietly, closing your eyes. He was arm and soft, you just wished it was Ivar who would really hug you.

Hvitserk used his other hand to stroke your cheek. "Shhhh, you're going to get through this for you're the strongest woman I saw."

#ivar the boneless #ivar the boneless smut #ivar x reader #ivar x reader smut #ivar the boneless x reader #hvitserk x reader #hvitserk #vikings #vikings x reader #vikings smut #reader insert #writers on tumblr #ivar x hvitserk #bishop heahmund #earl!reader

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smutbunny119 · 4 years

Text

Cornered; Taeyong x Reader ft. Sungchan and Jaemin

Description: He was powerful, an idol with an established career, money, and a company that could brush this incident under the rug in 5 seconds flat. And what were you? A chubby college intern learning how to do makeup from the staff. You had no power. No power to make him leave you alone, no power to make him stop his insults. He hated you, but even worse, he wouldn’t leave you alone. Lee Taeyong was your worst nightmare. But could Sungchan, a young member of NCT be the one to save you? Or even more unexpected, Jaemin?

WARNING: Contains verbal and physical harassment, sexual harassment, bullying, degradation, non con, and smut, eventual fluff, hurt/comfort, yuh

Genre: Smut, Angst, fluff, hate to love, slow burn.

This is explicit, contains dark shit, and will contain non consensual sex. Reader beware. I do not condone these behaviors at all, it is simply for the story. If it makes you uncomfortable, do not read it.

Chapter One- Idol unleashed

You were dead set on becoming a makeup fx artist for a larger entertainment company. Hopefully big enough to make a living and be a real part of the industry before your late twenties. But for now, any offer would do considering you were a college student struggling to pay off her student loans and needed all the experience you could get. So when you got a partially paid internship offer at SM entertainment (14,000 won/hour on weekends) You said yes without hesitation, even though you had no interest in that type of makeup artistry. Credentials were credentials, and working at SM entertainment was great resume fluff.

When you first arrived at the SM stocking facility to receive a quick vetting from the older makeup artist supervisors, the eldest woman (who looked very chic), gave you a harsh look. “You understand that being a makeup artist of your age, 21, and working alongside idols your age, you are to have no verbal interactions with them that extend beyond professional exchange?” She asked, eyeing you up and down suspiciously. You were confused. Working on idols makeup? You didn’t realize you’d actually have to do idols makeup. You assumed it would all be intern shit like getting coffee and paperwork. You nodded tentatively.

Of course you had no desire to fuckin flirt it up with random k idols you were doing makeup on. You had never really been interested in kpop, although you listened to a couple girl groups here and there. You preferred international music, classical music, oh and you loved Frank Sinatra. Besides, you were not in the mood to be booted from your first internship ever on account of hitting on some fancy idol who wouldn’t look twice at you. No thanks, you had pride.

The makeup artist Senior nodded at you, satisfied with your response.”Alright, I’ll trust you young lady. We usually don’t hire unwed makeup artists on account of the risk, but your professors went on and on about your skills that we decided to bring you in to do some of the strobe makeup for NCT 2020. Understood?”

You nodded, feeling a bit giddy. This was actually going to be exciting.

That afternoon, you collected your supplies from you *official* SM makeup cubical. It was amazing products you were allowed to keep! High quality brushes, velvet foundation, BB cream, glitter in pots, shadows, tints... your dream. Still clutching the quality products in your shaking hands, you walked to the elevator which lead to the 8th floor- The floor you’d be doing 10 of the 23 NCT 2020 members makeup. You had to admit, although you were by no means an NCT fan, doing the makeup of such talented and handsome men would certainly be nerve wracking. You had the concept and instructions on a sheet of paper for each member’s makeup, and you had already memorized it~ Yuta was getting bright red eyeshadow on the very edges of his lids with Mimimal dewy makeup, Jaemin was getting subtle glitter on his under eyes with a brown shadow and natural lip tint- The only problem was, you didn’t know which member was which. You sighed. Oh well, you’d get the hang of it eventually. The elevator doors opened, and a heavy scent of setting spray, hairspray, sweat, hot lights, and a bunch of other smells flew into your face. You quickly exited the elevator into the room with a bunch of idols-23 to be exact- doing a variety of things. Getting their hair done, their makeup applied, changing their clothes (You quickly averted your eyes), and stretching. The minute you walked in though, everything went silent, and their eyes were fixated on you. Mixed expressions of confusion, annoyance, and fear on their faces. It took you a minute to realize that they must’ve not been used to younger women being their makeup artists, and assumed you were either a sasaeng... or confused rando.

The makeup senior woman quickly ran to the front of the room, grabbing you by the arm and yanking you towards the center. “Everyone, listen up. This is Y/L/N. She is a sophomore at Chengdu University of Arts, and will work for the next few months as a makeup artist. I understand you are not used to having college students work as your stylist, but she is very... gifted, and highly spoke of at her college. She has won several awards in the arts, and seeks to expand her portfolio. Thank you!”

You smiled curtly as the makeup Senior gave you a firm pat on the back. You looked around the room with a thin professional smile, nodding slightly to indicate respect and distance. Your eyes were briefly caught on one of the members, you weren’t sure who but he was looking at you very coldly, and began unpacking your supplies. You checked your member list hastily to find the first name on the list. “Sungchan.”

Looking up blankly, you scanned the room for some indication of a “Sungchan.” Realizing you had no clue who this could be, you walked up to a member who looked a bit younger than you with white hair, clearing your throat. The member looked up at you with a awkward smile. “Hello, sorry about this but would you mind directing me to the member who goes by ‘Sungchan?’ I’m not familiar entirely with memeber names yet.”

The idol looked back at you questioningly, before nodding. “Of course. He’s over there by the guy with medium brown hair on the vanity. I’m Jaemin, by the way.”

You nodded politely. “I will be doing your makeup as well Jaemin. I will return shortly.”

You walked quickly away from the idol, feeling your heart flutter slightly at the interaction. He was very handsome, with clear tan skin and a great canvas for dewy glittery makeup. He was gorgeous, and you couldn’t help but feel excited at the prospect of applying makeup to such a clean and fresh face.

Smack

You went crashing into a taller figure, stumbling as you crashed beside them. Instantly panic arose in your body, scrambling to your feet to help the person up. The minute you looked down at the person, your blood ran cold. It was him. The guy you had made awkward not-so-friendly eye contact with. Looking at his face, you were filled with a sense of uncomfortable dread. His narrowed cat like eyes were cold and black. He was gorgeous, easily the most beautiful person you had ever laid eyes on. With dark brown hair, pale smooth skin and an angular unreal face, you would already be intimidated enough to see his face in general. But he was glowering. Full on glaring at you, a look of pure contempt as he ignored you outstretched land, getting to his feet gracefully. Looking you up and down, the beautiful boy narrowed his eyes and leaned in menacingly. You took a step back, nearly tripping on your sneaker laces. “I’m so sorry sir, I didn’t mean to be so clumsy. My mistake.” You sputtered out meekly, bowing your head as you felt your face burn.

“Stop it.” You looked up as you heard his low gravely voice spit out the harsh words. You looked at him confusedly, tilting your head. The boy scoffed, leaning in once more.

“I honestly can’t believe the nerve. You walk in here, with your sloppy hideous clothes and pudgy body. You act as if you have never heard of us like some innocent little makeup artist. Cut the shit. Don’t ‘accidentally’ bump into me. Don’t look at me. Filthy sasaeng.”

You gawked at him. You? Sasaeng? You didn’t even know this boy’s name.

“Taeyong hyung, stop it.” You heard a voice from behind you and you turned around to see Jaemin, clearly concerned for the harsh words being spat at you.

The boy named Taeyong just glared back at Jaemin, eyes flicking between you and him. “Jaemin, zip it. Look at her. Fat little crazy fan girl who thought she’d get a chance with her favorite idol by stalking them. The nerve of her to come here looking like that. Dressed like this.” He made a disgusted face as you hung your head low. You weren’t the most confident in your looks, but you didn’t think you were hideous. You had always been a bit pudgy, but standards here were so strict. You liked your appearance.

The boy named Taeyong walked by you, shoulder knocking into the side of your arm as you scurried away from him towards the guy named sungchan. You were fighting back tears and embarrassment, and you pulled your hair hastily into pigtails before snapping on some latex gloves to keep your makeup sanitary. The guy in front of you, Sungchan, who had observed the whole thing (Everyone had), had a look of concern on his face.

Whipping out the medium beige foundation, you dabbed some of the glossy product onto you back of your glove with the brush. The guy named Sungchan looked at you expectantly, but you didn’t meet his gaze. You weren’t in the mood to be screamed and degraded again, so you wouldn’t take your chances. Dabbing a smooth hydrating toner onto the boy’s flawless complexion, you couldn’t help but feel a few tears slip out of your eyes. It was embarassing, but you were human. You had feelings, and self esteem. Well, you did have self esteem. Sungchan seemed to be concerned, or maybe he just thought you were weird.

“Hello, Y/L/N, I’m Sungchan. How old are you?” He asked kindly, bright smile on his face. You were shocked at the warm introduction, and returned his smile. “Nice to meet you, and I’m 19,” You replied, smoothing the product across his face. The boy’s smile widened, and he glanced at you in the mirror while you began to apply a light eyeshadow across his eyes. “So you’re my age then. Let’s speak informally then.” He responded, making you nearly drop your brush.

This idol wanted you to speak to him informally? Was he serious? You couldn’t help but blush at his friendly personality, and couldn’t keep a smile off your face as you continued applying the shadow. “Alright Sungchan, sounds great!”

***********

As you made your way down the list of idols, you found most were very kind to you. They were all stunning, and you found your eyes glued to their faces even when the makeup was finished. You did makeup for Yuta, who was so polite and courteous, Haechan, who was simply adorable, and the rest of the 6 idols. Including Jaemin, who chatted with you throughout the entire ordeal, complimenting your pink grubby sneakers, awkward hoodie over skirt with sweatpants outfit, and even you messy ponytail. You thought he was just trying to be nice after everything Taeyong said to you, but you still appreciated the gesture. After finishing the older boy’s makeup, there was only one more name on the list. Lee Taeyong. Your stomach lurched as you realized you would have to be near him, touch his face. As if he would even let you. Gulping dryly, you zipped up your products and snapped a new pair of latex gloves on. Your hair was tied back, you roughly put on a mask to minimize exposure to the idol. You didnt want him to stare at your face.

Walking curtly over to where he sat, you bowed politely before unpacking your makeup. Pushing on a pair of glasses to make your work as good as possible, you heard the idol’s chair push away from the desk. “Are you fucking with me?” He asked loudly, causing everyone in the room to glance his way, quieting instantly. “I don’t want this sasaeng’s sausage fingers anywhere near me.” He spat, making you cringe at his wordchoice. The guy you had done makeup on by the name Jaehyun sighed, leaning across the table. “Hyung, she’s a very quick makeup artist. You can request to have a different makeup Noona do your makeup next time.”

You gripped the brush tightly, anger and embarrassment searing through your body. You shouldn’t have to take this. This idol shouldn’t be talking to you this way. The idol scoffed and sat down loudly, causing your makeup bag to crash to the floor, colorful pallets clapping open, makeup spilling everywhere. You just stared at the colorful mess, feeling your face heat with anger. You couldn’t stop the tears that rolled down your cheeks as you picked up hundreds of dollars of beautiful, destroyed makeup. Makeup you would never be able to afford otherwise. You looked up through your teary eyes at the idol. He was smirking at you, arms crossed and legs spread in a entitled position. What a jerk.

Plopping the wrecked makeup onto the table, you yanked a plumping toner out of the side pocket, shaking some onto a face pack. You felt his eyes on yours. Luckily the mask hid your sniffly nose and quivering lip, but your read teary eyes were on clear display. “Take off the mask.”

His words cut through the once again quiet air. You heard someone across the room stand up from their chair. “Jaemin sit down.” You heard another voice say.

Taeyong looked up at you expectantly. “It’s rude to hide your face from your clients.” He said again, amusement across his face. You ripped the mask off your face, holding back more tears. Your face was undoubtedly puffy and red, not exactly the most flattering. You took the face pack out of the toner solution and lifted it to Taeyong’s flawless face, hiccuping still. He looked at you intensely, with an unreadable expression. “How old are you Noona?” Taeyong asked, and you nearly recoiled. Noona? You were six years younger than him. Was he insulting you? “19.” You replied sharply, ignoring his scoff. “I suppose you think I’m going to let you call me oppa.” He said, making a face to himself.

“I’d rather not.” You replied, dotting the makeup onto his skin. You felt a large hand grab your wrist, gripping it uncomfortably tight. “Cut the shit. You are younger than me.” He said, glaring up at you. You ripped your hand from his grip, slamming your makeup onto the table. “Do not touch me.” You said more harshly than you intended. Taeyong briefly had a look of shock on his face, and you could feel the tension in the room. “I will refer to you as Taeyong-Nim. If that is unsuitable I can do Taeyong Ssi instead.”

His face contorted into an expression of rage, and you resumed patting the product into his face. You were doing your best to ignore his gaze, but then you felt a hand on your stomach. you flinched back as the hand gabbed your lower belly, and you shrieked.

You heard loud laughter from him, and you looked up in horror. “Holy shit your stomach is so fat. What the fuck you are fucking chubby as fuck.” You sat there, face numb and body shaking. He had touched your stomach. “God i hate fat and ugly bitches, you are fucking disgusting.” You felt tears finally stream down your cheeks. You couldn’t do this. “Taeyong hyung that’s enough!” Someone yelled across the room and you looked up to see Jaemin running across. He put a hand around your shoulder and lifted you off the ground carefully. You were grateful he was defending you, but you honestly were too scared to thank him. Taeyong took a step towards you, eyes dark and angry. “Stay out of this Jaemin,” He iced, hands clenched tightly into fists. Jaemin didn’t budge.

“Taeyong Hyung please. I really think it’s enough.” Jaehyun spoke to Taeyong over his shoulder, and finally Taeyong clenched his jaw, turning away from you. He stood up, stretched, and peeled off his shirt, letting it fall to the ground. He turned to you and walked past, unclothed shoulder bumping into yours as he passed. He was going to get changed for the show.

Originally posted by haechan

******

The next few days were... hell. From harsh remarks, from Taeyong’s aggressive attitude which was solely reserved for you. It seemed never ending. In addition, Taeyong had begun encouraging you to do his makeup as opposed to avoiding you. Constant insults on your work, appearance, outfit choice, weight.

At night you had nightmares about the pretty boy insulting you, yelling at you. His harsh words and insults seemed never ending.

The following day you walked into work early, hair pulled back in two sleek pigtails and faint pink makeup applied. You were to attend a special party later that night, so you had a fluffy baby pink sweater on with a short white tennis skirt, pink floral necklace, and adorable espadrilles. You may not have looked sexy, but you certainly look adorable. Your older brother had commented on how you looked precious when you FaceTimed him. When you walked into the near empty room you plopped your products onto Taeyong’s makeup table, collapsing onto the chair with exhaustion. It was only 4 AM, and work didnt start for another 2 hours. You tried to focus on staying alert, but before you knew it you were out cold.

You woke up to find a figure standing over you in the chair. You were groggily aware of your surroundings, and noticed the “5:36″ time on the wall clock. Snapping to your senses, you nearly tripped out of the chair when you realized the figure standing over the chair was Taeyong.

“I knew it.” His voice was like ice, and the only light shining behind him in the room made him a shadow, unable to make out any of the features on his face. As he stepped closer and his face came into the light it was like a villain coming out of the shadows. Pure terror clutched your body as you shuffled away from the intimidating figure frantically. Leaning down towards you, you saw the coldness on his expression. The blank gaze that lay behind those beautiful, horrible eyes.

“Stop it Taeyong, that’s enough!” You yelled, trying to push yourself off the ground. Taeyong laughed coldly at your pathetic state, and you felt his large hands shoved you back into the wall painfully. “Dropping honorifics, are we?” He asked, pacing back in forth like a predator. You attempted to run to the door but his hand intercepted you, shoving you back again. “No. You came here early just to rub yourself all over my chair. You really do want me, don’t you you ugly bitch?” He asked, a combination of disgust and crazed amusement on his face.

“I was tired!” You nearly screamed, shoving him back with just as much force. His lips curled with disgust as he continued glaring at you. “I don’t buy that shit. I’ve known enough sasaengs in my life to recognize one.”

You glared back at him. “Taeyong, leave me the fuck alone. I’m done putting up with your unprofessional behavior. I have no interest in your childish games, and I refuse to do your makeup any more.”

Taeyong’s eyes widened in shock for a brief second, and then it was replaced with rage. But you were done. You walked up to your makeup bag to move your stuff over to Doyoung’s desk. He was your first client for today, now that Taeyong was no longer- “You have no right to refuse me.”

Your blood ran cold as those words came from directly behind you, and before you could whirr around you felt yourself harshly pressed into the vanity in front of you, large hand shoving you. You screeched, kicking back to break from Taeyong’s hands, but he was a much stronger than you. “You are nothing, you ugly slut! If I tell you you’re doing my fucking makeup, you’re doing it!” He was full on yelling, and you could barely breathe under his crushing hold.

“T-Taeyong Ssi, st-” You croaked out, shoving him back. He flipped you over, anger and derangement flooding his eyes, You felt his hand wrap around your neck, and you began to gasp as it tightened. He was strangling you, you couldn’t breathe. What the fuck was this psycho thinking? You faintly heard a clinking sound, the clinking of a belt. Your stomach filled with dread as you realized what was happening. He wouldn’t.... would he? You thrashed harder. “Fucking bitch” You heard him say when you landed a kick to his thigh. In an instant you were thrown to the ground, and he was on top of you, straddling your torso. You fought with everything you had, screaming and crying with everything in you. He was so much stronger and taller than you, and you had no defense against him. “Stop, stop stop!” You sobbed, hitting him on the chest, only to have your wrists pinned over your head. Taeyong leaned over so his face was directly above yours. Those dark, soulless, empty burning eyes. Cutting into you. Looking at your fear, your pain, smiling. With his free hand he undid his jeans, eyes never breaking contact with yours. You felt your skirt being hiked up, and you underwear was ripped from your body. You cried harder, begging someone to help you. Taeyong swallowed your cries with a violent kiss, tongue fucking into your mouth painfully. You couldn’t breath. You couldn’t see anything but those eyes, those dark eyes you had thought were so beautiful.

He shoved into you agressivly, fucking into you with violence and anger. Ripping your comfort, your happiness, your freedom away from you. With every painful thrust, your tears came faster. His kiss was bruising, and his lower body’s connection with yours was stretching, painful and cruel. It felt like it lasted for hours, when finally his thrusts became sloppy, uneven. He began moaning, placing a hand around your throat as his grip around your wrists became tighter. You were drooling, tears spilling out and eyes glazed over just hoping for it to end. You couldn’t think, not with him hurting you over and over and over. He let out one final breathy moan and came deeply within you, head throne back and semen spilling out onto the floor. When he finally released you from his iron grip and pulled out of you, you heard him utter “Show you your place fucking bitch,” Before neatly buckling his belt and walking away. As he walked out, he bumped into Sungchan, who said, “Whoa dude, why are you all sweaty and shit?”

Taeyong didn’t reply, only walking out. When Sungchan walked over to his vanity, he heard raspy breathing from across the room and walked behind Taeyong’s vanity. There you were, lying on the ground, skirt hiked over your hips, neck bruised and purple, drooling with blood and cum dripping out of you onto the floor. Sungchan paled, covering his mouth from shock. Rushing to your side, his hands hovered over your body, confusion and fear on his face. Your eyes fluttered open to meet his, and you rasped out, “T-Taeyong. He f-forced himself inside me and wouldn’t stop. I t-tried to stop him.” You could barely get out the words. Sungchan was as white as paper, and he grabbed a cloth off the table, hastily cleaning your thighs and skirt. “I’m so sorry Y/N, I never would’ve guessed he would ra-... do this.” Sungchan looked sick.

You looked up at Sungchan, feeling sick to your stomach. You didn’t deserve to be treated like this, you were not a piece of meet, or a punching back, or a fucking flesh light. You were a human being, and you were not going to let Taeyong ruin your career, let alone your life. Gripping Sungchan’s face with a cupped hand, you spoke softly. “I have no intention of quitting. And no intention of submitting to Taeyong’s cruelty.

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Text

Hope: The Smuggler

A continuation on this little piece I posted a couple of days ago. Just something small knocking around inside my mind.

CW: Escaped pet whumpee, BBU, guns, scarring, referenced past torture, ~mysterious world-building references~

“Allie!” Gyasi hops down from the truck, the tread of her work boots crunching into the rock salt scattered over the road to melt the ice.

Snowflakes are already starting to drift down, landing in Gyasi’s hair and laying white and beautiful against her black braids pulled back low at her neck. They melt a moment later, but it’s definitely snowing a little more than it was a half an hour ago, and Allie’s sure there’ll be another big buildup tonight.

Allie’s mouth always goes a little dry when Gyasi is in town, and she has to lock her knees not to have them wobble as she gives her most welcoming smile. “Welcome back, Gya.”

“Always a pleasure.” Gyasi crushes her in a hug. The other woman only comes up to Allie’s nose, and still she feels sort of helpless at every touch. Funny, how she’s the deputy head of security for Hope, and still someone as slim and slight as Gyasi can make her fall to pieces. “I got a team of six this time, all names you know. We’re going in with seven rescues and a couple libbers with pretty big felony convictions about to come down, hopefully coming back with a metric fucking ton of insulin, plus the usual other shit.”

“Great.” Allie has to clear her throat to keep her voice from coming out husky and trembling. She pulls back from the hug, looking over the truck. The man sitting in the passenger seat gives her a wave, and after a second Allie remembers him, too - Charlie or Chuck. Another truck pulls up behind that, and then a van. “We’ll be sending you in one vehicle at a time. Once we get clearance the first makes it through, we’ll send the next.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know how it goes. Rescues first-” Gyasi points to the van. “Then our libbers go in the truck. Chaz and I’ll bring up the rear.”

Right, Chaz. Allie always forgets his name.

“And if you’re caught-”

“I know, Allie-cat. I was never here, there’s no road through the woods, we snuck through an hour east of here.” Gyasi reaches up to pat the side of her face, and Allie wonders if she’s just going to black out one day when Gya does that. “We didn’t give you away the last time one of us got picked up, we won’t this time, either. Trust me.”

“I try to,” Allie says, voice softening a little. It’s hard, to be soft - her life has been one of needing to always be sharp-edged, ready to kill or fight on command. Softness came only after she made it here, and even then only with time. “You know I try to trust you, Gya.”

“Well, try harder, because I’m trustworthy.” Gyasi laughs, deep and rich, and then her eyes shift to the side. Her smile, wide and bright, starts to fade slightly. It returns a little faded, unsure. "We have a watcher, Al.”

“What?” Allie turns to look over her shoulder, instinctively tensing at the possibility of a threat - and then relaxes. “Oh. He’s, uh. He’s shy. That’s our new kid, he came up from Florida.”

“Oof, what a long trip.”

“You’re not wrong. Leslie said he needed to be in No Man’s Land, although she refused to say why. Come on over here, kiddo!”

If Gyasi tops out with her hair not quite high enough to touch Allie’s nose, Esteban doesn’t even clear her shoulders. He’s a skinny, short thing, drowning in a huge canvas winter coat he’d arrived in. His cheeks and the tip of his nose are bright red from the cold he’s still getting used to, and he’s got big thick black gloves on, a woven knit cap pulled down to cover his ears, dark brown curls sticking out all around it, brown eyes sparkling.

Leslie had left him with fleece-lined jeans, heavy socks and a promise to wear two pairs with his boots, all the sweaters you could imagine, and strict admonitions not to try and go without gloves just because some of the others who’ve been here longer do.

His breath puffs out in front of him as he jogs over from where he’d been lurking at the side of the admin building (well... it’s really just Brock’s house). “H-hey, Allie.”

"You look frozen, Esteban.”

“It’s not so bad,” Esteban says, cheerful as always, even as his nose looks like Rudolph on a bad day. “I’m getting used to it. I wanted to watch the trucks! Who is this? Are these new people like me?”

“Oh, I’m not like you,” Gyasi says, without judgement, but Allie still sees Esteban’s shoulders hunch a little under his layers, catches the embarrassed flush that darkens him even under the cold. “Gyasi Templeton’s the name. I run meds, mostly. And people.”

“Run...?” Esteban’s curiosity overcomes his mood, and he turns to look at the two trucks and the big van, then back at Allie.

“I’m a smuggler,” Gyasi announces happily. “I smuggle.”

“Right.” Allie points to the van first. “Her group does runs to Canada through here. Meds, runaways, pet lib groups. Other stuff that it might be hard for us to get hold of on this side of the border, Gya’s group can bring through here.”

“Technically, we go through there.” Gyasi points, gesturing to the forest just visible at the horizon, the soft smudged line of dark green and brown. “It’s a bumpy road, let me tell you, halfway up a fucking mountain and back, uh.. you said Esteban?”

“Yeah,” Esteban’s replies, shyly, half-hidden behind Allie. “That’s my name.”

“You pick it out?” Gyasi’s not really that interested, just making conversation. Allie can see her distraction - she’s in a hurry to get moving, hoping to make it through the trees before nightfall and the snow make things too difficult or dangerous and force them to wait it out.

Esteban, though, doesn’t seem to notice. “Yes! Dr. Osmond let me choose my own name, he was very kind to me. He was very kind.”

Allie swallows, jaw setting into a firm line, shoulders tensing. She, after all, has seen what the kids hands look like under those gloves. Scarred and with one pinky permanently bent, one of his other fingers doesn’t even close.

“No, he wasn’t,” Gyasi says, and she glances back at the truck, with its engine still rumbling.

“What?” Esteban blinks.

“Nobody kind has a runaway Boxie who goes this fucking far to get away from them.”

Esteban looks away, something shifting in his expression. Allie, as a rule, doesn’t give a fuck about sob stories. She has her own, and she’s heard so many on top of that. She stopped letting them sink into her skin a long time ago. But she finds herself wondering what Esteban’s expression - wistful, sad, but oddly bittersweet, too - could possibly mean.

“Ethan wasn’t nice,” He mumbles. “But Dr. Osmond was, in the lab where I was first.”

Then he gives Gyasi and Allie another bright smile, but it’s more brittle than it was before. “Nice to meet you, ma’am,” He says politely.

Allie frowns, though. “The lab, Estenban? You mean Facility, right?”

“The lab,” Esteban says patiently. “In the Facility. Where I grew up. I’m gonna go, it’s getting cold.”

“Wait, what do you-”

“Later, Allie.” He bumps his shoulder lightly against Allie’s arm as a kind of farewell, and crunches his way back out of the road and onto the sidewalk, heading in the direction of the adjustment house, the first place anyone stays until they’re ready to settle down.

Allie watches him go, a chill settling into her chest.

What lab? Where he grew up? Leslie said he came out of some exec’s house. And the exec sure wouldn’t be a doctor...

“Cute kid,” Gyasi says, startling Allie back out of her thoughts. “But we have a contact waiting for us at an auto shop in Nick’s Island. Next time we’ll get coffee, right, Allie-cat? And you’ll finally watch Clue with me?”

Allie feels something flutter in her chest. Esteban’s odd mysterious statements forgotten, she quickly nods. “Will do, Gya. Stay safe.”

“I never stay safe, it’d ruin my fun.” Gyasi crushes Allie briefly back into another hug, and then climbs back up into her truck, settling back in. “Let them know we’re going through, we’ll be there in ten or fifteen.”

Allie’s already pulling out her radio. “Your escort’ll be ready for you when you hit the path. You already paid up?”

“Yeah, I paid Brock half direct. You’ll get the other half of your cut when we come back.”

“Right. Half in cash, half in meds.”

“Same as always. See ya, Allie.”

Gyasi’s truck rumbles away, the second truck and then the van following after it. Allie radios the group working the road through the woods today, but her mind keeps going back to Esteban. Dr Osmond. A lab. Where I grew up.

Now what in the hell does that mean?

@finder-of-rings @burtlederp @astrobly @doveotions @whump-tr0pes @symphony-of-greys @orchidscript @boxboysandotherwhump @whumptywhumpdump @wildfaewhump

#whump #whump ocs #guard dog box boy #bbu #box boy universe #bbu guard dog #box babe guard dog #box babe #recovering whumpees #escaped whumpee #scarred whumpee #gruff caretaker

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t4tdexter · 3 years

Text

house of mirrors

2.5k word mlp fanfic. dont judge me >.>

summary: rarity and twilights visit to the crystal empire is more eventful then either had hoped. somethings wrong with the castle, and more importantly, somethings wrong with shining armor...

content warnings: fear of transphobia (no actual rtansphobia bc this is the colorful horses show)

Rarity held back a whinny of delight as she trotted off the train and into the crystal empire station. Everywhere she looked she was dazzled by gleaming crystals of every color refracting rainbows on every surface while somehow remaining the farthest thing from gaudy. Starting to feel faint from excitement, she leaned on twilight's shoulder as her eyes fluttered.

“Rarity come on!” The alicorn laughed as she helped her friend upright. “We’ve hardly been in the empire for a minute! Save your fainting for the ceremony.”

The white horse perked up immediately at the reminder of what she had come here for: she was to assist Cadence and Shining Armor in the preparations for the newborn princesses presentation to the public! She cantered in place with excitement, lifting twilight's luggage with her magic and running off to their suite in the castle with twilight hot on her heels.

The suite was spacious with generous decor in simple light colors. the main focal point of the suite was the giant bay windows which cast giant swathes of warm light across the room. upon closer inspection rarity was amazed to discover that the windows were made entirely of cut crystal rather than glass. the faint color of the gemstone created a slight cast on the light coming in, giving a view of the city below that was ever so slightly tinted. this realization recontextualized the furnishing in rarities mind: it wasn't dull and plain, but simply a blank canvas for whatever the crystal windows brought in. a strange method of decor indeed. or was it a response to the material conditions of living in a house of crystal?

When the two had almost settled into their apartment, they were startled from their rest by a brisk knock at the door.

“A summons for princess twilight sparkle,” a booming voice called from behind the door. “You are needed urgently by princess mi amore cadenza for matters concerning his highness the prince.”

Worry flooded the purple alicorns features. “Urgent? Then I guess I had better go now.” She magically gathered a few items into her saddlebag and gave a parting smile to her friend as she was rushed away by royal guards.

Shocked by the suddenness of it all, rarity let out a chuff and sat squarely on her quarters. Was shining armor alright? she wanted to put her anxieties to rest, but it was plainly obvious that she hadn't been invited. would the entire trip to the empire consist of her sitting alone in her room while twilight attended to all matters of actual importance?

Trying to shake the thought from her head, rarity got up and left her room to explore the castle. It truly was extravagant, with pillars of crystal stretching to the high vaulted ceilings spreading refractions of glittering iridescence that made the whole space seem somehow both extraordinary glamorous and warm and homey. Inspiration flooded her mind as she trotted the decadently decorated halls. She just couldn’t wait to get back to her studio and put this inspiration to good use.

She was halted in her exploration when her ears picked up familiar voices talking from behind an ajar door. She knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but she couldn’t help but listen in...

"-i don't know what to do twilight, he hadn't seemed this off for years, and now flurry is here and hes completely absent!"

"i don't know cadence, he hasn't said anything in his letters-"

“- all I’m saying is maybe you could get through to him! He won’t talk to me, or anypony else here. you're my last hope. maybe hell listen to his best friend”

“i've never been able to help him in one of these episodes before. if he’s not ready to talk then confronting him will only make him more defensive.”

“That’s a risk we’ll have to take. I’m worried for my husband twilight.” Rarity leaned on the door to hear better as the princesses voice dropped, “please, if not for shining armor, or for me, then for flurry heart. She deserves to have a father who can dedicate himself to her, not one who’s so preoccupied that he can hardly look after her.”

There was a sigh, then rarity heard twilight speak “very well. I’ll do this for her. Maybe that will get through to my brother.”

Sudden approaching hoofsteps started rarity out of her reverie. She stumbled backwards just in time to miss the swinging door as twilight entered the hall. “Rarity? I thought you were still in the room? Oh well, I need your help anyway." She looked over her shoulder as if to make sure they were alone. "I think somethings wrong with my brother. It's possible that one of the unreformed changelings has taken his place to try too take advantage of the upcoming love boom from flurry hearts royal presentation."

Rarity was taken aback by her friends leap of logic. "Doesn't that seem like an extreme suspicion? Having a baby is stressful enough for normal ponies, I cant imagine what kind of pressure would be on a royal prince."

"I don't know rarity, after what happened at the wedding we can't be too careful. I hope its just nerves and parental stress, but we have to expect the worse if we want to be prepared to handle it."

rarity nodded. "alright, then let's find your brother."

The two ponies galloped down the halls in search of the princes chambers. the crystal walls seemed to burn with energy, the warm cast of light from earlier having turned harsh and almost too bright. rarity wondered absently if this was a product of the changing time of day or a trick of the mind. could the walls of a castle really know how somepony felt, and shine it back at them like a diamond mirror?

a distant commotion pricked the two mares ears. "this way!" twilight called as she rounded a corner, dashing after the sound with rarity at her side.

the two skidded to a stop when they reached an open doorway from which the sound seemed to emit. with a flick of her ear twilight motioned for rarity to follow her and the two cautiously made their way into the room. twilight emitted a small light from her horn, then lit the rooms lamp once she could find it on the wall. with the room lit rarity immediately got an impression of drabness and depression, the tightly draped windows letting in no light and the gemstone walls shining the same dim echo back and forth across the space, almost seeming to beg for the light to go out again.

twilight gestured with her chin to the curtained bed at the center of the room, grabbing one edge of the curtain with her magic and indicating for rarity to take hold of the other. once the unicorn had secured the curtain, twilight gave a sharp nod and both ponies tugged their curtain aside, revealing a stallion-sized lump that spectacularly failed to live up to either mares fearful imagination.

the blue-maned unicorn sat up at once, alarmed by the sudden intrusion. he seemed to calm down slightly when he recognized his sister, but he remained guarded. "twily? rarity? what are you two doing in my private chambers?"

"well to be fair," rarity gestured back at the entrance, "you did leave your door open."

"cadence must have done that when she left." shining armor gruffed. "that doesn't answer my question though: what are you doing here?"

twilight stepped forward with a cautious expression, ready to fight if this really was a changeling. "were just here to check up on you, see how youre handling the upcoming princess presentation" it was clear that twilight was being reserved with her supposed brother.

then, shining armors eyes met hers, and her suspicion evaporated. that peculiar sadness that had haunted her brother in her young filliehood, then she had thought he'd escaped when he found happiness in cadences arms, was burning hot tears from shining armors eyes. she had never seen a pain like that before or since. if there was anything twilight was certain of, it was that this pony was the same one she had known her whole life. but the question still lingered, was he the real shining?

completely without her permission, tears began to well in twilight's eyes. "oh shinning, whats happened to you?"

her brother choked on a sob. "I'm sorry twily, you were never supposed to see me like this. no one was. i should be able to hold it together for you... for cadence... for my daughter..."

"shining nopony wants you to hide any part of you! we want to know when you're hurting so we can help. i had thought you'd healed from whatever's causing this pain but it seems to be back and i wont let you hide it from me this time!" the purple alicorn sniffled as tears streaked down her muzzle. "please shining, tell me whats wrong."

The stallion nervously rubbed his hooves together and cast his gaze to the ground. "i don't even know where to start."

"the beginning," twilight proposed. "i want to know everything. you cant heal until you let your wounds be seen."

shining nodded and took a deep breath, "its just that, when you were a fillie, everyone expected me to be the perfect big brother, and i never measured up to that expectation. it was like being thrown into the ocean with no idea how to swim, and everypony kept insisting that i was a fish and i should know how, but i didn't. then in the royal guard it didn't matter how i felt as long as i followed orders and played the role, so that's what i did. i don't know if it actually quieted the pain or just forced me to ignore it, but for a few years i thought maybe i could live with it. cadence was the only pony i've ever met who could make that noise in my brain silent; with her it didn't matter if I wasn't brother enough fro you or stallion enough for the military. i was always enough for her, no questions asked. i was so happy when we got married that i could almost forget about that feeling, telling myself it was a phase i'd outgrown. but now with flurry heart, all that anxiety is back. its like no matter what i do ill never be able to be a good father for her. i love her more than anything, id do anything for her, but it isn't enough. i'm not enough." the white unicorns neck gave way as he succumbed to quiet sobs, his once proud chin quivering and brushing his chest.

"shining... i..." twilight was speechless. what could be said? her brothers pain went far beyond anything she knew how to mend. at that moment being the princess of friendship meant nothing; she couldn't even move herself to speak in the face of her first best friends deep sorrow.

"i hope im not overstepping here," a timid voice chimed in, startling both siblings as rarity cleared her throat. "but i think i may have an idea as to the source and solution of your distress."

"rarity?" shining choked, "how could you possibly know how i feel?"

the mare nervously flicked her mane with an idle hoof. "there's a lot you don't know about me." turning to twilight, she asked "would it be alright if the prince and i could have a moment alone?"

Twilight nodded and bowed out of the room, and the two remaining ponies listened to her hoofbeats echo down and again further down the labyrinthine crystal hallway, which now seemed to glitter coldly like a sterile knife where it once had gleamed so warmly. rarity shivered at the thought of living in a place like this, which could transform before your eyes depending only on ones own emotion. that was, she mused, the property of crystal. it created nothing, only reflecting what was cast onto it. in a dimly lit cave the finest diamond was often mistaken by novices for a common quartz, but at the heart of a kingdom built on a foundation of admiration it gleamed on every surface like the morning dew on a freshly budded rose. this castle wasn't a cold cage or a warm embrace, it was an endless hall of mirrors, each perfectly angled to show you the deepest darkest crevice of your heart.

"i understand why it tortures you to live here." rarity whispered. "each surface gleams to a pristine chrome finish, yet the face it reflects is fundamentally and inconceivably wrong."

shining armor appeared startled, "that's exactly how it feels. how do you know? is it that obvious how miserable i am?

the mare shook her head, "only to those who have felt the same misery. shining armor, i once lived the same life as you, albeit in a much more drab estate. I felt that at every turn i failed at the very task of existing as myself, my relationships suffered because it pained me to view myself as a part of them. mirrors became my enemy because i couldn't face the pony looking back at me. the stallion looking back at me."

a small gasp escaped the taller unicorns lips "what-"

"think about it shining," rarity pleaded shakily, " everything you cant stand to be: brother, father, soldier, prince. they all have one thing in common." tears welled in her eyes and choked her throat "you cant run from it shining. it never stops. you only make yourself more and more miserable. you can cover as many mirrors as you like but eventually you're going to look around and realize that you're still the same pony you hated, standing alone in complete darkness."

something clicked behind the other ponys eyes. "no, it cant be... what about cadence? flurry? twilight? i cant throw all of them away because i have some twisted dream of living as a-"

"-you're not sick shining. maybe a bit different, but there's nothing wrong with you. you'll find that the friends worth keeping don't care at all. they're suffering by watching you suffer; freeing yourself will only free them too."

"i have no idea where to even start though. aren't i a bit too old for this?" shinings eyes were wide and scared.

"i would love to personally see to all the aesthetic changes you wish for, if you'll have me. you really couldn't ask for a more qualified personal stylist. and as for the social shift, you've got the princesses of love and friendship in your corner."

"but that's just it: they're not in my corner. they may as well be on the other side of equestria, or a gaping cavern. how can i even know that they'll still see me as me?"

"i know how scary it is, especially in the early days, but i can personally account for twilights acceptance. and as for cadence, i'm pretty sure they don't go around giving titles like the princess of love to ponies who cant accept others for something so harmless as gender." her smile faded and her face grew a bit serious "i can be there with you if you want. like i said, i know how scary it is." she placed a hoof on top of the other mares own.

She smiled. "I think id like that."

#mlp fanfic #mlp fanfiction #rarity #twilight sparkle #shining armor #princess cadence #mlp trans #trans shining armor #transfem shining armor

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winterlovesong1 · 3 years

Text

It’s here! As promised here is the first autumn/Halloween prompt for today - this one is for @scarletslippers who asked for Nace + Carving Pumpkins - I hope you enjoy! Also Happy Halloween everyone!

The leaves are changing colors, are you coming along?

Summary: Ace asks Nancy to go pumpkin carving after work. Set pre-canon/early S1.

-/-

Her parents made it a tradition starting when she was young, though she’s not sure of the exact age it began. She is certain it was near the beginning though as some of her earliest memories are scattered with flashes of laughter and stencils and funny faces.

Unfortunately, those early years are a bit muddled now in her mind, not because she can’t remember the details, but because she pushed them so far away after…

They are blurrier now than she intended.

Read the rest under the cut or read the rest at A03

But in the before, when the leaves would turn, gradually transitioning into various shades of bronze, honey, and deep maroon, when the wind would change its direction, a slightly cooler breeze resulting from the north, waving its way through her hair, they would all make the trip to the local farm. She’d amble down every row and knock on each skin of the varying degrees of pumpkins until her eyes would spot it - the one - the perfect pumpkin - and she would skip over to her parents who were always busy conversing with the owner they had grown to know well over the years and she’d exclaim I found it and we must get this one and this is it, dragging her parents by the hand to show them the exact one she picked out.

They’d arrive back home, sit together on the back porch, her parents on either side of her, with various utensils in their hands and that perfect pumpkin displayed in front of them upon a white canvas cloth.

Her dad always helped her with the sharp objects while her mom encouraged her that it was coming out fine, honey, and it will look great in the end.

When they were finished, there would be endless giggles, corny jokes, and slimy fingers.

But those memories are bit blurry now.

Because of her, because of what happened after…

The leaves still change, the wind still switches direction, and the temperature still dips and ebbs tangling her locks of hair. But now she drives out of the way on a backroad, swiftly walks past the houses that have them displayed in their front yard, she doesn’t even decorate with the fake ones.

She dismisses and ignores it all.

She shades the remembrance of those things as hazy as she can, yet as much as she tries to fog her memories of before, they don’t fade completely.

(they never could)

So when she starts her new job at the local seafood shack in town, and one of her coworkers (the one with those piercing blue eyes and amazing hair) asks her if she wants to partake in some pumpkin carving after work, she nearly drops the dinner tray full of frothy soda drinks.

He’d been so nice and warm since she got hired on at the restaurant, talking with her on occasion, holding conversation without judgement as the girl who put off college, but rather accepting her as someone trying to find her way in the world, as someone quite similar to him.

So she supposes that’s why she says yes when he asks with light in his eyes, ignorant of her history with the activity or the time of year, proposing the trip with only reasons of I find it soothing and it’s supposed to be clear skies tonight and not any mention of memories she willed herself to forget.

(that she still held onto the hazy fragments of)

So she supposes that’s why she says yes and not because there’s a part of her that would like to spend more time with him, that found, when they did talk, she wanted to make it last and last, and seemed to be slightly disappointed when it was over.

She gets into the passenger seat of his car (his beloved he calls her, and she smiles at the affection he as for his vehicle, finding it somewhat endearing) and pulls the zipper up on her jacket, tugging at the edges, pulling the nylon fabric closer to her.

She sees him turn the dial for the heater on the panel in front of him as he settles into the driver’s seat and she is grateful at how observant he is, that she doesn’t have to explain things with him.

(it’s a comfort she wants to hold onto as tightly as she was now grasping at her coat)

He turns to her as she lets out a breath and his eyebrows furrow a little in worry, “you ready?”

And it sounds like you ok? But they aren’t those kind of friends, so it’s just a question of preparation rather than condition.

“Yes,” she replies a bit breathily as she finally releases the fabric, the heat against the air warming her surroundings enough for her to not need added layers pressed again her.

“Yes, let’s go,” she repeats more assuredly as she rests herself further into the seat and unzips her jacket about halfway.

He smiles back at her and she hasn’t been this close to his smile before and it feels nice.

(she absentmindedly adds it to the list of things she likes about him)

-/-

They drive along the main road and approach a mile marker she vaguely remembers.

(she knows it by heart)

And after a beat, there’s an intersection - that intersection - and he’s turning left and her heart starts to beat out of her chest and we are going to that farm she thinks in a panic, habitually rubbing her palms against the denim of her jeans.

“I can turn the heat down if you’re too warm now?” asking again with concern, and a bit of restraint on what he really wants to say.

And she wants to reply don’t, she wants to say it’s fine, I’m fine.

But something about the worry in his distressed tone and the trepidation glassed over in his considerate eyes persuades her otherwise.

“It’s just…I remember this route…”

He was aware of her family situation - that she lived with her dad - that her mom wasn’t there. She thinks he assumed the rest just like he did about most other things in her life she didn’t elaborate on.

Why she was still in Horseshoe Bay.

Why she worked at the restaurant.

Why she followed every mystery with relentless vigor.

And she knew very little about him in turn. However, in this moment, there’s a hint arising about his history that she finds curious. His hands grip the wheel a little tighter and he doesn’t turn over to her, but speaks to the road when he admits, “I avoid certain roads too.”

Before she thought all they had in common was a lost future, a question of where to go next, of what step to take in their life. But as he stiffens his hands driving further down this side road she knows so well, the one she tried desperately to blur away, she thinks they also have a past in common, a past with a loss they avoid discussing, yet finds it seeps into the occasional word they speak.

She wipes the last of the sweat off her palms and finds herself tucking her hands between her knees, the denim fabric providing warmth, but also a dampener on her anxiety.

And then he asks it, the question he didn’t ask before, the one that now as they found themselves drifting into that other phase of friendship, the one where you share specific kind of secrets, not just the trite ones like I only like my coffee a certain way or my favorite lip balm is with me at all times, but the more in depth ones, the ones that hit a little closer to the heart, that are kept locked away for a reason because they are attached to a memory one would like to forget.

(because they are attached to a memory one can’t forget)

He turns to her from looking ahead at the road and with the upmost sincerity asks, “You ok?”

So she supposes that’s why she tells him the truth.

(she supposes that’s why she says yeah, it’s ok, I’m ok and doesn’t respond with a joke or a sardonic remark because there’s a part of her that is actually fine, that isn’t nervous or scared at traveling along a road she avoided for so long)

(there’s a part of her that feels comforted he’s here to help her trace along the path with)

-/-

They drive on and arrive at the farm and she forgets about before for an hour or two while they sit on wooden benches, utensils in hand, carving pumpkins underneath the fall-colored leaves.

(she forgets the pain of the memories for just a moment while he’s here)

They are almost back into town, and she can tell he’s been fighting some bundle of nerves for the last five minutes and she was unsure of what was making him apprehensive besides carrying their precious cargo of finished pumpkins in the backseat, her delicate carving of a sand dollar would be a shame to destroy as would his even further complex etching of a starfish.

(they better not quit their day jobs)

“Something the matter?” she hesitantly asks because are they those kind of friends now, do they ask these kind of questions, her mind racing at the answers as her words settle into the small space of his car.

(at least she’s venturing to categorize them as such friends now)

“I just…” and he’s just as hesitate to answer as she was to ask and maybe she was wrong, maybe that was a one time thing and they would just go back to asking if the order for table nine was ready and…

“I really enjoyed today,” he states plainly, as if it were a statement of fact and not simply his opinion. Which it was, but with the amount of fortitude he put behind the words, her belief wavers a little.

And then he continues, still without looking at her (and she notices he does that often, but she likes that - likes that he doesn’t hide how scared he is to be vulnerable - her mind not even registering that its one more item added on the list she admires about him), asking at a slightly quicker pace, “And if you did too, maybe we could do this next year?”

She’s still taken aback by how his opinion and question sound like statements, so her question back is constructed rather shakily and she regrets it sounding that way as it hits the air.

“Like a tradition?”

“I guess so,” his answer wobbles too, but before she can recant her response, he edits his.

“I like to think of it as a scheduled event. Tradition feels weighted down by a lot of…”

And she’s not as certain as she usually is, but she feels confident he was going to say, “history...”

Her interruption trails, but somehow the anxiety in the air lessens as he agrees, a smile growing on his face at knowing his words.

“Yeah.”

And maybe they were really those kind of friends now - the kind that checked in on each other - that made sure the other was ok.

(that kind that she thinks in the back of her mind could be…)

“Well, mark your calendar then, because I think we have a scheduled event in our future,” her own smile spreading across her face as she adds a bit of levity to her answer, as they meet each other’s glances from their own places in his car.

(the kind of friends that could be more…)

#nace fanfic #nace fan fiction #nace #ace x nancy #nace autumn fanfic #writing: winter's #nace Halloween fanfic

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crystaljins · 3 years

Text

River lead me home | 08

Characters: Kim Seokjin x reader

Word count: 8.5k

Synopsis: Ever since coming to the human realm when you were child, nothing seems to fit, and this was just supposed to be a simple roadtrip to help you find yourself.

Is that too much to ask for?

Spin-off to A long journey home

Rating: Teens

Genre: Adventure, fluff, angst

Notes: WOw. Second last chapter! Who knew we’d get this far.... I said last chapter was the emotional climax and now I’m looking at the word count of this chapter and I’m a bit like... wow... ok... you had a lot to say, didn’t you?

Anyway, please enjoy!!

Tags: @blue1928 @veeparkersstuff

Masterlist

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 FINAL

The three of you decide to make camp in the ravine that night with only minor hiccups. The Psittanurans had kindly provided you with two extra bedrolls, both far more comfortable than your own, and since the three of you hadn’t anticipated the addition of a third human-sized traveller, you had foolishly left your old bedroll behind in favour of travelling lighter. Of course, Jungkook, used to the comfort of sleeping curled up in your pocket, refuses to sleep without a bedroll. You cheerfully offer to just sleep on the soft, slightly damp sand that comprises the riverbank, but you’re quickly met with protests from both of your male companions.

“Just share with me.” Jin mutters, only slightly grumbly. The two of you had shared the single bedroll multiple times throughout this journey, and he doesn’t enjoy the idea of you attempting to rest uncomfortably with the state you’re in. Particularly because you’re only in that state because of him.

You’re about to nod your agreement when you are yanked back several steps into Jungkook’s torso. He throws a heavy arm across your shoulders and grins at Jin in a way that lets Jin know that Jungkook is fishing for a reaction.

“Oh no, no, no, loverboy.” Jungkook scolds. “We can’t have you taking advantage of our dear, naive (Y/N). She can share with me!”

You yank at his forearm more out of annoyance than an attempt to dislodge his arm.

“It’s not taking advantage.” Jin grits out between clenched teeth. He’s not even sure why Jungkook’s insinuation irritates him so much, but it does. And with the way Jungkook’s grin widens, Jin realises it was the exact reaction Jungkook was hoping for.

“If you insist.” Jungkook gives in. But then his expression turns faux-innocent. He drops his gaze to the top of your head and you tilt your chin back so you can gaze back up at him. “I can only assume that means that (Y/N) wants to share with you as much as you do with her and well, no judgement but I-“

“I’ll share with you!” You cut in, and Jin doesn’t need good lighting to know your cheeks are aflame.

Jin’s jaw drops. Jungkook just completely played the two of you. And he knows it- he shoots Jin a smug look as you clamber into the luxurious Psittanuran bedroll alongside him.

Jin is utterly floored by the red-hot flash of irritation he feels at the sight. He glares for a moment longer, as if it will change the outcome of the situation, but when it becomes clear that it won’t, he sighs and resigns himself to attempting to sleep for the night. It doesn’t take long for you and Jungkook to settle into a slow, steady rhythm of breathing that tells Jin you are both asleep.

Unsurprisingly, sleep doesn’t come easily to him that night. It’s not even that you’re lying a metre away wrapped in Jungkook’s annoyingly bulky arms, something Jin didn’t even know was irritating until now. No, what keeps him awake is the way his mind absolutely refuses to stop replaying the way you had looked at him when the arrow had hit you.

It was easy, in the adrenaline rush that had pushed him through the events of today, to ignore any pesky emotions. He didn’t have time to process or understand his emotions in the onslaught of disasters. But now he has nothing but time as the night slowly passes and he’s lost. He’s so, so lost.

It’s been a common topic on this journey- how you make him feel. Initially the answer was easy. You’re annoying and pesky, like an untrained Labrador puppy, but you’re also family, like an untrained Labrador puppy. Someone he cares for greatly, but is also annoyed by beyond belief.

But for some reason, the longer this trip has gone on, the harder the answer has become. Does he still care for you? Absolutely. Do you still annoy him? Beyond belief. So if that hasn’t changed, why does that answer feel so incomplete?

He sits up with a groan, realising he’s not going to get any sleep any time soon. The shore of the riverbank is cold and damp and the sand gives way beneath his bare feet. On the edge of the river like this, he can gaze straight upwards and glimpse the jagged strip of starlight visible between the imposing walls of the ravine. The stars in this realm really are something else- bright, sparkling pinpricks on an indigo canvas, high overhead. So much brighter and more intense than the muted, dusky black of the sky in the human realm. When he’d first moved, he’d actually missed the brilliant glow of the stars above, and he’d bought little glow in the dark stickers to attach to his ceiling. It had been during the time where you used spend a lot of time with him and his parents because your mother was working a late shift. He’d come home, overjoyed at the little stickers he brandished, and then he’d noticed the way you’d eyed them. You’ve never been very good at voicing your thoughts- every admission of yours has to be coaxed out of you. But he’d known straight away that you wanted the stars. He hadn’t hesitated, that night, to grab a ladder and spend the evening attaching the stars to your bedroom ceiling in a pathetic imitation of the constellations of Magregnum.

The young teenager who had cheerfully attached glow-in-the-dark stickers to the ceiling of his friend’s room seems so distant and far away now. So much has happened since then- so much has gone wrong and so much has gone right. Briefly, he wonders if you’d liked him back then as well. Maybe he’d mistaken the longing glow in your eyes as being for the stickers when it had actually been for him. Jungkook had made fun of him for never noticing your feelings until now, but it’s not like anything has ever changed between the two of you. You’ve always gazed at him like he’s someone amazing and special. He’s always given up everything for you without a moment’s hesitation. If anything, the only difference between then and now is that you keep drifting further and further away no matter what efforts he does or doesn’t make. What can he do? How can he solve the problem of you slipping through his fingers like water?

“Can’t sleep?” A voice sounds, and to Jin’s credit, he doesn’t scream. He does start so violently that he nearly tumbles forward into the water lapping at his feet, though.

Jungkook settles beside him, hugging his knees to his chest and gazing up at the stars above.

“Something like that.” Jin manages, when his heart rate finally settles back into something that is conducive to life. Jungkook snorts and folds his arms across his knees, resting his cheek on his folded arms so he can peer sleepily at Jin.

“I can’t either.” Jungkook admits. “The bedding isn’t as comfortable as I thought it’d be.” Jin glances at Jungkook, arching an eyebrow at him.

“Not as fun sharing as you thought?” Jin questions, unable to keep the slight sneer from his voice. Jungkook grins, a flash of white in the darkness.

“On the contrary, I’m very comfortable.” He asserts, and something about the way Jungkook says it has Jin bristling in irritation. He’s about to snap a retort, when Jungkook drops the cheeky front he has on, quite rapidly. Like a balloon deflating. “It’s just... I thought that as a human, everything would seem smaller. Less big and threatening. Everything was huge to me as a pixie. But for some reason...” he trails away before swallowing. It’s the most vulnerable Jin has ever seen him- he actually looks like a young boy, lost and afraid. “Instead everything seems bigger.”

Jin is silent for a moment, mostly shocked by this side of Jungkook. He should know better than to be surprised that Jungkook is more than a pesky troublemaker, after all the revelations of this journey. There’s always more to Jungkook.

The thought makes him smile for whatever reason. Jungkook, fearless, pesky Jungkook, is afraid of the future. Who’d have thought it? In response to the sudden fond feeling in his chest, Jin reaches out a hand to affectionately ruffle Jungkook’s hair.

Jungkook makes a noise of protest, pushing Jin’s hair away.

“Hey!” He cries. “I open up to you and this is how you treat me?”

“I can’t help it.” Jin teases. “You’re surprisingly cute.”

Jungkook huffs for a moment, clearly outraged at the sentiment, before the fight slowly drains out of him.

“I’m serious.” He mutters. Jin shakes his head and mirror’s Jungkook’s pose, hugging his knees in close to his chest.

“That’s how everyone feels.” He informs the former pixie. “The world is surprisingly big and huge, and life can sometimes feel like a puddle and sometimes like an ocean. Welcome to being a human.”

Jungkook is silent for a moment, contemplating what Jin is saying.

“I... never imagined this would happen. There are all these things I wanted to do, if I were human, but I never thought I’d actually get to do them. And now, I finally have everything I wanted, right at my fingertips and I’m... I’m scared.” Jungkook confesses.

“I get that.” Jin offers in sympathy. “I was scared when we first came to the human realm too. And then I was scared when I first got into med school. And I was scared when I first got to this realm again. The things we don’t know are scary.” He confesses. “But hey. Sometimes the best things to happen to us are the scariest things to start. Look at you- if you’d never overcome your fear of granting the wish, you’d never have become human, right?”

That silences Jungkook for so long that Jin begins to think he’s fallen asleep. But when he glances at Jungkook, he’s wide awake. The stars overhead reflect in his round eyes as he gazes thoughtfully upwards.

“The best things... are the scariest things to start.” Jungkook echoes at last. He frowns and squints at Jin. “I think you’re a hypocrite.” He accuses suddenly. For a moment, Jin merely smiles stupidly, not fully comprehending the sudden turnaround. But gradually Jungkook’s words register and his jaw drops.

“I’m sorry?” Jin answers in offence. Jungkook stares evenly back at Jin and even tilts his chin defiantly upwards.

“You heard me. You talk all big and wise like that, and yet you’re too scared to start the most important thing to you.” He reminds Jin. “Why else are you sitting out here, glaring at the sky instead of sleeping?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jin mutters, digging his fingers into the sand. It’s kind of satisfying, the way it gives way and crumbles beneath his palm.

“I’m talking about her.” Jungkook says, jerking a thumb over his shoulder to where you are currently snoozing peacefully. “And how you’re in love with her but you’re too scared to tell her.”

The words seem oddly loud and booming around Jin. For a second, he can’t seem to form words- like his tongue has frozen to the roof of his mouth.

“I...” he tries, but he doesn’t really have any follow up. “I...” he tries again. The air suddenly feels warm and his shirt feels uncomfortably tight around his throat.

“Ok, wow.” Jungkook says, releasing a low whistle for good measure. “So, you’re still doing the whole “in denial” thing? Really? Even after that whole desperate “what would I be supposed to do?” anguished kdrama lead monologue you had in that burrow?” Jungkook tsk’s and shakes his head and Jin feels his face flush with heat when he realises Jungkook had been eavesdropping on that particular conversation. “Girl takes an arrow for you and you’re still gonna deny you love her? Dang.”

Jin swallows past the dryness in his throat. But Jungkook cuts him off before he can offer any words.

“Save your denial for someone who might believe you. I’m not even going to force you to say it out loud because it sounds like (Y/N) is going to have to do something more impressive than taking an arrow for you and jumping into a ravine with you to finally admit it out loud. I’m just going to say that I get it. I didn’t before, but now I do.” He offers Jin a weak smile. “The things we don’t know are scary. And starting anything with her is probably terrifying given all your history. But maybe when you start to believe the whole “the best things are the scariest things to start” spiel, then I’ll follow your lead. But for now, I’m cold and tired.”

He gets to his feet and dusts sand off the back of his trousers, before padding over to where you’re fast asleep.

Jin is rarely speechless. He prides himself on often having lots to say- to some of his friends he’s famous for the speed at which he can spit out words. He’s even heard you refer to them as “jants” when you think he isn’t listening.

But he’s speechless now. Jungkook’s good at that- taking impossible, scary, confusing feelings and making them seem so simple that Jin feels like a fool.

The best things in life are the scariest to start.

The words echo in his head as Jin comes to a realisation, in that moment. Why he’s been feeling so lost... why every moment with you feels like sand slipping through an hourglass...

It’s because he’s absolutely terrified. Terrified of what you mean to him, of the risks he would have to take to keep you in his life... and terrified of the cost if he doesn’t take those risks.

But at the same time... the best things in life are the scariest to start. And Jin is more scared than he’s ever been.

This time when he settles into sleep, the soft, steady sound of your breathing and the gentle lap of the river against the sandy banks is enough to lull his stormy mind into a surprisingly restful sleep.

When you awaken the next morning, it isn’t hard to tell that there is something bothering your two travel companions. There’s a multitude of things that could be the reason behind their stormy moods. The three of you are still trapped in a ravine together. There is still the long journey back home. The Saishtas likely think you are dead, but they still linger out there and if you aren’t careful, you could expose your presence to them. So, you don’t blame them for being quiet and a little standoffish, but you wish you knew the exact reason for it. After all, you had kind of expected a more festive atmosphere after Jungkook became human. You certainly feel lighter and more joyous- why do your companions not mirror the sentiment?

“Is everything ok?” You finally ask Jin as he assists you with packing up the bedrolls. He looks at you, a little startled like he has been lost in thought.

“Yeah.” He says, just a beat too quickly. “Everything’s... fine.”

Funnily enough, you aren’t convinced. But you decide you won’t push your luck. After all, there’s a long walk back to the portal, if you can even escape this ravine. They’ll come to you when they’re ready. There’s lots for you to sort through yourself, anyway. You still have to work things out with your mother, and you’re still unemployed, and now you know you’re in love with Jin as an added bonus. If they’re feeling even a quarter of the nerves you are, then it’s no wonder that they’re subdued.

It takes most of the morning to find a path out of the ravine. Jungkook is confident there is definitely one, but he’s just unaware of where. When he had been born here, he had just flown up and out. But since guardians used to come in and out for these journeys, there must be something.

It’s Jin who finds it, albeit accidentally. He’s lost in a haze, thinking deeply about whatever it is that’s bothering him, and the sand crumbles beneath his feet. He cries out, grabbing your and Jungkook’s attention from where you had been scrutinising the various carvings from past guardians.

It all happens so quickly- Jin flails, stumbling a few steps. He reaches out, grabbing onto the side of the ravine to stabilise himself.

But he just keeps going. He crumples into the wall. And it folds around him. And just like that, he’s gone from view.

It takes a moment of you and Jungkook staring stupidly at each other before you both realise what has happened. Crying out in horror, you stumble over to the section of cliff where he vanished. You reach out your hand to press against the wall and find that rather than firm rock, it has an unusual spongy texture that gives way.

You wave Jungkook over, who mirrors your action and digs his hand into the wall. It seems to suck his arm in slightly, and you both nod at each other before pressing your way through the odd, spongey section of rock wall. It spreads around you and clings like quicksand. For a moment you feel a flash of fear, but then the rock springs away from you like an elastic snapping back into place and you and Jungkook are standing in a darkened, open cavern. You can still make out the darkened path, but you doubt a human would be able to make out a thing.

“Ow!” You hear a voice cry when something warm but firm catches your leg and you lurch forward, landing flat on the cavern ground. Whipping your gaze over your shoulder, you find Jin sprawled across the ground.

“Well...” Jungkook observes, gazing around the tunnel. His new, human body did not have the enhanced abilities that you and Jin do (as they had arm wrestled the night before to check) and so likely he is completely blind in this tunnel. “I’m just going to assume this is the way out. Are you gonna get a torch out, (Y/N) or are we going to hold hands the whole time?”

“She’s getting the torch out!” Jin snaps, scrambling over to you and snatching the bag off your uninjured shoulder before you can do anything.

He plunges his arm all the way in and pulls out the familiar yellow torch. It lights up the tunnel, highlighting the long, winding route ahead of you.

And then the light stutters and blinks out, leaving you in the once more in darkness. Jin whacks the bottom of the torch a few more times and plays with the switch, but no light returns. The three of you remain silent for a moment, perhaps a shared moment of memory for your torch, who had fought long and hard for you on this journey. And then Jungkook breaks it.

“Well, hope your hands aren’t sweaty.” He sighs, and his fingers barely brush yours before he’s yanked away with surprising force.

“I have better eyesight.” Jin explains, perhaps a little too sweetly. It’s in contrast with the way he squeezes Jungkook’s hand perhaps a bit too tightly. “I’ll make sure you don’t fall over, Jungkook.”

Jungkook whines in protest.

“You’re hurting me!” He complains.

Jin doesn’t dignify him with a response, and instead sets a rapid pace forward, strolling confidently through the cavern despite the meagre lighting.

It doesn’t take long for the sombre mood that had plagued them that morning to return. This time, you’re a little less willing to let it slide- Jin has proven himself prone to these strange, moody fits on this journey and you know he’s eventually forced to admit what’s bothering him, but for Jungkook to be just as quiet has you stressing. What’s wrong? Why are they like this? You’d gone to bed joyous and content and had awoken ready to face the world and the multitude of challenges ahead. But for some reason, Jin and Jungkook don’t share in your eagerness, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt a little.

It’s not like you expected things to be easy, or simple after reaching the river. You hadn’t even known that message from your dad existed prior to this, so it’s not like everything would just click into place and you’d ride off into the sunset. It’s just... you’d thought you were all on the same page, after everything. You and Jin had plummeted off a bridge together, for goodness’ sake! And it’s stupid, but the way he’d held you, cradled your head protectively as you fell, you’d thought...

Well, you hadn’t thought he was in love with you, or anything. You’d just thought it was something, at least. Yet here you are- for every step forward you take with Jin, there seems to be another three steps you take backwards. And now Jungkook is joining in on the whole brooding-confusing act too.

You haven’t even realised you’ve stopped walking until Jin stops to look at you over his shoulder. Jungkook, still completely blind in the dark tunnel, stops when Jin tugs on his hand.

“What’s wrong?” Jin questions, gently. As if he hasn’t been ignoring you all morning.

“That’s what I want to ask you.” You’re surprised at the soft, tentative way the words come out. They echo slightly in the cabin, and there’s a clear, confused waver in your voice. “What’s going on? Why are you...” you trail away, searching for the words, but you come up empty. “Like this?” is what you finally settle on. “Why aren’t you telling me what’s the matter? Why the silence and the brooding? Haven’t we had enough of that?”

Even though your eyesight is better than Jungkook’s, it’s still difficult to make out Jin’s silhouette. It’s impossible to make out his expression, which makes the tense silence that follows all the more nerve-wracking.

“There’s nothing wrong.” Jin finally says. “It’s just something stupid.”

His words aren’t meant to be hurtful. He’s trying to be dismissive so that you don’t worry. You know this, and understand his reasoning perfectly, but it still feels like a slap in the face after everything the two of you have been together. You’re so sick of this endless, perpetual cycle. If it’s not him, it’s you- someone is always holding back, too afraid to say the truth. To crush the fragile eggshells that you’re tip-toeing on.

“Friends are supposed to share the stupid things.” You say softly. You can’t see his expression, but you watch the way his shoulders stiffen. “Did you know that Jungkook’s biggest fear is the washing machine? He’s afraid he’ll be asleep in one of my pockets and my mum will throw my clothes for the wash.”

“That was private information-“ Jungkook protests, but you cut him off.

“I know that sort of thing about him.” You tell Jin. “Because Jungkook and I are friends. When I went through that phase where I wanted to be a warrior and started enrolling in all those different self-defence class, I told Jungkook. It was a stupid phase, but I still told him. Do you know why? Because I trusted him. Yeah, we make fun of each other, and we fight, and we call each other names, but I still tell him everything because that’s what friendship is. It’s trusting each other to stick it out through the ugly.” You don’t know where all this is coming from. All you know is this- you just trusted Jin enough to follow him over the edge of a bridge, but he doesn’t reciprocate. And that’s been the problem from the start. It’s always been uneven between you. You shared all your ugly, all your insecurities. You went to him when things were hard. But he hid it- he masked his insecurities and he held back the things he wanted to say and now the two of you are here. Two strangers in a dark cave.

“I trust you-“ Jin protests but the words are empty and ugly.

“You don’t.” You finally say. “And I can-” you voice cracks, so you clear your throat and try again. “I can try until I’m blue in the face to be the sort of person who never needs you and never makes you worry and it still won’t fix whatever this is between us because the truth is, you don’t want me.”

Your words hang in the darkness between the three of you. You’re pretty sure Jungkook is even holding his breath.

“You don’t want me, Jin.” You say again. “You just feel like you’re obligated to be with me. And I... I don’t want that. I don’t want you doing anything out of obligation for me. Not anymore.”

Despite the fact that your throat feels raw and painful after your tirade, you feel oddly lighter. You take a deep breath and move to push past Jin, but a hand shoots out and grabs your wrist.

“That’s not true.” Jin protests, and his voice wobbles. “Don’t... You’re not an obligation.” He asserts.

And you want to believe him. You do. But you just can’t. You’ve had a whole trip- no, a whole friendship of him treating you like the most inconvenient creature in existence.

“I sure feel like one.” You say softly, and Jin’s grip on you goes lax enough that you’re able to start walking forward. “It’s fine. Let’s just get out of here already. The sooner we get back home, the sooner I’ll be out of your hair.”

The sun stings your eyes when you finally reach the end of the tunnel- a similar spongey wall conceals the exit. You tell yourself it’s the sudden influx of light that causes your eyes seem to water as you enter the last phase of your long journey.

Jin has an ugly, gurgly sensation in his chest. It’s close to guilt, but worse- darker, and more painful. He watches your back from where you walk, maybe ten metres in front of him. Jungkook walks close to you, clearly mumbling something. But since it’s Jungkook, it’s just as likely that he is comforting you as it is that he’s pointing at random lumps of dirt and noting the resemblance to your face.

You haven’t spoken a word to him since stepping out of the tunnel. The exit had brought the three of you out at the northern edge of the Golden Plains- a direct walk east through the forest would bring you to a village where you could stock up on supplies for the journey home since the Psittanurans hadn’t given you enough for three human-sized beings, and buy a third bedroll for Jungkook.

It’s an easy fix, really. All Jin has to do is apologise. Assert that you are not an obligation to him and that he does trust you. But every time he plucks up the courage to cross the few metres you walk ahead of him, something stops him. Because, if he tells you that, that you’re not an obligation, then that begs the question: what are you? As much as he loathes to admit it, he’s beginning to see the truth in Jungkook’s words; he’s a hypocrite. A cowardly, pathetic hypocrite who isn’t even brave enough to admit to himself what he’s feeling.

An unholy screech interrupts his commiserating and he has just enough time to think here we go again to himself before he is greeted by the sight of a terrified Jungkook held bridal style in your arms. You look equally shocked, as if you hadn’t expected Jungkook to leap into your arms like that. Jin rushes forward, ready to offer aid should disaster come but he cannot locate any immediate threats.

It is only once Jungkook stops screeching and cowering in your arms like a distressed puppy that Jin is able to see what has him so terrified- a small group of mice, standing up on their hindlimbs and wielding tiny little swords.

It takes a few incredulous blinks and a good rub of his eyes to convince himself that the scene before him is real and not something’s he’s hallucinating after watching too much Ratatouille.

The little grey mouse, whose tiny nose twitches in fear as he edges forward, is the first to speak.

“You are guardians, are you not?” The little mouse demands. You and Jin exchange a concerned glance across Jungkook’s hulking figure. It’s the first time you’ve acknowledged him for hours.

“Not!” Jungkook squeaks, still terrified. You, to your credit, have not dropped him, but you are starting to look impatient with having to carry him. “Just leave us in peace!”

“Jungkook!” You snap. “You could literally squash them with your boots please stop being ridiculous.”

“You know I have a phobia! They always bully me back home!” Jungkook grumbles, but reluctantly drops from your arms onto the ground. Only for one of the mice to brandish its sword. Jungkook screams and leaps onto Jin’s back.

With a resigned sigh, Jin doesn’t even bother to throw Jungkook off. He just lets him hang there, like a terrified koala.

“You fit the legends! Hulking beasts with terrifying aura!” A little soft brown mouse declares, though the tip of its sword shakes as it squeaks. “Giants who offer aid to all who demand it of them!”

Jin closes his eyes and inhales deeply, willing himself to be calm.

“I think you have the wrong-“ Jin begins, ready to brush aside the little troupe of mice and continue with the seven day hike home, but the smallest mouse, a little grey and white one with a soft pink nose, stumbles forward.

“Please!” It begs. “You are our last hope! You must help us! Forgive us if we startled you- we have been following you since you came to this realm and we are running out of time.”

This gives Jin pause. He’s not sure why- it’s not like he knows how to read the expressions on their tiny faces but something about the desperation in the little mouse’s words makes him unable to leave them.

“Our people are suffering from a plague.” It admits. “And there is only one cure for the illness.”

“A good mousetrap?” Jungkook suggests from over Jin’s shoulder. Jin glares at him just to make sure he knows the comment is unwelcome.

The little grey and white mouse ignores Jungkook and focuses its attention on Jin.

“The starshine fungus.” It explains. “It grows in abundance on the riverbanks just on the other side of this forest. But few of our people are well enough to gather and transport it back home. We need as many as we can gather, and yet we were the only ones healthy enough to make the journey. But the demand for it far outweighs the ability of just the four of us to transport it alone. We are too small, and too weak.”

Jungkook has gone eerily quiet at those last words- even his breathing has seemed to cease. That almost never bodes well.

“I’m really sorry, but we-“ you begin, on the verge of rejecting them.

“We’ll help.” Jungkook says, cutting you off. He pushes his way off Jin’s back and drops back onto the ground. He crouches before the four little mice and smiles. The expression on his face is almost gentle. “You guys don’t know what it’s like, to be small and helpless. We can’t leave a whole colony to die just because Jin wants to make it back in time for his dinner date with that cool engineer guy.” He says to Jin and you. Jin bites his lip, and you look momentarily guilty. But then your expression clears, and you nod your head. Jungkook’s expression brightens and he shifts his gaze to Jin, clearly waiting for approval.

With a sigh, Jin offers a nod. Why did he become a doctor if he’s just going to let an entire village die? As much as he loathes to admit it, Jungkook is right.

“So, you’ll help?” The grey and white mouse asks. Jungkook nods.

“Show us the way and we’ll carry the fungus back for you.” Jungkook promises.

On cue, all four of the mice bow deeply.

“You have our deepest gratitude.” The largest mouse, the grey one that had spoken first, says.

Jin swallows deeply. He has no interest on yet another detour on this ridiculous journey. He just wants to go home. At home, he can fix his Apple watch. He can have dinner with Joon. Maybe, in the safety of home and what he knows, he can even work things out with you, and himself. Here, in this realm, there is nothing but danger and the choked knot around his heart that he can’t seem to untangle in your presence.

Still, it’s a pleasant walk. You let the little mice perch on your shoulders since Jungkook hasn’t fully shaken off his fear of them. They direct the three of you on a march southwest, towards the seaside. It takes nearly the whole day to get there. The lazy afternoon is warm but not sweltering although the air is heavy with the promise of rain later on.

You all reach the river before the rain comes. The forest opens up into a wide river. Northwards, the river extends towards impressive cliffsides where the fabled dragon kingdom is said to be, and southwards it rushes out to meet the sea on the southern coastline. Here, though, it is a lazy flow. Dragonflies dance on the banks and the river reflects the silvery clouds back up into the sky.

“They grow along the banks.” The oldest of the mice, the soft brown one, explains. Her name is Phrosia, and she has lost all her children to the plague. She has no family and the only thing keeping her going is the thought that she can’t let anyone else face what she had. She points at where the bank meets the river edge. Small plants and reeds grow along the edges. “They are bright blue and quite large. They’ll grow just inside the water. They should be easy to spot.”

“Well,” Jungkook says, sighing as he sheds his jacket. “Let’s get looking.” He rolls up the edges of his jeans and sheds his shoes and socks before wading into the mouth of the river and sifting through the grassy tufts on the banks.

Jin meets your gaze, which is a surprise because he didn’t realise you were looking at him. He offers you a tentative, awkward smile which has you looking away quickly. The action has that ugly, gurgly sensation from earlier returning. He sighs to himself before rolling up his sleeves and following Jungkook’s lead, wading into the river.

Sure enough, as the afternoon settles into a thick, muggy heat that signifies an oncoming storm, Jin begins to spot patches of bright blue amongst the reeds that line the riverbank. It’s mindless work- sort of soothing against his stormy mind. At least while he’s focused on adding to his growing pile of fungus, he’s not thinking about you, a few metres away, and the weird ache in his chest.

He’s so engrossed in his task that when he feels the delicate tap on his shoulder, he nearly has a heart attack. The handful of mushrooms in his hand goes flying, catching the current and zooming away. He stares in horror at his lost fungus, before turning to the perpetrator.

He’s expecting Jungkook to be standing there, looking smug from a prank well done, so when he sees you before him, looking uncomfortable and strangely guilty, he’s reduced to staring dumbly. The silence draws out for an uncomfortably long moment before you clear your throat awkwardly.

“Can... can we talk?” You ask hesitantly. “Jungkook offered to keep looking for more.” You gesture down the river to where Jungkook and the mice are working together- He plucks a mushroom and they carry it over to his pile for him.

Jin feels a nervous and uncomfortable sensation clog the back of his throat, but he nods nonetheless. You smile weakly and lead him away from the riverbank and back past the tree line. When you’re out of earshot but still within sight of Jungkook, you stop and turn.

This is it- the moment Jin had been waiting for. A chance to set things straight, to clear things up, to make it right.

“I’m sorry.” He blurts, at the same moment that you blurt the exact same words as him.

For a moment, the two of you stare blankly at each other in the ringing silence that follows.

You’re quicker to recover.

“I went overboard.” You explain. “You don’t owe me an explanation for when you’re upset. I shouldn’t get mad over that. And even... even if you see me as just an obligation, I’m grateful you’re in my life at all. So, I’m sorry for getting upset and I don’t want to ruin the rest of this trip home.”

It’s certainly a heartfelt apology. You wring your hands in distress and you won’t meet his gaze. He can tell you’re genuinely sorry for what happened.

Maybe that’s why he’s so angry in response to your words. Because, even if he lets this happen, accepts your ridiculous apology, the original problem still remains.

“Obligation?” Jin tests the word and even just the shape of the word in his mouth is annoying. “Obligation?” He tries again and he feels his blood pressure skyrocket.

“You serious think after all this time that you’re just an ‘obligation’ to me?” Even Jin is surprised by the volume of his own voice. The area around you is deadly silent in response to his outburst, but now that it’s out in the open, he can’t help but keep going. “What kind of idiot would risk his life on a ridiculous trip like this, just because of an obligation? Why would I give up dinner dates and drive to your place late at night to make sure you’ve eaten? What, you think your mother slips me a little allowance for babysitting you? Newsflash, (Y/N), I’m a literal doctor!!! I don’t need an allowance! I own my own apartment! I’m thinking of buying a maserati! You don’t have anything I need and I don’t have any obligation towards you! You’re minimising everything I’ve done for you and for what? So that you can play poor pathetic victim? How dare you belittle my feelings like that!” He’s out of breath by the time he finishes his rant and to be honest he’s not one hundred percent sure of the furious words which had poured out.

“Well what am I supposed to think?! It’s not like you ever explain yourself! You just sit there, and stew and I have to find out how you really feel by overhearing conversations you have with friends behind my back!” You explode in response. If Jin weren’t so angry himself, perhaps he would have felt alarmed by the vehemence of your answer. Instead, he just sees red, because here you go again! Making assumptions about him and not letting him get a word in edgewise!

“When have I ever done that?” He demands. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so angry in his life, not even when Jungkook filled his shoes with pudding because he had nothing better to do.

“You always do that!” You cry. “I know how all your friends speak about me! There goes (Y/N), the leech! And you just agree with them- after all, aren’t I just like an untrained Labrador puppy?”

Jin falls silent at that. He doesn’t have a comeback for that. After all, for the longest time, that is what you were to him. He doesn’t even know why he’s so upset that you would think otherwise.

“No answer?” You accuse. “If I’m not an obligation to you, what am I supposed to think?”

“You’re supposed to think about how I feel!” He shouts back. His throat feels raw with the shout.

You fall silent. You stare at him like’s he’s grown a second head.

And then, in the ringing silence that bears down on the two of you, you ask softly “How do you feel?”

There’s that question. That terrifying, loaded question. The one that makes him feel like he’s dangling on the edge of a cliff by his fingertips. He feels the fight drain out of him as he opens his mouth to struggle through a half-assed excuse. Anything to escape that question.

This realm apparently reciprocates his feelings of hatred, however, for he never gets the chance to respond. The muggy heat that had plagued the afternoon transitions into stormy humidity; overhead the stormy clouds that had gathered burst and immediately rain begins to pour down.

The two of you flinch in the sudden onslaught, and a loud peal of thunder has you both skittering for shelter.

There’s a small, hill like structure where the soil between the roots of an imposing tree has been flushed away; what remains in a shallow alcove that has just enough room for you and Jin to squeeze beneath the roots and shelter from the rain. He doesn’t know what Jungkook or the mice have done but hopefully the large pile of starshine fungus is being managed and not washed away in the onslaught of rain.

You rummage in your tattered hello kitty bag and produce a small, dry towel. Who knows what enchantments are cast on that stupid bag that the towel is still dry, but Jin isn’t complaining when you wordlessly hand it to him.

He towels off his hair, and an almost comfortable silence follows, in stark contrast to the prior conversation. Only the background of rain falling and the occasional rumble of thunder hangs between you. In the silence, Jin registers your proximity. You crouch beside him, with your thighs pressed to his. The dampness of the rain makes hairs along your hairline curl and droplets of water cling to your lashes. His eyes catch the movement of one droplet as it traces a line down your cheek, across your jawline and down your throat until it vanishes beneath the collar of your shirt. Glancing away quickly, he’s suddenly aware of the muggy heat in the air and the way the space beside you just seems to radiate warmth.

“You didn’t answer my question.” You comment. It’s so soft that the words are almost lost to the steady sound of rain breaking through the canopy overhead. “How do you feel?”

But he hears the words, and he knows in that moment that this is it. There’s no time or room for running or pushing it down. He can’t keep avoiding that question forever.

“I feel overwhelmed. When you look at me.” He admits. You turn to look at him, awaiting an explanation. Something about the look in your eyes makes that weird gurgly sensation from earlier return. But this time, it’s less ugly- it’s actually almost pleasant. Like the fizz of champagne in the back of his throat or the tickle of butterfly wings against his skin. New, delicate, effervescent. His heart swells as he finally gathers his courage. “Did you know you always look at me in a certain way?”

He turns to look at you, and he doesn’t see that look now, but it’s not hard to recall. Eyes, sparkling with admiration and hope. In spite of all the ways you’ve changed over the years, that look has never changed.

“How?” You question. When you’re facing him like this, the tail end of your breath catches against his skin. The fizzy feeling escalates to a nervous rumble in his chest.

“Like I’m your hero.” He admits. “It’s a little scary- it’s so much to live up to. But it’s kind of exhilarating too. It makes me want to be the person you think I am.”

You stare at him in confusion.

“But you are-“ you protest.

“I’m not. I’m no hero. I’m a coward.” He admits. “I mess things up all the time and I always say the wrong thing when it comes to you. And I’ve been trying so hard to be that guy. The one who has it all together and knows exactly what to say when you’re upset and can fix problems with a flick of his fingers.” It’s weird to finally be voicing this all aloud. He’s thought it a lot- that the real him doesn’t live up to expectations. But he doesn’t think he’s ever had the courage to tell you. Perhaps this is what you meant- if you are his friend, he should have told you all of this long ago. “But I’m not that guy. No matter how hard I try I can’t seem to be that guy. And if I open up… If I tell you all those things… don’t I seem so much less than that cool hero?” He confesses. “And I guess this whole trip has made it worse. Every time I think I have a handle on things, we get kidnapped or shot at or have to jump off a bridge. I haven’t had a spare moment to even pretend to be that guy.” He looks at you. “And then you come along, and you’re sneaking into enemy camps and taking arrows to the shoulder and defeating evil forest spirits. How am I even supposed to compare? And if you can do all of that on your own, what am I meant to be? What am I supposed to be to you? How can I be your hero?” He wonders.

You stare at him in confusion. The rain starts to clear and a blade of sunlight cuts through the forest, catching the side of your face. It highlights the slope of your nose, the line of your cheekbones, the brightness of your eyes. In that moment, you aren’t his friend. You’re some ethereal, mystic being that feels a thousand miles out of reach.

“I... I don’t want any of that from you, Jin. I don’t want or need a hero.” You finally confess. Your gaze softens as you shuffle forward, and the mood between the two of you shifts a little bit. Something intangible thickens the air and Jin feels strangely short of breath. “I just want... I just want...” you trail away, breaking your gaze but the tension in the air doesn’t dissipate. Instead, it seems to thicken when Jin realises that he desperately wants to know what you’re going to say. What do you want from him? What is he to you? What do you want him to be to you?

“You.” The word is barely above a breath and Jin feels like he’s been punched in the stomach.

“M-me?” He stutters and he feels like a teenager with a crush with the way the tips of his ears go red and his face flushes hot.

“Yeah.” You say, nodding shyly, before meeting his gaze with determination. “I want my friend back, Jin. I like the guy who stuck glow in the dark stickers on my ceiling when I was homesick but I also like the guy who gets scared of bugs and can fit an entire slice of cake in his mouth in one go. That guy is better than any hero because he’s here with me. And that’s what you do, Jin. You’re always here with me, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted from you.” You admit.

The space between you is minuscule now- if Jin tilted his head just slightly forward, your noses would brush. This close, he can make out each individual lash framing your eyes. Every contour of your face is both familiar and unfamiliar; the air is electric. He recalls the way you had looked at him what feels like a lifetime ago, when he had realised your feelings. Are they still the same? Do you still like him even after seeing the pathetic person he is throughout this trip? If he tilted in and up and closed the gap between your lips, would you pull away or press forward? “I don’t want the guy who can fix things with a flick of his fingers. And I don’t want a hero. I want Kim Seokjin. It’s more fun to work things out together anyway.” You promise.

It’s weird that those words are so liberating. Like a huge weight he didn’t know he’s been carrying all these years has been lifted. He’s fought and run and panicked for so long. Perhaps even longer than this trip. Long before you started avoiding him. Because all this time, he’s been trying to live up to an image he doesn’t fit into. He thought that’s what he had to be, for your sake. If you were struggling, he’d have to be strong enough to pull you out. But, with the words that hover between you, he realises he doesn’t have to be all that. He just has to be himself. Here the two of you are, after facing every imaginable danger, and yet you think no less of him. You’re looking at him with that same, admiring look. The brightness has not dimmed despite your awareness of his vulnerability, of his weakness.

And in that moment, Jin knows. There’s no more denying or running. He can’t keep it up- you’ve meticulously dismantled every stone in the fortress he built against you. He stands alone in the battlefield of his heart- you’ve conquered and won. He remembers earlier, when he’d tried to assert that he’d only ever see you as family, and the thought is laughable now. A pathetic, desperate excuse to avoid admitting the very thing that terrifies him to the bone. But, now he’s ready to admit it- ready to acknowledge what you are to him.

“You’re not an obligation to me.” He blurts. “You’re not a duty and you’re not just some un-trained puppy. You’re so much more than that, (Y/N), and everything I do is because I care about you so much. I’m sorry if it didn’t come across that way. I’m just..” He pauses and swallows. “I.. I lo-“

“There you are!” Jungkook’s voice sings out, and Jin winces. “I was starting to think you’d left me! Don’t worry guys, I’ve saved the fungus.”

You blink over Jin’s shoulder to where Jungkook has gathered the small little mushrooms into his jacket, which he’s folded into a little makeshift sack, the mice trailing behind. And then your gaze shifts back to Jin and you smile.

“Guess it’s back to work.” You say, and your words are awfully cheerful considering Jin is currently considering murder. Jungkook doesn’t have a human identity yet- he could bury him in this realm, and no one would ever know. “Shall we work together?”

It’s a loaded question, Jin knows, and despite everything, he finds himself smiling as well.

“What other choice do I have?” He grumbles. “Let’s get home already.”

#castlebangtan #thebtswritersclub #kim seokjin x reader #jin x reader #seokjin x reader #writing

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

When the Weight Comes Down - 7

Warnings: non-consent sex (series); nothing for this chapter.

This is dark! (biker) Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Series Synopsis: Your father’s a drunk, your mother a recluse, and you’re just another small town girl in Birch.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown

Note: This is our second last chapter! So excited to share this. As always, I appreciate you guys and you following along with my madness.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter Seven: Long Time Running

Does your mother tell you things Long, long when I'm gone? Who you talking to? Is she telling you I'm the one?

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

The next day at the bakery was slow. You were thankful for that. Your night had been close to sleepless as the afterglow of what you’d done faded away. You woke to the smell of Steve and despite a shower, it seemed to follow you. The thought of him lingered too.

As you swept the empty bakery, the bell chimed and you looked up the woman who was becoming all too familiar. Bucky’s girl smiled at you as you rounded the counter and returned to the till. She looked through the glass at the desserts before she approached the other side.

“I’ll take some of the lemon meringue,” She said.

You nodded and punched in her order. You could sense her watching you. She paid and you gave her her change. You cut a thick slice of the pie and boxed it up for her. As you slid it across to her, her hand rested on it and she glanced over her shoulder.

“You and Steve,” She turned back to you. “How is that going?”

You squinted at her, then shrugged.

“He hasn’t… hurt you?” She asked.

You lowered your eyes. Sure, Steve had been a bit gruff, a bit insistent, but he hadn’t truly hurt you. He had made you feel wonderful things. Confusing things. You shook your head.

“You sure?” She asked.

“Yes,” You looked up at her. “He doesn’t hit me or anything.”

“You like him?” She prodded. You shrugged again. “I suppose it doesn’t matter anyway.”

“Do… you think he would hurt me?” You leaned on the counter and spoke quietly. “If I… said no.”

“Well, does he let you say no?”

“I haven’t… I don’t…” You blinked at her. “You’re not afraid of him?”

“I’m not stupid,” She said. “I know what he’s capable of, so no, I am afraid of him. But I have Bucky and as much as we… disagree, he wouldn’t let Steve hurt me.”

“Please, don’t tell him I said any of this. Steve, I mean.” You pleaded.

She chuckled darkly.

“I don’t talk to that jackass,” She took the box of pie. “Just… you’re gonna need a friend and to be honest, I need one too.”

Your eyes rounded and you felt like smiling. A friend.

“Really?” You breathed.

“Sure,” She smiled for you. “But you let me know if Steve hurts you. Promise.”

“Okay,” You said. “I’ll… I will.”

💀

You walked home slowly. You hummed an old tune you heard on the radio too many times. You were nervous. The red dress, that’s what Steve said. What he demanded. You didn’t really like that one. It was short and tight.

You strode up the dirty road towards your house and came upon the gravel drive. You stopped dead at the motorcycle parked beside your father’s old Ford. It was too pale to be Steve’s and the wolf on its tank confirmed that it wasn’t. Your heart fluttered and you sped up to clamour up the porch steps.

Your father wasn’t in his usual spot and as you went inside, you heard voices. You followed them to the kitchen.

Bucky was there with your parents. Your mother hovered at the stove, wringing her hands, and your father pressed his hand around a can as he sat facing the biker. It was an odd and startling scene.

“What’s going on?” You asked and all eyes went to you.

“I was just checking in,” Bucky stood slowly. “Like to keep eyes on my territory.”

“You never been here before,” You said quietly. He grinned.

“Come on,” He gestured you back into the hall as he neared. “We need to talk.”

You peeked over at your mother. She looked terrified. Your father shook his head and grumbled into his can. He didn’t give a shit. You turned and Bucky followed you to the front door. You went out onto the porch and closed the door softly behind him.

“Go on,” He pointed to the couch your father had stained with beer and sweat.

You sat and he leaned on the rail of the porch in front of you. He crossed his arms as the late spring breeze ruffled his short hair.

“My girl’s been acting… strange,” He said. “So we had a talk today.”

“About what?” You teetered on the edge of the couch.

“You,” He said. “Steve. She’s concerned. Now I told her Steve was his own man and you are grown, you can take care of yourself.”

You stared up at him as he considered you. His blue eyes searched your face and his squared jaw softened. He let out a long breath.

“Your daddy hit you?” He asked. You flinched. “Well?”

“Sometimes.” You admitted. “Mostly my ma tho.”

“Is that why she stays in? To hide it?”

“She has… fears,” You shifted. “What does it matter?”

“Because, my men, we are what we are. We’re bad men.” He said. “But we have our lines that we do not cross. We don’t hit our women. I mean that. None of my business whether you and Steve are… together, but it is my business if he takes after your pa.”

“But… he’s your friend.”

“He is, and I don’t see him hitting you. That’s not really who he is. He’s got a bit of a temper. Admittedly, he can be rough, but there are limits. Even for him.” Bucky explained.

“I… You don’t know me,” You said softly.

“I don’t,” He admitted. “Not well but I think I will. I know Steve and I know his nature. I see the way he is with you. He’s a right ass hole to everyone else, even me. But not you.”

“And… if I don’t want him?” You nearly whispered as your voice crackled.

“See, that is none of my business there,” He pushed himself away from the rail as a distant engine filled the air. “He made his claim.”

“Claim?” You stood as the engine roared closer and Bucky turned to watched the other biker pull up next to his bike.

“Talk to my girl,” He neared the steps. “She’ll help you understand.”

He tramped down the steps and strolled over to Steve. They greeted each other with a handshake and had a brief conversation you could barely understand. Bucky departed with a tear of his engine and Steve strode over to the porch and looked up at you.

“You didn’t forget, did you?” He hopped up the steps.

“No, I just… I just got back from work,” You said. “I hadn’t--”

“It’s alright, I can wait,” He said.

“I… could you stay out here? I think my ma’s already scared enough.” You clasped your hands together nervously.

“You and Bucky have a good chat?” He asked.

“I think,” You said.

“I’ll stay out here,” He said. “Grab some extra clothes while you’re at it.”

You stared at him and slowly moved toward the door. You nodded and ducked inside quickly. You hid behind the door as your mother peeked out from the kitchen.

“What have you brought into my house?” She asked.

“Ma,” You uttered. “Please…”

“I didn’t raise you to be one of them,” She said.

“You raised me to be nothing,” You stopped at the end of the hall that led to your bedroom. “To be walked all over and that’s exactly what’s happening.”

She looked hurt. She neared you slowly and drew you into her arms. She clung to you.

“I’m sorry,” She whispered tearfully.

“Doesn’t matter,” You pulled away. “Never did. What I want is… It’s okay, ma.”

You left her there and went to your room. You changed into the red dress. No panties, he said. You felt wrong and bare. You shoved a pair of jeans and a tee into a canvas bag along with underwear and some socks. You pulled on a thin sweater and marched back into the hall. You mother gaped at your dress.

“He has money,” You offered weakly. It barely mattered to you.

“He could hurt you,” Your mother argued.

“Like pa?” You challenged and she frowned.

“I should’ve… left.” She whispered.

“Should’ve,” You agreed. “I never expected anything else than what I’ve been dealt.”

“You should’ve had better.” She said.

“You too,” You replied and carefully stepped past her. “But we take what we get, don’t we?”

You pulled the door open and your new shoes slipped on the porch. You held yourself up with the door and closed the screen. You turned to Steve as he smirked. His eyes flicked up and down your body as he drew you close.

“I like it,” He purred before he kissed you. “I got a surprise for you.”

“Oh?” You gazed up at him, still reeling from your awkward homecoming.

“Let’s go for a ride, doll,” He cradled your face between his hands and his thumbs traced your cheek bones as he kissed you again.

💀

Steve drove out of Birch and along the country roads. You were surprised and slightly off-kilter as he pulled up to a large house amidst the sprawling green fields. Reclusive but not too far out of town. You peered up at the house from beneath your helmet as he rolled to a stop. He waited for you to climb off before he kicked down the stand and dismounted.

Your legs were numb from the ride and you bent to rub your thighs just under the short skirt. You took off your helmet as Steve did the same and he took it from you before he led you towards the house. He set the helmets on a crate on the porch and fumbled with his keys. You crossed your arms behind him as he unlocked the door.

“This is your place?” You wondered.

He was quiet as he stepped inside and waved you in behind him. He bent to unzip his boots and kicked them off. You slipped out of your shoes and glanced around at the tidy entry way. It wasn’t what you imagined. He turned to you as you caught yourself on the narrow console table as you nearly tripped on your own shoes.

“It’s our place,” He said.

“What?” You sputtered.

He took your hand and pulled you to the wide doorway that looked into the front room. A cozy looking couch with matching chairs, a brick fireplace, a rug the same colour as the bricks, a polished coffee table.

“I bought it furnished but never really bothered to do anything,” He slid his arm over your shoulders. “Never had much of a reason too.”

“What do you mean ‘ours’?” You grabbed his hand but he wouldn’t let you push him away.

“You can’t stay at your parents. Your father’s a drunk and your mother’s… crazy.” He said. “I want you here. With me.”

“Steve,” You breathed. “I barely… You don’t…”

“You deserve better,” He rubbed your shoulder. “I’ll give you the best.”

“I can’t leave my ma,” You huffed. “You don’t understand, my pa will--”

“You let me worry about them. You’re not doing that anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll buy out the house. Make sure they don’t have to stress. Keep an eye on your pa.” He said. “A close eye. There’s no place in Birch he can hide.”

“I gotta work tomorrow,” You finally wiggled free of his arm.

“No, you don’t,” He said. “You don’t need to do anything but be mine, doll.”

“I like working,” You argued.

“I won’t stop you then,” He said.

You looked at him and inhaled deeply.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why me?” You asked. “Why give me all this?”

“You need a way out, I need… someone,” He said. “It works out.”

“And if I walk away right now?” You ventured.

He smirked and leaned on the door frame.

“You won’t,” He said. “You can’t. You know that. You’re not stupid.”

You hung your head and played with the hem of your sweater. You glanced at the window then past Steve to the small entryway.

“I’d rather you didn’t try it,” He warned. “But it’s your call.”

You shivered. You weren’t cold, just scared.

“That dress looks good on you,” He said. “I’ll get you more.”

You just stared at his chest as his hands grazed your sides. He pulled you to him and brought two fingers up to tilt your chin. He kissed you and you let him. There was something inside you that just rolled over. An acceptance that had been growing since this man strode into your life. You had known that night at the bar, there was no way out of Birch.

He drew away, his breath was warm against your lips.

“Let’s take the grand tour,” He said.

You nodded and he let you go. He stepped back and shed his leather jacket. He hung it in the entryway by the door. You reluctantly slipped off your sweater and he took it to hang beside his jacket. He smiled and stretched his arm across your shoulders.

“I think you’re gonna like this place a whole lot, doll.”

#Steve Rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #biker!steve rogers #biker au #biker!au #au #series #when the weight comes down #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #captain america #limited series

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stillbandofbrothersthirsty · 3 years

Text

As Far As Friends Go

Chapter 20 (Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; ... Chapter 19)

Phew, it’s been a minute! Hi again with this story! I’ll be making more regular updates on this one again. I’m always happy to hear feedback, good or bad :) <3

Nixon - December 1944

"What did he mean?" Winter's asked Nixon once Strayer had left. The Lieutenant Colonel had just finished briefing Winters and the other officers on what their objectives were for the next couple of days.

Nixon shook his head in disbelief, "I don't know," he said, "I don't think he even knows." Winter's mouth tightened into a thin line of disapproval, "that's what I'm afraid of."

Nixon exhaled deeply. This wasn't the first time he and Winters had experienced frustration since coming to Bastogne. No one seemed to have a goddamn idea of what was going on as their men sat freezing on a line that was no more than a German garrote. They were outnumbered, lacking in supplies and all the senior leaders were elsewhere. The leadership that was present seemed to be clueless on how exactly to help their men. "I'll go back to regiment HQ and figure out what the hell is going on," Nixon told Winters. His compatriot nodded gratefully at him.

Nixon walked to regimental headquarters that was placed just outside of Bastogne. It was a cold walk. Without the cover of trees a nasty wind-whipped redness into Nixon's cheeks. There absolutely was risk in traveling alone so exposed, so slowly. But Nixon didn't care. He was too fed up with the cold, with the war, to really care about acting cautiously. If he died, he died.

Halfway into his trip, a jeep passed and he was able to hitch a ride. Despite that bonus, Nixon's frustration had grown with the cold by the time he arrived at headquarters. He stomped through camp looking for someone who could clarify Strayer's orders.

The level of disconnect between the soldiers on the front lines and the commanding officers was unbelievable. Nixon wasn't quite as disgruntled as Winters, but he was getting there. It was imperative that the Captains kept their heads around the men but now away from the front line Nixon felt his composure breaking.

"Lewis?" her voice broke through the angry thoughts in his head. He stopped suddenly in front of the tent in which Emily stood. "Oh, hi," he said. Great, he thought, he was not in the mood to see her right then. He could only imagine how he presented, smelly and scowling. He didn't want this to be the moment they reconnected "Hi!" Emily said, a strip of white cloth in her hand, "um how is everything?" she asked.

Nixon did his best to recover the guard he had up around the men. "Good, good. Not exactly the Christmas holiday I had in mind," he said dryly.

He wondered what she was thinking with her little smile. "What are you doing here? Everything okay?" she asked. "Yeah, I just gotta clarify a few things," Nixon said tiredly. He already wanted this conversation to be over.

"I thought Strayer just debriefed you all?" Emily asked.

"Yeah but, he-," Nixon pointed vaguely towards where he thought the officers might be, "never mind. I gotta go." He had to cut the conversation off. Frankly, he didn't have the energy to explain things further to her. There was plenty he wanted to talk about with her but not that, and not at that moment.

He continued on his journey without looking back, he couldn't look back. He felt bad for blowing her off, he didn't need to see the certain confusion on her face to reinforce that.

After learning as much as he could about the reality of their situation Nixon made his way back to the front line where Winters awaited him. He found Winters behind in the canvas-covered foxhole that served as his command post.

"Have you got a lighter or a match?" Winters asked as Nixon approached. Winters gently banged his Bunsen burner on the edge of a half-frozen crate, "or something to get this thing to work?"

Nixon dug in his pocket, "here," he thrust the brass lighter at Winters. "What's wrong with it?"

Winters scowled, "I don't know, the wicks still there," he trailed off as he focused on lighting the fuse. It was a bit of a battle, but Winters eventually got his burner to stay lit. As the snow slowly melted in his tin cup above the flame, the shivering redhead took a moment to look at the heavy lighter Nixon had handed him. He turned the brass zippo over in his bare hand. His thumb ran over the engraved emblem of a screaming eagle head. "This is nice. Where'd you get it?" he asked.

Nixon's gaze was focused on the lighter in his friend's hand, but his eyes weren't seeing anything. He spoke reflexively, "Emily."

"Emily gave this to you?" Winters admired the barely scuffed metal, "when? It looks brand new."

"Christmas. Last Christmas. I try not to use it too much," Nixon mumbled absentmindedly. The memory of Emily's bright face filtered through his foggy thoughts. The version of her who had given him that lighter had been very different from the dark-eyed woman he had encountered earlier that day. He wondered if he had changed just as much as she had.

As if reading his mind Winters asked, "were you able to see her at regiment?"

Nixon swallowed hard; his throat was dry. He blinked his eyes back into focus and extended a hand for his lighter. Winters handed it back, his bright blue eyes searched Nixon's face.

"Yeah," Nixon finally said, "just briefly."

"She okay?" Winters stirred his coffee.

"Yeah!" Nixon squatted down beside Winters, "all good."

Winters eyed him, "what's going on between you two?" he asked.

"What d'you mean?" Nixon trained his gaze on Winters stirring spoon.

Winters shrugged, "I don't know, I never know where you two stand. One moment you can't stand her the next she's all you talk about." Winters caught Nixon's eye.

Nixon's jaw clenched and unclenched, "I'm married."

"I know that," Winters said in his dry tone, "but what's that have to do with Emily?" Nixon cleared his throat trying to think of the best thing to say. Winters was his closest friend but this wasn't a subject they discussed. They dealt with their private affairs just as they were, privately. Winters had shared his opinion on Kathy, but only once and left it at that. The friends were straight with each other and not the type to indulge each other's musings or fantasies.

"You're married, Nix," Winters spoke for him, "you're also a Captain and her superior." Winters paused to let those words hang in the air. "So either leave the girl alone or end the marriage."

"I can't do that," Nixon muttered.

"Which one?" Winters asked. He licked his dry lips and studied Nixon. There was no hint of judgment in Winters's face. In a situation where, had it been any other man, he would typically have a strong opinion Winters granted his friend grace. Winters understood that Nixon's home was a loveless one. He would not want to deny his friend happiness in order to preserve a marriage for appearance's sake. Unfortunately, Nixon's social class did not agree.

"I'm married, Emily is too good to be a mistress or a divorcee's wife."

"Why don't you let her decide that?" Winters suggested.

Nixon huffed, "yeah, I can't ask that of her. Neither life is good enough for her."

"Look, you either believe in her ability to make her own decisions or you don't."

Nixon couldn't stop the frown from settling over his face. He knew exactly what Winters was doing, but he didn't want to concede. The truth was if he gave Emily a chance, he was afraid she would take it. That meant a chance for him to disappoint her and frankly, Nixon didn't have a lot of faith in himself not to fail. There was a consistent theme in his life he had long come to terms with. He could do everything right when it didn't matter, and everything wrong when it did. He was a star at school, in work, in the military but when it came to nurturing familial relationships or expressing love or appreciation or kindness Nixon was lost. He had gotten lost long ago in a place that had never encouraged that growth. Instead, Nixon had been taught to dress it up pretty and in order to cope with the facade, he drank. He wanted none of this for Emily.

"Unless you still see her as that naive young girl who started with us," Winters continued to press all the right buttons.

"No," Nixon responded thoughtfully, "I was definitely wrong about that one."

Winters eyed his friend thoughtfully. Unspoken words rolled around in his mouth before he carefully said, "it's your life, Lew. You have the ability to change its course. Don't be a coward."

Nixon grit his teeth together. He wanted to argue further with Winters, but he knew it was pointless. Winters was frustratingly right, as always.

Boom! Only meters away from them the earth exploded in a shower of snow, rocks, and dirt. Before the earth settled the cry of medic erupted into the bitter air.

This had become the dark routine of the day. Winters and Nixon would wait for things to settle before walking the line to check in with Lieutenants and First Sergeants to determine who exactly the casualties were.

Nixon and Winters had a similar approach to their relationships with the men: arm's length. To an outsider, it may have come off as unsympathetic but it was necessary in order to cope as each casualty was run by them.

"Joe Toye was hit," Winters announced to Nixon as they reconvened.

"Damn," Nixon cursed, "how does he always seem to get hit? How bad is it?"

"Not bad," Winters climbed back down into his foxhole. "Just his arm, but it'll be a couple of days before he can even think about coming back. We keep losing good men."

It was true. Their men were being picked off slowly but effectively. Who knew how much longer they could last.

"That man is like a cockroach," Nixon said settling down next to Winters. "I can't believe how many times he's gotten lucky."

Winters shot him a pointed look.

"What?" Nixon asked, "don't tell me warfare has made you superstitious?"

Winters didn't bother to respond. Instead, he said, "it'll be good for him to get off the line for a bit. Good for him to see Emily too."

"Why?" Nixon asked, his interest suddenly peaked.

Winters looked at him like it should've been obvious, "because they're good friends."

"Wait, really?" Nixon asked.

Winters looked at him baffled, "yeah, I thought you would've known."

Nixon thought back; he supposed he had seen Emily interact with Joe Toye on more than one occasion. But Nixon hadn't realized they were close enough of friends for Winters to have picked up on it. Emily had rarely talked about Joe in front of him. A weird paranoia crept into Nixon's thoughts. Emily had spoken about George Luz in front of him but not Joe Toye. Was there something that she was hiding about Joe? Or was Nixon just that clueless?

"I hadn't realized."

"Hm," Winters grunted, clearly thinking nothing of it.

"How did you know they’re good friends?"

Winters shrugged, "when she's not with you she's always with Joe and George Luz. And usually, Bill Guarnere is around, Perconte, and Malarkey, Muck,-"

"Right, I get the picture. I didn't realize you were so in tune with the social cliques of Easy Company," Nixon said wryly.

Winters shot him a dry look, "consider it part of the job."

Nixon chuckled, but his mind was racing with jealous paranoia wondering about the friendship between Emily and the toughest soldier in Easy Company.

#band of brothers #fanfiction #as far as friends go #lewis nixon #emily rooney #lewis nixon x oc #lewis nixon x original character #joe toye #richard winters #dick winters #george luz

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bakubitch-minusultra · 3 years

Text

Not Alone: Chapter Ten

-> an apocalyptic series with bnha characters but without quirks because I'm the writer and i can do whatever the fuck i want :3 yo im so sorry for not posting this yesterday i had two softball games and when i got home i just wanted to relax so i hope this makes up for it <3

-> Word Count: 2.1k

-> Warnings: the infected, thas bout it lol

-> Taglist: @5sosfckss @laudthingcat @zphilophobiaz

Y/n woke up to a wolf paw in her face. Hades kicked slightly in his dream and scratched her cheek. She pushed it away and looked around. She was more comfortable than she had ever been, since before.

Jirou was passed out with her arms around Hades. He loved to snuggle when he slept. Y/n smiled, knowing that he was getting more comfortable in the new space.

The light of day was filtering in through the canvas of the tent. It was small and cozy in the tent and the air had grown stale with the three of them breathing in it.

She stretched and realized what she was wearing. It was a loose t-shirt with the word ‘hide’ on it, the shirt was black and too big for her. She was also wearing jeans with tears and holes on the knees. She felt a bit of a breeze in the back felt around her but to discover holes back there as well. She frowned. She needed her pants back.

“You’re finally up.”

Y/n turned around to see Bakugo smiling at her. He was beautiful. She couldn’t stop herself from gawking at him in his black t-shirt with a skull design and his dark gray sweatpants. His eyes met hers and he noticed the way her eyes traveled his body.

“How come you get pants with no holes?”

He laughed, “We only have so many clothes. The last trip to a mall was three years ago. We share everything.”

Y/n glanced at Mary who was snuggled against a guy holding the little brat, “Everything.”

He turned to see what Y/n was watching and he laughed again, “Not not everything. She’s just really friendly Y/n. She’s like that with everyone. But if you’re interest we have a few girls who’re single.”

“What?”

“If you’re interested.”

Y/n shook her head, “I don’t know what you mean.” Bakugo laughed at her. He was in on a joke that she was not.

He sighed, “So want to go over the map with me?”

“I told you last night, I don’t know maps. I know where I’ve been by remembering the woods.”

“What?”

Y/n pointed to the tent, “I need her to stay here and be protected. She’s sixteen. She’s lived a hard life.”

Bakugo made a face that made Y/n laugh, “Yeah I figured she was staying.”

“Her mom and aunt just died, Her other aunt was taken to the breeder farms.”

His red eyes sparkled, “She’s just our kind of girl then.”

She was confused by him, but she didn’t have time to figure him out. She couldn’t get the picture of him playing the guitar in the firelight out of her head. It was almost like there were two of him inside of his body. Sweet Bakugo and Business Bakugo.

Mary came over carrying the monster.

“Andy, what do you have to say to Y/n?”

The boy looked down at the ground and pouted, “Sorry.”

He fidgets with her blouse and looks up to meet Y/n’s frown with a smile.

“Okay thanks.” Bakugo and Mary laughed. “Mary, will you watch Jirou until I get back?”

She leaned up and hugged Y/n, “Be safe Y/n and hurry back.”

Y/n hugged her back. She still hugged like an iron rod. She noticed the waay Mary hugged like a person and she hugged like a robot. She hugged just like Mina and her heart hurt thinking about them.

She turned and opened the tent, “I’m leaving Jirou. You need to stay here and help out okay. They need the extra hands.”

Jirou woke up and instantly gave Y/n a snarl, “No. I’m coming with you.”

Y/n shook her head, “No you need to stay and hang with Mary. I’m taking Bakugo to the farmhouse. I’ll be back in a couple days.”

She layed back down, “Fine.”

Y/n looked at Hades, “You coming or staying?” He stretched out on the sleeping bags and snuggled into Jirou who laughed.

“He likes me better.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, “Traitor. She zipped the tent back up and walked back to Bakugo, whose eyes sparkled in the morning light. “What?”

Bakugo shook his head, amused by Y/n for something, “You’re funny Y/n.”

Xxxx

The walk back down the mountain was less painful and considerably faster than the walk up. Her feet didn’t hurt and Bakugo kept a fast pace. Unlike Jirou, he never spoke.

When they made it back to the meeting tree, they both paused and listened. She led across the open field with a sprint. They made it to the edge of the field and crouched down to look for any signs of life in the driveway. The barn swung open and shut. They’re back. She knew that she sealed the barn door completely when she left. She could hear Bakugo’s breath on the back of her neck as she watched the house silently.

She turned and whispered, “Let me go look first.”

He shook his head and pointed to the barn door. She turned and looked again.

She almost jumped when she saw them. It felt as though they were watching her. As the barn door swung open and shut a pair of eyes watched from inside. Stains of bloody tears streaked the gaunt cheeks below.

Her stomach twists and turns and she backed up but Bakugo put his arm on her to stop her from running away,

“Stay still.” His words made her skin shiver, as his hot breath landed on the back of her neck. Y/n didn’t move. The barn door opened and closed several more times. Then suddenly it opened and the eyes were gone.

She looked up at the loft window to see the thin figure pass by it. The window overlooked the field perfectly. They would be seen. Suddenly she was on the ground, in the hay and wrapped up in Bakugo’s long body. He held her close to him.

The wind played with the hay around them, it whispered to them.

She could feel his heart beating against her chest. They were face to face but her eyes darted around them. She heard footsteps. She heard something else, it was the way an exhale sounded when your throat was a ragged mess.

The infected were near them. She wanted to pull her shirt over her face. She wanted to run. She needed her mask but she had left it behind. Another rule she had broken.

Bakugo stroked his thumb along the back of her neck, where his left hand lay. He was trying to calm her nerves, before she gave away our location. In the gusts of warm wind and the calm silence of the ragged exhales, she heard a sound she didn’t expect. It was the hollering of men and the high moans of the infected.

The footsteps left the hay around us. The moaning and ragged breath became harder to hear, as distance was put between them.

Bakugo whispered into her forehead, “Oh my fucking god.” They laid in silence for a moment. He peeked his up to look around but she pulled him back down.

“One more minute.” He frowned but as she spoke the barn door closed several times hard. A raucous noise filled the air, different types of commotion began after it. “We need to leave now.” She whispered into his throat.

He pulled back a bit and looked at her, almost looking through her with his intensely red eyes. He tilted her chin with his free hand and lightly feathered his lips against mine. His kiss wasn’t intense like Kirishima’s was or soft like Mary’s. It was somewhere in the middle and filled with more of everything. He kissed beside her mouth and whispered into her cheek, “We’re going to crawl from here and then make our way to the forest on the other side from where we came. We don’t want to lead them to the camp.”

He kissed once more just along the side of her lips and let her out of his firm grip. He moved away from her and slithered backwards, away from the farmhouse. She followed him. The hay slicing along her skin gave her small cuts. When they got to the halfway point between the forest and farmhouse, Bakugo stood and hunched over. She did the same, listening intently to every sound.

They made their way into the forest where he broke into a run. She followed him until they reached the bigger trees. He climbed one of them quickly. She looked around and started to feel uncomfortable. She didn’t like to be on the ground without Hades. She climbed the next largest tree and scrambled up the branches until she was as high as he was.

The farmhouse, her farmhouse, was nearly entirely in view. She could see the field she had crossed too many times to count. Pain crept around inside of her as she imagined her bunker and rations and her clean little spaces, all torn apart by the infected.

“So Mina and Kirishima were here with you?” His voice betrayed his lack of hope.

She nodded. She saw a small cluster of men fighting the infected like fools. They would get sick. They would become infected and maybe they would die because not everyone was able to live with running sores and bloody tears.

“God, they should have run.” She recognized one of them. He was the man who shouted the loudest when the man with the evil grin peed on the fire. The man who pulled down her pants.”

“Those men held me captive. They’re the others.”

“Do you know where their camp is?”

“Yup. I’d like to avoid it.”

“What if they have Kirishima and Mina?”

The pain in his eyes hurt Y/n somehow, “I never said I was going to avoid it. I said I’d like to. I’m betting they have Kirishima and Mina.” She took one last look and knew it would be a long time before she ever came back,, if she ever did. She took her last look at the white siding and the small windmill in the front yard waved goodbye to her. As her feet made their way back down the tree, she saw something that made her feel the smallest amount of fear and hope simultaneously. On the ground is a small bandage and above it was a broken branch. She looked deeper into the forest and saw another broken branch. “They got away. They’re this way.” She pointed.

Bakugo looked at the bandage and scoffed, “Y/n that could belong to anyone.”

She shook her head,”No it’s not. It’ll smell like tea tree and the branches,” She pointed to them, “I told Kirishima it was howI always found my way through the woods.”

He bent his face to the ground and sniffed the air around the bandage, “It’s tea tree.” Y/n turned to run, but he grabbed her arm as he stood and pulled her into him. “One thing first.” He put his hands on the small of her back and lifted her into his arms. His lips met hers with desperation and excitement. His tongue slipped into her mouth, caressing hers. He sucked and nibbled on her lower lip as his hand rubbed her back. Suddenly his hands made their way lower and didn’t feel uncomfortable as he cupped her ass and lifted her into him/ He wrapped her legs around him. She was feeling the way she used to when she read the romance novels stored at the cabin. She felt a heat rising low in her belly.

He let her slide down his body, till her feet touched the ground again. Air rushed between them. She opened her eyes, not realizing she had closed them, and looked up into his face.

He grinned, “I’m going to have a hard time staying focused.” Y/n giggled like a schoolgirl. It was the first time that sound had left her lips. He kissed her softly one last time and walked away toward the broken branches and Y/n followed. “I never imagined they were alive. I went back to where they were when I got taken and I couldn’t find them. I knew Kirishima wasn’t very responsible- well neither of us were.” He ran a hand through his blonde shaggy hair.

“Mina told me you guys were pretty bad at paying attention.”

He chuckled and Y/n caught herself staring at his butt. It was round and firm and when he took a step, it moved in a way she enjoyed. She realized when she watched him, that she felt a small amount of guilt. Kirishima kissed her too. Kirishima made her smile and made her laugh.

Bakugo made her scared of him but safe against the world, where as Kirishima made her feel the opposite.

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kaitycole · 4 years

Text

“Lipschitz!”

Summary: Sugawara is just trying to find himself, how does that work out for him?

Pairing: Sugawara x Reader

Word Count: 2068

Warnings: Angst. Mentions of murder, cheating, alcohol, drowning

A/N: This is the official last chapter, I’m still mulling over the possibility of an epilogue. Thank you so much to all of you who supported this series from the beginning. I hope I did it justice!

“Do you want to tell me a little bit about Sugawara?” She stretches her neck to the left and then right, tapping her pen on the legal pad.

“Sure.” You smile at the journalist, but it never really touches your eyes.

* * “Just a minute longer, I swear.”

You sighed, your boyfriend had said that same line five minutes ago. You were restless, legs stiff from not moving and all you could think of was how good it would feel when you could finally stretch. When you could finally put on something warm, the sheer fabric he had delicately draped over you wasn’t cutting it anymore, your bare skin felt the chill from the cool air that blew in through the opened window.

“You said that for the last five minutes, Kōshi.”

The silver-haired man just laughed behind the canvas, paintbrush held in the air as he narrowed his eyes looking at his work, then up at you then back to the painting. You leaned up just enough to see that he was biting the end of the brush which you knew meant that he was conflicted. All artists are their own worst critics, but sometimes you felt Suga was worse than Van Gogh, Monet and even Pollock at times. Not that you really had any frame of reference, but still.

Watching him painstakingly criticize his own work, endlessly making changes that he only deemed made the pieces worse was really hard for you, watching the person you love drive themselves into a dark hole of perfectionism took a toll on the both of you. But you loved him and at the end of the day, that made it all better, right?

After what felt like forever, you finally saw his signature smile, the one that was bigger than life and he sat down his paint palette then swirled the brush in his murky colored water cup. You watched his shoulders relax before he nodded and you knew that he was finally done.

“Lemme see! Lemme see!” You squealed as he walked closer to you, sitting next to you on the sofa you had been lounged out on.

He kissed you, the paint on his hands and fingers transferred to your skin as he grabbed your face. You scrunched up your nose as the cool wet sensation before kissing him back.

“Maybe tomorrow.” He peppered your face with kisses as you both laughed. His hands trailed down your arms and across your upper chest, his lips were pressed up against yours again.

“You’re going to get paint all over me!” You giggled, his lips trailed across your jaw and down your neck.

“That’s okay.” His eyes met yours, “you’ll become my greatest master piece.”

* * “They say that artists can be very passionate people.”

A laugh escapes you and Alex looks at you confused, “that’s a bit of an understatement.”

“It couldn’t have been easy on your relationship. Artists tend to struggle for a while before gaining notoriety.”

“He worked as an elementary school teacher during the day. It wasn’t the money that caused issues, it was watching him tear himself apart that was the hardest.”

“What do you mean by that?” “No one was harder on him about his art than he was. He could produce something that was immaculate, but he’d say his students’ finger paintings were better.” You take a deep breath, “it was hard watching him beat himself over things I couldn’t help fix.”

“What changed? How did you go from wanting what’s best for him to…being in here?”

“A lot. A lot changed.”

* * It started when he decided to go out one night with his coworkers for drinks one Friday night. You didn’t mind it, you really didn’t because you trusted Suga and you enjoyed seeing him relax for the first time in a while. What did bother you was the fact that it seemed the occasional Friday night turned into the whole weekend to where he spent more days of the week out than at home.

Your knees were pulled up to your chest while you sat on the couch, a commercial playing on the TV while you scroll through your phone. When that stopped being a solace for you, you tossed it across the couch, deciding to stroll through his art studio. The smell that hit you when you opened the door was a mix of acrylic paint and peppermint, it was undeniably Suga. You saw one of his easels covered with a sheet which intrigued you, it wasn’t often that you didn’t see his work.

But once the sheet came off, you wished you never had. Your stomach dropped. It was like all of the memories you had spent making since high school, since college, shattered and all the jagged edges pierced into your heart as it sank. You could tell by the pose it was the one he had painted of you a couple months ago, the one that he told you wasn’t ready. Now you understood what he meant by ‘not ready’, it was your pose, but it wasn’t your body, wasn’t your face. You weren’t sure who it was but you knew it wasn’t you, the curves and lines, they didn’t belong to you. Tears welled in your eyes as you chewed on your bottom lip, realizing that while you laid completely exposed to him, his mind was clearly on whoever was in this painting.

Three long hours had passed before he stumbled into your shared apartment, crashing into everything he possibly could, waking you from your sleep. While his head hurt from the alcohol, yours hurt from crying. You got up, walking in just soon enough to watch your boyfriend fall onto the couch face first.

“Suga?” You leaned against the door frame.

He hummed something in response into the cushion.

“Kōshi? Babe?” You walked through the room, crouching down next to his head before placing a hand on his back.

He mustered up just enough strength to turn to face you, “I didn’t mean to wake up, sweetness.”

His innocent words, gentle tone, the use of the nickname reserved for only him, didn’t stop the tears from slipping down your cheeks, doesn’t untwist the knot that tightening in your stomach, doesn’t remove the fact that you can’t help the one person that you want to.

After that night, you watched him change. He spent more time in his art studio, face covered with paint smudges, a sight you thought was absolutely adorable. He seemed happier, constantly dragging you into the studio to show off various artworks he’d finished. Everything was perfect, until he came home smelling like cheap perfume and stale beer.

* * “So he was cheating?”

You smile politely which catches Alex off guard, placing your elbow on the counter in front of you, as you rest your chin on the palm of your hand as you look at her. “He said he was trying to find himself.”

“Trying to find himself?” A look of pure bewilderment crossed Alex’s face.

“That’s the exact expression I wore when I asked him the same thing.”

* * “What the hell does that mean? Finding yourself?” You put air quotes around the last two words. There was a sense of anger running up your spine, you were tightly clenching your fists.

“I just think that I need to let loose. To learn how to breathe.” He flicked the paint brush against the blank canvas, not bothering to even look at you.

They say that smells can trigger memories, something with the olfactory system being located in the same part of the brain that effects emotions and creativity. Something about the fact that certain smells can affect the region of the brain that’s responsible for storing our emotional memories. That’s why you assumed whenever you smelled acrylic paint you thought of Kōshi, of the one person you thought would never let you down.

But now the smell just made you nauseous, made your heart hurt because whoever this silver-haired man in front of you, it wasn’t the love of your life. Wasn’t the boyfriend you’d been with for years. No, because that man would never hurt you like this, would never refuse to look at you when he all but broke your heart.

“I didn’t realize I was suffocating you, thought I was just being supportive!”

You yelled and then he yelled then you yelled some more and before you knew it the paintbrush hit the floor with so much force it bounced a bit. He shook his head storming passed you, his shoulder hit yours but he didn’t stop. The walls vibrated when he slammed it shut, leaving you leaning against the door frame, lip quivering.

** You stormed through his studio, grabbing all the gallons of paint you could carry, making a few more trips than the anger in you wanted. You started to fill the bathtub, the various colors muddling together, the thick liquid clung to the lining of the tub.

A smirk covered your lips as you thought back to how frustrated Suga would get when colors mixed like this, turning a disgusting brown that no artist would make on purpose. You remembered him saying the color reminded him of dirty paint water, somehow this all felt ironic.

Your foot catches on the rug into rug and you tripped, the empty red paint can fell from your hand; thin splatters clung to the white wall next to you.

* * Alex takes a deep breath, sitting her pen down before looking up at you. Hearing these crimes had progressively gotten worse as the interviews went by though she came into them thinking it’d get easier.

“Why didn’t you just use water?”

You lean forwards, chin still on the palm of your hand, teeth showing as you smile. “I thought paint gave the scene a more artistic flair.”

* * You felt Sugawara’s resistance slowly fade as he stopped trying to push his hands up, stopped trying to lift his head out of the tub of paint. His feet stopped kicking against the floor, his body slowly became lifeless under your hold. You stood up, leaving his hunched over the side of the tub, his beautiful silver hair now covered in the brown paint mixture.

They say when someone drowns, their entire body fights to survive. There’s panic, the sheer realization of what’s happening and the frightening moment you know you don’t have an idea of what to do. The moment when you subconsciously know you’re about to lose consciousness, your lungs going against the logic of not breathing in the water to try to salvage your existence. Body going into overdrive trying to save you, trying to get much needed air into your lungs. Some who have survived drowning say they had flashbacks, snippets of their life that flash through their mind as consciousness faded.

You wondered if Suga felt that panic, if his body had registered what was happening, or if the alcohol had clouded some of that. You wondered if he had fought as hard as he could’ve or if his inebriated state had lowered his abilities. You wondered if he saw flashbacks and what were they of. Did he see the two of you? The long years you had spent by his side, supporting every decision that he had made, giving up the few things you wanted for his dreams. Or did he see those women? The drunken nights spent at the bar, the woman he was thinking of when he was painting you, the owner of the cheap perfume he would come home smelling like.

* * “Most people just break up with their lover when they discover they’re cheating.” Alex looks at you pointedly.

“We did, some could say we ended our relationship due to artistic differences.”

Alex looks at you puzzled, “I’m not sure I follow.”

You stand up, stepping as close to the glass as the counter will allow before slamming yours on the glass while pressing your face against it. Alex jumps back in her seat, her chair scooting against the tiles loudly, her heart thumping against her chest. She watches the guard rush over, grabbing you away from the divider and pulling you out of the room.

“He saw himself alive and I saw him dead.”

Series Masterlist here

General Masterlist here

#haikyuu!!#sugawara koushi #sugawara x reader #tw major character death #tw murder #tw drowning #tw alcohol

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cyn-00 · 4 years

Text

Moreid one shot, 22 - "strings"

Another one inspired by season 5, episode 10 "The slave of duty", though with an entirely different focus compared to my other fic based on that same episode (which btw was my FIRST can u believe that)

I'm gonna remind you of a couple things that are important to understand this work (the plot of the episode/case aren't tbh): this is that period in the show where Morgan is taking Hotch's place in leading the team; plus Reid's been recently shot in the knee so he has his cane and everything. The first dialogue is word by word reported from the show and then I go from there ;)

@upsetti0spaghettiii and @rollcreditsyall asked me to tag 'em <3 hope u like it

Read it on AO3

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"We need fresh eyes..." Rossi mumbled, more as if telling himself than the rest of the team.

Morgan acknowledged the older man's hint and sighed deeply, sinking further in his swivel chair. "A'ight, listen up,"

He continued once everyone's eyes darted up to him almost as quickly as they'd dart up to Hotch - which always lit Spencer up with pride, somehow.

"I want everybody to go back to the hotel and try to get some rest. We're gonna have to pick this up again in the morning."

Prentiss poorly contained a taken aback expression. "Wha- we're giving up?"

Reid was this close to piercing her skull with a laser-glare, because Morgan was RIGHT - how could she not see that they were getting nowhere? But then again: would've looked like he was playing the part of the blindly supportive boyfriend. Which, he never did.

"No." Morgan shot his head up to glance at her; albeit with anything but malice in his eyes. "We're gonna take a break. We have to give the profile at morning roll and none of us has slept since the funeral."

Realization; painted on Emily's features. Now do you see? Reid wanted to ask - he didn't, of course.

"Once Garcia can get us a paper trail, then we can expand our canvas. 'Till then there's really not a lot we can do." Morgan concluded, and silence fell in the room like a heavy blanket, smothering whatever other retort his teammates may raise.

Reid waited for the others to exit the room before standing up and making his way around the desk, straining against the searing pang that shot up from his healing knee at the motion.

He settled behind Morgan's chair and let his free arm loosely encircle him from behind, resting his palm on the man's broad, tense chest.

After unnecessarily checking once again that there weren't any nosy officers peeking from outside, he carefully bent down to reach Derek's temple and place a lingering kiss there.

"You did the right thing." he murmured, and immediately felt the other man releasing a breath at his words.

"I know." Derek responded shortly, finally moving from that concerningly petrified position to place his palm over Spencer's hand, pressing more firmly to discourage him from breaking contact.

Spencer allowed his tired eyes to flutter close for a few seconds as he rested his cheek on his boyfriend's head, relying on his trusted cane not to let him fall headlong on the moquette - "who's the idiot that decided putting moquette in a police station conference room was a good idea?", he recalled the comment Derek had whispered to his ear a few hours before, and he recalled thinking that only someone as obsessed with everything furniture-wise as Derek Morgan could notice and care about such a thing as a police station flooring. "Pfft... good luck with washing that if someone spills coffee".

The thought awakened him before it could bring a stupid, unbidden smile to his lips.

Washing. Soap, warm water, shampoo... he needed a well deserved-

"Shower." Derek's voice and the noise of lips briefly smacking on his palm resonated in the genius' half-asleep ears. "Need a shower."

Spencer smiled now. "Me too."

"I know. Could hear you thinkin' about it." Derek left another kiss on Spencer's wrist before gripping on the armrests to stand up, needing him to lift his warm cheek seemingly melting on the top of his head to do so.

"C'mon," he encouraged, turning around to finally take a look at the man's sleepy face.

"Gotta help Goldilocks here shampoo up." he grinned warmly, tilting his head.

Spencer only snorted, because with that damn smile what the hell could he say to the man.

Reid sighed deeply as he slumped onto the toilet lid, resting his cane against the tiled wall of the bathroom.

He took off his jacket and pulled his sweater vest over his head, and the second he began maneuvering with his tie, a pair of hands landed over his.

He glanced up slightly annoyed, but gave in to let those hands do the work nonetheless.

"It's the pants I struggle with, not the upper part of my body." he specified for the millionth time - the millionth time he'd found Derek helping him get out of his tie and shirt even though he could do that by himself just fine.

Morgan arched a brow and scoffed, keeping his gaze leveled with the collar of the other man's button-up. "What's in it for me if I don't at least get to undress my boy, uh?"

Spencer contained a smile, ducking his head to look at Derek's hands proceeding to undo the buttons once he'd slid the tie away.

"Not exactly the type of undressing you'd wished for, I'm guessing..." he mumbled sheepishly after a couple seconds.

Derek's eyebrows furrowed now. He said more with those eyebrows of his than he did with his words.

"Any type of undressing you is the type of undressing I wish for..." he trailed off, and Spencer noticed his shirt had magically slid off of his shoulders and was being untucked from his slacks.

Derek's smile grew as his pupils traced from the skinny man's hips up to his chest and laced with his eyes at last.

"It's that I enjoy the view regardless, pretty boy." he added winking, before placing a kiss right over the man's heart.

Spencer didn't say anything. His usual "whatever you say" or the like would only supply him with Derek's eye-roll and another cascade of cheesy praising followed by Spencer's impulse to kiss him and then a few other things which he didn't have the physical strength to engage in, in that moment.

So he settled for thinking those things, lost in his own head while his eyes followed each one of Derek's careful motions that only resulted in layers and layers of clothing peeling off of his body, unable to pinpoint when exactly he had propped up to let the man pull his pants down to his ankles.

The only thing he managed to feel, right after the piercing cold ceramic under his thighs once his slacks were no longer cladding them, was the noise of the brace straps and the sensation of it freeing his leg and then-

"Ouch- Waitwaitwait, Der- wait" he pleaded through gritted teeth, as a twinge of pain awakened him from his pleasant reverie.

"I'm sorry baby, I know this part always hurts like hell" Derek said, and they both knew the 'part' he was referring to was the one where Spencer had to stretch his leg, numb and strained from having it caged in that hellish plastic brace for hours straight.

Spencer nodded and let his boyfriend do the rest - the first couple times he had tried to protest and get through everything on his own, feeling nothing short of a burden and decidedly embarrassed. Now, though, he knew there was no point in arguing, not simply because arguing with Derek when it came to taking care of Spencer was pointless to say the very least; but mostly because Derek was inexplicably good at taking care of him. Doctor Reid could surely brag about his PhDs, but Derek seemed to own every medical training in the world when he had to care for Spencer's pain.

The other man rose to his feet for a few seconds, taking the forgotten plastic stool in the corner of the room and placing it in the shower, before starting the water to get it as warm as Spencer liked it. Which meant, 3rd-degree-burn warm.

He returned to kneel in front of the naked genius in his briefs and mismatched socks only, smiling fondly at the sight.

He gently grabbed Spencer's ankles to slip off his socks - it made his toes curl and Derek adored it - and wrapped his strong arms around his boyfriend's skinny torso to pull him up to his bare feet.

Spencer only slightly hissed and grasped onto Derek's shoulders like his life depended on it - which, it kinda did, seeing how the worryingly sharp edge of the marble bathroom counter seemed to be waiting just for the man to wobble under the weight of his recently wounded knee.

Derek hooked his fingers in the elastic band of his boyfriend's underwear and let it fall to the floor so the other could step out of it - just a week ago that same, easy action almost cost Spencer to trip over and smash his skull straight into the sliding glass door of his shower; but Derek pushed that memory away because acting like the overly protective boyfriend wasn't gonna make things any better or easier, anyway.

It's just. Spencer was so fragile. There was no denying that. His brain was worth all their brains added together if not more, but dammit could a bruise stain his fair skin for weeks on end; reason why they'd given up on hickeys a long time ago - at least visible ones - in light of the fact that ever-lasting purple marks weren't exactly a good idea in their line of work.

"Derek, uhm, I'm taking a wild guess your fully clothed self doesn't know how cold it is in this bathroom, but, it's cold." Spencer's complaint brought him out of his head.

He looked down at himself and, indeed, he was fully clothed still.

"Wanna bet that I won't be as cold as you? You just like to whine a lot don't you?" Derek teased, pulling his henley off.

"It would be decidedly stupid of me to bet on such obviousness ? It's granted that you won't feel as cold as me considering that I'm skinnier; muscle heats up the body through metabolism as well as fat which works as an insulating-"

Reid's babbling was cut off by the man's laughter.

"...what? What's so funny?"

"I finally got naked for you and that's still not enough to stop your fact-spewing?"

Derek saw Spencer gulping and scanning him from head to toe.

"...right" he murmured, biting the inside of his cheek.

Morgan brought the other's pink-tinted face back up with his hands, lifting his gaze from where it was lingering on some undefined area very much below his usual approximately 5'8-something horizon line, and placed a kiss between his eyebrows.

"Come on. I ain't gonna risk you getting a cold on top of everything else." he said softly, securing Spencer's waist with two hands from behind to lead him first into the shower.

And thank God that one was an actual shower, instead of that bathtub the two of them barely fit in with a half-unhooked plastic curtain from that crappy motel the team found themselves having to spend a whole 6 days in, just a couple weeks before. And thank God for the stool, also, because helping Spencer through a shower while either standing or sitting on the floor were provenly exhausting techniques for both of them.

Derek eased his boyfriend into said stool and could immediately see him relaxing under the warm water. He dropped on his knees and started untangling the man's matted curls with his fingers - Spencer had confessed that, before Derek, he only used to untangle the knots with a comb after having showered because he didn't have the time or patience to do otherwise, but Morgan had rightfully reminded him that he had not one but two sisters, hence he was so used to observe how carefully their mom routinely brushed and braided their hair when they were little he could repeat the process by heart - so at the end of the day, "I might be bald but I sure know more about curls than you do, pretty boy".

After having managed to loosen maybe a couple of major tangles at most - nothing out of the ordinary - he reached for the shampoo and squeezed a generous amount on his palm, smearing it on both hands before spreading it onto Spencer's mop of hair.

Morgan had always wondered how the hell the kid always smelt so good; the rare times he could perceive something other than the cozy smell of coffee that almost perpetually imbued Spencer's aura. For some unfounded reason, his first guess had been that the source of such sweet smell must've been Spencer's cologne. After a month at most of knowing him, though, the hypothesis that the lanky genius with the crooked tie and that cardigan Morgan couldn't picture as anyone else's but his grandfather's actually wore cologne, was thrown out of the window. So he'd quite confidently settled for option B, which entailed that the scent had to have something to do with the detergent he used for his clothes. Little did he know he would find himself in Reid's bathroom some night after a case, and his eyes would be caught by a plastic, peach-pink bottle of shampoo that, to his "surprise", smelled like...like Spencer. Like something sweet and fruity with a spicy hint of cinnamon. And it's not like Morgan wasn't aware of the notorious, rom-com cliché that the aphrodisiac smell of the person you're hopelessly pining over is more likely due to their shampoo than anything else; it's more that he didn't want to give in the realization that not only Spencer's hair looked good - and, much later on, felt good twirled around his fingers - but on top of that it smelt good. Oh, dammit, my crush's hair smells like heaven which only adds to the fact that he probably fell from there, seeing how it makes him look like a downright ANGEL. Come on. Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan would've preferred without a smidge of doubt to remain unbeknownst of that, for the sake of his poor heart.

Poor heart, indeed, when Spencer started literally purring close-eyed under the soothingly kneading motions of Derek's digits through his hair. There was really no reason to keep on massaging the shampoo on Spencer's scalp for 5 minutes straight, if not that sight.

"Spencer?" he called, failing to contain the urge to lean in and peck at his lips.

"Hmm ?" the dopey man hummed in response.

"Sweetie, don't fall asleep on me here, yeah?"

" 'm trying. But you're not helping." Spencer mumbled, rubbing his eyes with his fingers from the water streaming down his face to open them in slits.

"Ah, so now it's my fault that you get all dreamy when I play with your hair?"

Spencer frowned. "Uhm, yes ?"

The other man chuckled. "Alright. Got the message." he claimed before standing briefly to his feet to grab the sprayer.

"Mmh' no this is even worse..." Spencer mewled when his boyfriend started rinsing his hair with warm water, running his fingers through it to be as thorough as possible.

Derek burst out laughing. "You're unbelievable, I swear to God." he said, making quick work of the rinsing process or else he would've undoubtedly have to drag a passed out, naked Spencer out of the shower.

He put the sprayer back in place and took the shower gel - he had to use the unscented, cheap, exceedingly liquid sample from the hotel - and poured it on his palm.

Spencer held out his hands in a cup-like shape as if waiting for Derek to give him a share of the gel. He looked up at him and arched a brow.

The genius rolled his eyes. "If you don't provide me with something to do I'm gonna seriously fall asleep in here."

Derek nodded and complied. "Lame excuse."

"For what?" the other asked like he didn't know when actually he knew.

"For laying your hands on me?" Derek teased with his 'you can't fool me' tone. "But I ain't complaining, just so we're clear..." he smirked.

After that, Spencer gave up on countering further but his expression didn't waver much; and Derek couldn't even relish in the satisfaction of holding that comment 100% accountable for the flush dyeing Spencer's chest and neck, because it could've very well been mostly due to the steam and hot water.

Both started spreading the gel onto each other's shoulders and necks and torsos, and Morgan wouldn't have managed to tear his gaze away from the skinny man sat in front of him even if he'd purposely tried. Spencer's concentrated expression was the same whether he was solving Schrödinger's equation or he was stirring his coffee with a spoon.

Hazel eyes locked with Derek's after a while, only for a split second before their owner launched himself into his arms; a soapy hand cupping the back of his neck and a warm muzzle burying in his slippery shoulder.

Derek didn't question and simply indulged in the hug, tracing circles with his thumbs on the nubs of Spencer's spine as he let his cheek lean against the top of his head.

"Thank you." a muffled whisper breached through the continuous noise of water thrumming on ceramic and glass and steel surfaces.

"Stop thanking me, kid. I love you." how many times had Morgan found himself saying those exact words, if maybe arranged in different fashions, throughout 5 years of working with Reid? Only difference was that the last bit hadn't always born the meaning it bore now. Almost, though.

After one or two minutes more - Derek couldn't quite gauge, and the fact that Spencer most definitely could brought a slight smile to his lips - Reid let go of the hug; and it was only because being soaked from head to toe blurred out things a little that Morgan couldn't swear the man was a second away from crying.

Reid looked down at his wrinkly finger pads.

"We're wasting an unnecessary amount of water." he said with a small grin curling one edge of his mouth. If Spencer's previous expression rendered almost unreadable by that soaked-head-to-toe situation hadn't been enough to go by, his current tone and the look that went along with it surely were.

However, Morgan didn't mention it, and the couple spent the rest of the shower rinsing the bubbles off of their bodies in soothing quiet.

The comfortable quiet kept going unhindered as Derek helped Spencer up and out of the shower, as he wrapped a towel around his bony hips, as Spencer brushed his dripping hair with a wooden comb while watching the standing man put on his sweats and t-shirt. Their exchanges merely fond glances here and hands caressing cheeks there and fingers bumping on skins like silent reminders that they were together in this just as much as in everything else that might come in their way and break them, whether inside or out or both it didn't matter as long as they were Spencer and Derek and Derek and Spencer.

And so together they walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, both pleasantly surprised by how they managed to not let Spencer slip on the steam-coated floor.

In a matter of minutes he was sitting on the edge of the mattress, which wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as sitting on the crappy stool or the toilet lid, much to Spencer's relief.

And Spencer Reid was notoriously not one to count his chickens before they'd hatched, but this time...

"Oh baby...does it still hurt so bad?" Morgan asked with full-on worry creasing his handsome features, at the sight of his boyfriend screwing his eyes shut and clenching his jaw while his leg bounced up and down - the leg not injured, that is. He'd caught Spencer doing that sometimes during work and he'd quickly figured it was his way to cope with pangs.

Spencer simply nodded his head frantically and grabbed both the man's hands to squeeze them in a knuckle-whitening clutch.

His boyfriend's sigh was so deep Spencer didn't need to actually see to picture the rising and falling of his chest as visible to the naked eye.

"I'm gonna get the pills the doctor prescribed you and I don't wanna hear you complain." the man asserted.

The second Reid felt him on the verge of standing up, he squeezed his hands even tighter and made an effort to open his eyes.

"No, nonono I- I took it 2 and a half hours ago I can't take anymore for another hour and a half at least." he protested, shaking his head vigorously and staring pleadingly at him.

Morgan sighed again, and this time Reid could see it.

"Ok, alright, then...did you bring that ointment he gave you?"

Spencer's pupils fidgeted around in thought.

"Yeah. Y- yeah, I- I have that in my bag." he replied, stuttering with the abruptness of his realization.

Derek stood up for real now, fetching said ointment.

He came back a minute later and resumed his kneeling position, squeezing some of the balm on his fingers and warming it up by rubbing his hands. He started massaging it onto his boyfriend's knee, and the heavy mass weighing on his chest was lifted like magic when Spencer's muscles relaxed and his deadly grip on the blankets loosened.

Another 'thank you' was about to escape Spencer's mouth, but then he opted to swallow it and instead relish in the sensation of Derek's thumbs rubbing the slick balm in circles at either side of his wounded kneecap; watching him as though if he didn't keep an eye on him he would disappear.

He didn't know how much time had passed, because that was one of those few occasions he'd allowed himself not to keep count of things - most of those occasions were the ones he spent with Derek - but it must have been quite a while because by the time Derek spoke up again, the pain had melted away and his knee was glistening and warm and his heart was fuzzy and vibrating inside his ribcage.

"Better?" the man asked.

Spencer waited a second for him to raise his gaze from the task at hand and direct it toward his, and for the smile that he knew was coming to actually come, before answering.

When that happened, he said: "Definitely."

And if Derek's grin didn't widen it was just because it couldn't get bigger than half of his face, and because it had to be a crime to smile more brightly than that.

"Alright then. Gonna get cleaned up and then I'll help you with pj's."

Spencer opened his mouth to dismiss his offer but was immediately cut off by a finger raised threateningly at him.

"Nope. I don't wanna hear it, I told you." Derek reprimanded before heading to the bathroom.

The few minutes Morgan spent washing his hands and pacing around the room to get the other's t-shirt and flannel pants were enough for the warm and fuzzy feeling to seep out of Reid's skin and be replaced by unsettling thoughts he never enjoyed wallowing in, but especially not in that moment.

It was exactly that same feeling from earlier reoccurring to him, the feeling that if he let Derek out of his sight for a second he would lose him - more specifically Derek would leave him. And of course during work the time they spent apart was much more than the one they spent together, but in a working context it was simply...different. Different in a way Spencer couldn't name. It was when they were alone that the feeling came back to choke him with its evil claws; and it was such a foreign one considering that Reid had spent most of his childhood AND adulthood alone, so one would simply guess he was used to it. Maybe it was exactly that: that he'd got so used to being alone he couldn't help but cling onto the first thing that made him not alone, and if in the beginning that thing had been his team and later on the team stopped being enough and it became Dilaudid, now that thing was Derek, and Derek was more than enough for the time being - Spencer was pretty confident he would be enough for the rest of his life, but what if it weren't mutual ? What if Spencer wasn't enough for Derek - for that matter, how could Spencer be enough for anyone? What if Derek left ?

"-encer? Baby you good in there?"

Then what would the next thing be and would a 'next thing' even exist or should he just settle for being alone all over again, only this time he would know the feeling of NOT being alone - would he ever recover from that?

"Hey, kid, c'mon now,"

Could he forget what it had felt like not being alone and learn to suffice for himself?

"Spencer seriously, talk to me ?"

Could Spencer Reid learn to finally FORGET if forgetting meant surviving?

"Spencer, come on baby you're starting to scare me here."

Reid ultimately managed to snap out of his head and realize Morgan had been trying to pull him out of it all along. He felt a hand cradling his jaw and words reaching his eardrums and his name being called in endless sequence.

He shook his head and gaped for a few seconds.

"Yeah, I'm- I'm here, sorry I- just, I was...thinking, I'm sorry..." he swallowed and jerked his eyes away from Derek's because the look he was giving him was a bit too much.

Morgan released a heavy exhale, as his hand shifted to rest on the back of Reid's head, massaging his nape to ground him again.

"Sorry."

"Don't start. Just tell me what you were thinking."

A grimace of reluctance crinkled Spencer's sweet face. "...do I have to?"

"Yes." Derek asserted. "Puppy-eyes won't work this time."

Spencer bit his lip to contain a lopsided, amused smile.

"Well," he shrugged. "it was worth the shot."

Derek snorted in response, visibly relaxing at having managed to reclaim their usual playful banter.

The other man was grateful that Morgan hadn't pried, instead reaching a hand out beside the spot where Spencer was sitting to grab his fresh pair of briefs. The warm-fuzzy feeling partially found its way back through Spencer's bloodstream at the thought that Derek probably knew by now how he was more likely to talk brake-free and open heartedly when he wasn't being overtly pressured to do so.

Derek carefully untucked the towel from around Spencer's hips and rose to a half-standing position to prop him up a few inches from the bed and slide it away from underneath him. He helped the man's long legs inside his underwear and lifted him once again to pull it up; he took the slightly moist towel and used it to ruffle Spencer's hair in the attempt to wipe it dry a little - again: a cold wasn't the greatest idea at the moment - gaining his signature nose scrunch and finally, Spencer started spilling.

"I was thinking about this whole...situation." Reid murmured with a sigh.

Morgan considered his words for a few seconds - uncaring of having probably given the man the impression that he wasn't listening - while minutely un-messing the strands of brunette, damp hair he'd messed up with the towel and adjusting them behind Spencer's ears.

"Meaning?" he asked at last; more to give the man the liberty of elaborating how he wanted than because he hadn't picked up on the 'situation' he was referring to.

"Meaning...you taking on Hotch's role temporarily ?" Spencer supplied, raising his pitch at the end as though it were a question.

"What about it, sweetie?" he urged on gently, stopping his ministrations to rub his hands up and down Spencer's sides affectionately.

"I, uh..." Reid cleared his voice. "I just realized that- well, m- maybe it's that I didn't want to think about it so that's why I'm realizing it only now but, anyway; I realized that if...if Hotch isn't coming back..." he trailed off, looking down at his knees.

Derek took the hint and started moving again, picking Spencer's flannel pants and guiding his feet inside them.

Spencer waited for the lift-and-pull-up part to be over - because it was too draining to do that AND talk simultaneously - before conjuring his train of thought again.

"If Hotch doesn't come back, you'll be the new Unit Chief." Reid said, once he was sitting down.

Morgan hesitated, furrowing his brows in confusion as to why Reid would feel the need to state the obvious.

"Yeah." he simply confirmed.

Spencer visibly refrained from explaining, choosing to spend the next few seconds picking at the worn fabric of his pajama pants - now that he wasn't naked anymore and finally had something to fiddle with - sticking uncomfortably to the layer of ointment covering his knee.

As per usual, Morgan's brain was struggling to keep up with his boyfriend's pondering.

But then it hit him.

"Oh..." Derek dropped his gaze; his confused and apprehensive expression fading away to make space for a melancholic and apologetic one.

"...yeah" Spencer murmured. But then decided that a monosyllabic answer wasn't enough, and opted to unfold his thoughts more clearly.

"It means that...that you'll be our superior- my superior, hence we couldn't...you and I, we, we won't be allowed to..." he gulped. He knew his bottom lip was trembling. He could feel it. But he had to say it, or else the concept would eat him alive.

"...to be together anymore. Right?" Spencer concluded with a quivering voice.

Derek wanted to get back to doing what he was supposed to be doing to give them both some more seconds to digest that, but for some reason he feared that if he'd proceeded to help Spencer in his last piece of clothing, the man would've looked even more vulnerable and small in that saggy t-shirt than he did now that he was bare in any sense of the word in front of him.

So he slowly brushed his hands down Spencer's lap to entangle them with his.

"...unless I choose not to." he mumbled.

The genius' scowling glance shot up.

"What?? No. No, I won't let you do that."

Morgan sighed, tilting his head. "Spencer-"

"No, Derek. I couldn't live with myself knowing that you turned down the greatest job opportunity of your life to stay with me."

And that much was the truest statement Spencer had ever made, even if the only thought of breaking up with Derek made every cell in his body ache and his heart bleed out and his bones shatter like a china cup dropping on a granite floor.

Derek stared at him for a while with flat-out disbelief pasted on his face.

"Spencer," he started, and immediately shook his head, unable to contain a snort. Spencer's frown didn't but intensify at that.

"Kid, look. I know that you'd respect my decision to accept the job. I know it because you're one of the most ambitious and over-achieving people I know and I feel nothing but blessed to have someone like you by my side." he paused. "You inspire me in that sense, you know?"

Spencer didn't answer, but his gaze softened instinctively.

"But it's because I know you respect everything I do that I'd be disappointed to know that you made the exception to NOT support me if I decided to turn down the offer."

The words hit Spencer in a certain spot at the base of his skull, but he couldn't bring himself to be ungrateful for Derek being so honest and blunt about the matter.

So he nodded.

Derek continued, because he wasn't convinced at all that the man had got the message.

"And believe me when I say that the reason why I wouldn't accept it isn't because I pity you or I don't wanna leave 'poor Spencer' alone or whatever." he made the air-quote gesture and untangled a hand from Spencer's to bring it to his cheek.

"It's because to me accepting a title that by the way, I'm not even 100% sure that I want, it's not worth leaving the person I'm in love with."

With that last bit, Derek didn't need to forcibly bring his boyfriend's chin up to meet his eyes - Spencer had instantly done that on his own initiative.

"I would NOT be able to leave you, Spencer. For my sake, not out of pity. I know myself." he whispered, stroking his thumb on the other's cheek.

Spencer kept returning the other's stare for what they both perceived like 30 minutes, in search for the slightest hint of lie in Derek's eyes. Which, obviously, he gladly failed to summon.

So he inched closer and pressed their lips together, because kissing Derek seemed like the easier way to both reply to his confession and stop his bottom lip from trembling with the force of emotion welling up in his eyes.

Derek's mouth went along as his arms encircled his boyfriend's dainty frame to carefully shift him closer, until his body was the only thing keeping him from falling off the mattress. He captured every silky motion of Spencer's tongue with unmatched slowness; as if the more thorough the kiss, the better he could savor the man's unspoken words and enshrine them forever in his mind, only fueling his already unarguable conviction that no, he couldn't let this man slip away like it wasn't him that kept Derek's lungs breathing and his heart pounding and his limbs working.

With one last smack of lips Spencer gasped out of the kiss, keeping their foreheads glued together and his eyes shuttered because it was clear now that he didn't need to see the man to know he wouldn't leave, but his skin couldn't do without the feeling of Derek's against it nonetheless.

Slowly, he opened his lids and noticed the pair of pitch-black eyes in front of his were staring at him.

He smiled when he spotted a bright glimmer deep inside them, and was returned with a smile of Derek's own.

"Plus," Morgan's hoarse voice gently poked through the silence, as both his hands rose to cup the other's face.

"I know we shouldn't profile each other and all that, but dad really doesn't know what to do with himself when he's not with us, so my money's on him coming back." he joked.

Spencer burst in the prettiest giggle Derek had ever heard and let his head fall onto the other's shoulder.

"Y-yeah, mine too." he agreed once he'd recomposed himself enough to straighten in his seat again.

"Let's put this t-shirt on and go to sleep, uh?" Derek offered.

The genius nodded, and in a matter of 5 minutes at most, the two were a mess of entangled limbs - both injured and not - instants away from falling asleep; with a few less doubts stinging their hearts and just as many newfound strings keeping them together.

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