#if i had been a little further into the turn lane it would have killed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

casuallyimagining · 3 years

Text

Fix You (1)

hybrid!Min Yoongi x female!reader

Summary: When you take in a stray cat, you have no idea he’s secretly a hybrid trying to escape his past. Can you help him heal? Genre: hurt/comfort, angst, slow burn, fluff Word Count: 3,660 Rating: M Warnings (may not appear in every part): minor character is a dick to animals, mentions of a gun, main character injury (non-serious), discussion of physical abuse, emotional abuse, discussion of sexual abuse, discussion of self-harm

Notes: This is for the March project for @thebtswritersclub. The prompt word was ‘adventure’ and I mean, what’s more of an adventure than adopting a pet? Banner by @birbdae; thanks to @voiceswithoutlips, @taetaesbaebaepsae, @hoebii and @aroseforyoongi for editing various parts of this for me.

Previous | Masterlist | Next

“That cat got into Rick’s chickens again. Killed a couple chicks. He said he’s going to kill it if he sees it on his property.”

Your dad had said it nonchalantly, barely glancing over his newspaper. Without a second thought, you were out the door. There was no way to be sure, not really, but the sinking feeling in your stomach made you run a little faster down your parents’ driveway.

You could have sworn you saw that cat slinking under Rick’s fence on your walk earlier.

Rick’s property neighbored that of your parents, but you wouldn’t necessarily consider him their neighbor. If you stood on their front porch, you could just barely make out Rick’s house through the stand of trees that served as the property line. Your parents had chosen to let their piece of the world be natural, carving out just enough space for a house and a decent sized yard all those years ago. It had made for some great childhood adventures in the woods: pretending fairies were real, living out your childhood fantasies of being some sort of wizard, making friends with the trees--normal kid stuff.

Rick, on the other hand, had turned his land into farmland, even though he neither farmed nor cared for the land. The vast rolling fields of Rick’s “farm” were mostly bare. He had a pond in one corner on the other side of the property, and he had a small cabin for hunting when game season started. Mostly, though, Rick raised chickens. Annoying things, the chickens were, not unlike Rick himself. It wasn’t uncommon to hear the hens’ incessant clucking from your parents’ house, and the roosters never seemed to shut up.

When you moved to the city to attend college, you were elated to get away from the chickens.

According to your dad, the cat had showed up in the woods a few weeks ago, and it had made an enemy out of Rick almost immediately. The poor thing was skinny--too skinny, like it had been living on the streets for a while--and though its dark fur was ruddy and matted, you could tell it would be a beautiful onyx if taken care of.

As you got closer to Rick’s farm, you heard barking and a sharp yowl, and you hurried in the direction of the sounds, afraid of what you’d find. Rounding the corner of the chicken coop, you gasped in horror.

Rick stood with his back to you, shotgun in his hands. His dog, an old bird hound with caramel spotted fur, had the cat clutched in his mouth, the dog’s teeth sunk directly into the cat’s shoulder. The cat, to its credit, had puffed itself up greatly, its tail nearly double its normal size. It was growling and hissing, and, despite the pain it was almost certainly in, was swiping at the dog with its front claws.

“Call your dog off, Rick.” Your voice was steadier than you thought it would be. You were out of breath from the run over there, and being anywhere near Rick with a gun and his snarling dog made you a little uneasy.

“Fuck off.” The man barely turned his head to you. “Damn cat’s been a pain in my ass since someone dumped it here. It killed four of my chicks.”

“Look at it. Of course it’s going after your chickens. You don’t keep them in their coop. It’s starving.”

“Damn thing should stay at your soft-ass parents’ house if it wants handouts.” Rick cocked his gun, pointing it at the cat. The cat’s copper eyes flashed to Rick at the sound. It looked terrified.

The fact that it knew what a gun was and knew to be afraid of it broke your heart a little bit.

“Call off the dog,” you said again, taking a step toward him, hands splayed out in front of you placatingly. “Calm down. I’ll get the cat out of your hair, and you won’t have to worry about it again.”

“Ain’t going to replace my chickens.” Rick’s voice was gruff, but he lowered the gun.

“I’ll pay for your chickens. Just call off your dog.”

He stared at the cat, the gun clutched in his hands but no longer pointing it at anything. For a second, you thought he was going to sicc the dog on the poor thing just to spite you and make a point. You had a feeling he was the type of person to do that. But after a tense stare down, he whistled through his teeth.

“Drop it,” he commanded the dog. The dog looked to its owner, and he repeated the command. It took a second, but the dog released its bite, and the cat slumped to the ground. Rick regarded the cat with a sneer before turning to you. “Take care of that thing. If I see it on my property one more time, it won’t be so lucky.”

You nodded tensely, and he whistled again. The dog trotted over to Rick’s side and the two walked off. You stared after him for a moment. A pained yowl drew your attention back to the cat.

The cat looked angry, and you didn’t blame it. Its tail was still puffed up, and you could tell that if it hadn’t just been attacked by a dog, its hackles would be straight up. Its copper eyes glared at you, its ears flat against its head. You approached cautiously, and it growled deeply in its throat.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you soothed, crouching down to make yourself less threatening. “I’m going to get you help. Is that okay?”

The cat hissed at you and attempted to back away. It made two limping steps before collapsing into the mud around the coop.

“That’s alright. It’s okay.” You sighed, unsure of your next steps. You didn’t want to traumatize the cat by coming any closer, and you really didn’t want to risk injuring it further by picking it up and having it fight you.

You looked at the cat, blinking slowly when you accidentally made eye contact with it. You had read somewhere that blinking was a way to show a cat that you weren’t a threat, and though you felt kind of silly, at this point, you were willing to try anything.

“What am I going to do with you, kitty?” you questioned, sitting down in the mud. The cat looked at you curiously, as if asking what the fuck you were doing. “I don’t want Rick to hurt you,” you confessed. “I’d like to take you somewhere safe.”

Truthfully, that was part of the reason why you were even visiting your parents. Your mom had told you about the cat, and how it didn’t seem to be wearing any collar, and while you were visiting them you wanted to try to trap it, either to bring it to live with you, or to take it to a nice shelter where it could get a good meal and hopefully find a nice family.

“Can I take you to the vet, at least?” You really were desperate, talking to the cat as if it understood what you were saying. The cat, to its credit, looked at you, copper eyes staring into your face before it blinked, just once, slowly and deliberately.

When you reached out to it, it didn’t growl.

You stood and approached the cat, doing your best not to make any sudden moves. You scooped it up gently, careful not to jostle his left shoulder too much, and cradled it close to your chest.

The walk back to your parents’ house was slow, but the trip to the vet was even slower.

It was a weekend, so the vet in your parents’ sleepy little suburb was closed. You had no choice but to pack your bags back up and make the trek home to the city to take the cat to the 24/7 emergency veterinary hospital.

You tapped your hand on the steering wheel. Traffic wasn’t usually this terrible on a weekend, but there was some sort of sporting event happening, so of course, all the roads into the city were clogged.

Stopped at a red light, you spared a glance toward your passenger seat. The cat laid on his side--it was a him, your mother had confirmed--his breathing labored. You could tell he was still on edge. His tail was still puffed up like a cat-of-nine-tails, and he kept eyeing you warily. But he had let you wrap him in a blanket and carry him to your car, and he had stayed on the seat, almost like he knew it was the safest place for him.

“Almost there, kitty,” you mumbled, changing lanes, finally free of the congestion. “Hang on just a little longer.”

Thankfully, the vet wasn’t busy, and you were able to get in with the assistant almost right away. You explained everything that had happened to her as she examined the cat, tutting slightly as she checked his shoulder.

“There are some punctures, but nothing that’s too worrying. I can bandage it and give you some antibiotics.” The assistant pulled her hand back as the cat swatted at her for touching his shoulder a little too forcefully. “Do you know if he has an owner? It would be helpful to know his shot records.”

You shook your head. “He just showed up in the woods one day.”

“We’ll get him a full round of vaccines, then, too.” Copper eyes met yours, and for a second, you thought you saw a look of concern cross them. But then he blinked, and it was gone.

The vet ordered an MRI, and thankfully, because it was a large veterinary hospital connected with the local university, they were able to do it the same day. So you ended up staying at the vet for two hours as they anesthetized the cat and did the scan. While the cat was waking up, the vet called you into the exam room.

“We checked for a microchip, and there was none,” the vet--Dr. Jung--informed you, his brow furrowed. “Based on the cat’s malnutrition and the condition of the coat, it’s likely he was a stray for at least a few months.” You nodded. The poor cat. “We should have the MRI results soon. I’ll give you a call in a few hours once I get a chance to read them. Normally, since he’s a stray, we would contact our foster network to see if anyone would be able to take him in. But since you brought him in-”

“I’ll keep him,” you said quickly. You were planning on it anyway. Just because he was hurt didn’t mean you were willing to give him up.

“Good.” Dr. Jung smiled at you. “My assistant is wrapping his shoulder now, and we’d like to just monitor him for a few more minutes to make sure he’s coming out of the anesthesia well, but you should be clear to take him home after that.” He placed a box on the table between you. “This is Clavamox. One millilitre twice a day for seven days. I don’t think he’ll develop an infection, but since he was so dirty, I think it’s probably better to be safe.” You nodded and pocketed the box. “We also gave him a rabies shot while he was here. It’s standard because he was bitten. If you notice any symptoms, please call us immediately. Once he’s feeling better, we can get him the rest of the vaccines he needs.”

You nodded. This was a lot all at once. And you didn’t even know what you wanted to call the cat yet.

Dr. Jung seemed to be able to tell you were feeling overwhelmed, because he offered you a comforting smile and patted your shoulder. “I’m going to go check on him. You can come if you want.”

As soon as you entered the room, groggy copper eyes were on you. The poor thing looked stoned out of his mind, but there was recognition there, and that gave you some comfort. At least he wasn’t glaring at you anymore. Dr. Jung’s assistant had wrapped his shoulder, so he had a bandage from his upper left front leg wrapped all the way around his chest and up around his shoulders.

“What are we going to do with you, kitty?” you questioned softly, reaching out and gently placing your hand on his head.

After checking the cat’s vitals one last time, Dr. Jung let you leave.

He was limp in your arms as you carried him into your apartment, still a little drugged up from the anesthesia. The whole way back to your apartment, he had sat in the passenger seat and looked out the window like a drunk, moody college student.

“It’s up to you if you want to stay, kitty,” you told him, gently laying him down on your couch as soon as you kicked your shoes off. Of course you wanted to keep him. You had grown attached to him in the few hours you had been with him. But if he was miserable, you were willing to help him find somewhere that was more suited for his needs.

He tried to stand, succeeding only long enough to give a dramatic wobble before collapsing back into the overstuffed cushion. While he was completely recovered from the anesthesia, Dr. Jung had warned you that the cat might be feeling the side effects for a day or so. You reached out to pet him, but his copper eyes slanted into a glare, and you pulled back.

Assuming the cat was hungry, you left him alone and headed into the kitchen. You had some chicken in the fridge, and you thought maybe he would enjoy some fresh meat he didn’t have to steal. You weren’t sure when his last real meal was, so you wanted to go easy on his digestive system until you knew he was feeling better. You’d have to stop and get cat food at some point, but for now, chicken would do.

You did your best to trim off all the fat from the chicken breast. You knew he wouldn’t mind eating it--cats ate weirder things from fresh kills, after all--but you figured with how thin he was, lean meat would probably be better. Carefully, you cut it up into small, easy-to-chew chunks and put some on a plate, wrapping the rest and putting it into the fridge for later. You used a dropper to evenly spread the required dose of the antibiotics onto the chicken in hopes that it would make it easier to give him the medicine.

Returning to the living room, you noticed that the cat hadn’t moved aside from doing his best to curl up as small as possible in the corner of the couch. You tried not to make eye contact with him as you pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and draped it on the cushions. You weren’t particularly keen on having raw chicken all over your furniture, but you sat the plate on the blanket anyway. There was no way you trusted the cat to be able to jump down off your couch at this point.

“Here’s some chicken, kitty.” You gestured toward the plate, and he eyed it warily, unmoving. You supposed he would feel more comfortable eating if you weren’t in the room. “Don’t leave it too long--it’ll go bad. I have to go do some work. I’ll be in my office if you need me. It’s just down the hall.” As you stood up, you paused. You were talking to a cat. You were talking to a cat as if it could understand exactly what you were saying.

Maybe your parents were right. Maybe you had been living alone for too long.

Your mother had suggested you get a hybrid when you first moved to the city--a nice, loyal, protective one, like a German shepherd hybrid or a golden retriever--but you had never gone further than passively looking.

You were happy for the hybrids. A majority of them were still owned, but they could move about their lives freely and without question. It was illegal to treat them as servants, and all ownership had to be consensual, though you weren’t sure how well those rules were enforced. You didn’t really understand how someone could just own a hybrid--they were people, after all, even if their DNA was a little altered. It was weird to you, owning another sentient being like that.

Their lives were certainly much better than they had been. Some hybrids were naturally occurring, but others--a majority of them--had been created by rich and powerful individuals and the government in secret during some shady human experiments in the early 20th century. And, of course, because they were experiments, it created a whole host of problems regarding rights and discrimination.

But despite all the improvements, there was still a long way to go. There was nothing wrong with owning a hybrid if it was consensual, but that didn’t mean you were necessarily comfortable with it.

After a few hours of sitting at your desk working on your most recent graphic design project for work, you turned away and stretched. If you had to stare at the color chartreuse for ten more minutes, you thought you would go blind. It was time to check on the cat anyway, and you wanted to make sure you threw away any chicken that was left on the plate you had given him so he wouldn’t get sick.

When you entered the living room, you were immediately confused. The cat was gone, but so was your blanket. The plate was still on the couch, almost exactly where you left it, but it was entirely empty. Wonderful. You had taken in some sort of Houdini cat.

You grabbed the plate and put it in the sink, trying to look for your blanket as you went. You found it when you returned to the living room, the corner sticking out from under your TV stand. There was just enough space between the bottom shelf and the floor for the cat to fit under, and apparently he had taken the blanket with him. You couldn’t really blame him--it was April, and it was late evening, and your floors were still a little chilly.

“Hey kitty?” you called, bending down to see if you could see him under the shelf. You had thought about it while working, and at this point, you were just going to lean into the whole ‘talking to the cat like he’s a person’ thing. “It’s starting to get late. I’m going to go get ready for bed, okay?” You could just barely see his copper eyes hidden all the way under the TV stand. His pupils were blown wide to capture all the ambient light they could. “You can explore or whatever you’re comfortable with tonight, but please don’t ruin my stuff. Please be a good kitty.”

He blinked once and continued to stare blankly at you.

“Okay, well… if I don’t see you, goodnight.”

You stood and headed off to your bathroom to start your nightly routine. It only took you about a half an hour, but you were soon laying down in bed with your book. You had started it a few days ago, but you were hooked, and you were already almost done with it. The author had managed to somehow insert a space alien robot into today’s modern digital age, and you found it fascinating. You would never look at social media and influencers the same way after reading this book.

It was cozy in your room with the little bedside lamp on, snuggled up in your blankets. Your bed was soft--it was one of those that you could change it using a remote to fit your mood and preference, but you almost always preferred it soft--and you had plenty of blankets and pillows to make it comfortable.

You only had a few pages left when you noticed it, the shadow lingering in the hallway, slowly getting closer to your open bedroom door. It started out against the wall across the hall. When you next looked up after glancing down to your book, the shadow had moved to your doorway. He even had turned his head away like he was pretending it was a coincidence that he had ended up in your room.

He was walking with a slight limp, which was unsurprising given the bandage and the fact that he was attacked not even 12 hours before. He was much more lucid than he was when you first brought him home, though you could tell he was still a little groggy. You didn’t say anything to him--you figured if you did, he would bolt, so you let him do what he wanted.

After a few minutes--maybe 15 or 20--you closed your book quietly, careful not to startle the cat. You glanced at the doorway and didn’t see him, so you put your book on your nightstand and turned off the light. It took you a second, but you snuggled down into the blankets, pulling them tightly around you. You were just about to drift off when you felt it.

Something landed gently on your bed by your feet. It paused for a moment before slowly making its way up the bed to your head, its gait uneven. When it got to the other pillow, it laid down. You risked opening an eye then, and were met with copper eyes staring back at you.

He watched you warily, as if waiting for you to yell or kick him off the bed. When you didn’t, his eyes narrowed, and he slowly allowed himself to lay down, his head on his paws, curled up as best as he could be.

You fell asleep to the sound of him snoring lightly.

As always, your feedback is appreciated. Feel free to pop into my ask box with questions or thoughts about the series. I’d love to hear from you!

Previous | Masterlist | Next

#yoongi x reader #min yoongi #min yoongi x reader #hybrid yoongi #hybrid yoongi x reader #bts hybrid au #hybrid au #thebtswritersclub #yoongi hybrid au #hybrid bts #hybridyoongi #yoongi hybrid #yoongihybrid #yoongi angst #bts angst #min yoongi angst

1K notes · View notes

suffering-and-happy-about-it · 2 years

Text

The Upper Lanes (Shattering the Time, Part 1.)

Description: A long time ago, a peaceful state ruled over the Lanes of Zaun. Yet one day, the protector was murdered by his rival and Lanes had gone to shit ever since, leading to the establishment of an independent Firelight base just out of Zaun. But this peace was to come to an end soon with old friends coming back, rising from the dead, and getting killed.

Part Summary: Vander was murdered fifteen years ago, but his ghost was still everywhere you went; as if he was looking over your shoulder, snickering at what you've been doing and guiding you. Especially now that you've taken over his position of being a mentor to Zaun's youngest. The cycle was starting anew - stupid kids, petty crimes, and enraged mentors. Soon enough, however, everything was about to change.

A/N: I need to confess that I simply love Ekko’s character in Arcane and I can’t wait to see his further development! Also, I changed the timeline a bit - instead of ten years after the night SIlco attacked, the story is taking place 15 years after the event of Arc 1. It goes without saying that Vander and his dynamic with the kids is the flagship in this part - a few parts will actually be concentrated on the past and how things should've and could've been. I like this idea that while Firelights are all about living in the present, the reader is actually one who struggles a lot with it at times. Also, Butcher is basically Tahm Kench. I don't know if he'd ever make it to Arcane, but I love my toad sea demon and wanted him to be around.

Word count: 7.5K

Masterlist: H E R E | Ekko's playlist: the boy who shattered time

Each time you ventured into the streets of Zaun, they somehow looked messier than the last time you'd stuck your nose outside the colony. Each time, Lanes felt like a brand new, strange place you've never visited before. The Lanes were an ever-evolving, ever-changing organism that never stayed the same for too long. Nowadays, things are worse than ever; ever since Silco's takeover of the local politics, things have been deteriorating quicker than before.

The longer Silco usurped the throne, the deeper the Lanes drowned in his sea of bullshit, corruption, and extremely shady business. Everyone knew about it... But people rarely acted against it. Those who dared to riot were silenced accordingly, never to be seen again. These streets, whatever they were now, weren't the Lanes you grew up in. These weren't the streets you accepted as your home, those which you loved with your entire heart. Now, they smelled of feces and chemicals, just like the people walking the promenades. These fuckers were full of it. God, you hated everything that happened in the last fifteen years.

Whenever shit got too hard, you've found yourself here - standing at the same corner of the same street, with your hands in your pockets, trying not to cry as you watched the infamous pub. This was your fucking home; this building used to be your entire universe. For whatever it was worth, you and your friends grew up here - so many memories, some of which were bad and some of which were... Beautiful. As you scratched your nose and fought the urge to cry, you checked if the hood of your sweatshirt covered your face - you've been paranoid about people recognizing you. Sure, you weren't a little kid anymore (very few people would recognize you based on your appearance), but rumors and urban legends were still going strong. If you'd get into a physical fight, you wouldn't be able to just... Hold it in, as Vander instructed you to. Your secret would fly outta the window right then and there.

Embracing for what you were about to face, you turned your head back to the pub, specifically its door. You were personally acquainted with everyone who walked in and out. Each of the people you've known either by their name or by face... And just as you expected, none of them was sober. Everyone was under the influence of Shimmer, which was one of the many 'super cool and great' things Silco had introduced to the population. Identification marks were simple enough to detect - their pupils were unnaturally widened, their irises wildly violet, their veins black under their skin... Alongside, there was also muscle and weight loss, and incredible sleep deprivation. The people looked like former shells of themselves. A very poor imitation of an actual human being.

The drug appeared out of nowhere - one day, Vander was alive and the other, he was nowhere to be found, and Shimmer got distributed everywhere. From Upper Lanes to the depths of the Sump, everyone was encouraged to try it out. Back then, you had no clue about what was happening. You were just children when you watched Grayson and Benzo getting murdered. Nothing in your life made sense ever since.

Living in lanes was always hard. Back then, each day could be a struggle, mainly when things got messy with Pilties. On some days, you couldn't be sure if you'd live to see another dawn. But... You could be sure, no matter what, that there would always be a place where someone would help you. The community might've been poor, but it was self-sufficient, and the relationships were tight. A saying was going around in Zaun - once a family, forever a family. Once a traitor... Forever a traitor. It was eerily fitting. Zaun, ever since its inception, got caught in a never-ending cycle of poverty and danger. Well, that was what Pilties said about you and your people at least. In their eyes, you were all uneducated, unhygienic, non-working pieces of shit who were leeching off the great city of Piltover. In reality, even though it could be a struggle, Lanes weren't that bad. It wasn't pleasant, but it wasn't that horrible.

Piltoverians were the source of all the fucking problems, in anything - specifically the Enforcers. These scums of the Runeterra made it their priority to let you know how they felt about your community. They straightaway told you don't belong and that in their eyes, you were just piles of fucking trash. When you were a kid, the older kids and Laners ensured they paid the Pilties' hospitality back with the same passion. They went out of their way just to ruffle the Enforcers' feathers, to ruin their sunny fucking days. Sometimes, the Laners rioting got punished - depending on how fast they could run. Those who didn't have this courage tried to live by the book so they wouldn't get themselves and their loved ones into trouble. And those who were smart, well... They were smart enough to trade with the Pilties and get some bonuses for their 'respectful and exemplary' behavior (meaning 'eating Enforcers' fucking asses').

Pilties accepted anything the Laners offered - without the help of the locals, Enforcers wouldn't solve fucking shit, they'd be laughed at. If there was a punishment good enough for someone's offense, it wasn't even anything Pilties could do - the worst punishment was getting shunned by your community. Coming back from such a sentence was impossible in the Lanes. Laners offered many things to the Pilties, such as information, tips, free goods, or, let's say, offering the finest girls from their establishment for a considerable amount. The goods weren't treated for free, of course. In exchange, the Laners could expect to get small to full protection from the justice system. If they'd slip up, their crimes had a short statute of limitation, and if they were even punished... The punishments were fucking laughable.

As you winked, you lost your train of thought. Your eyes darted to the neon lights above the pub's entrance - the three familiar words sank into your heart, growing heavy in your chest. The Last Drop. Each time you've found yourself restless and uneasy, you'd come to commiserate to this place. As if he could come out of the door and comfort you. As if you could tell him all your trouble, hoping he'd know what to do. As if he could hug you one last time and tell you how much he loves you and how all you little nuisances make him proud.

Even though you spent your childhood there (a great portion of it anyway), you didn't remember a lot of things. You were happy kids, Vander made it his priority, so the feelings connected to your childhood were mostly positive. Nice, making you all warm and fuzzy inside. But there were a few of those that were vivid and riddled with clarity. When you felt the anxiety and rage eating you alive, this memory was always sure to bring you to your fucking knees. On that night, the holy trinity you dubbed them (consisting of Vander, Grayson, and Benzo) drank their asses off. Long after closing hours, the adults still sat at the small table in the corner, talking about everything and nothing. You and Powder were trying to sneak out; you and Little Man were meeting at the junkyard to search for ~cool stuff~. Back then, you didn't care about their drunken rambling; but now, as an adult, these words were keeping you afloat and haunting you at the same fucking time. Vander was staring into his pint, his eyes foggy with tears as he said this: - "Don't know how 'bout the two of you, but I know we don't have to be worried about Lanes when I die..." - The man sighed, having both Grayson and Benzo staring at him. - "We raised them well... Each of 'em. They'll look after our people long after we won't be here. And I'm sure they'll be able to change everything."

You strived to be the person Vander envisioned you to be - you were one of the few kids he raised who was somehow remaining alive. Vi? Dead. Powder? Long gone. Claggor? Dead. Mylo? Dead. Bee and Maya? Dead. Ekko? Tried living for the present, not dwelling in the past. Ekko and you talked about Vander from time to time, but it was clear Ekko made peace with the past. He accepted it and let it mold him, creating a better man. You? You tried following what Ekko was doing - but each time, the past found its way back to you. The one Firelight who got caught in the past, that's who you were. You wished you could adhere to Vander's wish. You wished you didn't fail Vander this bad. You wished...

This wasn't a place you could cry at. Too dangerous. Shaking your head, you looked around the place - everything looked the same. All the houses, food stalls, other pubs, questionable restaurants, and brothels... But everything had changed. The people, their manners, the atmosphere. Everything Vander worked so hard for, your culture, the community, and sense of home and belonging... That was erased over one night. After the Revolution that formed Lanes into the future nation of Zaun, Vander put his old boxing gloves down, left his old criminal career behind, and spent years creating a self-sufficient closed community - people took time to trust and return his favors, and the sense of home couldn't appear out of nowhere either. It needed to form, arise, and evolve over time. It took him almost five years. Now? Everything was fucked. In shambles. If he or Benzo could take one more look at the place, they wouldn't even recognize it, that was for sure. People came and went, their mentality switched, the self-sufficiency was exchanged for dependence on Piltover and Silco, and the tight bonds? Long gone and forgotten.

Who would you be if you stayed here? What would happen if you didn't take Little Man's hand and ran away? Would Silco let you live? Well, you were... Just a bunch of fucking kids, so no matter how evil Silco appeared, you didn't think he'd just murder you. On the other hand, you were Vander's kids - that would surely be a pain in Silco's ass. For this reason alone, on the day of Silco's takeover, you and Ekko ran the fastest you could in search of anything; that day, you left your old lives and selves behind, hoping you'd at least survive the takeover.

Now, fifteen years since everything went down, you were happy you ran away that morning. If you weren't two little children scared to death, therefore being able to squeeze into cracks and nooks others couldn't, you wouldn't see the following morning. And you wouldn't ever find... That place. Your new home. The place of which would the holy trinity be endlessly proud. It wasn't making you feel good to look at the Last Drop when it was in this state, but you needed a piece of the humble pie and getting a reality check every now and then. On days like these, you had fucking enough. Sometimes, all you and Ekko did was yell at each other, your discomposition getting the best of you. After everything was said and done, your head ached, each word he spat in your face was stuck inside your head. All the misunderstanding, confusion, and anger that might've come from all the right places made you temporary enemies. On days like those, you struggled to see each other eye-to-eye even though you both meant well. On those days, you wished to have a drink with the holy trinity so you could whine about how it's so fucking exhausting.

Kids could be fucking stupid at times, that was the exhausting and infuriating part. Thinking about it, you and Ekko were at it only thanks to the kids these days. Specifically, because they were being morons. The two of you argued about other things rarely nowadays. It was as if your hard work didn't mean fucking anything to them. As if they didn't care that if they said one wrong word in front of the wrong person, they'd endanger everyone. The elders, the adults, and even the newborns of the colony, the technological advancement, your homes, all your belongings... Everything you worked for in the last fifteen years would come in vain. Burned to the ground. Everyone would end with their throats slit. And yet, no matter how many times you explained it to the kids, no matter how much you yelled, how many very unpleasant punishments you came up with... They did it again... And again. As if they thought you're stupid, that your concern and fear meant nothing - that it's unjustified. It hurt. Being ignored was fucking painful.

Shaking your head again, this time letting out a long hum, you pushed your palms deeper into your pockets as you lowered your head for a moment. Saying goodbye to Vander, you turned on your heels and walked down the Promenade. As you stared at the tips of your boots splashing in mud and puddles, you thought about what you'd do once you found the two troublemakers. The question wasn't 'if you find them' but 'when you find them'. You were to absolutely lose your shit this time, weren't you? Each time you had to drag them back home, you waited with the yelling until you crossed the safe zone. This time, you highly doubted you'd have this much self-control; trouble was brewing in the Lanes, Enforcers were getting increasingly aggressive, and people were acting... Strange. Ignoring all the red flags, the two fucking idiots sneaked out to do what, anyway? Help with smuggling stolen fucking goods for a bit of coin. If the Enforcers caught a whiff of the duo... Jesus.

Why did the two always choose your patrols anyway? Why was it always you who found out that Almoner and Lorette snuck out in the night? You knew the answer, funnily enough. You weren't the one for punishing, Ekko took this position most of the time - no matter how upset you first got, you came down to your senses soon. You realized these two were just kids and didn't know better. If you even got to the actual 'punishment' part, it usually wouldn't last very long; you'd make them fill their duty a few times before dismissing them, hoping the kids learned their lesson (... they never fucking did, and neither did you, apparently). You wished you'd have Vander's balls of steel and patience, that you'd be able to watch the kids wash the toilets for a month without flinching; not even talking to them until they genuinely apologized. Yes, Vander's punishments could often come across as very cruel, but you certainly learned how to stay in lane and mind your own fucking business... And learned how to be smarter about doing everything Vander forbade you from doing (the old man certainly knew you were getting yourself into all kinds of trouble, but taught you to be careful the hard way). On top of it... Damn, you didn't have the balls to think about something that fucking cruel of punishment, let alone follow through with it.

Therefore this time, you wouldn't be taking care of it. You'd give them your usual speech about being reckless and stupid, but you'd leave coming up with the punishment to him. Ekko will come up with it and make sure they'll follow through. No 'we'll talk in the morning' this time, you'll simply drag the kids to him as soon as you get home. You covered their stupid fucking asses for long enough. You were done. You dragged them home long after sunset enough times to just stick your neck on the line as you usually did. As you said, you understood why they did it, but you couldn't just agree with it.

Honestly? At their age, you were exactly the same. There were more of you - nine, to be precise. Nine Zaunite kids who were always up to mischief, undermining the Piltoverian authority just to riot against the system. Sure, you, her, Ekko, Maya, and Bee were too little to truly understand what you've been doing, and you also were a bit clumsy with it, but you stuck with the older kids nonetheless. They were so great in your eyes, so cool that you had to follow their lead. They were your idols. Whenever asked who you wanted to be when grown up, 'Vi' was your first answer. Sometimes, the older kids took you out on their little secret sneak-ins into Piltover, trying to sell stuff you found lying around - or goods stolen from other Pilties. If the goods were good enough, you'd attempt to sell them to Benzo's; the moment you did, however, you could be sure Vander would go after your ass. Sometimes, you'd do a bit of cheap labor force for the Pilties for some luxurious food and a bit of coin. You'd be flipping the Enforcers off, stealing their gear, and damaging their vehicles just for fun. Until that day, you could recall disarming the ignition - Ekko showed you step by step. In reality, you were doing far worst shit than your kids ever do. All of you were supposed to be locked up at least a million times... Yet, there you were. The catch? Back then, as you also said, the Lanes were different.

Sheriff Grayson, the head of Piltoverian Enforcers back then, didn't want to have any of Zaun's starving, underfed children trying to get by in Stillwater prison. The prison had enough inmates as it was - no need to punish laughable, puny offenses. Vander and Benzo belonged to the group of the smart Zaunites. They knew how to make a deal with Grayson (who was narrowing her eyes a lot as it was even without the haggling) and a few months after she caught Mylo and Vi sneaking out for the first time, the three adults became friends... At least sort of. Vander and Benzo's authority also helped a lot with connecting with Grayson - Vander had created a name for himself in the Undercity, so he had to go by example and set good relationships with her.

Rest assured, even though you didn't ever get your prison sentencing (you stole a few precious pieces) or any public penalty carried out by the Enforcers, Vander's punishments and fury were plenty enough. Cleaning toilettes at the Last Drop for a month straight, helping the local butcher, or carrying crates for Benzo were just examples of the mild punishments you'd get for your mischief. Once, you got punished by having to serve drinks alongside Vander for two months straight - well, the punishment was indefinite until you'd approached the man with a genuine apology. The worst part about this particular punishment? Vander didn't talk to you until you got your shit together. The words he said before stopping chatting with you were: - "I'd say that if you're adult enough to be causing this much trouble out there, missy, you're also adult enough to sort it out inside your head and come apologize to me when you're ready."

That time, you really needed to be put back in your place. You deserved what you had coming, you realized that now. Back then? It felt horrible. The man still communicated within the boundaries of yes/no questions and still ensured you were okay, fed, and taken care of... But any small talk beyond that point? His famous jokes or stories? No bueno. Believe it or not, it worked. At first, you were sure Vander was just fucking with you; he'd let it go after two weeks, drop the antics and everything would be the same. Well, after the first month of the silent treatment, you started to realize how much you've actually hurt him. Vander believed you were the most responsible out of the kids and yet, May came back with her leg broken because you tried to steal a rifle off an Enfoncer. That was possibly the first day you've also seen Grayson furious. He wasn't mad at you... Vander was disappointed. It took some time to figure out how to approach the old man. Even though you imagined what you'd tell him a thousand times and wrote it on a piece of paper also, you still broke down in tears when you finally approached him with an apology. Vander listened to every word with a small smile, nodding as you went on with your thoughts and emotions. It nearly broke his heart when you asked if you could still call him dad. After you fell silent, done with the explanation, the old man hugged you, asking with pride in his voice... - "Y'all so damn stubborn, you kids. Was it so hard to figure stuff out? Come 'ere, duckling."

But... He was dead now. You couldn't ask him for advice anymore. Vander wasn't around to help out with this shit anymore, neither was Grayson. You watched her getting mauled by a Shimmer addict. The Enforcers you knew were pathetic swines. They couldn't be reasoned with, especially when you deemed yourself to be a radical rebellious society living aside from regular Zaunites. The dynamics changed over time, just as you said. If your kids would get caught, they would get their one-way ticket into Stillwater, no doubt in your mind. The ticket would be the better option, frankly - if shit would get serious, the Enforcers would surely be happy to organize a whole parade on the Promenade leading into public humiliation or... Hanging, if things would get very intense. Fuck, you huffed, Pilties pretended to be these upper-class fancy fuckers and still paraded Zaunites around as if this was old Shurima or something. Silco surely had his part in this, but Pilties were to blame one way or another.

Saying you didn't have any reputation was... Wrong. It was nothing compared to the rep Vander made for himself, but it was something. Ekko had his reputation with his mask on, you didn't need any costume to cause havoc and panic. That was the reason why you were still sneaking out for the kids - you knew you wouldn't get hurt. People changed but didn't forget or forgive and a lot of them remembered what you were capable of. The stories and rumors still circulated around, they were still being told as frightening examples to kids before they fell asleep.

You've heard it once when you ventured into the lanes. This kid was screaming and crying, tears streaming down its face. - 'If you won't be good,' - The mother said to her little kid, kneeling to them, - 'The Demon will come for you.' 'Who is that? What does it do?' - The kids whispered under their breath, their face slowly turning ashen pale. 'Burns people to ashe and shoves its palm into their chest so it can feast on their heart.' 'It's an old legend, Matilda.' - The child's father chimed in, furrowing at his partner. - 'Nobody has seen it for years. It's not even real, just a legend the Zaunites made it up to scare the regular folk... Like us.' 'Seven Enforcers found dead with holes in their chest, one burnt to ash. Still sounds like a story to you?'

So... The Demon, that's what they called you, huh? Eating people's hearts sure was a stretch, but if it worked... The problem with having this sort of reputation was your anonymity amidst it all - no one knew you were the Zaunite Demon. No one except Ekko - he was there when it happened on the day of Silco's takeover; when you killed the Enforcers just so you could escape. You didn't want to do it, but you were left with no other option. If you wouldn't let go and the Enforcers, you'd end up in the fucking orphanage or in prison. Your arcana was your last resource. To remind the people of the old stories, you had to let your arcana shine though... Which you weren't fond of. You hated being a spectacle, so you only used it in case of need. Taking a turn off the main promenade, you knew exactly where you needed to go. It wasn't more than a hunch, but since the kids were at this place both times you set out to search for them, the third time was the fucking charm. Butcher's old mansion; an old, broken down building at the scrims of Lanes. Its windows were plastered with old newspaper painted black and hammered with wooden planks. The plaster was knocked off the walls in a few places, the former glory of the manion past its prime. You've known Butcher ever since you found yourself at the Last Drop, he was one of the wallflowers that were a constant in your life. Someone who was always in the background but never stepped into the forefront. As far as you heard, he didn't establish a workshop with Silco, but he wasn't on the 'good' side either. Butcher remained morally grey, somewhere in the middle, not mingling with 'human' affairs.

This shady fucker used to do business with Vander regularly; however, when Vander figured Vi and the boys tried establishing a workshop with Butcher, he almost lost his shit. According to Vander, Butcher could be extremely dangerous when prompted to. One wrong word, one wrong deal, one unclear wish, or wrongly formed favor request, and your organs were harvested the following morning without your knowledge. To negotiate and cooperate with the Butcher, one had to be extremely intelligent, because... Butcher wasn't, in fact, human. You never learned what he was, but according to one of the books you stole, it was possible he could be a water demon. What you knew for sure, however, was the fact that Butcher was far from being humanoid. He reminded you of a mix between a catfish and a toad if anything; obese, wobbling around on two legs with a toad-like face, enormous slimy tongue, and sharp fangs showing each time he laughed. A fun fact? The Butcher always smelled like dead fucking fish.

As you stopped in the street leading to Butcher's mansion, there they fucking were - both the kids you were searching for. Just like the times before, the idiots were helping with carrying some shady iron boxes inside the mansion under the watch of Butcher's bodyguards. Lorette's blonde hair shone in the darkness of the street, making you breathe in and out a few times to calm your horses. The two fucking idiots always being at the same spot, doing the same shit for the same shady guy made your blood boil. Getting your emotions under control, ensuring the poison-green flames hadn't burnt through your sweatshirt, you finally started walking towards them. Almonder spotted you first. It felt like a deja vu of sorts - your gait was unchangeable with anyone else's thanks to the steel plates inside the tips of your boots. Your expression was identical each time, down to the twitch in your left eye and your palms were crushing, your knuckles changing color the stronger you squeezed. Almonder didn't flinch a bit this time, he simply stopped in his tracks and brought the box closer to his chest. Was he trying to set you off?

"Listen, Y/N, before you start yelling... We can explain." - The boy explained swiftly - just as he opened his mouth to continue with another sentence, you put one of your palms in the air to stop him. "Save your fucking explanation for someone interested in listening, you two. I honestly don't know if I'm more disappointed or furious." - Sighing, you made another step towards the boy, eyeing him up and down as you nodded at your inner train of thoughts. - "Didn't I make myself clear, huh? The last time, you promised this wouldn't happen again - and guess what? The funniest fucking thing happened. Mira comes running, confused and scared, telling me the two of you are gone... Again. I was just about to bring you kids some cocoa we traded for one of our hoverboards because I thought you finally understood when I told you you'll get yourselves fucking dead if you continue like this and..." - You were starting to say mumbo-jumbo at a fast pace as you did your best not to blow up, your breath shortened and you were starting to curse a lot. Lorette's eyes widened as she braced herself for the actual screaming; you were fucking horrifying when you tried to. Just as you were about to yell the first word out the mansion's old gnarly wooden door opened. The creaking freaked you out, calming you down a bit. Turning your face to the door, an enormous water demon appeared in the cranny, his golden eye eyeing you up and down.

"Ah!" - The demon exclaimed, huffing with his deep, growly voice. Everything about him gave you chills. - "It's you, Y/N! I was wondering when you're gonna show up." "... Was I that obvious?" - You asked, sighing. Butcher's presence made you take a long breath, digging your fingers into the skin on your hips just so you wouldn't lose your shit. You couldn't risk being perceived as a child - you were an adult who had people relying on them. Screaming would come off as childish and composure was important in moments like these. "Of course, you were, darling, but don't worry about it. Most mortals are. Come in, I want to have a chat with you. The two of you, come sit in the foyer." - The demon laughed, opening the door for you and the kids. Cringing at the pet name, you grinned and did as you were told - followed him inside the manor, walking the honorous stairs by his side. "Don't fucking call me that again." - You reiterated, trying to lift the tension. It worked since you both cracked, snickering at the way you said the sentence.

Butcher kindly invited you into his office. You needed to admit you liked the room - it was filled with lavish wooden furniture, luxurious small details and decoration, and wood crackling in the fireplace. The room smelled nice, of jasmine and burnt wood, and it was almost nice when you ignored the stench of dead fish. Without asking you a single word, Butcher started pouring a shot of spirits for both of you, sitting in an enormous satin-covered chair beside the fireplace, pointing at the one beside him. The other chair was way smaller, for humans, you concluded. Even though you accepted the fancy shot glass, you didn't sit down.

"Whatever the kids promised to do for you, it's my responsibility. They are in no position to make deals and have commitments." - Looking over at Butcher, you didn't kick the glass in until he'd do so first. That would be rude as fuck. - "Just tell me they didn't sign a contract, would hate to see their organs getting harvested by your people or you draining their souls because they didn't read the amendment." "Harvesting organs... Draining the souls?" - Butcher's voice thundered before he threw a fit of laughter. - "That's what Vander duped you into believing?" "Isn't that what you water demons do? Taking advantage of stupid people? Because these two surely are stupid." "You got me there, girl. And, these kids of yours are naïve, not stupid... There's a difference. You grow out of being naïve, however, there's nothing you can do about being a stupid fool. Sláinte!" - Butcher explained, finally clicking his glass with yours - whatever the fucking alcohol was, it burned like a living fuck. Without hesitation, Butcher started pouring another one.

"Rest assured, your kids haven't struck any deal with me. Even if they did, I'd do my best to honor fair conditions and not spin their words around as I tend to." - He rambled on, giving you your glass back. Humming, you swirled the alcohol around, raising your eyebrows in anticipation. - "I might be a dishonest creature, but I'm honorable. When it comes to your kids, don't be alarmed. I won't... Drain their souls or whatever." "What makes you say that, though? Why are you so kind? Do you want... Something in return? You don't owe me anything. I mean, I'm grateful but confused."

"None of what you listen. I won't sink to doing my usual tricks because you are Vander's kids." - Butcher explained as if it couldn't be simpler. This sentiment made you sit down with tears in your eyes, covering your mouth. Vander to the fucking rescue... Fucking again. "Funnily enough, Vander made sure we won't be striking any deals with you. Made sure we'll stay as far as physically possible... Seems like you aren't that bad of a guy after all." "Your words compliment me, Y/N, however don't twist my words as being merciful or kind. We are not allies nor enemies, we merely exist in the same plane of consciousness. Let me put it like this, child. Vander was smart... Too smart for his own good. But in my world, honor is honor, and a deal is a deal." - With that, you both kicked the second shot, letting Butcher pour another one. If you understood correctly, it meant Vander struck a deal with Butcher regarding 'his' kids. And even though Vander was dead, Butcher still recognized the deal as valid. What could the deal revolve around? You wouldn't ever get to know, but it interested you nonetheless.

"Speaking of our late comrade... Feels like it's starting all over again." - The demon sighed, looking you in the eye. He didn't wait to explain, because his speech pattern was giving you a run for your money. - "I've lived thousands of years, thousands of lives, and yet, it all feels like a cycle. The kids remind me of you and all your little friends, you remind me of Vander and the others who kept you alive. 'Round and round it goes, don't you think?" "We weren't this reckless." "Did I hear correctly, girl?" - The demon cackled, leaning closer to you. The cold coming from his body gave you goosebumps, the scales appeared to be slimy. Ew. Holy shit. Butcher was giving you the chills. - "Did you just say you kids weren't as naïve and reckless? Funnily enough, I don't think we ever talked 'till this day. I know who you are and you know what I am, but our paths never collided - but I remember everything. My oh my, how resilient you all were; each time she'd drag you back to Vander, you'd try to wiggle out like little worms, run away just so you'd escape the punishment for ten minutes longer. Every time, the old man would slap your wrists and give you a talk because he was the only one you little nuisances respected 'round here. Now, the cycle starts anew. I'm their Benzo, you're their Grayson and he's... Well, he's their Vander."

"I'd agree... If the kids had an ounce of fucking respect for us. If there was any respect, these idiots wouldn't be helping you smuggle whatever it is you're buying off the black market. Pour me another one, please." - Kicking in a third shot, you forced your glass back into his palm. The demon furrowed ever so slightly but complied with your request. He didn't have to say it aloud, but you wouldn't see a fifth shot - which was fair. Especially given you didn't even fucking know what you were pouring down your throat. "I hate to break it to you, child, but... Do you really believe you brats had an ounce of respect for any of your elders? Now, looking back at it with perspective, you probably do - these adults taught you everything you needed to know." - The demon mumbled, giving you your glass back. - "They taught you to have respect and in return, they asked for your trust. You got there, eventually. But... It wasn't always this way, was it? How do you think Vander felt each time Grayson dragged you into the pub every other day? Do you imagine he was happy to have a bunch of troublemakers on his hands to deal with? Do you think he expected you to immediately understand his cause and the cogs turning behind the scenes? Do you not understand how many people you endangered each time? With each act of rebellion you put the entire Zaun at stake, don't you see it? Rest assured you and the kids are one and the same, but that's your thought to grasp, youngling."

That slimy son of a bitch was right, you realized as you poured the last shot down your throat - if you were this enraged, how in the fuck did Vander feel? On top of it, you only had two problematic teens to chase around the Lanes - Vander had ten of you at least, possibly even more since he cared for everyone. He had to deal with his own kids, their friends, and their friends' friends. And he dealt with all that while being a good dad. Wow. That had to be a superpower. Honestly, looking over at the demon by your side, you had to say some weight was lifted off your chest. It probably wasn't the talk you wished to have with Vander, but it brought some self-reflection and clarity. Butcher warned you; he wasn't your ally but neither your enemy and yet, you felt grateful. "However, there's one thing I'd like to add. I might not be great at understanding humans... I never tried to be, I'm not interested in mingling with human affairs. What I can say, however, is that you're doing well. Your kids don't starve, they have no need to search for a creature like me to grant their wishes. Both of you are doing well."

"How..." - You whispered, looking up to him once again. His words were bringing you to tears. You needed this so bad. Coming from a sea demon was the last place where you'd expect words of encouragement and wisdom, but you were glad for them nonetheless. - "How do you even know about us? 'bout the colony?" "I know everything, mortal." - Butcher explained simply, lighting up an enormous cigar to munch on. You didn't need to ask no more. You trusted him. With that, you picked yourself off the chair. "Thanks, Butcher. I mean, thank you for giving me the reality check, I really fucking needed it. Also, thanks for... Honoring your word to Vander. He'd be glad to hear it." - You explained, giving him the shot glass back as you stood up, looking down at the demon. "I'd be grateful if your kids were willing to help me - these goods aren't stolen and I'd look after them in case our Marcus, that fool, tried digging around in business that doesn't concern him. Only with your permission, that is." "I'll give it a thought, promise. Need to teach them a lesson now, however." "I know, I know. Fare well, Y/N." "I'll see you around, Butcher."

Thankfully, the chat with Butcher was enough to calm you down. You didn't feel the need to scream your lungs out when you picked up the clown duo sitting idly in the foyer, your way back to the colony was actually pretty calm. You started to understand Vander's silent treatment; usually, you made sure the kids knew right off what ice they were on. The longer you stayed quiet, though, the less calm the kids were. They were lurching, looking you in the face with uncertainty. They were finally feeling guilty, you reckoned and put your hood lower into your face and let the kids fry for a bit longer.

The moment it all complicated was when you reached the entrance to the sewers - the complication being four Shimmer addicts hanging around it... And the fifth one lurking in the backstreet. If you could, you'd take a different route - but funnily enough, the only 'normal' entrance to your colony led precisely through these sewers. The closer you got to the entrance, the more obvious it became the addicts were surrounding you like prey. At that point, Lorette was clinging onto Almonder's palm, crying silently - Almonder was trying to stay calm, but his expression was rather stoic. You appreciated his dedication to staying cool, though; it made you sure in your tracks as well.

The kids needn't be worried. If the men even looked at them funny, you'd make sure to break every fucking bone in their body, maybe burned a hole through their chests if they'd get you going enough. The kids wouldn't get in harm's way, only over your dead fucking body.

"Woah boys, look who we got here." - One of the men, a tall and well-built one walked closer to you. He wasn't an absolute wreck yet, he appeared very young; Shimmer was sure to fuck him soon enough. Soon, he won't be able to stay on his feet without huffing that shit. - "Such a pretty young girl... Don't think I've seen you around, lovely. Are these your kids?" "Don't think so." - Another addict stepped out of formation, attempting to sniff a lock of Loretta's hair. The moment he picked his disgusting palm to touch her, your hand flew out to stop him. Your breath was picking up, the inner flame starting to set you ablaze - your skin was covered in little metal particles, starting to harden. If you wouldn't get your cool under control, you'd have shit to explain to the younglings. The iron grip, thankfully, was enough for the addict to step away from Lorette. - "... Or maybe, I was mistaken. Mamma hen and her chicks." - He added with a mocking grin.

The well-built addict caught your chin between his fingers, making you look at him. Stretching out your other hand, you motioned for the kids to step closer to you until you felt Almonder's forearm in your palm. He was shaking. To reassure him, you gave his forearm a firm squeeze. You've never failed your kids - no way you'd fail them now. "Get your fucking hand off me." - Was all you said, smiling sweetly at the addict. In addition to your words, you stepped even closer. Your actions sure as fuck confused him. - "... You don't wanna do this, pretty boy... Trust me."

"I won't do anything... If you're willing to pay, lovely. With either money or.." - The guy smiled, looking over to Lorette. Most people would freak in this situation, but the kids didn't flinch. They didn't scream or run away, they stayed put. They trusted you. And you were looking awfully bored. "Keep your eyes on me, handsome, she has nothing to do with this. It's just between you and me." "So you'd..." "Let me put it like this." - You whispered, moving even closer. Your chests were now almost touching, bumping into one another when you breathed. - "Haven't fucked anyone up in a long time, but I'd sure enjoy making you squirm like the pig you are. Then, I'd break each limb you possess, and don't worry, I wouldn't leave your four friends out of it either. You guys could have tons of fun licking your wounds for a few months, not being able to move, lying in your own fucking shit and piss."

The man stared at you for a bit, watching the corners of your mouth slowly turn upward. You were insane, had to be; there were five young, relatively healthy men around you ready to fuck you up... And you didn't flinch. Were you fucking stupid? As he turned to look at you to ask if you were stupid, something stopped him. It was your eyes - the color of your irises, to be precise. It wasn't human. It was a very bright, poison-like green and he'd swear it was burning into his brain. Given your skin could literally turn into metal, the color and your confidence... Openly asking him to attack you... The moment his brain connected the two dots was the second he stepped away. - "Tell your buddies to let us go and I'll forget this ever happened." "Let... Let them go. It's fine, guys, fuck, they're cool." - The guy nodded frantically, stepping even further aside. Without waiting around for too long, you pushed the children in front of you so you could be sure they were getting out of the situation first. As you calmed down, you could feel the warmth traveling back to your hands, letting the skin take over once more. The kids didn't understand, but they didn't ask either; they were too scared to even look over their shoulders at you.

That slimy fucker was right... It all felt like rewinding the time in a sense.

#arcane league of legends #league of legends #arcane ekko #ekko league of legends #ekko x fem!reader #vander arcane #i miss him #vander was my no1 before ekko came by #grayson arcane #she was amazing too #both of them are heavily mentioned in the chapter

155 notes · View notes

hansolmates · 3 years

Text

busted in busan

summary; you’re snowbound at the airport, when the only thing you want is to be homebound. your anxieties heighten as the snow rises, worried that you won’t make it in time for christmas where your fiancé and his parents expect you—picture perfect. when all flights are cancelled due to a massive storm, you have to turn to the hands of an unlikely, hard-headed hero who knows the fastest way out of busan (and into your heart) pairing; jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; a christmas detour!au, fluff, angst, slice of life, strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers, pining, this is a total romcom, hallmark movie galore! tw–microcheating (or not however you look at it) mentions of sex, making out, profanity w/c; 10k a/n; for @suhdays holiday hallmark event! this event was totally up my lane, i couldn’t wait to post it! a huge thank u for @eerieedits for making this wonderful fic banner! this is totally unedited, i’ll to go back to it tonight but pls enjoy! for those of u who need a little more christmas charm this year, this is for u

if you loved this icy couple, please consider giving it a like n’share!⛄⛄⛄

“The Korean Air 1102 flight from Gimhae International Airport to Incheon International Airport will be delayed six hours due to the intense weather conditions. Please be on standby for any further updates.”

You’re twitching, fighting the urge to nibble on your nails because you’ve just got them done for Christmas. They’re a sleek champagne gold, because your fiancé insisted that they’re far more mature than your usual red and brown reindeer art. This is awful, and is only going to get progressively worse as the snow builds and builds. Right now the weather isn’t that bad, the snow isn’t even sticking to the ground and—oh.

Gnawing at your lip, your fingers brush over the cold window, a clear view of the landing strip you should currently be boarding. The touch is icy, and the pads of your fingers are enveloped in little rings of fog at the sudden warmth nudging the glass. Upon closer inspection and a squint of your eyes reveal that in fact, the snow is now sticking to the ground. Big, fat clumps are covering the freeway and destroying your Christmas plans.

Your fiancé will understand if you’re a little late for their Christmas Eve party, but you’re not sure if his parents will. You’ve been on livewire all week, wanting to at least spend the morning of Christmas Eve with your family back home. Knowing that your fiancé’s Christmas Eve party would run until very late, you booked a noon flight with enough time to get ready and impress his parents. Evidently, it was an ill-prepared idea.

Immediately falling into your terminal’s line, you hope that you can talk with the receptionist in hopes they could put you at ease.

“How soon will you announce our flight’s departure?” A sad smile.

“Is there any way you can put me on the next possible flight?” A shake of the head.

“Will the weather let up?” A frown.

Every bit of rejection weighs you down, and you’ve run out of questions to ask. For a receptionist, she’s not very receptive.

“C’mon lady, you’re holding up the line,” a voice tugs you from behind, “you’re not the only one who’s gotta get down to the city on Christmas.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, wanting to slap the rudeness off this man’s face. Instead of falling back in line, you move to the side to glare at him. He’s unfortunately attractive, albeit in a rugged sort-of way—nothing like your fiancé. The leather jacket that he carries tall is worn and crackly at the collar. Wavy dark hair he constantly has to hold back, a gesture that looks flirtatious and to your chagrin the receptionist is definitely recepting to him.

“Your refund should be processed in about two to four business days, Mr. Jeon,” the receptionist murmurs, the simultaneously sultry and chirpy voice making you twitch in your spot. Maybe if you drank a cup of tall, dark and handsome you’d be getting the same kind of treatment.

“Thanks,” he replies shortly, and it’s then you notice the extremely large luggage next to him. It’s the size of you, and despite the broad shoulders under the baggy jacket, he lugs it with careful force, making sure not to bump into anyone as he wheels it away from the counter.

It seems that your trainers have a mind of your own as you follow him down the terminal. He side eyes you as your feet pick up the pace to match his long legs, but he waits for you to say something first.

“Why did you ask for a refund?” you ask, frowning at him, “the flight is only delayed.”

He scoffs, “Do you see the snow? They’re just saying it’s delayed so they can hold onto your money a little longer. Besides, it’s a win-win. I get my refund sooner and some other poor sap can take the ticket and wait until five in the morning.”

“Five A.M.,” you exhale to yourself, slowing down.

It would be too late by then, far too late. Your shoulders slump, people start to bump into you without a care.

“Besides,” you hear his voice say from your stricken form, “I had a backup plan.”

That’s when your feet start to burn up, and you whip around to pump your legs, catching up with the man who’s already far down the hall. “What kind of backup plan?” you blurt, raising your voice because the crowds are starting to get noisier and deeper the further you follow him.

He hooks his lips into a confused frown, “You’re awfully nosy.”

“I’m in a pinch, my fiancé’s parents will kill me if I don’t show up to their party tonight.”

“Your fiancé’s parents… will kill you?”

“That’s an exaggeration,” you cough, immediately feeling self-conscious, “they’d kill me with their eyes. They’re really big, really pretty corporate people. They have high expectations for their future in-law.”

“Ah, and you're the country pumpkin who managed to sweep the rich guy off his feet?”

“Something like that,” you reply, rocking on your heels, “my dad was his dad’s former secretary, and we grew up together.”

The stranger with a plan stops in front of a long line. It’s so long that you’re not entirely sure where it leads to. People are piling out the door two at a time, and you can see they’re trying to get through the process as fast as possible. The window leading outside is blurry and caked in white ice. He hooks one leg over his luggage, the metal and plastic case is so high that his feet barely touch the ground. Like a kid with a flat scooter, he wheels himself through the line.

“These lines are for busses going in the direction of our flight,” he jabs a finger out the door, “if the flight got cancelled I was just going to ride one of these,” out of his pocket he pulls out two tickets, flicking it in front of your face.

“Are there any tickets left?” your eyes bug, and you immediately pull out your phone to reserve a spot.

“Nah, been booked since last month.”

It’s then that your eyes zero in on the second ticket he has in hand. Both tickets are addressed to the same name. You lower your phone in your pocket, narrowing your eyes. “Why do you have two for yourself?”

He pats his luggage as a response.

“That’s not fair!”

“It is when you buy it, sweetheart.”

“A literal human could be in that spot, wanting to go home for Christmas!”

“You’re just salty you don’t have a ticket, don’t take it out on my luggage,” he feigns a pout, rubbing the handle of the heavy container, “you’re hurting it’s feelings.”

It doesn’t take long for you and the stranger to reach the end of the line. To others in line the two of you look like two companions bickering good-naturedly, but in reality the only thing you want to do is slap that smug smile off his face.

“You want my ticket,” he states.

“I want your luggage’s ticket,” you bite back, staring petulantly at where he sits comfortably between the handle.

Unbeknownst to you, the man’s face morphs into a teasing grin upon seeing you glare a little too hard at the silver and black case. It just so happens that your eyes gravitate to the middle of the luggage, at the apex between his long legs leading up to a pair of black sweats. Despite the soft, baggy fabric you can see how the bulge of his thighs outline the thin cotton, looking large and inviting which—

Fuck. You’re engaged. Why are you checking out some stranger’s thighs? Your fiancé also has nice thighs, think about those!

“How much do you want for it?” you cough, crossing your arms and turning to the side to hide your flaming cheeks.

“Who said I was offering?”

“I’ll pay that and then some.”

“With your rich-boy’s money?”

If your hands were not digging into your elbows and you weren’t so concerned about your gold-foiled manicure, you’d deck him. Do the holidays normally make this person so snappy? He simply flips his hair, and you catch the shaved ends of his sides.

“Three-hundred,” he says easily, and if he notices you staring he doesn’t say anything, “including any extra fees for my luggage.”

“Done,” you hold out your hand for him to shake.

“I’m Jungkook, if you care,” the man named Jungkook adds wryly, practically swallowing your small hand with his larger one. You shortly reply with your name, and he merely nods, “a thank you would suffice.”

“Thanks,” and it’s then that you manage a scarily pretty smile, one that Jungkook finds both alarming and amusing. It’s a catered smile, one that you’ve trained yourself to accomplish after hours in the mirror in fear of your fiancé’s parents seeing right through you. It’s the smile you give during work when you don’t give a shit but you need to suck it up. It’s a 9/10 success rate.

“Scary,” he shivers, and then you realize he’s the 1/10.

The only bus for you two to pile on is one of the smallest. Probably half the size of a regular coach bus, but at this rate you don’t care. You’ll fly by hot air balloon if the weather wasn’t so crappy.

“Taehyung!” you startle at Jungkook’s sudden belt, and he does a big, beefy-chested bro-hug to the driver. Ah, so he has connections. You watch the two interact from your corner, pulling up your hood to stop the rapidfire snowflakes from pelting your eyes.

The driver is a classically handsome thing, dark eyes and dark fluffy hair. His paperbag pants look absolutely frigid however, and his teeth are chattering as he regards Jungkook with annoyed eyes.

“Listen, so plans have changed—”

“As always, Kook.”

“—and I need you to do me another solid. Do you have room in the compartment for my babies?”

“The answer is, and always no. That’s why you bought two tickets.”

“I know but,” he gestures to you with a jab of his thumb, “like I said, plans have changed.”

“Jungkook,” Taehyung frowns, “trying to do some Christmas miracles? In this snowstorm?” Taehyung shakes his head, eyes flickering to the running bus. Most of the ticket holders are already on it. “I can save you two a three-seater, but there’s no room in the compartment. It’ll be a tight fight but—”

“It’s perfect. You’re dynamite, Tae,” Jungkook even has the audacity to reach his hands out and squish the driver’s cheeks, much to his distain.

The two of you are ushered quickly into the bus, leaving you in the very front diagonal to where Taehyung is sitting. The three seats are tiny, it probably barely fits Jungkook’s thighs with the large luggage nestled in the other two seats. The two of you suggest to put the luggage out in the aisle and take turns holding it, but Taehyung interjects that the luggage is a fire hazard.

“But not a human,” Jungkook decides, and he gestures for you to sit down in the available seat. You’re practically shoved against the window as Jungkook manages to squeeze his gargantuan luggage in the other two seats. He’s tall enough to grab the metal rungs of the bus, steeling himself in the middle of the aisle.

Taehyung doesn’t fight with that, and finally puts the bus into drive. Pulling out of the airport feels akin to leaving the eye of the storm. It’s going to be a long journey, and it makes you worry as to whether you’re going to make it on time or not.

Your favorite pastime is watching the window on a long car ride, especially when the snowflakes crystalize and melt away through the warmth of the vehicle. However, you’re irked. You thought Jungkook was a bit of a wank, a little too full of himself and far too mysterious for your own good.

Exhibit A, the luggage that’s currently threatening to wheel over and crush you against the glass. You wonder what’s so special about this luggage that Jungkook so desperately wants to protect, even so far as to buy its own seat. Sneakily, you lean over to smell the zipper. Surprisingly, it smells a little vinegary, the fumes getting you a little lightheaded within seconds. Your eyes dart to Jungkook, who’s currently engaged in conversation with Taehyung. You tilt your head and sniff again, confirming the slightly rancid smell.

It’s then you take in Jungkook’s form once more. He dresses a little schlubby, his clothes are old, his eyes are sunken in, and his luggage is filled with weird-smelling things.

Oh no. Is Jungkook a drug dealer?

Your fiancé’s parents would surely have a fit if this man gets arrested and you come up in the report as an accused accomplice. It makes sense, he would want to make sure that his goods are in his view at all times, and it explains why he so easily gave you his ticket for triple the actual price.

A giggle interrupts your thoughts. Yes, a tired, yet bubbly giggle. Jungkook’s face is pressed against his bicep, and you catch the fluttering of his eyes as he tries to keep up with Taehyung’s rambling. His grip is starting to loosen on the metal bars, and you’re worried that he might accidentally slip, or not hold tight enough in the event the car takes a sharp turn or slips on black ice.

“J-Jungkook,” it’s the first time you’re saying his name out loud, tasting it on your tongue as you regard him steadily, “why don’t we take turns sitting? I don’t mind standing for an hour while you sleep.”

He regards you with a sleepy smirk, shaking his head against the fabric of his jacket. “You’ll be flung in two seconds, besides can you even reach the handles?”

Good point, but Jungkook is far more muscular and if he does end up flying he’ll crash through the window and further hinder your commute. It’s why you choose your next words carefully, and you convince yourself it’s the only reason as to why you propose your solution.

“I’ll sit on your lap,” and since it sounds super weird coming out of your mouth, you tack on, “I’ll put your jacket over your lap as a barrier.”

He slacks, regarding you with a scrunched face. “Is the jacket supposed to make that situation any better? I’m fine standing like this.”

“This ride is going to take hours and you’re barely on your own two feet,” your point is made when the bus topples over a speed bump, and Jungkook looks awfully small as he moves to grapple the top bar with both hands, “my fiancé doesn’t get jealous, I’ve sat in plenty of friend’s laps before.”

“We’re not friends,” he blurts with a raise of his brows.

“Yes, I know that,” you’re a little insulted by the curt reply, but he still looks rather horrified that you’re proposing the following, “I don’t like it either, but I’m sitting in your seat and now I’m feeling guilty as hell.”

It’s a lot of shuffling and shifting after that. You try not to laugh as Jungkook rips off his leather jacket, folding it into a perfect square, ironing out the corners of the crinkly fabric as he gestures for you to take a seat. You try not to take note of how sturdy his thighs are, or how the muscle stretches across the seat so well that there’s no way for you to fall between the cracks.

“You’re going to sleep anyway,” you try to assure him, side eying him as he presses his forehead against the window, “it’ll be like being with a dead body.”

“Didn’t know you were into necrophilia, but whatever floats your boat,” Jungkook mumbles, eyes immediately fluttering shut.

At first it was easy, ignoring the fact that you’re sitting on top of a human. The drive seems endless however, Taehyung driving further and further into a sea of white ice. You force yourself to thread your fingers together, sitting on the very edge of his knees with your back ramrod straight. Eventually, you tire out and relax against Jungkook’s lax body. Your face is centimeters away from Jungkook’s. Long, dark lashes, and a strand of equally dark hair falls in front of his eyes. His cheeks are flushed from the blaring heater, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

Hm, for a drug dealer, he smells pretty.

Despite the weird-smelling luggage that looms over the two of you, the white long-sleeved shirt he wears is soft to the touch and smells fresh.

You huff, and shift in your seat.

“Stop,” Jungkook mumbles into your shoulder, and you don’t have the heart to look at him.

“I’m sorry, it’s cramped,” you reply.

“I get that, but you don’t have to—hike yourself so far up here,” he sounds almost embarrassed saying it, and his hand shuffles to adjust his belt. “Literally can’t sleep because you’re making me pop a boner.”

“Why, I’m engaged!”

“God, I know. It’s like your personality trait or something,” Jungkook retorts, “just because you’re engaged doesn’t stop my body from reacting. I’m sure your fiancé has reacted like this, stop acting like a blushing virgin.”

You tense, your eyes glued to the window in front of you. How do you even make a comeback to that? Wringing your hands in your lap, you feel your palms sweat with nerves the longer it takes for you to reply. This causes the gears to run in Jungkook’s mind.

“Holy fuck, have you two not—”

“Shut up,” you hiss, turning your body around to slap him in the chest, “shut up shut upupupshutup!”

You make seething, burning eye contact with Jungkook. You expect him to have a shit-eating grin on his face, teasing you for your relationship. Instead, Jungkook is wide-eyed, mouth parted open like a confused guppy and his big bug-eyes looking stricken. He says nothing.

The road starts to get bumpier, and the drive swerves from time to time to avoid black ice. Neither of you are relaxed. Combined with the heart of the storm, your heart is currently wrung on electrical wire, pumping blood with a fervor you cannot stifle.

“I’m going to put my arms around your waist,” Jungkook murmurs softly, and you lift your arms slightly to see him lace his fingers over your belly button. “Like a seatbelt.”

You sigh, relaxing in his hold. Now it’s awkward. He feels compelled to hold you to keep you safe, even though he clearly finds it awkward you’ve already put him in this position.

Jungkook isn’t so bad, you think as you let your gaze linger on his hands. They anchor you to his lap, making sure you’re not jostling during the ride. He may have a razor sharp tongue and gets under your nerves just for the heck of it, but he’s kind of nice. Under the prickly leather jacket, there’s a softness to him you can’t help but gravitate to.

It’s dark outside, save for the speedily descending flakes and the dim lights of the highway. You’re sitting on the lap of a total stranger, yet it’s a stranger who’s holding your waist like he’s a seatbelt, a stranger who’s making you feel safe to say the words that have been haunting you for the past few months.

“I’ve tried to initiate sex,” you finally say. “I don’t know why he doesn’t want me, it’s already been two years.”

Your eyes turn red with bloody horror. Your vision blurred by the insanity of what you’ve just blurted out to this surprisingly kind stranger who’s offered his seat (both times) to you.

“I didn’t mean to word vomit like that. Forget I said anything—”

“Must be his loss,” Jungkook cuts you off, and when he says it doesn’t feel impolite at all. However, Jungkook doesn’t continue on, doesn’t give you rhyme or reason, just lets you linger on his reply like a madwoman.

Maybe it’s because you’re so touch starved, maybe you’re just seeing things, but for some reason Jungkook’s fingers feel more apparent against the seam of your jacket. They tighten a fraction, drum around the metal zipper that holds the thick fabric together. Your palms feel like a fountain, and you try to ignore the burn between your legs, the liquid heat betraying the commitment that sits on your finger.

You’re engaged to be married, you chastise yourself. All eighteen carats that symbolize that bond glare at you, bright and eager to make you feel guilty. The whole reason why you’re on this cramped bus ride is to get to your soon-to-be husband. Some pretty stranger with strong hands won’t change that.

“We’re here! Finally!” Taehyung cheers, and you realize now that you’re parked into a tunnel surrounded by other buses.

Jungkook and you wait until everyone steps off the bus. The pads of Jungkook’s fingers play an unsung tune, absentmindedly drumming to a song you can’t put your mind to.

“God, you can’t just pay the extra money for someone to take care of this?” Taehyung hauls the large luggage in the aisle seat, and you feel like you’re being revealed under a curtain, doing something you’re not supposed to be doing.

You hop off his lap, scoop your backpack in your arm and scramble off the bus. The cold, winter air bites into every available pore in your body, replacing the warmth that Jungkook gave in the tiny bus. You hike the collar of your oversized turtleneck higher up your chin, prickling in shivers as you wait for Jungkook.

“I don’t remember Seoul being this, empty,” you say to yourself, frowning at the lack of humans past the bus station. You peer curiously at the dark, dark road off the terminal. There’s no flicker of light, or a skyline filled with bustling sounds and flickering head beams.

“That’s because we’re only halfway there,” Jungkook walks past you, luggage in tow.

“What?” you pull out your phone, it’s already 4PM and it’s pitch dark outside.

The snow is beating down as you two speed walk out of the hangar, reaching a nearly vacant parking lot save for a pure white minivan. You barely notice the vehicle with all the snow, blending in perfectly as wave after wave of ice beats down on it. The pops of rust by the tires, gaudy orange stripes is the only thing you can focus on as you try to make it to the car as fast as possible.

“Get in and start the car,” Jungkook practically shoves the keys in your hands, gesturing for you to take the passenger seat.

When you enter his car, you’re hit with a scent scarily identical to the one in Jungkook’s luggage. You nearly gag when you inhale too much, and your eyes flicker over to the lemon air freshener attached to the exhaust, trying its best to mask the smell. You vaguely remember all the warning stories your parents told you as a kid—never enter the white van.

Ohmygod, you’re in a white van and all of Jungkook’s drugs are in the back.

You shake your head, willing the car to start as you arch your back over the console to start it up. You’ve been around your fiancé’s parents too long, letting them fill your head with judgemental gab and crazy assumptions only rich people have about people lesser than them.

Once the car spurs to life, soft holiday music plays from a pop station. The front window of the car is absolutely covered in snow, you can’t even budge the windshield wipers to scrape the layer of ice off.

Suddenly, a blanket of ice slides off the window, swept to the concrete. You’re met with Jungkook’s toothy smile and horror-esque stare, and you have this jerk reaction to nervously laugh and jump in your seat. Your nails dig into the cheap fabric of your seat as Jungkook’s scary expression melts into a more softened one, as if happy to have gotten you to laugh in such sucky times. Jungkook continues to brush your windows, meticulously making sure no ice can cause any damage as you two go into the night.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road!” Jungkook whips the door open, throwing the snow brush at the space between your feet.

As soon as he shuts the door, your stomachs growl simultaneously.

The two of you break into a quick laugh, giggles that overlap the twinkly holiday chimes and the packed snow crunching under Jungkook’s boots.

“After McDonalds,” Jungkook declares, setting up the GPS for a quick pitstop to the nearest fast food joint.

Ten minutes into the drive, you pull into a generic food joint, too starved to find gourmet McDonalds. You make it a point to flick your card and lean over his body to meet the cashier, telling him you’re spotting the meal. Jungkook doesn’t complain, and tells the cashier to add in a vanilla sundae for good measure.

Color yourself impressed, but you can’t help but gawk as Jungkook expertly sets up his food on the dashboard like a five-star meal, with fries in the cupholder and a burger unwrapped perfectly to catch any spills and to keep his fingers from getting greased up. For such a terrible snowstorm, he pulls out of the joint gracefully, a brief intermission in your long journey.

“So, is my fiancé’s place far from where you need to be?”

Jungkook shrugs, a stray fry hanging from his mouth. “It’s not far, not close either. I don’t mind, I like driving.”

“Do you drive around a lot?”

“Yeah, for work. It’s a little annoying that I have to spend Christmas alone, but it is what it is.”

Pausing on your speculation, you take a big bite of your burger. You were hoping that your conversation would spur on a little more detail about his drug-esque job. However, all you start to feel is the heaviness of your fast food meal, stemming from your chest and filling your grease-filled stomach.

“You’re spending Christmas alone?” you say, and you don’t mean to sound so sad saying it, but the thought of him being alone tonight makes you feel pinched with pain.

“I can practically feel your puppy-eyes,” Jungkook shakes his head, not even needing to look at you as he focuses on the road. “I’m fine, don’t you worry.”

“Do you wanna come to the party?” you offer, trying to sound as neutral as possible as you throw the suggestion on the dash.

“Not my thing,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, “with my line of work, I prefer to lay low.”

Trying not to feel a hurt by the sudden (but expected) rejection, you practically eat your burger whole, eyes glaring on the road. You surmise it’s a valid excuse, drug dealers aren’t exactly one for highly-populated areas and with your fiancé’s reputation, you’re sure his parents would smell Jungkook’s reputation in a micro-minute.

The drive isn’t anything special. You’re sure if it were spring, the foliage would be pretty and the sun would be setting into melty orange hues by now. It’s all black and white, boring shades that are aggressively pelting at the van and hindering your evening.

“So, what other character traits do you have?” Jungkook cuts through your semi-brooding, as easily as one slices through butter, “other than the obvious that you’re engaged, and that you’re getting married. And oh yeah, you have a fiancé!”

You scoff at his cheesy joke, folding your arms together. “I like spending time with my family. Watching movies under a weighted blanket. Plants.”

His stare dips away from the road for a fraction, enough for you to catch that he’s rolling his eyes, “Fascinating. Not a plant person myself. I like those cute little succulents though. Had a bunch of those in college.”

“I am also a ramen connoisseur,” you say pointedly, turning up your nose.

“Ah, are you?” you smile a little when you see Jungkook’s eyes light up at the mention of food, “what’s the criteria for good ramen?”

“Deep, creamy broth. Also, the egg. Gotta look like a custard-y, eggy sunset. It’s just,” you smack your lips together, mimicking a chef’s kiss, “perfect.”

He chuckles, and goes on to tell you a story about a ramen shop he’s visited on his travels. It’s one he declares that you need to visit, one he still dreams about often. It takes a ferry and it’s a bit of a trek, but he says it’s worth it, and the eggs are as custard-y and sunset-y as you’d like.

It’s between pockets of his story and pulling yourself out of this little bubble of a van you realize: are you flirting with Jungkook?

The longer this trip goes, the more your stares linger. They linger like the snow that sticks to the ground, unable to do nothing but cling. Layer after layer of confusing feelings, building up to a blizzard that you’re unable to quell.

“So, your family’s also going to be at your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook asks, poking at yet another one of your personal facets. He’s being blatantly nosy, yet neither of you seem to mind.

“Oh, no,” you shove your hands in your pockets, “they wanted to stay back in our hometown with the extended family. Y’know, the older members can’t really travel as much as they used to.”

“Ah, so you’re splitting up your time,” Jungkook drums his hands on the wheel, eyes drooped slightly as he continues along the monotonous road, “your fiancé couldn’t make it?”

“Couldn’t,” you reply lightly, “just, y’know, work.”

“Been there, done that,” Jungkook replies, “I’m sure he missed out though. What’s your family like? Are they the type to bake cookies until 3 A.M.? Oh, or do they get wine drunk and talk shit about their annoying cousins—”

“Jungkook,” the words fly out of your mouth before you can even think, “I’m engaged.”

The weight of your words holds differently now. A whole day has passed with this man, and you’ve developed an attachment that simultaneously scares and thrills you. Not an hour goes by that you have to think to yourself that you’re taken, to the point that you can’t even tell what’s in your head and what’s being spoken out in the air.

Instead of a snippy comment, a snarky retort of, “I know, I know!” like you anticipate, Jungkook stops the car.

There’s no human trace for miles, so it doesn’t scare you when he slows down and pulls off to the side. He gears the car into park, roughly pulling the handle. He lays his arm over the steering wheel, turning his body so he can face you fully. The heat in the car suddenly feels too cloying, and you shrink in the seat as he leans in on you.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asks, and from the looks of it, he’s genuinely hurt.

“I—Jungkook,” you plant your feet on the ground, trying to find some power in this situation, “I mean I, we��you just can’t keep doing this.”

“Do you feel like I’m trying to steal you away? Or, seduce you or something?” Jungkook is starting to talk himself into a stupor, eyes flickering from the window, to you, to behind you, and back to you. It’s almost jarring, seeing how self-conscious he starts to get without the presence of an audience. Gone is the smooth talker that you met at the terminal, willing to haggle it all for your cash. “Are you uncomfortable? Is it weird I have a crush on you?”

“Wait, you have a crush on me?”

He reels back, nearly pressing his head against the window. Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, exhaling deep from his lungs. “Adults still get crushes, y’know.”

“Yeah, but not to people you met eight hours ago.”

Jungkook arches a brow, “People fall for people in the most unlikely of ways.”

That singular statement hits you, hard.

Jungkook looks like he wants to get out of the van. He seems stuffy, and he unzips his coat and shoves it under his legs.

“You’re cute,” he echoes the statement like he can’t believe that in a short amount of time, he’s attached to you, “you seem to have good taste, you love family, and your personality isn’t half bad,” the last bit is meant to be teasing, a lighthearted way to end his bout of emotion, but it only makes you ache further, “And it makes me upset knowing that you have to keep convincing yourself that you’re in a relationship that isn’t as fulfilling as you hope. This whole drive, you’ve been anxious about going to his parents, worrying that you’re not going to make it on time instead of relaxing with your family. Where you actually want to be.”

“I also want to be with Jimin,” you say weakly, a half-hearted attempt to defend yourself.

You never mentioned your fiancé’s name until this point. It makes Jungkook stiffen a little, finally putting a name to the man that’s supposed to have your heart. It makes the relationship concrete, palpable.

“I’m sure you do,” Jungkook smacks his lips, evidently sealing the conversation to suffocate under the snow.

Jungkook puts the car into drive, sliding back into your current route.

“And to answer your question, Jungkook. No, you having a crush on me is not weird,” and smaller, quieter, you reply, “because it’s weird that I might have a crush on you, too.”

You know that Jungkook catches your statement, because he cranks the volume of the radio harder, effectively shutting you out.

The first thing Jungkook says when you finally reach the Park’s house is: “Wow.”

His van looks completely out of place, parked on the side as limos and Escalades drop off more and more people into the large estate. It’s pouring with elegant piano music, and the large window in the middle of their home reveals a century-old chandelier, crystals beaming and winking against the hundreds of guests that lie underneath.

The rest of the way driving was almost painfully fast. After that awkward wave of emotion, neither of you said anything. Well, you didn’t at least. Jungkook attempted to clear the air by singing along to the Christmas songs on the radio, but it only further attracted you because to your chagrin—Jungkook’s a pretty good singer.

The estate isn’t in Seoul persay, it’s a sizable plot of land that definitely comes from old money. It’s decked up like the North Pole, lit up and tiny crystal lines dotting the expanse of the rooftops. The snow certainly adds to it, and many guests are outside taking pictures of the picture-perfect holiday show. The blizzard has finally subsided, leaving a clean blanket of snow across their yard.

You scoff to yourself. What they find to be a Christmas miracle only derailed yours.

Jungkook stares at you while you send a quick text to Jimin. You tell him he needs to come fast, because you don’t want his parents to see you all sweaty and dressed like you’ve been traveling for hours.

“Oh, uh,” you finally take a look at him, and you immediately regret it because you’re getting sucked into his gaze, “I think you put my bag in the trunk?”

“Right,” he shakes his head, “follow me.”

He tilts his head down when he’s outside, as if the snow’s going to start back up and drown him. Your thumb scratches the ring on your finger as you hop out of the van, effectively popping the bubble the two of you have been sealed in for the better half of the evening. Is this going to be it? Is the last you’ll see of Jeon Jungkook?

All those thoughts evaporate when Jungkook opens the trunk.

There’s no drugs.

In fact, you don’t even know what to think. The van is absolutely filled, wall-to-wall art supplies and canvas carefully lined up like Tetris blocks to avoid damage. The floor of the van seems to receive the brunt of the messes, and you catch recent paint stains and spray cans stacked to the side. It explains the smell.

There’s some clear cases in a corner, protecting completed prints that are already framed. Your eyes cling to a vibrant hyacinth, coral and satin blue petals bunching in the middle of a black background. It’s absolutely gorgeous, if it wasn’t for all the paint lying around, you’d think it’s real.

Jungkook’s an artist.

“Holy shit, I thought you were a drug dealer,” you blurt, and you want to smack yourself in the face.

“Excuse me?” Jungkook jerks his head towards you, “did you think I was a drug dealer this whole time?”

“N-no,” you frown petulantly, letting Jungkook loop your arms through the straps of your backpack. “Maybe. You were very shady.”

He laughs, a genuine laugh. It confuses you, the way he tucks his hands in his pockets and bends his back over to look up at you through his dark lashes. It’s like nothing’s wrong, like he’s trying to erase the past eight hours and leave with no qualms. You don’t know if that comforts you or terrifies you.

“So, you were willing to let a potentially dangerous man be your travel partner for eight hours so you can make it to your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook’s eyes flicker over to the front door, “you must really love him.”

“I do,” you say the phrase like it’s second nature. Rehearsed. Practiced.

“Merry Christmas,” Jungkook pulls out his hand, and you don’t hesitate to grasp it.

Liquid heat sparks through your skin, one that tingles from where his large palm encases yours, all the way to your heart.

“Merry Christmas,” you echo, and your feet feel like lead as you back away from him.

Jungkook waits until you go inside the house, even though the valet is side eyeing him and mentally telling him to leave already. Turning your back to him is rough, like you’re without snowshoes and you’re trudging through snow.

The goodbye feels rushed. Your heart is cold and heavy. Unfortunately, by the time you realize you haven’t paid Jungkook for his bus ticket and the ride, it’s too late. Jimin has already pulled you in his awaiting arms, and Jungkook has peeled out of the driveway.

“You look awful,” Jimin coddles you, dusting the invisible dirt off your jacket. You know Jimin means well by the statement, but you can’t help but feel a little unsupported by his words. You did all you could to make it to Jimin in time for this party full of faceless, nameless people. And yet, Jimin inadvertently manages to put you down for finally making it.

The hallway is relatively empty, save for one staff member who cleans the wet linoleum floors whenever someone with snow steps in. You can easily make out where the heart of the party is, the tinkly holiday music playing from the speakers, along with all the bodies huddled by the extra large Christmas tree that is brimming with presents.

You do feel like a wet noodle, in comparison to Jimin and Namjoon’s complementary pinstripe suits. Jimin’s deep burgundy suit pops in the endless hallway of marble and light wood as he quickly leads you upstairs to a spare room for you to change. Namjoon’s more muted grey still looks stunning on him, cutting his tall figure nicely. You think it’s cute that Jimin made an effort to match with his assistant, not making him feel out of place in this big party.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Namjoon interjects softly, gesturing to the garment bag hanging on the boudoir, “I picked out your dress.”

“I’m sure whatever you bought is beautiful,” you assure softly, stepping fully into the room. It’s an extra bedroom, you’re assuming it might be yours.

“We’ll give you some time to freshen up and get ready,” Jimin squeezes your arm, a touch you can barely feel due to the puffiness of your down jacket. It’s just an awkward escape of air to you, a sssttt that you catch Namjoon hiding his smile for, “we’ll walk around a bit and bring you some food.”

“I want cupcakes,” you blurt impulsively, and the two of them laugh on their way out the door.

Once you’re finally alone, you strip yourself bare. Jacket, shirt, socks, underwear. You make quick work of taking a hot, damp towel to wash your arms and legs, scrubbing your face of any oil and dirt from the day. You wrap yourself in an indulgent fluffy robe, the plush material comforting you as you flop on the bed.

It’s been a day.

You take a five minute cat nap, the weight of the day taking its toll on you. When you finally flutter your eyes open however, you see him.

It’s not exactly him, it’s his art. It’s mounted right atop the headboard, a large blown up painting of a tiger lily. The orange and gold flecks flicker and go perfectly with the decor of the room. The piece is longing, aching for you to go back to two hours ago when you could’ve phrased your words better, balm the situation into something to salvage. This must be a sign, you think. Upon closer look, you see the signature Jeon JK etched in silver in the corner. Who knew the Parks were buying Jeon Jungkook’s work, the world is smaller than you’d originally thought.

It ignites you. You rip the zipper of the garment bag, pulling on the slinky glittery gold dress Namjoon picked out for you. It’s gorgeous, and you don’t know how he managed to find your proportions, but you figure an assistant of his caliber has access to many things. You don’t have much time, so you slap on some light makeup and swipe some highlights across your eyes. By the time Jimin returns, you’re pulling your hair up and out of your face.

Jimin walks to the bed with a pretty red velvet cupcake, “You look beautiful,” he says immediately, and you follow to sit with him at the foot of the bed.

You don’t hesitate to grab the cupcake from his tea plate, nearly shoving it in your mouth. You definitely need a rush, something to curb you over for the plans you have tonight. “Sugar sugar,” you chant like a mantra, and you don’t care that your lipgloss is smudged and crumbs cling to your cheeks.

Jimin just rubs circles onto your thigh, letting you eat and relax. He knows you’re not a fan of these kinds of parties, preferring to wallflower it, preferably at a wall closest to the buffet. His touch is comforting, and you chew slower in order to prolong the inevitable. It takes a beat for you to finish your cupcake.

“I need to talk to you,” the two of you blurt at the same time, and you point and giggle at each other like you’re still five year olds tinkering in the sandbox.

Jimin pouts, “Can I go first? Mine’s kind of important.”

“Mine’s also really important,” you don’t mean to invalidate Jimin, but you really need to get this out. “I might explode if I don’t say this now.”

The blonde scrunches his nose, obviously weak to your unusual distress, “I guess I wouldn’t want that.”

You clutch his hand, the hand that holds the plain wedding band he picked out for himself two years ago. Your eyes flicker to how your ring kisses his, “Jimin. I love you, like really love you. I can’t imagine my life without you, you’ve been my best friend since we could crawl. But as I traveled down here, I realized that even though I love you, I think I’m not in love,” you wince at how cheesy that sounds, “I don’t want you to feel like you’re not good enough, but the whole trip down here made me realize I don’t think I can commit to this.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” you gasp, watching relief wash over Jimin’s features. You’re not even done with your whole spiel and he’s already unbuttoning his blouse, “this makes what I’m about to say a whole lot easier.”

“Jimin,” you trail off, squeezing his palm, “what do you mean?”

“I mean, I think I’m in love.”

Your jaw slackens slightly, seeing the sweat that lines Jimin’s slicked back hair. He must’ve been thinking about this all night, waiting for you to tell you this. Your chest aches, weighing in on all the sudden facts. “Who is it?” you ask.

Jimin shrugs, “The man who does my taxes and makes sure I sleep at least seven hours a night.”

“Namjoon,” you conclude, eyes moving to the sealed door. You think Namjoon is waiting out there right now, silently supporting you two as you go through this. Of course, Jimin’s parents would be livid if anything would tarnish his reputation. A broken engagement would be sticky to cover up, and Jimin falling for his assistant is a headline right for the books.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin whispers, despite the room being vacant he feels the need to keep his words short, “You came all this way to hear this. But I guess we’re on the same page, huh?” His soft fingers make a beeline for your ring finger, removing the diamond band, “And by the way, I love you too. Which is why we’re going to come clean in the morning and work this out with my parents, together. I’m sorry if you felt obligated to follow me all this time just because our parents did.”

“Hey, like you said, we’re in this together. Both in and out,” you chastise, pulling your engagement ring from his grasp and holding it to the light. “Can I keep this? Instead of an engagement band, it can be our best friend band. I’ll even get it re-sized so it can go on another finger.”

Jimin pulls you into his arms, crushing you. The silky material of your dress bunches and rides, but you don’t care. The two of you can’t help but be a little crybaby-ish about it, feeling much like your younger-selves when you had to pull each other out of trouble.

The two of you walk out of the bedroom hand-in-hand, and Namjoon is leaning against the banister in the hallway, a soft smile melting on his tanned skin.

“I’m so happy for you,” you gush, hugging Namjoon tightly. You’ve only known the man for a few months, but you can tell he’s taking care of Jimin and that’s enough for you.

“I… really thought you’d be more upset.” Namjoon marvels, patting your back.

Jimin interjects, “I think she’s found someone hotter than me.”

“Impossible!”

You could stay at this party, lay low until you and Jimin have to confront his parents in the morning. They suggest to get all the food they need and sneak out to the home theatre. The three of you hustle it down the stairs to another part of the house, in order for you to make your getaway and avoid Jimin’s family.

“Hey,” you stop in front of another painting, pulling the two men to a stop. Your eyes lock on a framed droopy peony, tipped with pink dye. You realize you can’t stay here, not when someone’s home alone tonight. “Namjoon, I need you to locate someone for me.”

Jungkook does not expect to see you at his front door.

You’re stunning, and look as breathless as he feels. The liquid champagne number that hugs your frame does things to him, and he’s strangely attracted to the fact that you paired this expensive dress with your snow-drenched trainers.

You showing up at the wee hours of the morning was the last thing Jungkook thought would happen. It’s nothing short of a holiday event, you look like you’ve just walked out of a gala and then ran a marathon to reach him.

He thought when he said goodbye, it would be the last time you’d cross paths. At first, he was okay with that. After all, feelings come and go, and spontaneity only works a percentage of the time. Seeing you presently however, throws all those half-hearted concedings out the window.

“Hi,” you finally say, drinking from the fact that you actually found him.

“Hey,” Jungkook breathes, “you look, beautiful.”

“Thanks,” you smile.

“So, is this about you not paying me back for the ticket?” Jungkook suddenly feels guilty, having dipped out of Jimin’s manor once he saw him appear at the door. It was unrightful jealousy, and because of that he needed to drive away as fast as possible. “Because honestly, it was me messing with you. I really don’t need the money.”

“I figured, from the fact that I had to take the elevator up to the penthouse of the building.”

“So then why are you here?” Jungkook wobbles on the balls of his feet, unsure of what to do with himself.

“My ex-fiancé is in love with someone else,” you lay your cards out just like that, and Jungkook’s unprepared to deal.

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry—”

“Let me finish,” you cut in gently, “my ex-fiancé is in love with someone else, and that’s okay. We’ve been best friends since we were little, and we want nothing but happiness for each other. And for me? Happiness is right in front of me.”

You bite your lip, and Jungkook fights down the urge to run up and pull you into his arms. You must be so cold, running out without a jacket and rushing to his home. However, he lets you finish, and he holds himself down by clutching the door frame as casually as possible.

“I also have a big, fat crush on you,” you say boldly, “and I had to tell you as soon as I could. It took a twenty-minute phone call and some serious leverage from Jimin’s company to figure out where you lived. That receptionist is definitely not letting me use my frequent flyer miles next flight.”

“You harassed an airport receptionist just for me?” he smiles wanly, placing a hand on his chest, “I’m touched.”

“You make me excited to try new things, to be spontaneous and do things for myself,” with every statement you take a step further, and soon enough you’re in his dimly lit apartment. The plush couch in his living room looks awfully warm and comfy, and the light music that plays from his speakers is soft and soothing. “So, let’s spend the holidays together and see where this goes. And go to your art gallery tomorrow, because I did research you on the drive and found out you had to rush here because of a big show.”

“So you’re actually a stalker?” Jungkook teases, tugging you over to the couch.

He takes the lead, plopping himself on the couch first and inviting you to sit next to him. You take a detour and plant your body atop of him, and with an ‘oof’ the two of you are sinking.

“A stalker and a potential drug dealer does sound like a promising pair,” Jungkook jests, his hand palming the silky material of your ruched up ball gown.

“I’m sorry,” you pout, wrapping your fingers around the long tresses of his hair, “can you please stop bringing that up? It was judgemental of me.”

“I like when you’re judgemental,” he pokes your puppy-faced cheeks, ruddied with embarrassment. “I like picking fights with you and getting you all riled up.”

“Will you rile me up now?”

Sexy, he thinks. He figures a vixen has been hidden under you, one suppressed by a complicated engagement and many other factors he’d love to learn about in the near future. The situation at hand however, is far more pressing. Your body is finally warming up, and Jungkook tries to ignore the weight your body is causing, re-igniting an ache he felt hours ago when you two were squished against each other in the coach bus.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” you declare, and you look a little frustrated that Jungkook is taking so long to process this information, “and I hope I take your breath away.”

You taste like sugar and the softness that comes with the holidays. It’s tender and oh-so comforting, and Jungkook can’t help but squeeze your hips closer as your lips brush fervently against his. The feeling is both new and old, and Jungkook figures you’ve finally uncoiled a flame that you can no longer quell.

Soon enough your kisses turn hungry, and Jungkook has to remind himself that you two have only known each other for a total of twelve hours, and he isn’t sure of what’s appropriate to jump to due to the speed of your relationship. Once he feels the first roll of your hips, a liquid heat that Jungkook can’t help but return back, he pulls away from your soft lips. Not too far, but a few centimeters apart so that Jungkook and you can catch your breath.

“We should take this slow,” he starts, trying to make a reasonable impression now that you’re a guest at his home and finally settled from their long trip. “I really, really want to get to know you. And you’re so beautiful and I really do want to have sex but—”

“Jungkook, I have not had sex with someone in two years,” you speak with a depraved tone, as if it’s been centuries since you’ve been touched. He can’t help but throw his head back and laugh, “a night full of sex sounds like the best last-minute present ever.”

You bring his hand over to your core, the shiny glassy material of your gown doing nothing to hide the glimpses of pleasure you’re minutes away from experiencing. You whine desperately at the thought, and Jungkook’s a goner.

“Well, I guess I’m about to pull a Christmas miracle,” he murmurs against your lips, ready to work his magic.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #kwritersworldnet #btsghostie #btswritingcafe #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts fic #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts angst

1K notes · View notes

pixla · 3 years

Note

hi hon! i adore your writing and i have a request for tommy: so you know that scene in the caves when alice breaks her leg and cindy has to like put the bone back into place? could that be with tommy x gn! reader instead? and both of them have a really really cute moment where the reader confesses how they never felt alive until they met and started dating tommy? they both survive and flashforward with fluffy smut pls?

Special thanks to the j-st-patricks-day and all my friends who helped with the process of writing this fic <3

broken bones and beating hearts

Tommy slater x nb!reader

Warnings: swearing, graphic descriptions of murder, graphic descriptions of injury (eg. Broken bones and stabbings/cuts), Possessed!Cindy, alice dies, Arnie dies, vomiting, fluff, pet-names, knocking out teeth, sex, unprotected sex, this au doesn’t fit with any of the other films (feel free to tell me if there’s any others)

Word count: 3.2k

POVC= point of view change

Tommy gripped your wrists pulling you out through the narrow cavern as it collapsed only seconds later. “Fuck!” You tucked your legs close to your body, trying to shake the feeling of Cindy's grip around your ankles. “What the fuck is happening?” You looked up as Tommy still held you close, you both too scared to move from the previous near death experience.

Everything was normal. You had all just ran out into the woods, you and Alice teasing Cindy about some stupid witchcraft book she had found in nurse lane’s office. But then Cindy decided to slash Alice and Arnie’s guts open with a machete.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck!” You cried, bawling your hands into fists, wandering down what felt like endless hallways. You both soon realised that you had been going in a circle. It didn’t make any sense, it felt like another dimension or a mirror maze, where everything looked the same, maybe even was the same. “Y/N.” You turned your head to face tommy. “What?” He looked at you confused. “I didn’t say anything.”

You were going to shake it off as you just imagining it, but then you heard it again. “Y/N!” This time you knew it wasn’t Tommy, it was a woman. “Hello?!” You yelled out, hoping that someone had finally come to your rescue, but Tommy just continued to look at you like you were crazy.

You strayed from Tommy’s side following as the voice repeated your name. “Where are you going?” Tommy yelled after you as you wandered, not bothering to pay any attention to his questions.

You followed the voice, bending through the same corridors and hallways, not knowing where you’d end up. It was when you twisted round one corner you halted in your steps. It was a huge room, far larger than any of the ones you had previously found. But the greatest way it stood out was the mass in the centre of the room.

It was dark and fleshy, like clumps of meat thrown into a pile. You gasped as you stood closer gaining a better look at the thing. It was alive. It rose up and down almost like it was breathing and it thumped like a beating heart. With each whisper of your name you grew closer, drawn to it. You reached your hand out transfixed, but when your hand melted into its flesh, you froze.

It all flashed through your brain so fast. Cyrus Miller, ruby lane, billy baker…Cindy Berman. It was every single one of those shadyside phycos, even Cindy. It was all of the pain, all of the suffering and all of the evil. You lifted your hand, a thick slime dragging with. You backed up slowly, expecting to hit a wall. You were soon proved wrong when you felt your body fly backwards.

You cried out as you landed with a thud, Tommy finally catching up to you, peering over to find you clutching your leg in pain. “Shit, are you okay?!”

He had jumped down helping to lift you from the pit. You sobbed, tears running down your cheeks like a broken faucet, your hands clutching at His shirt. Tommy held you running his finger gently through your hair, shushing you softly as you buried yourself into his warmth.

Tommy gently slipped from your hold, leaning down to examine the damage. It was bad. So bad, you could practically see the bone protruding from the skin. You felt your gut wrench at the sight causing you to lean over beside you, regurgitating your dinner onto the cold cave floor. “Don’t look, okay? Just look at me.” Tommy leant over wiping your mouth with his jacket. You nodded slowly, trying your best to keep your eyes locked with Tommy’s despite how hard your morbid curiosity urged you to look down. Ripping his plaid jacket into strips he looked up at you. “We’re gonna get out of here. You’re gonna get out of here. No matter what I do, I’m gonna make sure I protect you, just like I always have.”

“I love you so much Tommy. I’ve never and never will love someone the way I do you.” You lean into him pressing your foreheads together. “I can’t lose you, okay?” He nods sympathetically, pressing a light kiss to the slope of your nose.

“Do you remember those dates we’d go on, out to the forest at night, and we’d just lay there, staring up through the cracks in the trees?” You nod. “I want you to think about that, okay? I want you to think about how many more we’ll go on once we get out of here.”

You hold a tight grip on his arm as he wipes away at the area. “I’m gonna have to put it back into place now.”

You pleaded with him, as the tears started again. “Please, no. Please just leave me here. Just go and find help okay? I can’t do it Tommy, I can’t do it”

“Hey, hey, hey. C’mon, look at me.” He places his hand on your cheek, tilting your head to look him in the eye. “You're gonna be fine, okay? You just gotta focus right now.” You nod timidly, the tears starting to slow.

He holds the bottom of your calf with one hand and your heel with the other. “Just count to three and I’m gonna do it, okay baby?” He looks up at you, his soft words lulling your anxiety. You bite your knuckle nervously, unsure as to how you should answer, but the look of trust in his eyes persuades you easily. “Okay.”

You breathe in. “One, two-” You let out a blood curdling scream as a large crack rung out, bouncing against the walls of the cave. Your fist gripped Tommy’s forearm tightly as you cried out a series of various curses. “You fucking asshole.” You whine out in pain, letting out an airy laugh trying to brighten your rather dull circumstances.

“You're okay baby.” You wince as he wraps the piece of fabric he had ripped from his jacket around your leg, tying it tight enough to hold you together for the moment. You grabbed Tommy’s shoulder as he wrapped his arm around your waist lifting you from the ground. You hiss as you feel your leg throb from the sudden movement. “Do you think you’re able to stand?” Tommy watches as you wobble trying to stay grounded. You nod. “Yeah.” You had no choice and you both knew it, if you wanted to live, you’d have to.

You both started your journey, finally entering a new environment as you trudged deeper into the earth of Shadyside. Why did these tunnels even exist? The intricate details of the maze made it easy to come to the conclusion that they were man made, but by who? Not once had you ever heard of these tunnels, and by the looks of it, nobody else had either, despite nurse Lane of course.

“Be careful.” Tommy tightened his grip around you. “You might slip.”

“Okay.” You mumble, too exhausted to form a real answer. You looked around at the walls, floor and ceiling. The further the two of you walked, the denser this moss became. You felt a wave of familiarity but you couldn’t quite place it. Red moss…red moss! It hit you, Cindy! Her red stained shirt, she said it was from the moss in the outhouses. “Tommy! It’s the fucking outhouses! We fucking made it!” You would probably be jumping up and down with joy right now if it wasn’t for your broken leg.

You look up, spotting the out house toilet openings. Wow, real nice, you’re both sitting in Sunnyvale shit and piss right now. “Yeah, but how are we supposed to get out?” Tommy sighs looking up at the roughly 15 foot climb. “You can’t climb that.”

You look at him. “Yeah, but you might.”

“No. I’m sorry but no, I’m not leaving you down here, especially when there’s Cindy running around up there trying to kill us. C’mon let’s go, if we’re at the outhouses, we must be near to camp.” He directs you along but before you can both carry on your interrupted. “Did you hear that?!”

“No I-“

“Shush.” You both stayed quiet listening as to what caught your attention. It’s screaming. Someone is screaming from the outhouses. “Hey! Help! Please, we’re stuck down here!” You yell trying to get the attention of the voices.

The space grows quiet as the screaming halts, the both of you waiting nervously for any indication of life when a head pops out from one of the seat holes. “What the fuck are you guys doing in the toilets?!”

It was ziggy, Cindy's sister. “Ziggy..” you wonder if it’s right to tell her what’s happened to her sister but you decide against it, not wanting to put the girl in such an emotionally vulnerable state whilst she’s already physically. “Gary’s up here too!” She yells down as Gary’s head pops out another toilet hole. “Hey!” He yells, surprisingly light heartedly considering there’s a murderer running around camp butchering little kids with a fucking machete. “Can you get us out of this fucking toilet or not?!”

Gary had managed to make some sort of bucket contraption with some rope. “It’s just like You’re Gothel climbing up Rapunzel's hair, okay?!” He yelled down, lowering it down to you.

You're about to slip onto the contraption when you hear Ziggy's unfortunately very familiar screams, and before you know it Gary’s decapitated body lies beside you on the floor. You and Tommy let out an in sync gasp, him pulling you away into his chest, as to protect you from the image. “We’re gonna have to find another way out.”

You think to yourself. Alice…she had shown you something whilst you were robbing nurse lanes office with Arnie. “I know how.” You pull out the book that started this whole thing.

“Baby, I don’t get how that book is gonna help us, let’s be honest it’s some random witches and wizards bullshit written how many hundreds of years ago?”

“No, tommy.” You turn the book to him parting the pages. “It’s a map.” You rest the book on the floor, the two of you leaning over it. “It's a map of camp, you see over here, these x’s are the graves we found. And over here, that’s where we entered.” You point your finger on the page. “Here, there’s another exit. Mess hall.”

His eyes lighten. “Jesus, fuck! You’re so smart!” He pulls you in for a kiss.

—-

You sat, your back arched over as you watched Tommy laid on his back kicking open the vent that led to the mess hall when another scream rang out. You instantly knew that it was ziggy, far too acquainted with the tone of her screams.

“Tommy!” With one final kick the vent flew open, Tommy hauling himself through in a split second. “Don’t move, stay here! I’m gonna go help Ziggy.”

Tommy always cared so much for the kids at camp, you honestly weren’t surprised that he was willing to risk his life for one of them.

—povc—

Tommy barged through the doors of the mess hall, an all too familiar song ringing through the speakers, the noise made his head thump as it blared.

Tommy followed the screams, grabbing a mallet that lied on a nearby counter. Cindy stood beating at a supply closet door as ziggy screamed from within. Tommy pulled cindy's shoulder for her to face him as he swung the mallet into her jaw. Cindy tumbled to the ground as she spat a mouthful of blood and teeth onto the floor. Tommy hesitated holding the mallet in his hand, ready to strike Cindy. But before he could come to any decision Cindy grabbed her machete from the ground slicing at Tommy’s thigh.

Tommy dropped to the floor, his mallet sliding across the freshly mopped floor tiles, Cindy rising to her feet, towering over Tommy. Overpowered, he crawled backwards digging the heels of his hands into the cold tile floor. He was braced for impact when Cindy stopped turning around.

—povc—

You lunged at her digging the knife you found into her back, pulling it out as she turned to face you, plunging it into her chest over and over until she hit the floor unresponsive. You fell. You had finally reached your limit. Your leg was broken for fucks sake and you just murdered Cindy. Pure-hearted, hard working Cindy Berman. You plunged your knife deep into her chest until you split it down the middle. You dragged your body over to Tommy’s wrapping your arms around him, wetting his shirt as you became inconsolable. He held his hand at the back of your neck placing soft kisses onto the top of your head. “It’s okay baby, it’s okay. She’s dead now, we’re gonna be okay.”

You heard as ziggy opened the closet door, dropping to her knees at the sight of her sister dead on the floor. The red headed girl pulled her sister's body over to face her, wrapping her arms around Cindy crying into her cold lifeless body. You crawled over to the girl pulling her away from her sister's touch into yours. “I’m sorry.” You whispered.

The three of you struggled as you heard the last bell ring signalling that the bus would be leaving. Ziggy yelled out as the bus doors began to close. The wheels began to roll forwards but before it could depart a boy budged the doors open, calling out to her. “Ziggy!” You released your grip from the girl's side as she ran to him, embracing him. You rested your head on Tommy’s shoulder at the sight of the two. “I hope she’ll be okay.”

The two of you had found a place on the bus as Ziggy sat with you fellow councillor Nick goode. Finally being able to breathe, you rest your head on Tommy’s shoulder. “I’m so glad you're okay.” You look up at him smiling at his words. “Maybe you're the one who really needs protecting, without me you’d be dead meat.” You press your lips together, smiling softly into the kiss. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I had lost you.”

Your eyes wandered to the window watching as the camp nightwing sign slowly floated away out of sight. Finally it was over.

———

After the accident medics treated and hospitalised many of the camp nightwing campers and counselors such as you and Tommy. Your leg was thankfully saved. They said if not for Tommy it probably would have had to be amputated due to infection.

It was two months since that night, you still had to use crutches but besides that, you made a speedy recovery alongside tommy. Although he was in a much less critical condition than you and was discharged within a few days, he still spent every night in the hospital with you.

You laid beside Tommy his leg slotted between yours as the velvet underground played softly in the background. You run your fingers through his hair slowly as he whines quietly into your chest. It finally felt like the first time since that day that you both could finally relax.

You pulled away from his touch leaning over him, kissing his lips softly. “You look so pretty.” You hum. He smiles into the kiss. “Not as much as you, baby.”

You lifted yourself straddling Tommy’s hips, deepening the kiss as your hands ran down playing with the hem of his shirt, travelling underneath. He pulls away, his hand rubbing your thigh. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“I’m okay.” You reassure him, pressing soft kisses along his collarbone. You removed your shirt as Tommy’s hands floated up to your waist.

“God, you're so beautiful.” He mumbles, kissing up your chest slowly as you take off your pyjama shorts, throwing them to the floor.

You lean down unbuttoning Tommy’s jeans, taking him in your hand. Tommy twitches at the contact as you align himself to you. You lower yourself onto him slowly as his hands hold a firm grip on your lower back. Tommy lays his head back, his hips thrusting up into you.

You shiver as you lift yourself up and down, your thighs shaking from the stimulation. His thrusts hardened, your soft whimpers of his name encouraging him. “You look so fucking good right now.” He gripped your waist helping you keep a steady pace.

You steadied yourself, leaning your arms out pressing your hands against his chest as you felt yourself near your climax. “Shit, Tommy I’m gonna come.” You whined under your breath.

“Don’t worry baby, me too.” He runs his hands down your back lovingly.

You threw your head back as you felt Tommy’s hand wander down edging you on further, your breath quivering at the touch. You felt his hips buckle beneath you as he reached his peak, yours following soon after.

You sighed your body collapsing onto his chest. “I love yours so much.” You mumble into his skin as he presses a soft kiss against your forehead.

—-

It was the 16th anniversary since that day at nightwing, the two of you still happily together. Despite the permanent scar that night had left on the both of you mentally and physically, you both managed to stay strong, the event probably making the two of you even closer than you already were before.

Every year instead of hiding from the memories of that night, you both embrace it. Tommy’s favourite way to do this was to ‘reenact your youths’ in his words by driving the two of you out to the forest, where you would’ve spent so many nights together when you were younger.

You would open the sunroof and lay out the seats creating a little bed for the two of you. Probably not the safest thing the two of you could do, but most definitely the sweetest.

The two of you laid there staring up at the trees, resting your head on Tommy’s chest, your arm draped across his abdomen. Looking up at him you pressed a small kiss to the slope of his nose, pressing your heads together. The moonlight glazed over his cheeks, giving him a paler look. “You look so beautiful.”

—-

The car ride home was quiet but the atmosphere felt soft and comforting as Tommy rested his hand on your inner thigh. The velvet underground played softly on the radio as your eyes gazed out at the passing scenery.

#fear street #fear street 1978 #fear street 1994 #fear street 1666 #tommy slater #simon kalivoda #fear street x reader #tommy slater x reader #simon kalivoda x reader

324 notes · View notes

lena-in-a-red-dress · 2 years

Text

Crisis Redo Pt 13

Lillian Luthor's nose crinkles into a sneer as she watches the highway melt into back country roads. She's no stranger to winding roads, of course, but usually they carry her to luxurious chateaus and manors, not the mid century clapboard houses that pepper either side of the road as her driver takes them further into the heart of Willow Creek.

It's... rural, in the plainest sense of the term.

At least the town's main street is quaint enough, in the way small towns tend to be. Lillian surveys the small shops that line the town square, but lets them slip from her mind the moment she's past.

Her destination is past the main town, off a side street that takes them to a quiet lane terminating in a single large house. And it is a house, complete with a wrap around porch and inlaid-glass front door. The only thing that betrays its true purpose is a small sign that stands at the base of the walk.

Willow Creek Medical Care

Innocuous. Charming.

And oh, so quiet.

Lillian exits the vehicle and steps into the winter afternoon, tugging her coat a little closer around her neck. It's colder here than in National City, even Metropolis.

She takes the porch steps up to the front door, and though it is outside the operating hours listed on the sign, the knob turns easily, unlocked. The first thing Lillian notices is that the grand foyer has been turned into a waiting room, as has the first room on the right.

A patient is coming out as Lillian enters; he gives her a strange look but says nothing. When the door shuts behind him, the place is completely empty, as she had hoped it would be. Well, empty save for the trim figure in a white lab coat currently wiping down an exam table.

Lillian watches her daughter in silent appraisal, taking in the faint humming as Lena works and the dark braid tucked over one shoulder. Her clothes underneath the lab coat are at least professional: dark slacks and a pair of dress boots coupled with a gray turtleneck.

She waits, watching, until Lena turns to put away the disinfectant.

Lena freezes at the sight of her.

Surprise quickly melts to recalcitrant suspicion in Lena's eyes, her features hardening in recognition.

"What are you doing here?"

"Is that really how you greet your mother?"

Lena's chin lifts. "You must be mistaken--"

"Don't bother pretending, darling," Lillian returns. "This may not be the reality in which I raised you, but Lex ensured I remembered everything when the realities merged."

"How generous of him."

"Hardly. He simply recognized the benefit of his greatest ally retaining their memories." Lillian steps forward, casting her gaze around the waiting room and the exam room beyond. It's tidy, if hardly clinical. But then again, it's hardly like any surgeries are transpiring here.

"Dr. Walsh," Lillian says slowly. "Imagine my surprise when I found my daughter had become a doctor of medicine."

"What do you want?" Lena says crisply, folding her arms over her chest.

Lillian looks at her, feigning innocent. "Don't get me wrong, I'm honored--"

"You had nothing to do with it, I assure you."

Lillian continues, unfazed. "But sweetheart... country medicine is below someone of your caliber... in any reality."

"I'm not sure you're the best judge of that," Lena snipes, "seeing as you no longer have your medical license."

Lillian stops short with a sharp glare. "My point is," she continues, "I expected more of you."

To her surprise, instead of quailing Lena sinks into a cocky stance, a smirk on her lips. "Then it'll kill you to know that I volunteer at meth clinic in National City."

Lillians tsks.

"And I offer free healthcare for the migrant workers who tend the illegal pot farms by the river."

That makes Lillian pause.

"And half my patients are aliens."

"Enough," Lillian snaps. Then she sighs. "I'm not here to fight."

Lena rolls her eyes. "Right."

"Is it so hard to believe that I missed my daughter?"

Lillian isn't sure why, but that makes Lena pause. A crack forms in her combative facade, and Lillian spots a glimpse of the girl she once raised.

Lena frowns. "How did you even find me?"

"Once you helped put Lex in prison, you had to know it would only be a matter of time before someone came looking. You're simply lucky it was me and not someone... nefarious."

Lena's frown deepens into a scowl, and Lillian softens. "You need to be careful, Lena. If I could find you, so can others. Others who may mean you harm--"

"I'd like you to leave," Lena interrupts. She draws herself to her full height, and Lillian finds herself doing the same. "I'll tell you the same thing I told Supergirl: whatever you might remember, it's a different world now. I am not your friend, and I am not your daughter. I want nothing to do with you."

Lillian keeps her face impassive, holding Lena's gaze for a long moment. New reality or no, she knows the woman in front of her well enough to know she won't get anywhere further today.

"Very well," she allows. She turns to leave, but pauses before she hits the threshold of the foyer. "You're wrong about one thing though," she says over her shoulder.

Lena regards her with a cold gaze.

"You will always be my daughter."

#supercorp #crisis redo #enter mama luthor #drama to ensue #just bc she died in canon doesnt mean she doesnt live on in our hearts

110 notes · View notes

officialscaramouche · 3 years

Note

Ahh oml can we have a part 4 😩 although ngl i don’t mind leaving it here and letting kazuha and y/n have their own happily ever after that was beautiful 🤧🤧🤧

Only two more parts and this little piece is finished!! What’re u gonna do, who are u gonna choose?!

pairing: Kazuha x gn!reader, Scaramouche x gn!reader

tw: lots of jealousy. Implied sex

wc: 1,468

prev next

Scaramouche tucked his head beneath the rim of his hat as he maneuvered through the bustling city. Like any other assignment, he was to rendezvous with his pre-determined squadron at the base of operations in Liyue. He was ready to dive head first into his work to get his mind off of yet another argument with Mona.

After all he did for her, paying for her, letting her live in his house rent free, providing her with opportunities to begin a career, took care of her, and left the one person that he believed could ever truly love him, she still didn’t appreciate him. He told himself that you spoiled him, and that now he had to get used to partners never meeting his standards.

It was like walking down memory lane as he scurried down this road, remembering the first date he had taken you on. It was a nice one, if he was remembering right. You were so easy on the eyes, and your smile was brighter than the moon. You were polite and respected him enough to actually listen and wait your turn when he spoke. He remembers thinking that you were too good to be true, and that you were a spy for Mondstadt or something. But as he got to know you, he realized how incapable of killing him you were, and he was finally able to let his guard down and start caring for you the right way.

He stopped at the restaurant he took you to, remembering he liked your taste based on what you ordered. And sitting across from you, watching you smile and ogle at him. You were so breathtaking it made him stutter a little, almost like that couple in the window. Except his hair was purple and short instead of long and white with one red…wait a minute.

He tentatively stepped forward, trying not to stick out so much in the crowd so as to not get your attention. You looked so happy with him, as he did with you. You were talking his ears off and he listened. He let you taste his food, feeding you with his spoon. And Kazuha laughed at something you said, followed by a sincere “I love you.”

Instead of breaking his heart further, he pulled the brim of his hat down and ducked back into the crowd. He already messed up. It was clear that you weren’t interested anymore.

You held your soup in your hand, smiling out of happiness from being full. You hadn’t been to that restaurant for a while. It was a painful spot to be in, the good memories of when you and Scaramouche were still a decent couple. But now that you had Kazuha to replace the souring memories, it wasn’t so bad. You couldn’t help but feel a little out of place, though, as if being there with someone else would have repercussions.

Kazuha held the door open for you, ushering you inside with a gentle hand to the back. “Thank you for the meal, baby.” You grin, reaching to place a chaste kiss on his lips.

“Of course,” he said as he locked the door, kicking his shoes off and untying his hair. “It’s the least I could do for being an ass.”

“It’s okay. We both made mistakes, but we’re over it right?”

Kazuha snakes his arms around your waist, pulling you in for another kiss; this time a bit deeper. You whine, lifting the box of leftovers. He grabs it and tosses it, pushing himself back into you.

He steps the two of you into the wall, running his hands along the backs of your thighs, only to hoist you up around his waist. You gasp at the sudden jump, feeling his growing erection press into your core.

He nuzzles his nose into your neck, biting the skin there as he ruts against you. He groans when you push back, running your hands through his beautiful hair. “Can we…?” He asks, kissing up your neck to your jaw.

“Well we’ve already started, huh?” You giggle.

Scaramouche slipped into his office. It had fallen into night by the time he got to the base of operations, so the offices were pretty empty. Of course, there were plenty of people who lived at work to greet him when he got there, but he only bee-lined for his office to wait for the other team members to show up.

He loved this office. All of his personal items were here, sensitive records of his past assignments and other information from them, and memories. Most of his time here he spent by himself as he preferred. Quiet so he could think, and alone so he wouldn’t be bothered.

But when he started seeing you, you would take the time to make him lunch and sometimes bring it over. His coworkers started getting familiar with you, letting you in as soon as they recognized your face. As awful as it was hearing them jest about Scaramouche’s rare relationships, it was still nice to have you come by.

Sometimes he’d let you stay for a while. Whether it was to chat, eat, or fuck, it was these memories that he remembered as he sat here in the quiet room alone. He remembered the cute lunches you’d pack, or your conversations outside with the guards. He remembered your sweaty body down the middle of his desk, legs hooked over his shoulders as he fucked you in his office. He had to cover your mouth to make sure that nobody heard, but it was definitely the humidity in the office that gave it away.

What was it about you that drove him so crazy? He was annoyed with himself that he let someone control his thoughts and feelings like this. He hated the feeling of jealousy coursing through his veins watching you eat with Kazuha. That was supposed to be your restaurant with Scaramouche. Not anybody else.

Then he remembered why you’re with someone else. He fucked around on you without even trying to hide it. You knew, and yet you kept him around. And when it came down to it, he convinced himself that Mona was what he wanted, not you. It pains him to remember your pleading as you sat on your knees with tears streaming down your cheeks. How he wishes he could go back in time, push both Mona and Kazuha aside, and scooping you into his arms. He wanted to kiss you, and taste you, and hold you. He wanted to apologize for the person that he was and to beg you for a second chance.

He only irritates himself more to think that you cry out Kazuha’s name, you come undone under Kazuha’a touch, and that you ache for Kazuha when you fight. He had that; he had you wrapped around his finger and now he sat here alone wishing for your love once more. He didn’t love Mona, he didn’t care for her. He saw her as this unattainable trophy that he had to claim as his. The sex wasn’t as great as it was with you, the sounds she made scratched the inside of his ears, she felt different, and tasted different. She was a new adventure, but he wouldn’t have you to come home to anymore. He slumped into his chair and picked up the delicately placed glass ink pen. Even if you were the new unattainable trophy to him, he was going to try to get you back.

Kazuha’s heart beat against your back. His arm wrapped around your waist and reached up to hold your hand lovingly as he slept. You loved him so much— your relationship was perfect. But why were you lying here wide awake, mind running with thoughts of Scaramouche?

Was it because of the restaurant? Or the sex? Was it because you had seen him recently and argued about it? Whatever it was, you felt stupid for admitting to still harboring feelings for him. He clearly didn’t give a shit about you, and you bet that he’s loving on Mona everyday of his life with her. They looked like a perfect couple. They were both so beautiful and powerful, and their wit was unmatched. Why would he ever want you when she was right there?

Kazuha must have felt you stirring because he kissed the back of your shoulder and pulled you closer. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” You don’t answer, unsure of what to say. “Nightmare?”

“…Yeah,” you lie, turning to face your sleepy boyfriend.

Kazuha smiled, his eyes still shut. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here. I’ll protect you…”

“I love you, Kazuha.” You say, stroking his hair away and caressing his face.

“I love you too, [Y/N]…I’m never letting you go.”

#writing #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #Kazuha #Kazuha kadehara #Kazuha x reader #semi-NSFW #part four: traitor

152 notes · View notes

nineteenninety-six · 3 years

Text

Stray in the Street

TOMMY SHELBY X READER

2.3K Words

She found him unconscious in the street and even though she knew she shouldn’t, she dragged him into her house. It was pouring down with rain and if she left him out there on the street in the rain, she doubted he’d be alive in the morning.

While he wasn’t as heavy as she thought he would be, it was still a hassle to pull him up and drag him to her house. At first, she had thought he was drunk and had collapsed into the street as that wasn’t uncommon for her street but it was until she had dragged him in front of her fireplace and turned the lights of her front room on did she realise that he was far from a drunk.

He had cuts and bruises littered on his face and hands and (Y/N) would bet that there was more underneath his shirt. She left the stranger by the fireplace in hopes that it would dry him off and keep him warm as she collected her first aid kit, a bowl of water and a clean rag, she didn’t know much first aid but she knew enough to clean the cuts out and bandage them.

She didn’t know what to think of the man as she cleaned and disinfected his cuts, he looked vulnerable as he laid unconscious with his head on her lap and (Y/N) couldn’t help but wonder what he had gotten into that had left him like that. Maybe he had some unpaid debts or perhaps slept with the wife of a rich and important man but whatever it was, it must have been serious.

(Y/N) was exhausted, she had been up early and had been working all day so all she wanted to do was sleep but she couldn’t with the stranger in her house. He could wake up in a panic, having no clue where the hell he was and she would have to explain but despite all that, she couldn’t resist the pull of sleep and fell asleep on her couch.

.•° ✿ °•.

(Y/N) shot up with a gasp and her eyes immediately went to the space in front of the fireplace but it was empty. As she stood up as she tried to listen to see if he was still in the house she felt something fall off her and when she looked down she saw a blanket pooled around her feet, something she most definitely did not fall asleep with.

She bent down to pick it up when she heard shuffling in the kitchen and the blanket was quickly thrown aside in pursuit of the noise. She made her way towards the kitchen with quiet steps and peered around the corner and spotted the stranger at her kitchen table, yesterday's paper in hand with the glass of water beside him. There didn’t seem to be anything nefarious going on with the man so she walked into the kitchen, announcing herself to him.

“I’m surprised to see you up”

Dawn was breaking and (Y/N) could see blues and purples starting to appear in the sky which meant she was asleep for around four hours.

The man flinched in surprise and looked up at her and the first thing (Y/N) noticed was his blue eyes.

“You were asleep when I woke up” The man folded the newspaper up and placed it on the table and (Y/N) could see the way his body flinched in pain whenever he moved beyond his bounds.

“You could have woke me up. You had no issue placing a blanket on me” (Y/N) didn’t know how she was so calm now that the stranger was awake.

“The fire had gone out, you looked cold”

(Y/N) smiled at that before she walked further into the kitchen, “I’ll make us some tea. Are you hungry?”

The man shook his head but (Y/N) was going to make toast for him anyway.

With the toast and the tea on the table, (Y/N) took a seat opposite the man who returned to reading the newspaper, she watched him for a bit before she spoke to him, wanting to know more information.

“You know that’s yesterday’s paper right?” She started off with a soft conversation opener

The man looked at her and shrugged, “I was busy yesterday”

(Y/N) let her eyes run over his cuts and bruises, “I could tell”

The man placed the newspaper down and faced her fully before he asked the question that had been weighing on him since he woke up “Why did you take me in?”

“I thought you were some drunk at first and usually I would have left you there but it was raining and stumbling across a dead body on my way to work isn’t my favourite way to start the day.” (Y/N) told him, “I brought you in and then I saw your cuts so I cleaned them and patched them up”

The man fingered the bandage around his right hand and nodded his thanks towards (Y/N).

“Are you going to tell me how you become unconscious and dumped on the street?”

The mans face instantly screwed up at her question and (Y/N) quickly corrected herself,

“-Or not. You can keep your secrets”

They remained in silence after that, drinking their tea but it didn’t escape (Y/N)’s notice that the man ate the toast she had laid out.

When the clock struck eight, (Y/N) pushed herself away from the table and stood up,

“Look, I’ve got to get ready for work but you’re free to stay here if you want but please don’t burn my house down”

With that (Y/N) disappeared upstairs to get ready for the day and the only reason she had a skip in her step after only having four hours of sleep was because it was Friday.

.•° ✿ °•.

When (Y/N) returned home from work, she expected the man to have left but she found him relaxing on her couch like he owned it, though this time with a glass of whiskey and today’s newspaper, which meant he had definitely gone to the shops.

“You haven’t gone home?”

“You said I could stay”

“I did” (Y/N) sat down next to him, “Though I would appreciate if I knew the name of my stray”

The man’s lips twitched at her nickname for him before he stuck his hand out, “Tommy. Tommy Shelby”

(Y/N) shook his hand, “Nice to meet you, Tommy. I’m (Y/N).”

(Y/N) sunk into the couch with a tired huff, her long hours were not worth it but she couldn’t pay the bills otherwise.

“Do you know how to cook, Tommy?”

Tommy looked at her from the corner of his eye and shook his head, “I don’t but I know who can”

“Will they be able to cook for me?” (Y/N) was too tired to even make herself a sandwich

“I’m sure they’ll have no problem but first I need a phone and a car”

“I’ve got a phone but I can’t help you with a car”

“That’s fine” Tommy stood up and stretched, “Where are we? Is Small Heath nearby?”

“Small Heath? Yeah, it’s the next town over, maybe a fifteen-minute walk”

“Good, I’ve got a couple of phone calls to make. Where’s your phone?”

(Y/N) pointed at the kitchen and Tommy disappeared. She had no clue where he was going to take her nor what the relevance of Small Heath was but the man interested her and she was keen to find out more.

Tommy returned and raised his eyebrows at her, “You ready?”

“Yup!” (Y/N) jumped up from the couch and picked up her coat and handbag before she followed Tommy out of the house, “Where are we off too?”

“Small Heath first, gotta pick something up but then I’ll take you to where the food is”

(Y/N) nodded and followed him as he walked to Small Heath, the journey was quiet and short but (Y/N) wished she changed out of her heels because her feet were killing her.

When they arrived in Small Heath, Tommy strutted around like he owned the place and add the fact that everyone they walked by including police officers, nodded their head and called him ‘Mr Shelby’, (Y/N) wondered if she was far off by that assumption.

She followed behind him as he made his way down a street called, ‘Watery Lane’ and stopped at the house with a car outside it. He spoke to the man leaning against the house and took a pair of keys from him and had a little conversation before the man retreated back into the house but not before he took a look at her.

Tommy held the keys up at her and motioned for her to get into the car,

“C’mon let’s get going”

(Y/N) cautiously made her way into the car, nervous as she has never ridden in one before but she didn’t want to dawdle and waste time.

“Who’s car is this?” (Y/N) asked as Tommy pulled away from the curb, “And where are we going?”

“Company car and we’re going to Warwickshire”

“Company car?”

“My company”

Now (Y/N) was all the more confused on why he ended up outside of her house. If he owned a company and cars then he couldn’t have been in debt, though it was still a very small possibility.

“Right…”

(Y/N) ended up falling asleep on the journey to wherever Tommy was taking her and was woken up when he gently shook her awake.

“C’mon sleeping beauty, your food is waiting” Tommy whispered as she woke up.

“Fucking hell!” (Y/N) couldn’t help herself when she saw the house in front of her, it was bigger than all the houses on her street put together.

Tommy was already out of the car and heading towards the door so (Y/N) quickly jumped out and followed him, quietly marvelling at the house. Tommy walked into the house and had only taken two steps when was ambushed by a maid.

“Mr Shelby! Where have you been? We haven’t seen you in two days and suddenly we get a call which only tells us to prepare some food” The maid is simultaneously exasperated and worried, “Look, you’ve got all these cuts and-”

“Mary, it’s fine. I’m fine” Tommy cuts her off, “You have no reason to worry”

“Don’t need to worry-” Mary scoffed before she noticed (Y/N) for the first time and a flush came up her neck, embarrassed at being seen that way by a stranger.

“The uh chefs have finished dinner, everything is waiting in the dining room” Mary’s eyes never left her feet.

“Thank you, Mary”

(Y/N) quickly thanked the maid as well before she followed Tommy.

“You have a maid?!”

“Several, actually”

(Y/N) gaped at the man and his wealth, she was rendered speechless by everything that man did.

Tommy pushed open the door to one of the rooms and gestured that she go first, so she did and she found a large table filled with plates of food she had only dreamed of having. They were all extravagant and high quality, something she could never have afforded.

“Take this as a thank you for everything you did”

“I didn’t ask for all of this, I would have been fine with a simple meal”

“You did something stupid, taking a stranger in from the street….but I am thankful for what you did.” Tommy looked shy as he said those words, “Me giving you dinner, is the least I could do to repay you.”

“Well, I’m not complaining” (Y/N) said as she took a seat and pulled the closest dish towards her.

“You did though” Tommy deadpanned.

(Y/N) held up her thumb and index finger and brought them together until there was only a small gap between them, and grinned up at Tommy, “Only slightly though.”

Tommy took a seat opposite her and continued small talk with (Y/N) as she ate the food in front of her. She was a curious woman, snarky yet kind and considerate and he liked her.

“What’s your job?” He asked once she finished.

“Accountant” (Y/N) scowled, “Long hours, underpaid and undervalued, it’s my dream job”

“How about you work for me?”

(Y/N) choked on the water she was drinking, “E-Excuse me?”

“Obviously, I need to see how you work and if you are suitable to work for the company but what do you say?”

“Are you just doing this because of yesterday?” (Y/N) was unsure of where this was coming from.

“You said you were underpaid and undervalued, you won’t be if you work for me”

“What exactly is it you do?” (Y/N) had been curious as to how he got his massive house.

“Shelby Company Limited is in the business of exportation. We export goods from Birmingham around the world, specifically car parts” Tommy drawled as if he was repeating a pitch for rich investors.

“Where’s the office, Small Heath?”

Tommy nodded, “What do you think?”

“What am I getting paid?”

Tommy gave a little smirk, “Above average, I assure you. Plus additional benefits.”

(Y/N) nodded after a moment and stuck her hand out, “You’ve got a deal”

Tommy took her hand and shook it once, as a confirmation of their agreement.

“I’ll pick you up on Monday and take you to the office where you can sign the paperwork.”

“Sounds good but speaking of, how am I supposed to get home tonight?”

Tommy looked at the clock in the room and was surprised at how late it was, “It’s late, you can stay the night, there’s plenty of guest rooms.”

“No shit”

Tommy ignored (Y/N)’s comment, “I’ll have a driver take you home tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

“If you’re done here, Mary can show you to your room”

“Absolutely.”

As (Y/N) followed Mary upstairs, she realised she never found out why Tommy was left unconscious outside of her house.

#tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine #x reader #imagines #Peaky Blinders #anyway...#peaky blinders imagines

321 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Omertà👄18

Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rap, fingering, blow job, blood, violence, death, some elements may be untagged.

This is dark!Bucky and dark! Loki and explicit (with sides of dark!Steve and dark!Thor). Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your father was a bookie and taught you everything you know about numbers. After his death, you were taken on as a bookkeeper for Loki Laufeyson, resident crime boss in Manhattan. But can you keep your place in the background when a man from Brooklyn threatens to drag you to the forefront?

Note: Did I write another ending? You’re damn right. Enjoy another finale as I try to decide what I’m doing next because I dunno...

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

masterlist

The red dress slid up on your thigh as you crossed your legs. You tapped your bottom lip with your fingertips. The radio buzzed with some British punk group you’d never heard of as Thor gripped the wheel and reclined. You sensed his quick peek over at you and looked back from the corner of your eye.

You were anxious even if you were confident. You had no idea what Bucky had planned but you knew that this trip wouldn’t go as smooth as expected. You sighed and leaned back as you dropped your arm and uncrossed your legs. You had to get Thor off-guard, it was simple enough to distract him.

You let your hand trail along your thigh and took a deep breath so your chest rose. Your hem slipped up even further and you closed your eyes. He hummed and you tried not to grin. You knew he was fighting to watch the road and not you. The moment you appeared in the short red number and matching lipstick, he was on the hook.

“Long ride,” he said coyly, “it’ll be nice to get away, eh?”

“From those two? Any day,” you answered as you opened your eyes, “I’ve just been so…” you let your fingers dangle down between your thighs and quickly retracted it as if it wasn’t at all deliberate, “tense.”

“My brother can be a handful and that American,” he said, “I can see how you’d be so worked up.”

You squirmed and pushed your knees further apart. His hand suddenly clapped down on your thigh and he squeezed. He glanced in the rearview and you bit your lip. You rested your hand on his and felt his fingers go rigid.

“Loki--

“He doesn’t know about before, he won’t know now,” Thor growled as he kneaded your leg.

“I don’t know…” you let your voice trail off, “he’s already so mad at me--”

“I won’t say a word,” he purred.

You swallowed and watched your own fingers. You had to do it. It would dull his defenses. You urged his hand up your skirt and pushed your pelvis forward on the seat. He barely kept the car steady as he felt your bare cunt.

“Oh, honey, you want it badly, don’t you?” he pushed between your folds without hesitation, “no panties…”

“Habit. Your brother demands it,” you rasped as he rubbed your clit. You couldn’t help but quiver.

He was quiet as he kept his fingers moving and listened to your shuddering breaths. You played them up with moans and groans as you arch your back and gripped the door.

“If you prefer me, I could…” his fingertips slickened as they explored further and he prodded along your entrance, “I could take you away. You’ll be far enough before he even knows.”

“Oh…” you gasped, “but… why would you… do that?”

“Look at you, honey,” he taunted, “that cunt--” he shoved a finger into you as he leaned awkwardly over the space between your seats, straining to keep his gaze on the road, “I can’t even fault my brother for his distraction.”

“God,” you squeezed his hand between your thighs as he pushed another finger into you.

It became less of an act as you latched onto his wrist and rocked your hips. His thick digits filled you and curled as the tide rolled through you. You were close to cumming, all the better as he had to buy into your desperation.

“You’ll really take me away?” you whined, “really? I have no other way out but-- you.”

“If you fuck me like you fuck my hand, I’ll keep you forever, honey,” he snarled.

You exclaimed and covered his hand with yours as you tilted against him hungrily. You dug your heels into the floor and lifted your pelvis slightly as you came against his palm. He snickered at your delight and let you ride his hand until you finished.

You fell back limp and he reluctantly removed his hand from your cunt. He reached blindly up and pressed his fingers against your lips. You braced yourself and took in his fingers and sucked your taste off of them. He drew away and sat back in his seat as he rubbed the front of his pants.

“Did you mean it?” you asked as you felt between your legs.

“Fuck my brother. We’ll leave right now,” he said, “I always did like his toys better.”

“We should stop by the shop,” you murmured, “I know where he keeps his stash.”

“His stash?”

“You could have everything that’s his,” you whispered, “everything.”

He considered the suggestion and exhaled. His squinted through the windshield and groaned.

“When we get to the shop, I want you on that desk,” he said as he continued to play with himself, “can’t wait to fuck you in that little dress.”

“I can’t either,” you reached to his lap and he caught your hand.

“No,” he said, “I want to see it all.”

You retracted your arm and pouted. You hugged yourself and shivered dramatically. He glanced over at you again.

“That day in the office, I haven’t stopped thinking of it,” he said, “I can see you’ve suffered just as much as me.”

Your smirk was interrupted by the sudden veering of the car at the impact of another. You cried out as the rubber screeched over the road. The car skidded over the lanes and turned horizontal with the rest of traffic. Another bump on the tail and you were rolling. The airbag deployed and blinded you as the glass and metal crunched past the railing and into the ditch.

You panted in shock as the vehicle stilled at last and you felt along your face and body. There was blood dripping from your hairline and some aches in your neck and back, but you could move and you were alive. You put your palm against the roof and unbuckled the belt and kept from falling on your head. The welts of the restraints burned at your chest and waist.

You squatted and looked over at Thor. He hung from his seat but there was much more blood on him and his blond hair was stained with it. You crawled out through the window and fell into the dirt.

You heard footsteps as they carefully descended the incline and you looked up as a silhouette neared and came clearer. Steve approached the other side of the car and bent to look in the driver side. You heard his voice as he poked the unconscious man inside and he stood again.

“Get up,” he demanded as he came to you, “no time to waste.”

“What?” you let him pull you to your feet, “you were supposed to be at the shop--”

“We’ll get there,” he dragged you up to the rail and stepped over.

You struggled to get over the metal barrier yourself and he nearly had you off your feet as he thrust you towards his waiting car. He opened the passenger door and pointed you inside. You dropped into the seat and touched your sore neck. He closed the door and rounded to his side.

“What’s going on? Bucky said--”

“Bucky wants to make sure you’re not fucking with him,” Steve interrupted and his eyes fell to your skirt. You barely realised how high it was as you were still spinning from the crash.

“You could’ve killed me--”

“You’re a smart girl. You had your seatbelt on,” he said as he bent between the seats and fixed your dress, his fingers lingering on the fabric, “we’ve got a whole day… we get the money and have some fun while Bucky takes care of that other moron.”

“Money?” you asked.

“You’re his little bookkeeper, I’m sure you have the combination to that safe he keeps nestled in the back of the shithole,” he turned the engine and pulled out from the gravel, “a healthy price for your… defection.”

“Fine,” you said coolly, “I’ll help you get it. But what about Lopez?”

“I’ll take care of that fat fuck but that’s another debt,” he replied.

You were quiet as you rubbed your shoulder and tried to clear your head. You were slightly dizzy but fought through it as you tried to redirect your plot. There was still a way out of this. You just had to deal with this idiot instead.

“That day in the club… Fucking Buck, he can be so selfish but I think I’ve waited long enough,” he hissed, “you don’t even know what you haven’t had, sweetheart.”

You looked at him and he met your eyes briefly. You fought not to show your disgust and just batted your lashes.

“Do we have to wait?” you asked as you shook off the cobwebs.

“Hmm--” his voice caught in his throat as you stretched between your seats and touched the front of his pants, “oh.”

He squeezed the steering wheel as you leaned over and rubbed his crotch until you felt it harden. “We’re not far,” you said and held in a grunt as a pang stabbed your neck, it wasn’t as intense as before, “but we have time.”

“Sweet--”

“This is what you wanted… Bucky won’t like it--”

“He won’t know,” Steve interjected, “shit, I can’t--”

You unzipped his pants and he went silent. You slipped your hand down his boxers and pulled out his dick. You stroked him as the noise of the traffic flowed around the car. You held him firmly and moved your hand. It would end soon enough.

He groaned and tensed as you worked him steadily. You’d learned to read men, to use them. They did the same to you but they taught you just as much. The only way out was their own tricks. As you sensed him nearing his release, you placed your lips around his tip and swirled your tongue.

He gasped and his foot pushed down the pedal. You moaned around him and moved your hand faster and faster. It sickened you but you had to commit. You couldn’t let him see through the cracks.

He came in a hot spurt and you struggled to swallow it down without gagging. You sank until he poked at your throat and drank him in. His legs shook and he swore as you lapped up the last of his cum and pulled off of him with a pop.

You sat up, dizzier than before and wiped your lips. He shifted in his seat and brought one hand away from the wheel to zip himself back up. He sniffed and rolled his shoulders.

“That was fuckin’ good,” he said, “I see why Bucky didn’t give up.”

“You know what he’ll do if he finds out,” you said sharply.

“Oh, you can keep me quiet, sweetie,” he said with a crooked grin, “just like that.”

You closed your eyes and collected yourself as he took the ramp and you readied yourself for what came next. You didn’t know if you could do it, if it would work at all. You’d come this far though and couldn’t turn back. If you failed, with all that happened, it would only be worse than before. So you couldn’t.

You watched the streets of New York and as you got closer to the antique shop, you had to keep your hands from shaking. The adrenaline buzzed inside of you. Your mouth was dry and your limbs felt numb. You peered over at Steve as he pulled up to the curb and he looked over at the façade.

“Stay behind me,” he winked as he reached to his belt and unholstered his gun, “I got Lopez. You head for the safe.”

He got out and you did the same. You circled the car as he headed for the front door with his gun low against his thigh. He grabbed the handle and pulled. He raised his hand before he entered and you stayed back as the gunshot echoed from inside. You felt a twinge in your chest; you liked Lopez but he was one of them.

You followed and let the door fall closed behind you. Steve laughed to himself and nodded you ahead of him. You went silent, past the chipped statue and that old grandfather clock.

The office was stolid and still. It brought back a sense of nostalgia and yet felt like a prison. Steve entered behind you as he tucked his gun away.

“Better hurry,” he muttered, “too bad I made so much noise or we could stick around… maybe you could finish what you started.”

“We’ll go somewhere else,” you shrugged as you looked around and went behind Loki’s desk.

You pulled out the drawers and pretended to search. Really you were wasting time, trying to put Steve off alert. He watched and crossed his arms.

“What are you doing?” he grumbled.

“Just making sure we’re not missing anything,” you slid shut the drawer, “whatever, nothing there.”

You went to the cabinet and rolled over your office chair. Steve sat in Loki’s cushioned leather seat and leaned back as you opened the cabinet and bent behind the door and began to wind the numbers. He put his feet up and tossed around a glass orb that usually sat on Loki’s desk.

You turned the handle and the loud metal clank filled the office. You reached inside and pulled out a money bag and loaded it up with the stacks of bills within. You zipped it up and tossed it over the door and it landed on the desk heavily.

Steve sat up as he smiled at the thick pouch. You shoved your arm back in the safe and pulled out the gun on the higher shelf, stowed with the priceless Victorian pocket watch and a pair of diamond cufflinks.

You stood as Steve took the bag and sat straight. His face paled with surprise as you pulled the trigger and the bullet opened his chest. The chair wobbled under him as he dropped the money and gave a brittle croak.

His hand went to the wound across his front and you kicked shut the safe. You swept around and bent to pick up the money bag. Steve trembled as the blood pulsed from him and the chair creaked.

“Pity,” you said with a smile, “looks like you did miss something.”

You angled the gun and admired it as you hugged the cloth pouch under your arm. You shrugged and left him to his death thralls. You went out into the front room and stopped at the rack of gauche vintage coats. You pulled one on and hid the gun in the inner pocket as you secreted the money in the sleeve.

You exited and stepped out onto the sidewalk. You blotted away the dried blood along your forehead as your heels clicked and you blended into the steady New York foot traffic. You were done running from behind. You would be out of the city before anyone thought to look for you and with the bulk of Loki’s savings you would always be a step ahead.

👄👄👄

End

170 notes · View notes

kamoniwa · 3 years

Text

⟼ a little madness

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ pairing: yokai!kuroo/demon!akaashi/human!reader/werewolf!semi

⇢ au: college!au

⇢ summary: you, your friends, and some friends of your friends all get tricked by one tendou satori into visiting an abandoned amusement park for halloween. it turns out it isn’t ghosts you need to worry about, though.

⇥ kinktober masterlist

⇢ warnings: gangbang, noncon to consensual, lots of reluctance, mind break if you squint?, technical temperature play, unprotected sex, creampie, the boys are real gentle in breaking you down

⇢ word count: 11,695

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ a/n: don’t really think noncon is my forte but practice makes perfect. is the pairing self-indulgent? fat yes. does this fic make total sense? not really sure. did i have fun writing it? hell yeah. also big thank you to @ishuzoku for helping me come up with the flyer bc my og id was garbage lmao.

Furrowing your brows, you looked at Tendo with a mix of exasperation and unadulterated dismay.

“An abandoned amusement park. On Halloween?” Kaori asked before you could, eyebrows disappearing into her bangs. “You cannot be serious, Tendo.”

If he was put off by your reactions, he didn’t show it. If anything, he was probably relishing in it, and said, “Yes, yes I am. It’ll be fun. Come on, do you really just wanna get drunk at a boring house party on Halloween?”

You snorted at that, stirring your coffee as you said, “As opposed to getting murdered at an amusement park? That’s like, straight out of a horror movie, Tendo.”

“You guys are so boring,” he whined, slumping forward across the table. Shirabu grumbled under his breath, glaring at Tendo as he nudged his drink closer to Shirabu’s textbook. “Look, it’ll be so cool! Exploring all the abandoned funhouses and imagine how freaky the haunted houses will be! Just think about it, okay?”

The looks everyone exchanged said they had and had already made up their minds, but you nodded anyway, if for no other reason than to appease him.

A moment later, your alarm went off and you bid them goodbye, walking towards the door with Shirabu for your next lecture. You were sure as shit not going to an abandoned anything this weekend.

Except somehow, against all odds, you were piled up in the back of Konoha’s car, crammed beside someone who had been introduced to you as Akaashi Keiji. He was a friend of Bokuto’s and Konoha’s and, upon hearing about your adventure, asked if he could tag along. If you had to peg him, he was more the librarian type than a ghost hunter type-- soft spoken and well mannered with pretty blue eyes that closed slightly when he smiled.

In the front seat were Konoha-- driving-- and Yachi, currently fighting with the radio and Konoha’s phone.

In the car behind you was someone named Kuroo-- also a friend of Bokuto and Akaashi-- Kaori, Goshiki, and Semi-- a friend of Shirabu, Goshiki, and Tendo. Kuroo was almost ecstatic to be going, but Semi had seemed like he would rather be doing anything else as he climbed into the passenger seat of Kuroo’s car.

The car in front contained Tendo, Bokuto, Yukie, and-- god bless him-- Shirabu. You were sure he was losing his mind as Tendo guided him towards the location of the amusement park. The details on how exactly this had come about were lost on you, but you vaguely recalled a drunken bet made two nights ago and a video that Tendo refused to share properly, but assured you was proof that the group had agreed to the terms of said bet and then lost. Spectacularly. Supposedly.

“So, how did you meet everyone?” Akaashi asked, turning to look at you. The scenery outside was turning quickly from civilization to wilderness, the trees growing thicker the further you drove until you couldn’t tell one trunk from the next.

Humming, you rested your chin in your hand, bracing your elbow on the door. This was the worst part of meeting someone new during a trip-- tedious small talk. But you had to start somewhere, so you said, “I met Kaori in one of our classes and ‘Toka-- er, Yachi--” The girl turned around at the sound of her name and waved. “-- is my roommate. They kind of introduced me to everyone else.”

Truth be told, you weren’t sure how they had become your core group of friends. From loud and boisterous Bokuto to sullen and taciturn Shirabu, you adored all of them, but you had had your own group of friends before meeting them. Most of those old friends had faded from sight as you found yourself absorbed in your new ones and, while a part of you felt bad, it was just a part of life.

“What about you?” you asked, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “How do you know them?”

Konoha snickered from the front seat and Akaashi cut him a glare before turning back to you. “I’ve been friends with Konoha, Bo, and Tetsuro since highschool. Kaori and Yukie were our managers,” he said.

Konoha made a turn onto a road who’s name sign had long since fallen off the rusty pole, and you wondered just how far out you had traveled. It didn’t feel like it had been long since you left, but you recognized nothing around you and there was no sign of life.

“So, everyone but ‘Toka and I were friends in highschool, huh?” You chuckled. “What are the odds?”

Akaashi laughed with you, fiddling with his fingers as he turned back to look out his window.

The car was now filled with the sound of music, overtaking the silence that fell between the four of you. Konoha was focused on driving and you knew Yachi was more than a little nervous-- you had almost expected her to back out and accept whatever payback Tendo had planned for it afterwards.

“Do any of you guys know anything about this place?” you asked, leaning forward and resting your chin on Yachi’s seat. Through the windshield, you could see Tendo’s shaved head and Bokuto’s spiky locks in the backseat, and worried for poor Shirabu’s sanity. “How did Tendo even know this place existed?”

“It’s an old legend,” Akaashi spoke up softly.

Both you and Yachi turned to look at him, the latter’s breath hitching because everyone knew when those words were said, the story was going to be unpleasant.

Konoha cursed as he hit a pothole, muttering Tendo’s name under his breath as he righted the car between the faded lane lines, and Akaashi smiled at that before looking back to you.

“I doubt most people have heard of it,” he began, popping his knuckles one at a time. “It’s more of a local thing, really.”

“Well then how do you know about it?” you asked curiously, quirking a brow. You knew Bokuto grew up in Tokyo, which meant Akaashi had as well, and you were well outside of the city limits.

Akaashi smiled, tipping his head to the side and for the first time there was something other than soft indifference in it. “I enjoy these types of places and legends. It’s a hobby, you might say. This particular amusement park was meant to be scary in nature and didn’t stay open for long due to unexplained deaths and disappearances.”

Yachi squeaked, and you cast her a glance before resting your hand on her shoulder. This was probably not the best story for someone as easily scared as she was, but it was too late now, and you knew there was curiosity beneath the fear.

“That sounds way too vague,” you said, lips curling up at the corners. “That’s what everyone says about places like this. It’s not scary.”

Your skepticism was met with laughter and he said, “True. The police at the time pinned the problems on faulty attractions or poor background checks, saying there must have been a serial killer hired without anyone realizing. Sounds to me like they just couldn’t figure out what was causing it.”

You rolled your eyes, nodding along. If the park was as old as Tendo said, it could really have been faulty attractions, but you weren’t buying the serial killer story. It sounded too far-fetched compared to being crushed by an unstable support beam.

Akaashi continued, voice dropping in what might have been a scary attempt at atmosphere if the sun wasn’t framing his pretty features in a golden glow behind him. “The locals all said that the place was haunted, too many deaths had built up negative energy, trapping the spirits of those killed there. Unable to escape, they grew angry and the deaths continued until authorities labeled the park unsafe and banned any more visitors. And then--”

“What the hell?” Konoha cut him off, hitting the brakes a little harder than necessary.

Akaashi’s seat belt locked and he grunted, rubbing at the new red mark on his neck as he asked, “What’s going on?”

“Dunno,” Konoha replied, putting the car in park. “Sorry about that. Shirabu is getting out of the car.”

The car behind you pulled up as you were getting out, eyes wide as you watched Tendo lay a map out on the trunk of Shirabu’s car.

“We’re lost,” you said, sighing in exasperation.

A tall figure blocked out the sun in front of you and you squinted up into the face of Kuroo. He was giving you a catlike grin, ruffling his messy rooster hair as he said, “Sure seems that way, princess. This place is in the middle of nowhere. I’ll be surprised if we even find it.” He guided you over to the car where the others were gathered, snickering at the look of surprise on your face. “What?”

“You know about this place too?” you asked, glancing at Akaashi on the other side of the car. He cast you a small, closed eyed smile. “Akaashi was telling us about it in the car.”

Kuroo chuckled, raising a brow at his friend. “Yeah, being friends with Akaashi has its share of hazards.”

“Look, I’m pretty sure we’re here,” Tendo said, interrupting your conversation. He was pointing to a small line that looked just like any other on the map, aside from the major roadways and cities. If he was right, you were a decent ways out of the city and your watch read 1:01pm. “If we just follow this road and then this one, it’ll lead us straight past the village and to the park.”

Shirabu looked skeptical, spinning the map around to look at it as well. He wasn’t exactly wrong but how could he really tell? All the smaller roads looked the same and they couldn’t even confirm the name of the road because there was no sign. It had also been ages since they last saw a house or even another car, so asking anyone was out of the question too.

“This is stupid,” he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. No one besides Tendo really wanted to be there-- he ignored the fact that Kuroo was just as excited as his weirdo friend to be going and that Akaashi had jumped at the opportunity as well-- and it would be so much easier to just turn around and go to Hinata’s party. “We should just go home before we get lost.”

Tendo frowned at that, sharing a look with Kuroo before saying, “We aren’t lost*. It’s not much further now. Just trust me.”

The others were all inclined to agree with Shirabu, you included, but arguing with Tendo was like arguing with a brick wall-- pointless. He had already tricked you into agreeing to this endeavor and at this point backing out would be both a waste of time and gas. Shirabu was too smart to get lost anyway but, if you were lucky, Tendo was wrong and you wouldn’t be able to find the place at all.

“Do you really think we’ll be able to find it?” Yachi asked once you were safely back in the car.

Akaashi hummed beside you, but you said, “God I hope not. I was looking forward to Hinata’s party and if we get back quick enough we might still make it.”

Konoha looked at you in the rearview, eyes crinkled as he snickered. “What, are you scared, _____? Afraid the ghosts are gonna get ya?”

Scoffing, you dug through your bag for your phone. A check an hour ago had revealed one bar, but now the words ‘No Service’ blazed across the service banner. “No, I’m not scared. There are just a thousand better things to be doing that than breaking my neck on rusty amusement park rides.”

“Sounds like cowardice to me,” he answered, laughing at you through the mirror.

Sticking your tongue out at him, you turned back to the window, sighing as the scenery passed by in a blur. Konoha and Akaashi talked a lot about volleyball, Yachi pitching in occasionally. You knew she had managed her highschool volleyball team and knew everyone else in the group to some degree, but most everything sports related went over your head.

Still, Akaashi made some effort to get to know you, asking about highschool and what classes you were taking. You told him about your major and asked what his was, finding out he was a literature major and constantly busy, explaining why you had never met him before. He, Kuroo, and Semi were the busiest out of all their friends, often skipping out on get togethers in order to study, work, or-- in Semi’s case-- practice with his band.

A little while later, while Yachi and Konoha were having a heated discussion about their favorite subjects, you caught the first glimpse of something besides trees. Turning to look out the windshield, you saw brake lights already lighting up and the car began to slow.

“Well, we found the village, at least,” Tendo said, reading the faded sign displaying the name of the town. “I didn’t expect it to be abandoned too, though.”

Everyone was gathered in the middle of the road, looking down the mainstreet of the village. Windows were busted out and boarded up, paint faded on rotten clapboards, and roofs missing tiles or riddled with holes. The street was littered with potholes and the whole town had an eerie sense of unnatural quiet. Everyone shifted on their heels, slowly making their way back towards the cars without a word and piling in.

Even Tendo looked unnerved.

The town disappeared behind you but in the distance you could see the towering track of a roller coaster above the treeline. Even from so far away you could see that the paint was faded off of it, the sun filtering through clouds and casting the whole area in shades of grey. To you, it seemed like the forest was darker, the trees packed more closely together, and your heart began to thump in your chest.

“You okay?” Akaashi’s gentle voice asked in your ear. His hand landed on your shoulder, colder than expected, and you shivered underneath his touch. “You look like you’ve already seen a ghost.”

You nodded, looking over to find him giving you a look of amused concern, one corner of his mouth turned up in a half smile. “Just nervous. That town was creepy as hell and it freaked me out a little.”

“Me too!” Yachi squeaked from the front seat, turning around to give you a pleading look. “Don’t you dare leave me, _____.”

Laughter filled the car then and you patted Yachi on the shoulder. “Wouldn’t dream of it, ‘Toka.”

The towering sign for the park appeared up ahead and the car fell silent all over again as brake lights lit up again. Broken glass and gravel littered the parking lot, which was smaller than expected for how big the park looked.

Everyone seemed to hesitate on getting out of the cars. Tendo was the first, followed by Kuroo, and then Akaashi. Like it was a signal, the rest of you followed, Yachi clinging onto your hand and Kuroo and Akaashi seeming to stand behind you protectively, close enough that you could feel warmth radiating off them.

“Do we really have to go in there?” Goshiki asked, eyeing the ticket booth with disdain. The paint on it, like everything else, was faded, the wood rotten and the window and door busted out. The latter creaked on its hinges, filling the still air with an unsettling noise that mixed with the faint sounds of creaking metal and leaves fluttering in the wind.

Everyone shuffled back towards the cars a little at his question, but Tendo took a step forward, resting his hand on the turnstile. “Since we’re actually here, may as well take a look around.”

Without another moment of hesitation, he hopped over it, peering around with an unusually quiet interest. It was the first time since you had met Tendo that he had nothing to say, his already pale face seemingly devoid of color, making his vibrant, sleepy eyes pop out even more.

Groaning, you, Shirabu, and Goshiki stepped forward, dragging Yachi with you as you climbed over the turnstile as well. You couldn’t just let Tendo wander off into the dangerous park alone. The others followed suit, muffled whispers and conversations floating through the air as they spread out in the area.

The forest had started taking back over through the concrete, weeds and grass sprouting up through the cracks and pushing the cobblestones up and out of place. Vines of ivy and moss hung from the powerpoles, vendor booths, and some attractions further back, swaying in the gentle breeze. The buildings were dark inside, but through the gloom you could make out mannequins and shelves devoid of merchandise.

The bell dinged on the first one Tendo pushed open-- a souvenir shop. It was empty except for dust and garbage, as were the next few you entered.

Slowly but surely the group made their way further into the park, Yachi clinging onto you the whole time. Akaashi and Kuroo were right behind the two of you, Shirabu and Semi in front, forming a kind of guard while Tendo and Bokuto led the way. Kaori clung to Goshiki, who looked like he was putting on a brave front despite his pink cheeks and the nervousness in his eyes.

For all his grumbling, Shirabu looked interested as he eyed all the buildings and machinery. It was quiet, devoid even of the sound of birdsong or humming bugs, and it unsettled you.

“Oh look, it’s the pirate ship ride!” Bokuto yelled suddenly, breaking the deathly silence.

Everyone jumped, Shirabu hissing at him to shut up while Yukie shrieked, latching onto him. Bokuto had the decency to look abashed but still steered the group towards the derelict platform, testing his weight on the creaky metal stairs on his way up.

The deck of the ship was littered with leaves and dust, the seats worn down and showing stuffing and springs after however many years left in the element. There were signs of rust on the metal and the whole thing shifted slightly to emit a creak.

“Um, Bo, I don’t think that’s safe,” Kuroo called out, grabbing your arm to stop you from following up behind him.

Tendo and Goshiki were up beside him, examining the boat itself and, before anyone knew it, the former had hopped into it.

“Tendo!” Shirabu called, a trace of panic in his voice. His fingers were wrapped around the railing, paint flakes coming away under his touch hand as he prepared to spring up the stairs, but everyone’s eyes were locked on Tendo’s precarious creep down the middle aisle. “Get out of there before you get hurt, idiot!”

“It’s fine, Shirabu,” he called, now standing at the bow. “It’s kinda cool actually. I can see more of the park from here.”

Bokuto landed with a thump a moment later, a louder creak ringing out than when lanky Tendo had landed, and everyone took a collective breath and held it.

But as before, it held, and he joined Tendo up by the bow.

“Wow, he’s right!” he called, holding his hand above his eyes like a visor and peering out over the park. It was certainly bigger than he imagined for being in the middle of nowhere. “There’s a house over that way!”

“Probably the haunted house,” Tendo said, straining to see what Bokuto was looking at. In the distance were two stilted, twisted steeples painted in different hues. One was flamboyant and bright, the other dark and dreary, even compared to the state of disrepair of the rest of the park. “I see a funhouse too, I think. Looks pretty freaky. Wanna check ‘em out?”

“Hell yeah,” Bokuto shouted, whipping around to look at the rest of you.

Shirabu looked ready to blow a gasket, and Yachi looked ready to faint, but everyone else looked intrigued. Even you couldn’t help but be a little curious about it, having free range to explore the most interesting rides in the park. Wasn’t it everyone’s dream to be able to see what they were like without restraint?

The sun was just beginning to fade behind the treeline, turning the clouds a thin shade of orange, but the lure of seeing something interesting had dissolved any real fear.

The two men met Goshiki on the platform and made their way back down to the rest of the group, eyes shining bright with the promise of adventure.

“I told you it wouldn’t be so bad!” Tendo said as if the stunt he just pulled hadn’t taken years off all your lives. Jumping haphazardly onto a decade old, rusted out death trap attraction at an abandoned amusement park hours from the nearest hospital wasn’t going to earn him any genius awards.

On the way towards the supposed attractions, you came across the carousel. Its metal panels were tarnished, the paint worn away from them and the animals, the mirrors grimy with dirt. Vines and ivy climbed up everywhere. The platform shifted when Kuroo stepped onto it, Tendo hot on his heels followed closely by Bokuto.

“Let’s go see, ‘Toka,” you said, tugging her forward by the hand. Kaori took your other one, squeezing, while Akaashi guided you with a gentle hand on your back.

“Look at this,” someone said, and you turned to find Semi holding a faded paper. “It looks like a poster claiming someone was kidnapping people.”

“How the hell is it still here?” Konoha asked, peering at it around Semi’s arm. “It should have disintegrated a long damn time ago.”

“Dunno,” Semi said with a frown. Trying to see the paper, you were crowded against Semi by Yachi and Kaori and flinched when you realized how hot he was. “It was wedged in the frame of the mirror.”

The whole thing was faded but still legible, due presumably to being tucked into the mirror, and appeared to be a flyer issued by the park itself.

Due to the recent disappearances, park security has been tightened. Please stay aware of your surroundings and report and suspicious activity immediately.

“You were right, Akaashi,” you said, glancing up at the man standing behind you. “They really did think someone was kidnapping people.”

“A lot of the people were never found,” Semi said, folding the sheet up neatly and tucking into his pocket. “It’s not surprising they thought that.”

“Ohhhh, maybe the bodies are still here,” Tendo said, wiggling his fingers over Konoha’s shoulders. “Maybe it was actually the workers kidnapping people and they kept the bodies in a secret place.”

“Like where?” Shirabu asked, giving him an exasperated, skeptical look. It was getting late and they were wasting time just hanging around. He wasn’t particularly thrilled at the idea of being in the park after dark, going to possibly the scariest attraction in the place, but if they were going to do it, they needed to just get it done. “The authorities probably tore this place apart looking for them.”

Tendo shrugged, looking thoughtful. “Maybe they hid them in the haunted house. Maybe there’s a hidden room somewhere that only the workers knew how to open.”

“Could you not?” Yukie asked, slapping Tendo on the arm. “We’re going there, in case you forgot, pea brain. Way to freak us out.”

Yachi was clinging onto Kaori now, staring at Tendo with wide, frightened eyes and he almost looked repentant.

“Or, you know, could be anywhere. The haunted house would be a pretty obvious place to hide it, wouldn’t it?” he said, rubbing the back of his head. Beckoning to Yachi, she went reluctantly, letting Tendo tuck her under his arm. “Don’t worry, Yach. I’ll protect you, ‘kay?”

You and Kaori snickered at the shade of red her face turned, and Shirabu sighed.

“Can we just get going before it gets too late?” he asked, turning and leading the way down the path. The shadows were slowly lengthening, orange mixing with shades of pink and purple in the sky.

Semi fell into step beside you, Yukie on your other side. Goshiki and Konoha were having a conversation about the derelict rollercoaster to the right, and you allowed your attention to drift to it. It was eerie, the faded paint and rusted metal tracks looming like a foreboding beacon above you. Staring the way you were, your foot caught a displaced cobblestone and you went sprawling with a yelp.

Before you could smack the ground, a strong, warm hand wrapped around your upper arm and hauled you back up. It hurt, causing a sharp ache in your shoulder, but it still hurt less than the concrete probably would have. Looking up at your savior, you gave him a half smile.

“Thanks, Semi,” you said, rubbing your shoulder.

But he was frowning at you-- not that that was any different than the look he’d worn all day-- but this one was marred by soft concern. “Are you alright? You’re awfully cold.”

“O-Oh. No, I’m fine. Just got distracted by the coaster,” you said, giggling in embarrassment. “It is a bit chilly though, now that you mention it. I didn’t notice.”

There was a moment's hesitation, then the sound of a zipper being drawn down. A weight settled across your shoulders, surrounding you with an unfamiliar cologne, and your cheeks heated up at the realization that he had given you his jacket.

“That’s okay, Semi, really,” you said, shrugging the jacket off. “It isn’t that bad, and it’s my own fault. I left mine in the car.”

“No worries, _____,” he said, and for the first time you could see a small smile on his face in the dim light. “I’m not cold, so you can take it.”

“Well, thanks, I guess,” you said, pulling it back around your shoulders. It was warm and you smiled when you caught him looking at you. He was wearing a peculiar look, kind but almost possessive, and he licked his lips once before looking forward again.

You shivered, unsure if you were just seeing things. The park had rattled your nerves and Semi was just being nice. You didn’t know him well enough to make a judgement call like that and forced down the uneasiness, taking your place beside him again.

“Smooth move, klutz,” Konoha quipped, nudging your back. Goshiki and Shirabu snickered and you flipped them off over your shoulder, looping your other arm with Yukie.

The steepled spires of the haunted house came into view, beside which stood the funhouse, like Tendo said. Both looked terrifying in the dying light of the sun. Like everything else, the paint was almost gone, shingles missing from the roofs which were adorned with holes.

Without thinking, you reached out and grabbed Semi’s arm, pressing yourself to it. He glanced at you for a moment, a soft smile flitting across his face before looking at Tendo, who was staring between the two buildings.

“I wanna go in the funhouse,” Tendo said, turning back to the rest of the group. Setting his hands on his hips, he looked around at everyone. “Should we go as a group?” Kuroo shifted, pointing his feet towards the haunted house. “I kinda wanna go in there, actually.”

“Well no one should go anywhere alone,” Shirabu said firmly, and everyone nodded in agreement. If someone got hurt, no one would know for ages and then there was the long ride back on top of it.

“So we’ll split up. Everyone pick a house,” Tendo said, clapping his hands.

Yukie’s arm around yours disappeared and she scurried over to Tendo, looking at you apologetically. Yachi took her place instead, looking for all the world like she was going to collapse from fright, and you gave her a concerned look.

“I’m going wherever you go,” she said, and you raised a brow.

Before you could answer, Kuroo’s arm slung around your shoulders, looming over Yachi’s tiny form. “It looks like everyone’s decided. Pretty even split. Let’s meet back here in--” He checked his watch. “Two hours? That should be enough time to see everything.”

You opened your mouth to object, but Tendo nodded while Shirabu set the timer on his watch. “Everyone be careful, please. We really can’t afford any injuries.”

Yachi looked up at the dark house looming before you while the other group made their way towards the funhouse.

You could hear Tendo’s voice echo back, saying, “That’s the reason we have you here, Shirabu. You’re a doctor and all.”

Shirabu said something in return, but it was lost in the distance as you were herded towards the haunted house. The doors hung open, swinging in the breeze and creaking. It seemed like the house sucked all the warmth from the air the closer you got to it, and you squeezed Semi’s arm in yours.

“Scared, princess?” Kuroo whispered in your ear, raising the hairs on the back of your neck when his warm breath met your cold skin. “You shouldn’t be. We’re here with you.”

The steps leading into it sagged beneath your weight, the wood softer than it should’ve been and it came as no surprise when one broke beneath Semi’s weight. He cursed while you and Yachi pulled back, keeping him from falling over and potentially hurting himself. It took Akaashi and Kuroo both to pull him up out of the hole and a quick check revealed his jeans had protected his leg.

“Are you alright?” you whispered, looking up into Semi’s unamused face. He was wearing a hard scowl, his grip on you iron clad now as he guided you up the steps.

“Sure,” he said, eyes softening when he looked down at you. “Just annoyed.”

Inside, the light from your phones seemed to be swallowed by the darkness. The dust was thick and the air musty and humid. Cobwebs hung from everything, casting long shadows into the darkness beyond the halo of your flashlights.

Yachi yelped, tripping over a rotted track board and would have dragged you down if you weren’t holding onto Semi so tightly. His heat was almost a comfort now, driving away the persistent chill that seemed to emanate from the ramshackle walls. You couldn’t tell where the fabricated deterioration ended and true rot began.

“This way then?” Akaashi asked, leading the way into the first door. It was the kitchen area, set up to look like a butcher shop. A thick layer of dust settled over everything, motes flurrying through the painfully white light from your phones in an eerie dance that made it even harder to see.

Old props lay on the worn countertops, splotches of what was likely-- hopefully-- fake blood a dark black on the faded wood and laminate. Someone had a hand on your back while Akaashi examined a chain hanging from the ceiling, something hanging from the end of it. It made a strange noise when he pushed it, a crackly, grinding noise like it was rusty. It wouldn’t be a surprise, with the humidity as high as it is.

“That’s a little unsettling,” Kuroo admitted, and you all jumped when a loud crash rang out somewhere further down.

“Now would be the time to leave if we were in a horror movie,” you hinted through gritted teeth, even as Kuroo stepped back out into the hall. He scanned the darkness, his phone hanging by his side, the light pointed towards the floor. “What do you expect to see anyway, genius?”

He turned back to wink before disappearing into the dark and you groaned, straining your eyes to see anything. His light was lost in the gloom and you released Yachi’s arm, taking a step forward. Semi allowed himself to be dragged along with you while Goshiki held Yachi, petting her hair as she whimpered.

Swearing, you and Semi trudged down the hallway, listening for any noises but heard nothing besides the sounds of an old building settling. Your voice caught in your throat when you opened your mouth to call for Kuroo, your ire failing in the face of the oppressive darkness in the heart of the house. Swiping a cobweb off your face, you shined your phone around, lighting up a destroyed living room area, two hallways, and a staircase.

“You don’t think he went upstairs, do you?” Semi whispered, following your line of sight.

Swallowing, you said, “God I fuckin’ hope not. This is so creepy, can’t we just leave him?”

He chuckled against his will, a quiet, rough noise as he tried to stifle it. “‘Fraid not. I don’t wanna deal with the cops.”

Heaving a sigh, you pointed the light down to the floor and found no sign of footprints in the thick dust. Flashing it behind you, you saw your own and Semi’s clearly visible and frowned. “Hey, look.”

Semi scoured the floor, waving his light all around you. “He definitely came this way.”

Nodding, you pointed the light back in front of you, down the hallway, but it was unable to break more than a few inches of darkness. “Okay, now I’m really freaked out. Where is he?”

New light joined your meager one, shuffling footsteps coming to a stop just behind you.

Akaashi’s hand landed on your shoulder, peering over your head at where you were staring.

“This way,” Semi said after a moment of silence. It was broken only by Yachi’s occasional sniffle and you wondered if you shouldn’t just return to the front door and let Semi and Akaashi handle the rescue. But gentle pressure on your arm and shoulder guided you down, sniffling at the dust before you broke out into a sneeze.

The floor creaked beneath your feet, making the already eerie feeling worse as you crept down the hall. There were faded, torn paintings lining the walls, a few false doors, and windows painted black and boarded up. You couldn’t tell if the paint peeling up the walls was due to age or intent, but it certainly didn’t help settle your unease.

“Careful,” Semi said suddenly, jerking you sideways into him. The cold hand slid off your shoulder and a light revealed a hole in the middle of the floor, where you had been about to step.

“Thanks,” you breathed, swallowing harshly. The dust was starting to sting your eyes and you repressed another sneeze, rubbing your nose.

Skirting around the hole, it opened into another room, what appeared to be a library. Overstuffed armchairs littered the room, the shelves lining the walls stacked with what were likely fake books. There was no sign of Kuroo, but Semi led you further into the room carefully.

He wasn’t careful enough, though.

Once second you were clinging to him, the next you heard a crack and then you were experiencing the most curious sensation. Your stomach swooped as the light disappeared, and you realized belatedly that you were falling. Something warm, almost scalding wrapped around you, and your fall stopped short with a grunt of impact.

You lay there stunned for several long moments, head spinning and heart beating hard enough that you could feel it in your ears. The dark was only furthering your disorientation and you only realized you were laying on something when it moved beneath you.

Sitting up, you felt something slump over your shoulders before coughing filled your ears.

“Semi?” you whispered hoarsely. Above you, you registered screaming and looked up only to be blinded by light.

Semi grunted behind you but didn’t move, breathing heavy against your back. From above, you could hear muted conversation before the shrieking stopped.

“_____, Semi, are you both okay?” Akaashi’s concerned voice reached your ringing ears, and you nodded in response.

It took you a moment to realize he probably couldn’t see you, calling up, “Yeah, I think so. Semi--”

“‘M fine,” he yelled, though he sounded winded.

“Are you sure?” you asked, wrapping a hand around the wrist dangling in front of you. A few feet away lay your phone, face down, the light muted but visible, and you sighed in relief. “You caught me, are you sure*?”

Semi chuckled, a rough noise. “Yeah, I’m sure. Trust me.”

“You guys stay there,” Akaashi commanded, then turned back to Goshiki and Yachi to say something. “I’ll find a way down to you.”

He disappeared and you scrambled forward, snatching your phone up. Moving back to the relative safety of Semi’s presence, you shined it around.

The basement, you decided upon seeing the array of monster props and torture machines, was perhaps the most terrifying part of the house. It was only heightened by your adrenaline rush, the shadows seeming to jump out to your paranoid mind.

As the adrenaline wore off, you took stock of your extremities. Semi really had cushioned you-- nothing hurt-- and you turned to face him.

In the light, he really did look fine, even his breathing had evened out, and he looked back at you with a smirk. “Told you. I’m tougher than you think.”

“I’m beginning to realize that,” you admitted, getting to your feet. You didn’t let Semi get far, linking your arm with his and clinging to him, much to his amusement.

His eyes adjusted to the dark faster than yours and he located his phone near the base of a rusty filing cabinet. The screen was cracked-- which he cursed-- but it still worked, and he turned the flashlight back on.

“This is creepy as fuck,” he muttered, thumping the model of a skeletal doctor to see the dust swirl. There was a medical table in the center of the room with a light looming over it. He assumed there was supposed to be a body laying on said table and, in the dark, it was a scary thought that it was no longer there. “I hope Akaashi hurries up. I don’t like it here.”

You couldn’t stifle the small giggle, though you covered your mouth in a poor attempt. It was the nerves, you were sure, because as he moved away you held tighter, stumbling after him. He tried one door, the handle stiff enough that you recognized it to be fake. There was a set of metal double doors on the other side of the room and those swung open with an eerie grinding noise, scraping across the concrete floor.

The hallways extended to either direction, cells lining the wall in front of you and you shuddered. “Let’s go, Semi, please,” you begged, tugging him down to the left. It was the same direction that you had come from on the floor above and hoped that it would lead you to a staircase or something*.

Semi went along reluctantly, flashing his light in all the cells you passed. Most were empty, besides the occasional bed or other prop. Some contained chains mounted in the wall and his eyes flashed to you.

The hallway opened up into what may have been a waiting room if most of the furniture hadn’t been utterly destroyed. As you scanned the area, there was a noise from up ahead and you jerked to a stop, scurrying back to Semi’s side. Peeking around him while he stared down the hall, you kept a tight grip on his arm, feeling the muscles flex and tense beneath your hand. A shadow moved in the light and you nearly screamed as Kuroo stepped into view, followed closely by Akaashi.

Neither carried a light and your heart leapt in your throat when you caught a momentary flash of light reflecting off of Kuroo’s eyes before it disappeared.

Still hiding behind Semi, the four of you regarded each other in silence for a moment, before Kuroo chuckled.

“Well, this is certainly convenient, though I didn’t expect you to get involved,” he said, leaning sideways against the wall. He looked as relaxed as usual while Akaashi lurked behind him, staring at you peeking around Semi’s arm.

He held out a hand to you but you held back, suddenly unsure of Kuroo’s words. With your heart in your throat, you looked up into Semi’s relaxed, impassive face. He made no moves, just watched the other two linger in front of your only escape route.

Then he shrugged.

“Dumb luck.”

The men burst into laughter and you squeaked, taking a step back from Semi. Before you could get anywhere, his hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you forward.

“Easy, kitten. We don’t wanna hurt you,” Kuroo said, stepping further into the room. His eyes lit up once again in the light from your flashlight, mischievous brown turning solid gold. His pupils narrowed and elongated, his smile seeming to become more sharp as he stared down at you.

You breathed in sharply, taking a step back into Semi’s chest. Regardless of whether he was in on whatever they had planned, he was the safest option as opposed to whatever the hell Kuroo was.

The grip on your wrist loosened but came to your shoulders instead, keeping you in place with a warning squeeze. You had already guessed he was tough, given he had taken the full brunt of the impact earlier, but you now suspected he wasn’t human either.

Akaashi came forward last, looking as placid and calm as ever, cold fingertips stroking down your cheek.

You shivered.

None of these men were human, if you had to hazard a guess. Staring up at them, you felt your heart drop.

“W-Where are ‘Toka and Goshiki?” you asked, and were proud that your voice barely cracked. Maybe if you reminded them people would be looking for you, they would back off, allowing you to escape.

Kuroo chuckled, flipping the zipper of your-- Semi’s-- jacket up in what would have been a cute manner under different circumstances. “Keiji here sent them looking for the others in the funhouse, but they’ll never find the doorway down here. Tendo was right, there are lots of hidden doors in this place.”

“What are you? What are you going to-- to d-do to me?” you asked quickly, wrapping your fingers around his wrist as he started to tug the zipper down. You were stalling at best, your heart thumping harshly in your chest. If there was any chance of escape, you couldn’t figure it out. You had no idea where this door was and you had the impression you wouldn’t be able to outrun them anyway.

“I don’t suppose it would hurt to tell you,” he answered, taking a step closer. You tried to shrink away, huddling down into Semi’s oversized jacket, but it only seemed to entice them. “I am a yokai, I assume you know what that is? Akaashi is your run of the mill demon.”

If that offended Akaashi, he didn’t show it, simply widening his smile and blinking slowly. His once serene blue eyes turned pitch black and when he blinked again, they were normal.

“I’m just a werewolf,” Semi said, breathing against your ear. His hands slid down, catching the zipper of his jacket between his fingers and drawing the zipper down slowly.

“W-Wait, please,” you tried, grabbing and tugging at his wrist to no avail. He was far stronger, and you were like a fly in comparison. “Please, can we just go?”

Kuroo cupped your cheek, a moderate temperature compared to the other two, and his smile seemed to soften a fraction. “No, kitten. Keiji and I have been waiting for this for far too long. The wolf probably just likes how you smell.”

You weren’t sure what that meant, but the deep, pointed inhale Semi took against your neck seemed to verify the statement. The jacket fell to the floor with barely a whisper and then your phone was placed face up on a table, beside the men’s, and the combined light filled the room.

It felt like you couldn’t get enough air as warm hands skimmed down your stomach, stretching the soft fabric of your t-shirt out, before settling on your hips. Lips met your neck, tentative at first, trailing up to your jaw, causing you to shiver.

The heat radiating off of Semi and Kuroo was getting to you, Semi’s soft lips flitting over pleasure spots causing your back to arch. You didn’t want to like it, but when Kuroo’s hands slipped up your shirt and over your ribs, your muscles tensed in unwanted arousal. Your nipples were already peaking inside your bra, the hairs on the back of your neck raising at the first graze of teeth on your skin.

“W-Wa-ait--” you breathed and, for a moment, you thought they really would stop because they both paused.

It was over in a moment, a soft kiss pressed to your other cheek as Kuroo pushed your bra up over your tits. His hands were soft as they cupped the tender flesh, giving gentle squeezes that went straight to your core, as much as you protested. “Not gonna happen, kitten. May as well enjoy it. We’ll take good care of you.”

A new sensation joined the heat surrounding you then, Kuroo moving to the side to allow Akaashi to join in. His hands were cold compared to the other two, one on your side and one cupping your unoccupied breast. The difference was enough to make you gasp, back arching on its own into their touch, and they at least had the decency not to snicker.

“You really do smell good, princess,” Semi whispered in your ear, nipping the lobe. “I can smell everything, even how wet you’re getting for us.”

Craning your neck away from him only opened you up to another smattering of kisses and you hated that he was right. They were getting to you, their gentle touches on your body doing everything right, like they had been your lovers for years rather than men you just met today. It made it harder to think than it already was, mind still racing in a futile effort to formulate some way to escape, but even you could recognize your body giving up.

Your shirt came up and over your head, disappearing somewhere outside of your vision. There was a collective intake from the men in front of you, and Semi groaned over your shoulder.

“I knew you would be so pretty, kitten,” Kuroo cooed, palming one tit again. He relished in the way you twitched when he pinched your nipple, then he cupped both, bouncing and watching them jiggle. “Been watching you all day, we couldn’t wait to get our hands on you.”

Akaashi was the first to lean over, wrapping cool lips around one pert bud, and Kuroo stepped back to watch your teeth sink into your lip to stifle any noises.

“Feel good, princess?” Semi asked, and chuckled when you shook your head. “It will soon, then. We won’t hurt you. Just wanna make you feel good.”

The worst part was, you were beginning to enjoy it. It was so tempting to cave, to just let them have their way with you. They were gentle, surprisingly so, and it was knocking down whatever resistance you had left at an alarming rate.

Semi’s hands were almost scalding against your sides, squeezing and kneading as he suckled at your neck, feeling you whine in your throat. “There you go. Just let go.”

The clasp of your bra came loose, and you weren’t even sure who had done it, before it was slid down your arms and dumped, presumably with your shirt.

There were two sets of lips attached to each nipple, your nails digging into your palms to keep from tangling your fingers in someone’s hair but you were losing the will to fight. Your panties were embarrassingly wet, no matter how much your mind insisted you didn’t like it, and you broke your silence when cold fingers drifted down to undo the button of your jeans.

“No please,” you begged, wiggling your hips in your first real display of resistance. Hands clamped down to still them in an iron grip, and a hand clasped your jaw, forcing you to look Kuroo in the eyes.

“What wrong, kitten? You’ve been so good up til now,” he said, stroking your lower lip with his thumb. There were imprints of your teeth in the skin, and he ached to kiss you, but it would have to wait.

“I-I don’t w-want--” you stuttered, tears burning the corners of your eyes as your zipper was pulled down.

Semi interrupted you then, tilting your head just so that he could kiss the corner of your mouth, smirking. “She’s embarrassed because of how wet she is.” Dropping his voice to barely a whisper, he said, “I can smell you, princess. You want this, don’t deny it.”

Shaking your head feebly, you whined when Semi pressed his lips to your cheek, dangerously close to your lips again. It was enough to distract you from your jeans sliding down your legs, until they pooled at your ankles and Akaashi had to tug your shoes off. Your jeans hit the floor shortly afterwards, the air startlingly cool against your now bare skin only to be covered with warmth as the men caged you in again.

It started with two fleeting touches to your inner thighs, which you tried to stop by squeezing them together only for them to pried apart in an instant. Semi took the opportunity to lay another languid kiss to the corner of your mouth, tongue flicking out against your lips.

For a moment, you turned into it only to jerk away, looking in the opposite direction. You knew what they were trying to do and you wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of hearing you beg for something you didn’t want. You wondered briefly where the others were and why you could hear nothing from above, until warm hands cupped your tits again.

You bit down on your lip again when Semi circled your nipples with his thumbs, massaging your breasts as he rolled them between his fingers. It was hard to keep quiet when it felt so good, especially when Kuroo and Akaashi were teasing your inner thighs, so close your aching cunt.

Your hips rocked of their own accord, your mind too preoccupied with the warm touches on your tender nipples and stifling your noises, but all three of your attackers smirked.

“Ask, pretty girl,” Akaashi said, speaking for the first time.

His voice combined with his fleeting, cold touch against the soaked lips of your cunt caused a gasp to break free, hips rolling up in a jerky manner against your will. Your ears burned when they laughed and your teeth sank into your lip again. It was driving you insane, they were so close but you refused to beg for it.

“Aw, did we upset you, kitten?” Kuroo cooed, placing a wet kiss against your hip. “We’re sorry. You’re just so cute we can’t help it. Come on, ask us. Ask us to touch this pretty little pussy and we’ll make it up to you.”

Another swipe across your clit timed with a tug on your nipples broke the seal a second time.

“S-Semi--”

“There she goes,” Semi whispered, tilting your head around to look at him. Tears were spilling down your cheeks as you looked up at him with wide, resigned eyes. His eyes dropped to your parted lips for a moment and you swallowed, blinking the tears away, but didn’t struggle.

The first kiss was tentative, tongue ghosting between your parted lips to test you for a reaction. You only whined into the kiss, leaning in and he delved into your mouth, tongue lapping at yours as he tasted you.

When he pulled away, you hiccupped, letting your head rest on his shoulder as you closed your eyes.

“Please, just touch me. Fuck me, do whatever. I can’t--” you whispered, thighs aching from how tense you had been for god knew how long. It was too much to hold out, not when you were so wet and aching for it anyway. They knew what they were doing, their gentle teasing and buildup working to break down any fight you had and it had worked flawlessly.

You melted into Semi as Kuroo lifted one leg over his shoulder. Akaashi left a trail of cool kisses down your inner thigh while Kuroo kissed up the opposite one. You didn’t know whether to tremble or whine, so you did both when his nose bumped your clit, and they chuckled again.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it, pretty girl?” Akaashi asked, and you might have mistook it for affection in another situation. “Just relax.”

As if you had a choice. Hot breathe puffed across your folds, teasing just a little more until you were practically dripping on his lips. Only then did his tongue swipe across your clit, your hips jerking harshly. His hot tongue was replaced with a cold one, the two of them taking turns lapping at your clit at such a languid pace that it was more torturous than not being touched at all.

“Fuck, please, stop teasing,” you cried, voice cracking as your back arched. You were desperate at this point, willing to beg or do whatever they wanted. You weren’t getting out of it without doing so anyway, so you might as well enjoy it. “Kuroo, Akaashi, please.”

A sharp pinch to your nipples made you squeal just before Semi devoured your mouth. You could feel the aggravation in the kiss, the way his teeth clacked against yours and his tongue pressed against yours. You made muffled noises against him, one hand coming up to tangle in his hair.

At the same time, Kuroo latched onto your clit properly, and your eyes almost rolled into the back of your head as you rocked your hips against his feverish suckling. The noises he was making filled the quiet space, grunts and would-be moans that terminated against your clit as he worked to make you cum.

Your head was starting to spin from lack of oxygen and intense pleasure. Kuroo wasn’t giving you an inch and your slick hole fluttered around nothing, until something swirled around your entrance before slipping in.

You forgot about the kiss, Semi’s lips hovering against yours as you came with a cry around cold fingers. The temperature difference between Akaashi’s fingers and Kuroo’s lips was mind numbing, your eyelids flickering, trying to stay open before giving in. You didn’t bother to be quiet, letting your moans bounce off the walls. Maybe it would draw the others to you, and you could still get out of this.

Instead of withdrawing his fingers, Akaashi slipped another one in beside the first, kitten licking your still sensitive clit and listening to you whine for him to “Stop, please, too much.” He only smirked, continuing to lap until you relaxed, though the stream of noises never stopped.

There was a moment of hesitation as Kuroo stood, cocking his head in Semi’s direction. With your attention on your throbbing clit and Akaashi’s almost icy touch, you missed the way Semi beckoned to him. Their lips met briefly, allowing Semi to get a taste of you on his lips before Semi dragged him into a deeper one, tongues meeting in a heated tangle. Both men were hard, Semi grinding his clothed erection against the cheek of your ass, the chafing fabric unnoticed against your soft skin.

You squirmed against him when Akaashi crooked his fingers just right inside you, grazing over the swollen sweet spot inside you again and again until you were on the verge of another orgasm. It seemed like no matter how long his fingers stayed inside you, they never heated up. You weren’t even sure if the cold of his tongue flicking over your clit was pleasurable or not but it was such constant pressure that you hurtled towards your second orgasm. Kuroo was quick to stifle it, delving into your mouth for you to taste what remained of you on his tongue.

You came with a cry, convulsing around Akaashi’s fingers for a second time so hard you became light headed. He continued to pet that spot inside you until you were squirming to get away, tugging roughly at his hair.

Your legs shook when he let you down, only Semi’s strong grip keeping you upright. The sound of belt buckles clanging brought you down quickly, and trepidation set your heart racing again. There was no stopping it, but you found yourself trying to back up anyway.

“Ah,” Kuroo tutted, taking you from Semi’s arm and kissing the crown of your head like he was comforting you. “Don’t start that. We aren’t going to hurt you, kitten.”

No, they certainly hadn’t yet, and you had no choice but to trust his words. Something hard pressed against your ass, hotter even than the rest of Semi. You instinctively jerked away, pressing into Kuroo only to feel something slip between your thighs.

“Excited, aren’t we?” Kuroo drawled, and you could feel the condescension dripping off of him. Semi pressed to your back again, shielding you from the cold, while Kuroo asked, “How are we gonna take her? Semi, you kinda threw a wrench in things, can’t lie.”

Semi shrugged against your back, letting his cock settle between your thighs. You whined, jerking your hips instinctively away from the heat against your folds, but it only served to make him grind into you.

“I want this sweet cunt,” Semi snarled, cupping your jaw in a tight grip and tilting your head away, baring your throat to him. He licked a stripe from your shoulder to just beneath your ear before kissing the soft skin, and you shivered at the possessiveness in his tone.

“Alright, wolfboy smells a mate,” Kuroo said, rolling his eyes. “Akaashi?”

The last of the trio stepped forward again, skimming his fingers down your cheek before leaning in to steal a kiss. “I’m okay with whatever you want, Kuroo. Just wanna feel her around me.”

There was something dark in his eyes that belied his passive words. He was deferring to Kuroo to get things moving, you were almost sure. Like the rest of him, his cock was cool against your thigh, more like a glass dildo you kept at home than a cock attached to a man.

“That makes things easy then,” Kuroo said, clapping his hands and giving you that mischievous smile. If you didn’t know any better-- you didn’t-- you would say his teeth were a little sharper, the canines more pronounced than before. His eyes certainly hadn’t changed, maintaining that almost glowing golden color this whole time. “Semi, lay on the couch. Keiji, you can take her from behind. I want her mouth.”

He sounded like he was giving out instructions to his employees rather than fucking a very reluctant person, but the other two followed his instructions without question. It was an odd sensation, to be talked about as if you weren’t there, as if you had no say over what was happening to you.

Not that you did.

It wasn’t until you were straddling Semi that you realized something. In addition to being hotter than average, he was larger than average, peeking out from between your folds to drip precum just below his bellybutton. The way your stomach swooped made you nauseous and tears fell down your cheeks all over again.

“What’s wrong, princess?” he asked, wiping them away as best he could. You wouldn’t be fooled by the concern in his tone; he wouldn’t stop anyway.

You turned your face away only to jump when a finger slipped your cunt, cool to the touch, followed by a second, only to be removed a second later. They moved instead to your slick rear entrance, circling and massaging until it gave way, eased by your previous orgasms. You fell forward, bracing yourself over Semi, who held your rocking hips still. Two fingers filled you, the stretch no more than a sting but it was uncomfortable nonetheless when you didn’t want it.

Akaashi’s other hand came down, long fingers wrapping around your throat just beneath your chin, pulling you back up to your knees. “Good girl,” he whispered in your ear before forcing your head around so he could capture your lips.

They parted naturally when his tongue glided across them, allowing him access without thought. You couldn’t place his taste; it was like he’d just eaten ice before kissing you, and you moaned into it.

Kuroo, who until then had been content to watch, groaned and stood from the dilapidated chair he had been lounging in. One hand wrapped around your wrist, moving your hand to wrap around his aching cock, desperate for some kind of relief. Your palm was soft against him, and he spit on it twice for good measure before allowing you to curl your fingers around him again. They did so automatically, squeezing tight and he hissed through gritted teeth, slit pupils narrowing further as he watched Akaashi’s tongue delve into your mouth like he wanted his cock to.

All the while, Semi was forcing you to slide along his shaft, slow, calculated moves designed to drag your clit back and forth against him. He could feel you trembling above him, your hands curled into fists against his chest, hips moving with his hands. You dripped down his cock, covering him in your slick and he almost growled at the heady scent. Unlike the other two, he could smell how bad you wanted it and it was driving him wild.

“Akaashi, hurry up,” he snapped, digging his nails into your soft hips hard enough to leave marks if he wasn’t careful.

Akaashi hummed in disapproval, pulling from your mouth to stare impassively at the werewolf. “I don’t want to hurt her, Semi.”

Yet, he withdrew his fingers and you whined at the loss.

“Finally,” Semi hissed, helping Akaashi lift you up so he could slick his cock up against your cunt before settling against your rear hole. “You go first.”

Your toes curled tight enough to cramp as Akaashi gave you a warning nudge before splitting you open. Your jaw dropped, eyes widening as you stared up into the cobwebbed ceiling, waiting for him to bottom out. Thighs trembling in Semi’s hold, you fell back against Akaashi’s chest as his hips met your ass.

“Don’t worry, pretty girl,” he whispered, leaving cool kisses along your shoulder and neck. Goosebumps were raising up your arms and back, and he would have felt bad if you weren’t squeezing around his cock so tight while Semi positioned himself at your dripping hole.

You couldn’t decide if you really wanted two cocks, weren’t sure if you could even take two, but Semi was stretching you so wide you were crying out broken babbles none of them could make out as he seated you flush against his hips. You twitched above him, fluttered around him, squeezed rhythmically while you tried weakly to get away.

The sensation of fullness was one you had never experienced before. Even just Semi’s cock was more than you had ever taken, let alone Akaashi’s cock in your inexperienced asshole. You blinked rapidly, unable to decide if you liked it or not before a hand wound in your hair and you were pulled down.

Kuroo’s cock bobbed in your face and your jaw dropped automatically, allowing him to smear precum around your lips. He was more salty than bitter as he slipped into your mouth, stuffing himself as far as he could before you started gagging. Pulling back, he gave you a small reprieve to gasp for air before filling your mouth again. There was no fighting his thrusts, you had to force your throat to relax or choke. A mix of drool and tears spilled down your chin as a thick vein dragged against your tongue, dripping off to the floor. In the back of your foggy mind you were disgusted.

When they felt you relax around Kuroo’s cock, his hips moving in a steady rhythm to fuck your throat, Akaashi and Semi moved.

You spasmed around Kuroo when Semi lifted you up and dropped you back down, your hips meeting with a wet slap, his cock stifling your scream. Akaashi pulled out then, a little more careful as he stuffed himself back in, but the constant push and pull of their hips soon spread fire through your body. Kuroo was heavy on your tongue, Semi and Akaashi bumping and grinding against each other through the thin wall separating your cunt and ass, Semi’s curls stimulating your throbbing, sensitive clit.

You couldn’t fathom how you were careening towards a third orgasm, but Semi’s cock was so thick he couldn’t help but drag along the swollen, gummy sweet spot inside you. Akaashi’s low, pleasured moans in your ear gave you a vague sense of pride. These gorgeous men wanted you, were moaning for you.

It was enough to make you forget this wasn’t right.

Kuroo thought you were moaning, your throat vibrating around his cock as he facefucked you with abandon. The tight sleeve of your throat only grew tighter when Akaashi’s hand slipped between your legs to pet your clit and Kuroo grunted.

“Keep that up, kitten, and you’re gonna make me cum,” he said, holding your nose down in his curls for a few seconds just to feel you spasm around him.

Semi and Akaashi felt the benefits of it, both your holes clenching around them as you gagged. Semi took the opportunity to grind deep inside you, rolling his hips up so that he pushed against your cervix.

Your thighs trembled around him, a squeal stifled around Kuroo’s cock as you came hard, jerking in Semi’s hold. He snarled, bouncing you on his cock with abandon as Akaashi slammed into you, spreading your clenching hole without care as he moaned.

Kuroo grunted, pumping into your mouth a few more times before pressing your nose into his pelvis and cumming, his lips parted in an ‘o’ and his head tipping back. You had no choice but to swallow until he pulled out and spilled the remnant all over your face, smirking as it mixed with your tears and drool to drip off your chin.

Semi’s back arched off the couch, strong hands pulling you down to sit flush with his hips as he spilled inside you. Your eyes grew wide at the intense heat filling your womb, the warmth rushing up through you at the same time Akaashi came in your ass. Goosebumps erupted across your skin as his cum offset the heat of Semi’s, and your vision swam for a moment from overstimulation.

Semi caught you as you collapsed forward, cradling you to his chest regardless of the mess, petting your hair.

Akaashi slipped out of you, sharing a small smirk with Kuroo as he sought out your clothes.

“Give me my shirt,” Semi said, catching it from the air when Akaashi threw it. He forced you to sit up, watching you sway with a twisted sense of pride, and wiped the mess from your face. Akaashi and Kuroo took you from there, helping you to dress while you leaned against them, unable to keep from snickering at the state they’d left you in.

“Can you walk, kitten?” Kuroo asked, setting his hands on your shoulders. “Or do you need someone to carry you?”

“I-I can w-walk,” you stuttered, throat raspy. You frowned and grabbed it, swallowing with a wince.

“Good girl,” Kuroo said, dropping a kiss on your lips and smirked when you leaned after him as he pulled away. “We don’t need to worry about you telling anyone, do we?”

Shaking your head, you allowed Semi to wrap an arm around your shoulders, keeping you close to bathe in his warmth as Kuroo led the way up the hidden stairs a little ways down the hall they had been blocking earlier. At the top of the stairs, you could hear voices calling your names and perked up, trying to follow the echoes in the darkness.

“This way,” Kuroo said, leading the way though there wasn’t a speck of light in sight. Your own phone was tucked safely in the pocket of Semi’s jacket, which he had taken back. “Keiji, give me your phone. Appearances.”

Right, couldn’t let the humans know.

Everyone crowded around you, throwing questions all at once, until Shirabu lost his temper. He insisted on looking you and Semi over, just to determine for sure nothing was the matter.

He seemed a little concerned by how out of it you were, and asked if you hit your head.

Three sets of eyes landed on you, all carrying a different weight as they waited for you to speak.

“Just tired, Shirabu,” you murmured, hiding your face in Semi’s side. “It took ages for them to find us. Can we go home now?”

The tension eased, though you kept your face hidden, allowing him to guide you blindly down the hallway.

It was even colder outside than earlier, and Kuroo took over the spot on your other side, gently shooing Yachi towards the other. She had insisted on keeping you company, watching you with wide, worried eyes while Akaashi and Kuroo whispered together behind her.

Even now, she watched the way the three men hovered around you with curious concern. They treated you like a precious object-- or a possession that needed to be protected.

You nodded in response to something Kuroo said, trying-- if possible-- to curl even closer into Semi. Akaashi hovered in the background, pretty face as impassive as ever until he caught Yachi looking at him.

His lips curled up in a smile, his face softening ever so slightly, and she relaxed. Whatever had happened to you down there, it seemed to spark something in the three men.

Whatever it was, it couldn’t have been that bad.

#🖤.kuroo #🖤.akaashi #🖤.semi #tw noncon #tw reluctance

618 notes · View notes

hargrove-mayfields · 3 years

Text

Day one of the Horror on Cherry Lane Challenge! I’ll be participating this month as a writer! The prompt for today is Knife!

warnings for mentions of suicidal ideation and attempts, death, child abuse, and blood.

Billy met Steve in the psych ward.

Well, they met officially at Tina’s party, but that wasn’t the real Steve. That was the King Steve. Deeper than that though, even the Steve Harrington everyone else saw even after the breakup and the fall from grace still wasn’t the real thing.

That was fake smiles, overdone nonchalance to cover up the wound from his fallen status. Now he was stripped down to himself, all bloody bandages and tired eyes, the boy he was pretending to be finally broken down to reveal this.

Apparently, Ruthie Harrington found her son with his grandfather's switchblade- all the other objects in the house sharper than a spoon and with less sentimental value had already been tossed -bleeding all over her freshly polished linoleum floors. She dropped him off at the hospital a night ago and nobody’s been by to see him since.

Now, it’s by pure coincidence that Billy’s already in on the same day Steve’s admitted.

He’s been locked up the past three days compared to Steve’s one. These small town hicks are jumpier (ha) than he thought, and don’t think doing the walk and turn test on the edge of the quarry after downing a bottle and a half of fireball is as funny as he does. Whatever. Cid would’ve thought that was badass as hell.

So he was admitted, on suicide watch for a stupid joke that wasn’t really worth it, or even really a joke. Max came to visit once. She punched him in the chest as hard as she could and cursed him out for an hour. She’d never done that before. By the time she left they were both in tears, and maybe Billy realized a thing or too about his carelessness. Realized for the first time that someone cared.

But he’s still in here for another week and a half by law, so. He’s not going to mope about it. And while Steve Harrington showing up is about the last thing he’s expecting, he decides that’s at least something he can work with. Definitely brings a little life to the place.

He waits until Steve’s intense watch period is over to bug him, once they’re out of their cramped little rooms for a couple of hours to “socialize” (see, the more sound of mind keep an eye on the other patients while the nurses take their smoke breaks) Billy goes straight to Steve. Him and Harrington are far from friends, but that’s pretty much irrelevant when the only other choices for company are kids younger than them too scared to approach them and people too deep in their midlife crises to bother with teenage drama.

Throwing himself down in the blue plastic chair across from where Steve settled in, Billy kicks his feet up on the table,, “What’s up Harrington? Didn’t expect to see a familiar face in here.”

But Steve, poor Steve, takes one look at Billy with those haunted brown eyes, and his face just falls completely apart. There are tears on his way too pale cheeks before Billy even has a chance to breathe.

The smile drops off of Billy’s face, “Jesus Harrington, I know m’not looking my best surviving on hospital food and cigarettes without a hairbrush, but that’s a little unwarranted.”

“Shut up. Not everything’s about you, Hargrove.”

“Oh I disagree with that. But I get the point. I’ll let ya be.” Billy hums, scooting his chair back and getting up. He stops when Steve starts to speak, “Y-You outta be careful saying that kinda stuff in here.”

“What?”

“That the world revolves around you. They’ll come up with a diagnosis for that and keep you here forever. Drug you ‘til you forget your own name, let alone your status.” Steve tells him with humor, wiping the tears off his face.

Billy nods in understanding, sits back down with an interested smirk, “This ain’t your first time here, is it?”

“Is it yours?”

“Nah. I’ve done some shit on purpose, some on accident. Once it wasn’t even me. But s’never done anything to help so far.”

Steve puffs out a sigh, “Don’t I know it.. I’ve been in and outta this place since I was like, ten. Clearly nothing’s changed.”

“Why? What’s your dirty little secret, Harrington?”

“I cut myself, dumbass.” He deadpans, looking at Billy with a bluntness in his expression that reads more concerning, more like indifference to what he just said than matter-of-fact.

“No shit. But that ain’t the secret.” Billy probes further, can tell he’s getting under that mask Steve wears, “Why do you do it?”

“Legally, I can't tell you. And I don’t think I would anyways.”

“What about if I tell you all about me first? I got no reservations ‘cept the one that got me a bed here.”

“It’s not a hotel, Hargrove.”

“Eh, might as well be. Feels like the damn hotel California.”

“Is that why?”

“Huh? Oh no, I been pullin’ stunts like this long before we left Cali.”

“Like what?”

“Like downing two full bottles of my mother’s meds after she left. Not at the same time obviously, or I wouldn’t be here. Mostly ‘cause my dad didn’t even wanna take me to the hospital either time.” Billy doesn’t look at Steve while he elaborates. Not because he cares, he’s an open book, if a random old woman at the grocery store asked about his last attempt, he’d tell her.

But. He doesn’t like watching people’s faces. Seeing sympathy and concern there. It makes him feel all stupid and guilty. It’s usually not like that with other kids like him, but Steve’s different. He’s got a big heart. Even if there’s no room for himself.

And Billy hurt Steve before. He doesn’t want to see someone he caused pain caring so much about him. He already cracked when Max came to see him. This could be what splits him open, spills out all the things he’s covered up.

So he keeps going, “And like runnin’ out in front of traffic with my friends. They thought we were just playin’ chicken ‘til I stopped dead in front of a station wagon. Metal rims’d done me in for sure if one ‘a the older boys hadn’t pulled me outta the way. Damn near ripped my shirt in half how fast he grabbed me.”

“I’m guessing your parents are the reason why then?”

“Yessir.” Billy deflects, not good at getting deeper into it, “You wanna tell me yours then?”

“I started cutting because Tommy Hagan told me about it. He thought it was freaky, but when he ran his mouth about how they found the neighbor kid in his room, drained of all his blood from his wrists, I wanted to try it. I’ve tried liquor and drugs and all kinds ‘a shit I shouldn’t, but nothin’ stuck like cutting.” Steve pauses for a long time, his eyes going blank, staring right past Billy, “When my mom found out she.. she.. Forget it.”

“Hey, you seen my skeletons. Can’t I see yours?”

“No. I don’t wanna fucking talk about it anymore.” Steve answers, despite his assuredness, his tone wobbling with some unidentifiable emotion.

Talk about mood swings. Billy doesn’t get how nobody would’ve noticed something was up before Steve started carving into himself. Really, he knows someone would have seen it and just ignored it.

It only gets worse though, the reservedness turning to sadness and frustration. None of the words are coming out, but he can tell Steve’s thinking of the stories, reliving all that got him to the here and now. Billy can also tell there’s nothing he can do no to stop him from doomsdaying.

So when Steve is inevitably in the thralls of a panic attack, he tries to hug him tight, to try to get it to stop maybe, that always worked for him at least, but Steve swats him away. Judging from the way he winces, it’s not easy for him to do either, with those thick ass bandages constricting his wrists, but the tears and the pain on his face are buried behind his resolution.

He’s hiding something from Billy.

In hindsight, talking to a new patient about past attempts probably wasn’t his brightest idea anyways, so he switches the subject while Steve works on coming down from his panic attack. He brings up Max and her little nerds, trying to bridge the healthier connections between him and Steve that they’d both been ignoring since the fight. He mentions basketball too, another something they have in common other than trying to kill themselves.

It doesn’t really work, though Steve does stop shaking as bad, just curling up in his little chair and sniffling, pretending not to listen while Billy rambles on and on. But he doesn’t talk. It’s probably better for him not to anyway. Billy himself has been known to say some dumb shit when he’s in distress.

Ultimately, even once the conversation runs out, he stays with Steve until dark. He can tell from the way his gaze sticks to the floor that Steve recovered from his fit a while ago, but he’s embarrassed by having a breakdown in front of him, as if he isn’t in here for the same reason. It helps that he gets it though, and they sit in a comfortable, albeit very prolonged, silence.

Long after Steve gets xanned up and knocked out though, while Billy is still free to wander until the midnight curfew as a low risk patient, he decides to stick with him in his room. Billy’ll never admit it, but he gets nightmares, and he doesn’t want to face that just yet, so with a new friend as an excuse, he’s up half the night watching Steve sleep.

He remembers what happened earlier, how focused Steve was on keeping him away from him, despite his panic, and decides, with a glance at how deeply Steve is sleeping, his greasy hair all strewn about on stiff pillows, that he’s going to figure out what it was.

He snoops around in his bedside drawers, in the bathroom, in the locker in the corner. It’s there he notices the knitted jacket Steve was wearing before, hanging heavy to one side, like there’s something in its pocket. He touches it and feels the outline of something small, so he pulls it out.

He regrets checking though, because it’s a knife. Judging from the old looking engravings on its handle, and the coppery stains within the grooves, it’s specifically the very same one that got Steve hospitalized.

He shoves it in his own back pocket and keeps looking, with a quick glance at Steve, finding a note tucked where the knife had been. Written in perfect scrawl on bond paper that’s been folded a dozen times and stained with tears,

“Do it right next time, why don’t you? Your mother is too soft on you. I’m not paying for this again.

- J.Harrington.”

Billy doesn’t know what to do but throw the note in the trash. Not really in shock, but definitely more than a little fucked up from reading that, he sits on the end of Steve’s bed. His own dad, who'd more than once been the one putting him in the hospital, had never even said anything like that to him.

He didn’t get to talk to Steve much today, but they’ve got as long as Billy’s stuck in here together to fix that. Longer if he just pulls something in front of a nurse. And he wants to, really really wants to.

Because he knows he just met the real Steve, can recognize another broken boy when he sees one, and he knows too, that he never wants to meet a pretty boy like this again.

And if that’s his declaration to get clean, then so fucking be it.

But. He never promised not to hurt anyone. Ultimately he’d still need that outlet.

He keeps the knife. To make sure his pretty boy doesn’t get hurt again.

#CherryLaneChallenge #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #ej writer #story by ej!#tw self harm #tw attempted suicide #tw blood #happy October!#I’m so excited!#I’m gonna try to do all of this but I’m real busy coming up!#im not sure what vibe I’m goin got in this challenge #but I think it’s mostly haunting?#not scary but like that oh moment y’know

39 notes · View notes

hanibalistic · 3 years

Text

#FBB2F3 | LEE FELIX.

genre | bittersweet, nostalgic fluff

word count | 2589

warning | none

tag | @fluffyskzclub

note | very easily could have been chan, but i wanted to write about lixie!!!

the paint on the brush splattered on the classroom floor after felix playfully nudged you with his feet. you groaned before regaining your balance, carefully hoisting yourself back on your kneeling position. your glare was paired by his light-hearted snickers.

"lix, either help me or go home," you said as you pointed the colorful end of the paintbrush at him threateningly. you pouted when he stood unfazed, smiling down at you with amusement. "i really need to finish this by tomorrow. everyone is counting on me!"

he took a step back when you returned your attention to the banner-sized canvas, adding more detail to the seemingly finished product. tilting his head, he admired the decorative artwork with both intrigue and cluelessness.

it was something his non-artistic self could have never done on his own, which was why the painting looked so grand to him, but he also couldn't understand why it wasn't finished yet when there was no more blank canvas left on the surface.

you obviously wanted to add more to the painting, but he couldn't see what there was to add that would make it less or more appealing. in the end, it would just look the same to him, so why couldn't you pack everything up so you two could finally go home?

looking up at the opened windows, felix sighed as he watched the orange sun slowly fade back into the mountains. he wanted to go home, but he had no plans to leave you alone at school at this hour, nor did he want you to walk home alone, so supposed he would have to stick with you and your endeavor for now.

"what do you need help with?" he asked as he took his hands out of his pockets and knelt next to you, accessing the painting with unease. "i might mess up."

"you're not touching the painting," you said as you reached over for the plastic color wheel and handed it to felix.

his eyes followed your hands—boxes of paint, a jar of dirty water, a paper of abandoned colors, and a spiky brush. after setting them around him, you reached for your bag on the chair nearby and pulled out your notebook from the thin gap of your heavy textbooks.

felix raised his brows when you leaned over to him, flipping the pages of your notebook before stopping at a messy page. he saw circles and circles of colors, lined up together in a way that looked like detailed instructions but also a disorganized brainstorm map. his gaze moved from the notebook to the color wheel, utterly clueless.

"do you see number three, eight, and twenty-five? mix those colors for me," you instructed, pointing briefly at the paper before dropping it before his knees and turning back to the painting. "make sure they look like the ones in the notebook but a little more vibrant!"

felix nodded as a soft, confused hum of an agreement left his lips. he gripped the paintbrush in his hand, his shaky eyes glancing at the colors on your notebook and the lines of acrylic paint.

a gentle fear shook upon his ground when he was shifting through the colors. he could not tell the difference between the first red paint and the seventh one, but they had different names so they must be two kinds of red. putting his shrunken hand next to his face, felix licked his lower lip with concentration, thinking that if he stared at the colors long enough they would appear different to his eyes.

they did not.

giving up, he glanced up at you in preparation to ask for your advice, but he stopped when he saw that you were putting your utmost attention to the painting. with softened eyes, he decided to bother you at a later time—

"uh, haha, no," you interrupted the trip down memory lane with a sharp chuckle, and you looked up at felix with a sneer. "that was not how it went."

felix tossed his much longer hair away from his face with shy laughter. his short ponytail bounced slightly and his side fringes framed his sharp face. shoving his hands further down the pockets of his coat, he jutted his lower lip out and shrugged, "that was how i remembered it though."

"then you have bad memories," you scoffed, "you kept bothering me about the colors that i ended up telling you to just step aside and wait for me."

"i was not bothering you!"

"yes, yes you were."

"i was–ack! i was being thorough!" he retorted, throwing his arm out and waving his finger at you. there was a flustered smile on his face; he was looking like he could remember everything but was purposefully making things up. your chest felt light seeing it.

"remember how you told me your entire class depended on you to win the class board contest? how, like, they will literally kill you if you mess up?" he exclaimed.

you furrowed your brows in exaggerated horror, placing a hand on your chest and leaning back slightly to further state your surprise. "i never said that!"

"you never?"

"no!"

"was it just me?" felix questioned himself with a scratch of his head, taking shallow breathes of thoughts as he turned away to look around the classroom he once studied in. taking notice of a familiar corner, he raised his hand and pointed at the broken end of the door. "oh, they painted over the wall jisung scrubbed on."

you looked over instinctively and pouted.

of course they would. jisung had written profanities on that corner, after all. you weren't sure why he had done it then, but you remembered watching him get dragged by the ear to the principal's office and grimacing when you met eyes with him. who would have thought he became such an introverted and well-behaved boy now?

"i'm sure they changed a lot of things around these years," you said quietly as you walked through the narrow rows of the wooden desks.

the words jisung left on the wall, the rack of art supplies hyunjin always kept on the top cabinet shelf where the homework was stored, seungmin's neat handwriting being the first thing everyone sees on the blackboard whenever they walk into the classroom, and felix's school jacket he always dumped near the locker for easier access.

they were all gone. the presence of your youth has been erased.

"it has been a while since we came back," you finished off when you came across your old seat and you sat down.

it has been a while since you both came back to your high school, and it has been a while since you two went separate ways to pursue your careers. nothing physical has changed in these classrooms, but they no longer hold the scent of your old friends or the sights of your old classmates.

other people study here now, these classrooms are a foreign home now. as much as that irked you, you had to accept growing up.

felix pulled up the chair in front of you—the desk that belonged to him—and sat down facing the back of the chair. he propped his arms on the top rail and leaned his chin on his intertwined hands, staring at you.

the golden sun glossed over your faces, reflecting a younger light that made you gasp as it deceived your eyes with a newfound nostalgia, manually turning the gears in your head to make you see what you haven't seen in a long time.

felix's hair was black—black, short, and messy. you used to run your hands through them, especially when he was pouting from having trouble with finishing his literature homework. the teacher was the worst, he got unlucky to be stuck with them for a full year. it was thanks to your help, and the longevity of the lunch breaks, that he managed to survive.

instead of the turtleneck and coat, he wore the loose tie he never learned to properly tighten and his wrinkled uniform. his shirt was untucked because he couldn't be bothered. he would eventually fix it up, though, because he was scared of the discipline teacher. but, this was between him and himself only, compared to the discipline teacher he was more scared of you scolding him about his untidy uniform.

(funnily, there was nothing more he would purposefully chase after than your gentle nags back in the days.)

the freckles across his cheeks would be less visible. hyunjin used to have to cover it up for him because he wasn't confident about the way they looked on his face, but you remembered—you remembered how he had told you he loved it when you counted them, touched them, and kissed them as you sat on his lap.

he had told you he loved it.

he had told you he loved you back in high school, and you had said it back.

you remembered. under this blazing sun, the sun that never changed, the sun that only showed you the truth and what you secretly longed for, you remembered that you and felix were once in love.

"ah, this really brings back old memories," felix sighed dramatically with a smile. "we used to talk like this a lot. i remember being so uncomfortable sitting like this, but i wanted to talk to you so i kept sitting like this until the bell rings."

"what?" you scoffed, leaning back on your seat and raising a brow. "you should have just told me."

"i didn't want the ruin the flow of our conversations!" he said, then he propped his face on his fists like a flower. "besides, i used to think i look cool sitting like this, so i always sat like this when we chatted."

you gave him a faint eye-roll. you thought it was lame now, but back then having him turn as soon as the lunch bell rings and hearing your classmates coo teasingly at you two was the one thing you looked forward to in school, that was besides seeing felix, of course.

"well, it worked, didn't it?" you said. "you snatched me."

"i totally did." he laughed.

both of you didn't want to verbally acknowledge the fact that you two had been so madly in love back then that you would rather let silence fall over. it would have been awkward to talk about it after so long, even though you two had been very mature about the break-up and remained as loose friends afterward.

in an attempt to break the silence, you kicked your feet, reached out, and playfully ruffled his hair. felix was taken back by your sudden movement, his eyes widening in panic that you were messing up his hair as his hand immediately flew from his pocket to stop you.

"hey! i spent a long time on this ponytail!" he complained, frowning at your loud giggles at his misery.

"i'm sorry! it's just–" your eyes caught sight of a single run sitting on his fourth finger and you paused. there was a gentle pang in your chest as you tore your eyes away.

regaining your senses quickly, you removed your hand from his hair and sat back down, then you nudged your head over at his hand. "i see you got a promise ring there?"

felix hummed questioningly. he looked up at his hand, still trying to recover from the initial shock of your action, and he sighed with recognition when he realized what you meant. a smile blossomed over his face, a smile so bright and familiar that it made all your forbidden hope dissipate into the hole of your heart.

"yeah, i have a girlfriend," he said, wiggling his fingers. "we have been dating for a year now. i got it for our anniversary!"

you kept the smile on your face. you had gotten over the break-up a long time ago, but when the reality of moving on slapped you across the face like this, your heart churned in distaste anyway. felix was no longer yours, and you were not his—you accept that, you were just a tad bit upset.

"that's good! i'm still waiting for this boy to confess," you muttered with a glare of your eyes as you shifted on your seat. seeing the curious glint in felix's eyes, your thoughts swirled and suddenly your fondness for him faded to the back of your head. you sighed with a defeated smile at the new name in your head. "there is this boy at work–new guy, just a little younger than me–yang jeongin. he is so, so shy."

"i thought you don't like boys younger than you."

"he's an exception."

felix rolled his eyes and waved his hand. "alright. just don't scare him off, you can be intimidating. remember that time when a junior tried to ask you out and he chickened out the last minute–"

"uh, that was because i was dating you back then."

"no, he said it was because you looked like–"

"i know what he said, shut up!" you kicked him under the desk, bubbling a burst of laughter out of him as he stumbled.

after adjusting his position, felix patted his head to fix his hair before he crossed his arms and propped it on the top rail again. he looked at you seriously this time, but his eyes were caring and lovely. after all this time, he looked at you the same way—always, and you loved it all the same.

"does he treat you well?" he asked.

you pursed your lips into a thin smile and nodded. "mhm."

"good."

you glanced at him, wanting to ask your fair share of questions. is he happy? is he loved? is he being held? are his freckles being kissed, or is his hair being combed? is he nagged to take a rest, told that he is pretty? you kept your mouth shut.

the sun was setting into the mountains and the day was changing. the youthful light faded that your current-self once again resurfaced to sight, but just before the last trace of the sun died out in your classroom, you two gazed at each other, and it all went back to the wrinkled uniforms, the tousled hair, the old textbooks, and the shy intertwined hands.

back when felix was the only boy you kept in your heart.

the sun set, the light of his promise ring reflected in your eyes, and you felt a drop in your stomach that you ignored.

"i'm gonna go back and make sure jisung isn't causing a ruckus in the hall," you said as you stood up. "you coming back? dinner is about to start."

felix looked up at you and shook his head. "not yet, you can go first."

you shrugged and left the room with no questions asked. felix returned to the front when you left and he sighed at the worn-out desk before him.

he refused to think about the fluttering feeling in his tummy when you ruffled his hair and when he saw the younger version of you seated in front of him, but he knew for a moment there when he felt it, it was kind and warm, and he knew he missed it somehow.

he missed you, he used to, the only person he had kept in his heart.

tapping his finger, felix rolled his eyes.

"yang jeongin," he clicked his tongue, "pff." and he scoffed.

92 notes · View notes