#and christopher gets aggressive towards them but has to back down because there’s one of him and like four of them | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chanluster · 5 years ago

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non ducor duco | {m}

oneshot | historical! au | gang! au | 15.2k words

“The most notorious gang leader in Victorian London can gouge out the eyes of men, steal from the corrupted rich, and terrify an entire city, but cannot figure out a few complicated feelings with you.”

s u m m a r y >> the leader of the sons of seoul, the wanted criminal mastermind, christopher bang, has the courage to commit any deed save for confronting you, his most trusted accomplice, about his feelings. however, when opportunity arises, in the shape of an invitation to a grand seasonal ball, to take down his fated enemy, he takes you to the heart of a lavish estate, both of you unaware of actions that occur inside, and after the mission.

w a r n i n g s >> gonna be using chris instead of chan cause it’s set in 1860s london, chan is a dom of course, jisung and changbin are dumb and dumber, are also massive cockblockers, some cliché scenes cause i’m a sucker for them, sexual! tension!, gore, foul language, making out, dirty talk, aggressiveness, semi-public fingering, unprotected sex (stay safe homies!!), oral (f. receiving), multiple orgasms, chan has a thing for being called his korean name, whack spelling for ‘cum’ as ‘come’ cause technically that word didn’t exist in 1860s, there is a plot so there will be build up

a / n > > so i went way over the 10k originally planned lmfaoooo but i hope y’all enjoy this oneshot! i worked my ass off on it and hopefully y’all can appreciate gang leader chan in 1860s london cause honestly i’m a 100% whore for that concept

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IT WAS A UNIVERSAL LAW THAT ONE MUST NEVER FUCK WITH CHRISTOPHER BANG. EVER.

Whatever charge you may have against him, it must be withdrawn. Whatever he had done to you — robbed you, murdered your son, destroyed your entire existence — it did not matter. There were always limits, and trying to challenge this specific criminal would only result in your undoing.

It seemed the target, cornered before you and the very man himself, did not fully understand this order.

Chris Bang, in all his midnight suited glory, took a step towards the cowering man, the ends of his longcoat trailing him in the air. His gloved hands locked behind his back, a grave curve of his lips as he addressed his next victim. “Mr. Shaw, we know you have the documents.”

This said Mr Shaw hastily shook his head, raising his hands in immediate surrender. “Please, Mr. Bang,” he whimpered. “I have no inkling of what you speak of!”

“Don’t you dare lie!” You interjected, sliding out your knife, pointing it towards him. “We received reports of you. Don’t you dare forget the monthly checks we’ve sent for its safekeeping!”

“I was taking care of it, Miss!” He backed further, until the wall of his office stopped his escape. “They came to the office though.”

“Who did?!” You demanded, but the way Chris’s hand fisted in irritancy answered your question.

The Mayor had taken their shares. Once again, the tyrant had robbed them off their fortune.

“Mr. Shaw,” the man beside you started. The raw, dark matter in his voice had the owner’s eyes widening in pure fear. “Who was it specifically?”

“A really large man, about seven foot for sure…God, he had cuts all over his face, slight stubble,” he answered, knees slightly shaking. “Please, Mr. Bang, I have a family, children who have not grown—”

“Why is it that whenever man is at his weakest he mentions his loved ones?” A few stray locks escaped from Chris’ raked hair, caressing the ragged scar from his brow down to his cheek. “Why do you think that I’ll suddenly take pity because you have others who will mourn your existence?”

These questions had the man collapsing, leaning completely against the wall for support. You stole a glance at Chris, wondering if he was now capable of extracting the very souls from men. “Do not keep toying with me, Shaw,” he warned, leaning in slightly. “I know you have information.”

A soft, helpless whine escaped from the owner of the building. “Then-they'll kill me,” he mumbled, looking up at the criminal with desperation. It was a shame that never worked on a man with no sympathy.

“I can kill you too,” Chris countered, and in a flash a sleek, pocket knife appeared in his gloved hand, and hovered it right under Shaw’s chin. “So how about you tell me what you know, and I can prolong your imminent end, hmm? Does that seem fair enough?”

You almost felt sorry for the man. “H-his men…” tears formed in his eyes. “His men kept calling him Carter.”

“Brilliant,” you muttered. ‘Scar’ Carter, the Mayor’s link to the crime world, the dirty dealings of London. Carter, the lapdog of the socialites. The most irritating, disgusting son of a bitch you had ever encountered.

“I see.” The knife stayed, caressing the manager’s skin. “Now I know they’re to sell the documents. The bastard is greedy.

“Question is, Shaw, where is the transaction going to take place?”

Dear God, the man looked as if he was about to piss his trousers. “The ball.” He tried to gulp, but felt the curve of the blade. “The Mayor’s brother is holding a masquerade ball in a few days, and Carter already had a client. They’re going to do the dealing there, I swear on my children!”

A harsh scoff emitted from the criminal. “You better hope for the sake of your sons that you aren’t lying.”

“Did you get the invitations?” You asked, eyes darting around the dirtied room, the messy desks and chairs lopsided from your searching.

“Yes, yes!” He pointed to a set of drawers. “There are two in there!”

You walked towards the destination, opening the drawers and sure enough, finding the gold-edged enveloped, addressed to Shaw and his wife. “Are your names inside too?”

“No, just the envelope, but that is not important! I promise!”

You pocketed the invitations inside your coat pocket, joining your leader’s side again. Chris, after a minute of heart-wrenching silence, stood up, freeing Shaw’s neck from the knife, sliding it within his belt.

“That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” His eyes were still upon the man when he said, “Let us return.”

The both of you were ready to leave when you heard Shaw’s sudden protests.

“The Sons of Seoul, everybody!” He declared, almost hysterically. “Coming in, fucking everything up, and leaving as if nothing had ever happened!”

Chris paused in his tracks, a quiet stillness passing over his whole figure.

“What are you going to do now, Mr. Bang?” He hissed, slowly sliding up. “Are you going to infiltrate the biggest ball of the season? Create a bloodbath on the dance floor? It’s what you love to do so ardently, no?”

You heard the harsh spit smack on the office floor. “Stop meddling with the business of the British socialites. Go back to the gutter you crawled out of.” The next words overflowed with hatred. “Go back to where you really came from, you slit-eyed prick.”

Your eyes flashed in shock, swerving around to see the raging expression on Shaw’s beady little face. Fisting your hands, you were ready to knock him out when you felt the man beside you move.

Chris whirled around, eyes promising a horrifying future as he pounced upon the manager.

A yelp was heard as Chris’ fingers dug at the corner of Shaw's eyes, and relished the cries of terror as with a roar of his own, he squeezed with his thumb and forefinger, swelling the balls of vision from their sockets. With a loud pop! the two eyes tore from their origins, gooey residue trailing down his face as Christopher Bang palmed the two organs in his hands.

He observed his victim bellowing in pain as he fell to his knees, hands covering his bloodied sockets. A ghostly smirk accompanied his lips. "Better slit-eyes than none at all."

You had to suppress the severe shivers that threatened to break your stance.

Shaw broke the universal law. His undoing was inevitable.

He flung the eyes upon the owner, and turned on his heel, eerily cool as he walked out of the office, blood and goo still on his black gloves. Not a hair ruffled upon his pretty head.

You spared a look at the victim, crying out in infinite pain, hands on his sockets still. “Do not fuck with Christopher Bang,” was all you said, before following the devil out of the building.

The afternoon London heat hit you as you exited the offices, Chris waiting as he examined the filthy streets surrounding you. People of all classes strolled by, beggars on the street asking for two-pence, children selling newspapers down the corners, and carriages riding away on the wide roads. The man still did not clean his gloves from the mess, and you pointed this out as you arrived at his side.

“It does not bother me,” he waved you off, but you brought out your leather skin.

“Bring your hands out,” you ordered.

Chris scowled. “I said I’m alright,___.” He began walking forwards, towards your humble abode, not far away from your starting point. “Besides, whoever strolls past us, they’ll second guess their evil intentions against us.” You glanced over the strange looking fellows, scattered across the roads. “Shows I am not afraid to get my hands dirty.”

“Whatever,” you mumbled. “Dirty pig.”

You felt daggers glaring into you. “What did you say?”

“You heard me,” you said, turning a corner, already catching sight of the docks. “I expect this behaviour from Jisung. Perhaps even Changbin, but not from you.”

“Enough with this,” the man ordered, irritancy clear in his voice. Grumbling, you walked beside him in silence, the Thames entering your vision. You wished it would have radiated a rich, clear blue body of water, but from the stench which even reached your nose, it would be impossible. The river, a dump for the sewers, the rubbish disposed daily, was a toxic mass of water, and the cause of thousands dying from drinking its contents. When you first joined the Sons you nearly drank from the river, being saved only by Chris’ rough hand slapping the cup away. You remembered you received a harsh scolding from him that day, immediately providing you with clean water after to quench your thirst.

A small smile curved onto your lips at the memory.

“Hand it over.”

You perked your head up to see his filthy, gloved hands out. “What is it?” You asked.

“The water.”An irritated sigh escaped him. “I’ll clean the bloody gloves.”

Your smile grew as you handed him the leather skin. “But only because I don’t ever want to be associated with Jisung and Changbin,” he added, and you only laughed, watching the man rub the mess off his attire as you both arrived at the docks.

The first sounds heard were not of the boats bellowing at port, nor the waves lapping in underneath the stilts.

No, all you were welcomed with was a string of curses, spat by Seo Changbin.

“You fucking bastard, how dare you—”

“Here we go again,” you caught Chris muttering, who quickened his pace, thundering to where the two of his sidemen fought, caught in a scrap.

Han Jisung’s whines were carried through the river air, burning into your eardrums. “Bin, no, I said I’m sorry—!”

When you caught up to Chris, he opened his mouth, exasperation clear in his voice. “Boys!” He exclaimed.

Immediately the fighting ceased. The boys addressed, Changbin atop Jisung, ready to throw the final punch, turned back to see his leader scowling. Jisung let out a yelp, throwing the former from him and scrambling to his feet. Changbin followed suit, a little more slowly after rubbing his side in agony.

“Why the fuck,” Chris started, pointer finger darting between his two men, “Are you both fighting again?”

Changbin, fixing his ruined locks with his hand, shot his best friend a glare. “He took my fucking scones again.” He groaned, much too loud. “God, I specifically stored them in a place where no one would find them, but this greedy pig still managed to snuff them out!”

Jisung, a slender and more comical figure, crossed his arms, raising his chin in stubbornness. “I did not see a bloody name on them! Tell me Bin,” he matched his opponent’s stare. “Did you write down your name with blood-red ink across the scones? Because I certainly did not see the words Seo Changbin scrawled on the surface!”

“Argh!” The elder of the two turned his raging gaze towards the leader, who was watching his subordinates with slight distaste. “Chris, permission to cut off his tongue for being the bane of my existence?!”

Chris only stepped past them, heading for the big wooden table situated near the gang’s warehouse. The sounds of ships sailing in the dirty waters thrummed to the port, shouting heard all around over new, imported goods. “Another time, Changbin,” he only said, bringing out a chair and sitting down, propping an ankle over a knee. “I have encountered enough organ slicing for the day.”

Jisung’s face twisted in awed curiosity, settling himself down beside Chris. “Without me?” he let out a disappointed whine, turning to you. “I trusted you, at least!”

“I was surprised myself, Ji,” you argued, raising a hand towards the aloof man as you sat opposite your friend. “I didn’t know Chris gouged out Shaw’s eyes until they were in his hand!”

“You truly are a selfish man,” Changbin complained, plopping himself on the last seat. “Alway keeping the fun for yourself and ____.”

You did not really know why your face flushed a little at his charge, but you made sure to whack Changbin in the gut, earning a pained groan from the boy.

Chris locked his hands upon the table. “Well, gentlemen, then it is time for you to join in on the entertainment.”

The two boys exchanged confused glances. On cue, you brought out the pair of invitations within your coat pocket, tossing them to the table. “The Mayor’s brother is holding a ball,” you explained, rolling your eyes at the boys tearing open the envelopes, yanking out the oblong, cartridge paper, details inked with a precise hand. “Since it does not have names, anyone can enter the estate.”

Jisung let out an excited yell, grabbing onto Changbin’s arm. “Binnie, we can actually have some fun!”

“Not so fast, boys,” Chris said, tightening his gloves. “The invitations are not yours.”

Changbin’s face immediately fell. “Are you fucking kidding me—”

The elder held out a finger, silencing the complaints, but not the quiet grumbling of his members. “As I was saying,” he continued, hands interlocking once more, “____ and I will use the invitations to get inside, with the two of you as our bodyguards.”

“Marvellous!” Jisung exclaimed, sarcasm practically dripping on his words. “Absolutely fan-fucking-tastic!”

“Jisung,” Chris warned, “How about you clean the shit off the docks instead?”

“Chan,” you murmured, causing him to glance at you. His sour expression almost softened at the word, the name which only few have ever said to him. You pondered at the time the two boys, sat to your right, tried teasing him with this name, and nearly earned an ass-beating. You, on the other hand, rather liked the way the name sounded on your tongue.

Perhaps, you wished dearly, he liked the way it sounded on your tongue too.

The man, after a pause, averted his eyes from you, focusing them on his comrades. “You both can still enjoy the festivities, but you have to keep a low profile, because while ____ and I are socialising and distracting the guests, you both need to find Carter.”

“Is he at the party too?” Changbin propped his elbows on the table. “Lord above, I’ve been wanting to kick his arse for a while.”

“So you both just frivol away, then?” Jisung whined. “I want to drink and dance!”

“And you both will,” Chris persisted. “We all will keep a lookout for Carter and his dealings, and if any of us find him first, you report to me. At my signal, you and Changbin will break through their trade. I will be behind you as long as I slip away without anyone discovering our motives.”

You look to your leader. “There’s another problem.”

The three all turned to you. “If we are to go to the most lavish ball of the season, we certainly need to dress for it.” Suddenly, you sounded like a little girl when you pointed out, “I do not have a gown to wear for the evening.”

An eyebrow raised upon Chan’s face, while Changbin and Jisung snickered, puckering their lips. “Aww, poor little ____ has no lace to woo the rich men!”

You made to slap the pair’s arms and narrowly missed, glaring. “As if you animals have any decent attire to wear for the ball! When was the last time you wore a proper tailcoat?”

That was enough for their teasing to cease, but Changbin was adamant. “Don’t throw me in with Jisung! He doesn't even bother to shower!”

“Oi, you bastard!”

The pair were ready to fight once more when Chris cleared his throat.

“You’re right,____.”

A glance at the man who said it. “I have only seen you in stealth gear and rags, the first time I met you.” He leaned back in his creaking chair. “Perhaps it is time to flower you up a little.”

Jisung and Changbin were about to chuckle once again when you shot them a dirty look.

“I will order evening attire tomorrow,” Chris decided. “They will arrive on the day of the ball, which is adequate enough timing.

“Now,” he declared, standing. “Are we all aware of what we have to do?”

The two boys turned sheepishly to you, who sighed and addressed the leader. “You and I attend the ball with these two fools as our bodyguards—”

“Hey!”

“____!”

“We maintain a believable facade and enjoy ourselves while also looking out for Carter and the documents. Once we find out where he is, Changbin and Jisung take him away, and we slip out of the party unnoticed.”

Chris, after a pause, nodded, a ghost of a smile upon his lips. “Good girl.”

And just like that, he left the table, your eyes a little wide and heart a little raced.

When Chris retreated into the warehouse, the two boys turned their malicious gazes towards you, smirking much too wide for your liking.

“Do not,” you snapped, cheeks burning deeper, earning a smattering of laughter from the bastards.

“Whatever you say, good girl,” Changbin simpered, Jisung repeating the damned endearment until you hastily stood from your chair.

You rewarded them both with your middle finger before storming back into another warehouse, Chris’ words still engraved in your mind.

Just as Christopher Bang had predicted, the new attire arrived on the day of the ball.

More planning had been explained, more additions to the grand scheme of the evening which was mere hours away. The gang was ready, but you can never be perfectly anticipated for any ideas gone amiss.

You even taught Jisung and Changbin to dance, ranging from the Polka to the Viennese Waltz, which was popular amongst high society in the growing years of Queen Victoria’s reign. They were terrible at the start, both of them always falling on each other, but with hard effort they learned quickly, almost perfecting the art of leading your partner on the ballroom floor.

You had not bothered asking the other if he wished to learn. There was something about him which made you think that he could do anything. Not once had he ever doubted your theory.

It was as if there was nothing in the world he could not know like the back of his gloved hand.

Thoughts like these were what filled you with such awe for him. Such deep-rooted pride that you worked under this man. Those thoughts did, however, curve into darker corners — when his midnight-lined eyes and raven figure haunted you in restless nights.

You aggressively shook your head, swinging your legs over the dock. Sitting upon the wood, you watched the sun descend slowly, the stark yellows and whites of the sky beginning to darken. Ships docked and stayed, men with their filthy language and filthier intentions flocked outside, and strange women with too-tight corsets and lips too rosey, smirking at the newcomers, carrying out their own ways of living.

Sometimes, you’d watch this run-down life move on in this exact same spot, thanking the lucky stars for not being one of the boys with the weights on their backs, nor the girls with the untied top corsets. You thanked the same man, who brought you out of that hell, giving you the chance to fight all this wrong embedded in London.

You also thanked him, especially that day, for calling you that endearment.

God. The man was a criminal, yet you were the one being imprisoned.

“____!”

You turned, heaving to your feet when you see Jisung running to you, packages in his hands. “Your gown’s inside!” He exclaimed, gummy smile lighting up his entire face.

Throwing you the box, you caught it just before it flew into the Thames, shooting the boy a wary glare. “Careful,” you said, looking over the silk ribbon tied into a perfect bow upon the middle. Although there were greater happinesses in life, small ones such as new dresses had you in near giggles.

“I’ve got my very own tailcoat now,” Jisung yelled, ripping open the packaging, about to whip out his new clothing when you waved him to stop.

“Do it inside, Ji, or you’ll ruin your outfit!”

“Trust him to fuck up a perfectly new suit before trying it on,” Changbin’s voice drawled through the dock, who held a box of his own. “Also, the boss is saying to quit dallying and start dressing!”

You obliged, holding onto your box tenderly as you entered a little building beside the main warehouse, consisting of everyone’s rooms and privies. Your eyes glanced to Chris’ bedroom door before pushing open the door to yours, stepping inside to the small, yet decorated space, filled with a board of knives and bows displayed upon one wall and an erratic strokes of paint brushed along the textured surfaces, courtesy of Jisung and Changbin’s lack of motivation to finish your room. An undone bed was tucked into the corner, and a large mirror stood on its curled railing in the other corner, revealing yourself, hands underneath the package.

The sun fell further, sky being painted with dark oranges and purple and pinks, staining your bedroom the colours of soft autumn as you put your package on the bed, untying the ribbon and unboxing the whole treat.

The first glance of the dress had you smiling in pure incitement.

You brought the dress out of its box, letting it trail free right down to your toes, holding it to arm’s length to examine the details : it was a mysterious, dark red, a colour which instantly attracted attention within the golds of the ballroom. The neck line was low, dipping just enough to tempt until it swelled over for the openings for the arms, black ruffles on the fabric to accentuate off shoulders. The intricate, midnight detail was stitched to perfection, creating a network of swirls upon the bodice before flaring out into the wider skirts. Dear God, you had never seen such an exquisite dress on any noble lady in this damned city.

Your smile grew a little wider. Christopher Bang, once again, has not disappointed.

You turned it on it’s back, mouth parting in surprise at the silk lacing, undone and trailing down the dress, waiting to be tied and admired. Realising that we’re you to wear this, the entire ball would see your back half-exposed. Even the man you’re to be escorted with.

The thought alone made your insides sing.

Chris had ordered this dress. He knew what he was acquiring for you, what he asked you to dare.

Well, you were happy to oblige. Something within you wished to see his eyes blaze at you in the gown.

Closing the curtains of your room, you quickly lit up a metallic lamp, orange light leaking onto your dresser and walls. Setting the source upon a stool, you began shedding your coat, tossing it on the bed before going to the dresser.

You spent about ten minutes on your hair, lifting locks upward and curling them into a messy bun. You brought out clips of pearls, attaching them at the back of your hair, letting the few stray curls bounce along your ears and neck.

After finishing your hair you began shedding your clothing, excitement rushing in your gut at the thought of wearing the ballgown. When you were adorned in nothing but your underthings, you grabbed onto the arms of the new dress, entering one leg into the opening before sliding the other. You raised the gown, fitting the bodice upon yourself and the short sleeves cuffing just under your shoulders.

Looking over your shoulder at the back, it was bare before the mirror, saving your rear only with a small dip which was edged with more black lace. The laces for tightening the back still hung uselessly, begging to be entangled with their partners.

And you tried to oblige. You truly did, straining your hands behind your back and trying your hardest to tie the laces with the opposites, of creating a pattern adequate enough for the ball and announce your preparation. Unfortunately for you, your fingers refused to assist you that moment in the evening.

Letting out an irritated sigh, you called for your friends.

“Jisung!” you shouted, hands endeavouring still. “Changbin!”

Your back still to the door, you waited for the two fools to arrive, but no one came. Again, you called their names, but to no avail, only silence answering you.

“I swear to the Lord,” you muttered, arms now starting to hurt from the stretching. You were about to bring the warehouse down with your roar when you heard the door quietly creak open, the sound of boots emitting against the floor.

“Ah, finally,” you began as you turned around, hands clutching the bodice of the dress, ready to be irritated by your comrades when all words abandoned your tongue.

There, standing by the door, in all his midnight-tainted glory, was Chris Bang.

You hated how your eyes widened at the sight of him.

The man always took care of his appearance, but that evening he had truly outdone himself - His infamous woollen longcoat was hung over his arm, exposing his black tailcoat, shining slightly in the flickering lamp light. His waistcoat underneath fit snug, and his white cravat tie peaked just above the lapels, caressing his Adam’s apple. His raven locks were slicked back, a few stray flyaways drooping over his forehead. The gloves were worn still, skin never exposed.

You caught his eyes flicker, something within stirring at seeing you, holding onto your dress in case it fell to the floor. The prolonging silence was shattered when you forced yourself to speak.

“Chris,” you said, because his name was the first thing, the only thing you could comprehend.

He, too, inhaled, slowly. “Jisung and Changbin...they’re outside, so they could not hear.”

“Oh.”

Another round of silence. God, you wished you could just say something to him, anything which wasn’t a single syllable—

“____.”

You snapped into focus. “Yes?”

“Why did you call them?”

Blinking, you stumbled, “I, I just needed help with…” your hand gestured to your back. “...with the laces.”

There was an indecipherable undertone in his next words. “You could have called me.”

“You’re here now.”

Again. The world-heavy pause upon the both of you.

A few more seconds ticked by when Chris set his coat upon the dresser chair. His eyes never left yours.

“Turn around.”

You dragged your gaze away from his as you complied, baring your back before him, laces dangling. His footsteps sounded from behind you, and his presence was felt, large and magnetic.

Leather sliding from skin, you sensed his eyes on you, taking in your illuminated skin. You had the greatest urge to shiver, but suppressed it, waiting for his next move.

A small breath hitched in your throat when Chris grabbed onto the first pair of laces and tugged them back, pulling you to him.

Almost too conveniently, your rear backed against his crotch, and a minute noise escaped you before putting some distance between you two again. You instantly regretted the action, already missing the mere caress of what lay underneath his trousers.

“Stop fidgeting,____,” he ordered, and you immediately stilled, the tug still adamant at your back. Almost disgraceful how quickly you listened to him.

Slowly, he tied the first bow, right to the small of your back. When he started on the second, though, the first touch of his fingers against your back threw you off guard.

You should have expected this. You should have known from the start of his task that his fingers would graze your skin but each caress was like a lick of fire, threatening to singe the skin. Your breath caught in your throat, each time Chris touched you.

Those damned fingers skirted upwards, tying up the laces with such delicacy it nearly softened your stance, if only you didn’t notice his growing warmth. You realised with no small amount of pleasure that he, too, was possibly flustered.

Christopher Bang. Flustered over a girl.

You almost gasped when his hands brought a few stray curls over your shoulder, the dip of your neck exposed as he began the final bow of your gown. The process was excruciatingly slow, each little caress enough for you to turn around and—

And what?

How you desperately wanted to find out.

Sensing the ribbon curling upon your neck, you understood.

“It is done,” he whispered, and you shifted at the sigh which kissed your skin. God, he was so close, you were scared that if you turned around his lips—

You did not need to worry when you felt strong hands grip your shoulders, whirling you around in a sudden fashion. Your eyes widened at the close proximity of his face, his beautiful fucking face, and the warm, slender hands on your naked shoulders.

“Chan,” you let yourself say, and you swore the criminal’s eyes darkened. His grip on you tightened.

Perhaps he would have closed the distance, saved you from desperation when someone knocked on the goddamn door.

“___?!”

“Hurry up, the carriage is waiting!”

“Women, honestly—!”

You yelped at the sound of your friends bellowing behind the door. Even Chris looked a little surprised, a slight tick in his jaw as the noise grew louder.

Grabbing onto your skirts, you thundered towards the door, furrowing your brows as you twisted the knob, opening to see the same two idiots, shooting you irritated glares.

“Is Miss Fancy-Shmancy finally ready?” Changbin drawled, propping a hand upon his hip, tails of his coat dangling behind him.

“Madame certainly took her time,” Jisung went on, sauntering into your bedroom without a care. “Might as well not attend the ball at all—”

His incessant rambling was instantly ceased when he saw Chris standing before you, putting on his gloves. His face was impassive as ever, save for the jaw still tightened.

“Oh, Chris,” he said, and started backing away to the door. “The carriage is outside.”

“Let us go, then,” he only replied as he grabbed his longcoat, strolling out of your bedroom, leaving your skin tingling and heart confused.

Changbin watched Chris exit the building, turning to you with a raised brow. “What was the Mr. Thorns-up-his-arse doing in your room?”

You scoffed at the nickname, picking up the invitations from the dresser. “He was just helping me.”

Jisung’s lips curved into a smirk. “Helping you…?”

“Stop it!” You demanded, but both of the boys could see the blush on your cheeks, even from the dim lamp light.

“Come on, now,____,” Changbin said, holding out an arm, and hitting Jisung’s arm to do the same. “Let us follow Chris before he shouts at us for keeping you here.”

“Don’t say such things,” you cooed, looping your arms with the two boys. “He will kill you outright instead.”

Laughter emitted from the two, leading you out of the room, down the halls and soon the building.

The carriage was waiting at the entrance of the dock, horses neighing softly at your arrival. Jisung opened the carriage door, letting you climb inside. Chris, inside already, held out a hand, you taking it as he had you sit beside him. His hard figure brushed against your shoulders, reminding you of his fingers on your back not too long ago.

Just like that, you slumped against the seating. That man was truly going to be the death of you.

When the two boys scrambled inside, Chris’ hand thudded against the roof, indicating it to start riding. The carriage obliged to his command.

The small, interwoven streets widened as the carriage rode upon the main roads, going faster with each signal of Chris’ hand. The inside was alive with Jisung gloating shamelessly over his checkered waistcoat, with Changbin giving reassurances for his “ugly face ruining the clothing.” You laughed at every jab the two threw at each other, but would tense at the erratic touches Chris’ knee would send with every shake of the vehicle. Although the many layers of skirts cushioned these brushes, the blood rushing to your cheeks was evidence enough - everything he did made you so unhinged.

Soon, the big roads led from filthy, back-to-back housing to larger homes, the further the dirty central city strayed from you. A few touches of countryside teased your view when you saw mansions, estates the size of neighbourhoods gracing the surroundings. The carriage began to slow down, as more people adorned in fine attire entered your window view, no doubt going to the same destination as the gang.

The most illuminated estate welcomed you as the carriage stopped right before its vast, colourful gardens, smattering of couples taking intimate walks along the hedges. Chris, noticing the destination, opened the door, Changbin following suit. As the former got out he held out his hand to you. Surprised by his sudden manners, you took his hand, stepping down from the carriage, careful of your skirts as they brushed against the pavement. Jisung and Changbin were right beside you, uttering the driver to come back within a couple of hours.

“Now,” Chris began, bringing your hand to his arm. “You both stay behind me and ____. You wouldn’t need invitations if you both act like our bodyguards.”

“Right behind you, boss,” Jisung chanted, counting his knives inside his coat pockets. Changbin took one of the weapons from him, sliding it up his trouser sleeve, securing it with a leather ankle strap.

“Right.” the gang all looked at each other, silent understanding passing between all of you.

“Let’s ruffle some rich feathers.”

With your hand still on his arm, the leader of the Sons of Seoul led his gang inside of the massive estate.

Guards at the entrance shot you grave looks as they stopped you. “Invitations,” they said. You obliged, bringing out the golden paper. They looked over, convinced, and gave them back to you.

You and Chris were about to enter when Jisung and Changbin were stopped behind you. “Protection,” Chris said, but the guards were unconvinced.

“They need invitations too,” was their answer.

Dread, slight yet present, began to fill your stomach. Has the mission failed before it could even begin?

“I suggest you let them in, too,” Chris only said, black eyes piercing the two men with a glare. “Or my friend hosting this party will hear of this inconvenience.”

That seemed to stir the guards, for they said nothing more, letting your friends enter the estate. Jisung and Changbin made sure to smirk at the men before sauntering inside behind you.

Your eyes, upon stepping inside the main hall, were welcomed with paradise.

Gold. gold upon gold was painted, lined, moulded everywhere, upon the walls, on the floor, on the painted ceiling, hypnotising you with its kaleidoscopic pattern. Swirls of white and silver journeyed along the walls, and the floor bore solid treasures, sculpted into the ground and shining exquisitely from the chandelier lighting. Hundreds of lords and ladies, businessmen and escorts populated the manor, either being moved by the orchestral band, dancing, helping themselves to food from the lines of dishes or simply mingling among others.

It was the chaos of the rich. A place you didn’t quite fit in.

You stole a glance at the man beside you. Even though he looked contained as ever, you felt his arm tightening all over. Perhaps he knew he did not belong in this world either.

The grim understanding was cut off when Changbin’s shrill gulp sounded from behind you.

“Scones!”

The man immediately dashed towards the food section, earning blatant laughter from his friends as Jisung stepped beside Chris. “Once he’s done stuffing himself, we’ll get into positions.” He skirted his eyes over the buzzing crowd. “I have already spotted some of Carter’s men in different corners of the hall, so we can see where they’re going to go.”

“Any signs of Carter?” you asked, already feeling suggestive eyes on your body, the dark red curves of your figure.

“He’ll show himself soon,” Chris promised, beginning to take a step forward. “The bastard thrives in attention.” He turned to Jisung. “Make yourself scarce.”

He then saw Changbin making himself much too comfortable with the jam scones rapidly declining in his wake. “And for God’s sake, control Changbin.”

Jisung shook his head, mocking a salute before strolling to his friend. You and him were left to your own activities, and soon you felt the tug of his body, leading you further into the hall.

You looked up to see him scouring the room. His brows furrowed slightly, that stiffness felt underneath your fingertips. “Chris,” you called to him, and were answered with an uncertain stare.

“I’m alright,” he said, walking along the lines of the dance floor, looking away when he gave you the false assurance.

You did not know what was going on. In other missions his composure would never falter — this was what he was so notorious for, being calm despite the anarchy around him. Never before had you seen him so tense.

“Stop it.”

You blinked back into reality. “What?”

“You’re doing it again,” he hissed, raking his hand through his hair. “Looking at me that way. Like I’m about to snap.”

A pout formed on your lips, looking up at him underneath your lashes. “I can sense you’re distressed.” You squeezed his arm in comfort. “I cannot help if I worry for you, Chris.”

With small surprise, you found him soften, only slightly. “I just…” he sighed in exasperation. “I hate parties.”

You understood the connotations. Wealthy parties. The men and women who throw them.

“And I, too,” you agreed, earning a soft snort from the man. Your heart warmed a little at the sound, and thankfully the tension faded between the two of you, not necessarily from each other but from the socialites around you.

Your heart, however, received no such rest, beating much too loud for your liking.

The two of you took another turn of the room before a low, arrogant drawl paused you both in your tracks.

“Mr Christopher Bang.”

You and your leader both sighed simultaneously.

Turning, you tilted your head upwards to none other than ‘Scar’ Carter, smirking ridiculously down at the the two of you. He was something out of a children’s book, the grotesque villains with wanned skin and beady looks, ready to pounce and make you disappear without you ever realising. Although young, he looked to be in his mid-forties, unkept locks and curled moustache, being played by his fingers.

He held out his other hand, extending the smile to the man beside you. “Always a goddamned blessing to see you.”

Chris assessed his hand for a moment before he let go of your grip on his arm, slipping off his gloves. His own olive coloured hands were roughened, no doubt from years of manual labour. He took Carter’s hand, shaking the greeting in place, and the latter turned his enemy’s hold, looking over at the new image inked upon the hand.

“What is this, Chrissy?” He mused, the nickname causing the said-man’s lips to twitch. “Some flowery poetry?”

Your eyes strayed to what he meant; just under his thumb, where the joint began, was a tattoo, inked deeply in a cursive hand. It was a phrase you had never knew the meaning of, nor had you asked, but the Latin was beautiful on his textured skin.

NON DUCOR DUCO.

“Not poetry, Carter,” he only said, tracing his sole tattoo with a finger. “But something I live by.”

Despite Carter towering over the man, Chris Bang pinned him with a piercing glare. His signature phantom smile appeared on his lips.

“I am not led. I lead.”

The giant’s shit-eating grin faltered. You could not help but let a small chuckle escape at his reaction.

And maybe you shouldn’t have shown amusement, because when he focused his animalistic gaze upon you, you had the sudden urge to hold onto the man beside you again.

“Ah, Miss ____,” he jeered, mocking a deep bow which you did not return. “Chris’ little...protégée.”

He then held out his hand to you, and you knew it was not to shake the gnarled fingers. “Would you do me the honour of dancing with you?”

You scoffed, anger bubbling within your veins. How dare he even ask you, after all the trouble he had caused for the gang? Smirking as if it was all a little game.

Your mouth parted, ready to reject him outright when a warm hand settled on your back.

Chris’ fingers stroked the exposed skin, skirting over the lacing, and despite the heavenly feeling, you knew what this signal really meant.

Distraction. This would be the perfect opportunity to divert Carter’s attention while Chris joined in the other’s search. Listening to the instrumental, you realised that would spare them another five minutes.

Reigning in your fury, you offered the bastard a thin-lipped smile before taking his hand, already missing the mere touch of another seconds before.

Carter led you to the dance floor among the other dancers, you hardly radiating the same enthusiasm as the others accompanying you. The man’s other hand, one still holding yours, snaked around your waist, and you hated how it felt against your back, pure distaste staining your features as he tried to impersonate the idle lace curling that Chris did.

As if it physically hurt, you propped a hand upon his shoulder, and when the music began, the game started.

The giant kept ogling at you as the sly grin appeared on his lips. “I must say, I am very envious of Chris.”

You matched his stare. “Of course you would,” you only said, trying your best to sound like your leader, who was an embodiment of calmness. “You can never be the man Chris is.”

“Oh, I did not mean by what he is, my lady,” he corrected. “I meant by what he has.”

He pulled you to him, much to close, and you hissed as the fingers behind you played on your back. “He is much too lucky to possess a creature like you, Miss ____.”

Good God. If he endeavoured to make you as uncomfortable as possible, then he was doing a splendid job. You regretted ever listening to Chris, but for the plan, you will do what is necessary.

As if on cue, you felt dark, piercing eyes on you. By the little hairs which stood at the back of your neck, there was no doubt who watched over you, murmuring progress with Jisung as he sipped wine on a tightly held flute.

“Tell me, sweet,” he began once more, making you lose your thoughts, turning about the room as the music went on. “Why do you work for a man like him?”

You sighed at the question. Truly this man did not know how to initiate small talk. “Why is that any of your concern?”

“Because I’ve seen you in action,” he answered, and you could not mistake the awe that threatened to expose in his voice. “You have incredible potential, my lady, and it pains me that Chris does not use you properly. You waste your efforts in a silly gang.”

His condescending speech made you dig his nails in his hand. “Careful, Carter,” you seethed, watching his face crumple in pain from your action. “The silly gang you speak of will not hesitate to obliterate your entire organisation. And neither will I.”

Rage flashed in his eyes as he grinned at your claim. “I doubt the esteemed Christopher Bang would even let you participate,” he drawled, grazing his fingers against your back. “You being his whore is enough for him.”

You parted your mouth in slight shock. The reaction quickly evaporated with pure, unadulterated fury. A lot of people speculate your true relationship with Chris, but your own demeaning always struck deep. How dare people think that you only have the power you have because you slept with the greatest criminal in the city?

With your head raging, you sent your low heel down upon Carter’s boot, a yelp escaping the man as his dancing faltered, grip on you loosening. Fortunately for you, the orchestra smoothed their music to a close, and small applause rang around the room, you joining as you smiled at Carter’s slight groaning.

When the giant looked at you again, all his arrogance was gone, instead a face of wrath. “You bitch-”

You were sure he was going to strike, despite hundreds in the ballroom. Even your smug demeanour dampened when you saw his bear-like hand raise when its journey was paused.

Ceased completely as Chris’ hand wrapped around Carter’s wrists.

Your leader’s smile was sharp, like a decorated dagger. “Are you already creating a scene, just when you finished the first dance?”

Carter, dumbfounded by his enemy’s sudden presence, waved off the foreign grip on his hand. “You are never going to find the documents,” he crowed, glaring at the two of you.

Chris, the magnificent bastard, only kept his magnetic smirk as he took your hand, enveloping his fingers with yours. “We shall see about that,” he promised, and dipped his head in adieu, turning on his heel and taking you with him.

You felt your heart flutter when his grip on you stayed, even when Carter stomped off into the crowd. “Bastard,” you hissed. A hum of agreement followed.

Soon, music began to play a sensual tune, and you looked to the couples joining in the main circle of the floor. You made to leave that area when you felt the man refused to be led.

You looked back, noticing an uncertain emotion swirling in his eyes. “The dance is about to begin.”

“So?” he merely said, hands still clasping yours. The people around you began to take positions.

“Chris,” you got out. “You do not dance.”

A small smile enveloped his mouth at the claim. He answered in wrapping a hand around you, making you suck in a breath. You caught sight of the tattoo inked on his skin as he raised his hold on. NON DUCOR DUCO.

I am not led. I lead.

“You’re right,” he admitted. As the first tune of the violin settled in the ballroom, the man took a step. “But I let it slide on special occasions.”

You did not reply, only staring at him as you happily let him turn you about the dance floor.

Your assumptions were correct - Chris Bang was a wonderful dancer. The man already possessed a natural smoothness in his usual movement, but the way he led you across the room gave fluidity another meaning entirely. His hand on your back was an anchor to reality, keeping you from dreaming away in the skies above, and his fingers, interlocked with yours, were a silent promise that he was never letting you go.

You were so caught up in your fantasies that you did not hear what Chris said until he called your name.

“____.”

You perked up, raising your brows. “Yes?

“Did Carter say anything to you?” His fingers on your exposed skin began to caress you, and it took a lot within you to stay calm. “You were seething while you both danced.”

Oh, so he was watching you. The information didn’t help your nerves. “He was being his usual, charming self,” you drawled, careful of your feet.

He paused a bit at your unhelpful answer. “I see,” he got out, index curling with the ribbon of your back. You let out a shuddered breath, not going unnoticed by the man.

You changed the subject, focusing on the mission. “Are Jisung and Changbin still searching for the documents?”

Chris, on the note, twirled you delicately, and brought you back into his arms. “They have discovered the hideout, and have taken down half the men,” he informed, and you sighed in relief. “They’ll find what we’re looking for soon.”

“I hope so, too,” you murmured, listening to the music ascend in its pitch.

So much finery radiated in this room. As your eyes drifted to the surroundings once more, you became slightly envious of the family fortunate enough to reside in this estate, and drink in the liquid gold splattered everywhere in the vast hall. Complaints were heard from a rather nasty woman, who screamed at a young servant for spilling wine on her oh so expensive dress, and the jewellery which glittered upon necks and ears.

This. you hated this. Despised the wealth which accumulated in this ball, this entire neighbourhood. Not months ago you were about to die from the lack of food in your stomach. No doubt these people simply relished another one of these many balls, occurring every season.

It was the only reason the Sons of Seoul existed in the first place. To battle the ranks of the rich, and establish a sense of justice which had long faded from London.

Perhaps Chris sensed your growing disgust at the environment, for he sighed. “I hate these people.”

You nearly smiled at how similar you both think.

His touches still had you nearing closer to him as he continued, “I hate how everyone here can simply enjoy themselves without a care in the world. I hate the Mayor for letting this chaos happen as he sits back on his arse, corruption spiking under his office.”

His anger grew. “I hate that pig-headed prick Carter and all the trouble he’s brought me. I hate that he stole those documents and constantly fucks with me as if we two had not crawled out of the same hellhole.

“And God,” he snapped, pure venom now lacing his tongue, “I hate how he was touching you as if you were no one but his.”

Your eyes widened at the confession.

He groaned out in frustration, fingers tightening on your hand. “I hate how Jisung and Changbin walked in on us this evening. Despise that the moment I was about to close the distance they burst through the door, leaving me helpless. And I hate feeling helpless.”

You did not know what to say, what words to comfort him with. Not when you were thinking the exact same thing, and felt the exact same agitation, particularly at your core.

The man leaned in, eyes heavy lidded. “You know what I hate the most, ____?”

Gulping, you let out a little, “What?” afraid of what he was going to reveal.

His tongue ran along his bottom lip, fingers continuing their teasing.

“I-” he seethed, gripping your back tightly. “Fuck, I hate how ravishing you look in that dress.”

You parted your mouth in shock, blushing the colour of roses. “Why do you hate that?” you only asked, breath almost lost in your lungs as your blood began to thrum beneath your skin.

His eyes lost all dreamy light when a small curve enveloped his lips. “Because, my dear ____,” he muttered hoarsely, each breath ragged, “It makes me think of all the things I want to do to you.”

The strong hand on his back was felt much more, fingers playing with the laces of your dress. You nearly cried out in front of a hundred people over their idle play, and his bold, bold statement.

Chris relished in your whimpering reaction. “Aren’t you going to ask me?” he whispered, leaning in till his mouth hovered near your ear. “Do you not want to know what I wish to do to you?”

“What,” you rasped out, grip tightening over his neck. “What are you going to do?”

His husky chuckling nearly sent you over the edge. “I’ll find a nice little space, away from Carter and all these people,” he began, breath caressing your skin. “Then I’ll kiss you slowly, like so.” he pressed a chaste kiss underneath your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “These hands of mine will roam all over, but they will gladly trail up your legs, ____.

“And God, when my hands stop at your sopping cunt, I’ll make it cry with my fingers.” He drummed his fingers on your back. “One.” Tap. “Two.” Tap. “Three of them.” Tap. “Perhaps you’d like more.”

You whined into his shoulder, feet stumbling as you clung onto him tighter. “M-more,” you pleaded quietly, so careful to keep dancing, move along to the music.

“Of course you would,” he only cooed in your ear, and you were scared you would collapse over his words. “Luckily for you, I wouldn’t be finished with you either.”

Your hand, clasped in his his, squeezed at his words. “Chris, please—”

“Yes, just like that,” the man mused, whirling you on the dance floor. “Just like that, you’ll beg me to send you over the edge, but I won’t let you be satisfied so easily.”

On God and all his subjects, if he did not cease his filth you were going to come onto the floor by his mere words. You could tell Chris noticed, almost reading your mind as the ghost of a smirk widened. “Already afraid, love?”

Love.

Dear, fucking God.

“You see, ____,” he muttered, leading you to the final round of the song, the steps of the dance going faster. “I won’t let you be satiated with just my fingers.”

And as he broke his hold on you, twirling you with his tattooed hand, he pulled you to him, one last time, crushing you against his granite chest.

His eyes bore into yours when the last string of the violin wailed around the hall. All you could see was pure, unadulterated desire.

“I will have you writhing with my cock.”

Your eyes never left Chris’ as the music finally came to a close, gaze blurring at the dark promise. Applause scattered around the ballroom, yet your hands stayed upon his arm, the other enveloped in his.

You caught the words once more under his thumb. NON DUCOR DUCO.

Indeed you do.

“Chris,” you breathed out, waiting for him to let you go. He did no such thing.

Feeling a few suspicious eyes on you, your feet backed away from the man, hands escaping the feeling he emitted underneath your touch.

A whine threatened to escape you when you saw his desire had not dampened. His hands shook, only slightly, and your stomach erupted into a million butterflies, journeying lower and lower.

You wanted him. You wanted him so badly you feared you would faint on the dance floor.

Excusing yourself, you hastened your footsteps, sending a few smiles to passerbys as you picked up a flute of champagne, hurrying down long hallways, catching a few couples leaning towards each other. When you found a grand wooden cabinet beside another door, no doubt a guest room, you slumped next to it, breathing loud and ragged, too affected by a certain man’s eyes and the hidden intentions underneath. You drank the entire champagne in one gulp, propping the flute on a servant’s tray as he rushed by.

“____!”

Gasping, you turned to the source of the voice. The voice which filled you with such unexplainable hunger you had to clench your thighs as it drew nearer.

Footsteps thudded against the carpet, and you squirmed at the sight of Chris Bang, storming towards you with a ferocity which had your knees near buckling.

“Where,” he began, voice an octave lower as he stood not a foot from you, smacking his hands against the wall, caging you with his presence. “Were you trying to lead me?”

“Somewhere where they cannot see us,” you responded, excitement clear in your voice. The ballroom chatter was still within your range, so technically, anyone could wonder down these halls, look over the cabinet and catch you both.

The throbbing inside you didn’t particularly care.

“And what do you want me to do,____,” he murmured, and his voice was glazed with pure lust, “Which the world cannot see?”

“I…” slight shame tried to course through your body but the overflowing desire was too strong. Not when your tongue was not afraid to voice what was in your heart the moment you first saw him. “I want you to do all those things you said. I want you to ruin me.”

And perhaps that was all he needed, when Christopher Bang pressed his lips against yours and answered your prayers.

He was instantly rewarded with your surprised whine, drowned out by the movement of his mouth as his hands left the wall, holding onto your face. His thumbs caressed your cheeks as he led the fiery kiss, opening your mouth to let the little noises escape.

“Chris,” you tried to rasp out, but his lips refused once more as he tilted your head, gaining full access and truly discovering the sheer pleasure oozing from the swell of your lips. God, he had gone through every experience which gave him a sense of thrill, but the kiss he shared with you brought him a new, foreign high — as if he tried the drugs he had seen on the streets for the first time, and becoming addicted on the first dose.

You broke the kiss, gasping for air as the two of you shared a carnal gaze, chests rising at an unsteady rhythm. Chris was ruthless, only sparing you for a few seconds before pouncing back in on your mouth, this time tongue playing along, asking to be let inside and slide along the inner workings. You would have been a fool to refuse him.

The moment you opened your lips for him his tongue slithered inside, sliding it along the roof of your mouth, while his hands left your face and instead gripped onto your waist, driving you further against the wall, snuffing out any distance which dared come between you and him.

A slightly moan bubbled within your throat when he began to roughen your lips, capturing your tongue before closing the seam of your mouth within his own, repeating the action until you didn’t know whether you were sane or absolutely fucking crazy.

You were sure straight after when one of his hands began sliding down. Down. He hurriedly broke the kiss, letting out an angry groan at the never ending skirts which met with his fingers. “Fuck this dress,” he cursed as he descended a little, peppering kisses upon the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your neck, trailing until he found the hem of your skirts.

Bunching them up with his one hand, he lifted the fabric, baring your legs to the dimmed chandelier light from the main hall. His hand trailed right up to your core, a single layer hiding it from Chris’ fingers. The poor, soaked fabric could not ever compete, when the criminal, with a single finger as he scattered kisses upon your face, hooked under the lacey underwear, sliding it down your thighs. So much desperation lurked he did not even bother to slide it down to your ankles, a chuckle rasping out of him as his fingers skimmed your upper thighs to find them dripping with the suppressed arousal.

“My poor, poor, darling,” he whispered in a menacing tone, the other hand caressing your face, “Couldn’t contain yourself for me?”

“Ch-chan,” you heard yourself say, because at this point your soul was not present, probably lurking in seventh heaven where this man was taking you.

Hearing his name on your slurred mouth only had him plunging the first finger inside you.

You let out an obscenely loud moan, which was immediately followed by hushing. “Don’t make a sound,” he demanded, smiling slyly at your whimpering, “Or else I stop. Understand?”

You could not nod fast enough, and he huffed out a laugh before sliding the second finger in, rubbing against your slit, drawing circles upon your throbbing skin, testing the rather sticky waters of you and your fucked out state.

Satisfied, he delved the two fingers in deeper, pulsating against your walls until they hit a certain spot which had you crying out in pleasure. Chris’ heavy lidded warning flashed in his eyes.

You nearly cried when he began to slide his fingers out over your moaning, your hand immediately stopping him from pulling out further. “Ch-Chan,” you pleaded, pleaded like the whores you heard on the docks, but you didn’t care, did not give a single fuck when those fingers needed to be inside you again. “Chan, please, I’m sorry—”

“One more fuck up, ____, and these—” his fingers plunged back into you once more, hitching you upwards with the sheer force, “—will be back out.”

Nodding hastily, you left your hand on his wrist. Chris continued to work so deliciously inside you that it took every ounce of strength left in you not to bring the manor down with your moaning. The whimpering could not be contained, but the criminal let that slide, finding great contentment every time you begged for more.

He curled his slender fingers, acquainting himself with that same bloody spot which had you seeing stars. Your hands gripped onto his neck for stability, nails digging into his shirt. How you wanted it off, along with all the damned layers he adorned.

The way he played with your sweet spot had you feeling heavy, a pleasured ball of pain forming at your lower back. You knew you were being led to an edge, an edge you could not, did not want to escape, and when you pulled away from Chris, looking into his eyes, he instantly understood.

“Oh my, love,” he simpered, his free hand thumbing your cheek. “Does someone want to get fucked against the wall? When I’m not even finished with them yet?”

Tears lined your eyes, cunt throbbing almost painfully around his fingers. “Chan, I’m going to—ah!” you cut off, closing your eyes as you barely held on to your last grips of sanity. “Chan.”

Your weakened, fucked out demeanour had the most dangerous man in London fearing for his own senses. He wished nothing more than you screaming his name for the whole city to hear, and with you, looking at him like that…

Oh, he was definitely going to drive you over the edge.

Christopher Bang nearly carried out his promise when a shrill call interrupted you two.

“CHRIS! ____!”

“WHERE ARE YOU—?”

Your lust-glazed stare cracked as you blinked. “Chan,” you said his name, but the man let out an enraged roar. You felt the hollow emptiness when those golden fingers were pulled out of you, sticky residue coating his skin. The footsteps grew closer, the volume of the shouting increasing.

Chris brought out a white handkerchief, cleaning your mess on his fingers rather aggressively. “I’m going to fucking kill them,” he guttered out, making your legs tremble. To your utmost misery you felt the orgasm, so close before, fading from existence, and you made a silent vow to break Jisung and Changbin’s legs the moment all of this was over.

Speaking of the Devil, the two hastened, opening all doors and closing them till the two stumbled upon the both of you, infuriated and worryingly turned on.

Changbin looked at the deflated expression on both of yours faces. “Chris? ____?” His eyes narrowed, trying to work out the reasons for the slight electric atmosphere he suddenly entered in. “Are you both...alright?”

“Perfectly,” the man answered in a ragged hiss, sliding on his gloves again, smoothing over his raven locks. “Now why the fuck are you both here?”

The two boys did not understand their leader’s anger. Choosing to let the snipe slide, Jisung said, “We’ve caught Carter.”

That seemed to send you and Chris back in reality. Well, not really, when your core still throbbed, the pleasure fading with each passing second.

“Where is he?” Chris flattened out his coat. “Where are the documents?”

Changbin brought out a small file from inside his waistcoat, holding it out for the former. “Right here.”

Chris took the file, skimming through the contents. His previously angered expression relaxed, just a fraction, and he held onto it as he set his powerful gaze on you all.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

The four of you managed to slip away easily, you trying your hardest to fix yourself after the whole fiasco in the hallway. Your heart was still running a mile per minute, refusing to calm as your mind relived the events. The original carriage which you all arrived in was now accompanied with another one, with a dark figure hunched over from the window’s view.

“We threw the giant fucker in another carriage,” Changbin said, laughing as he recalled the takedown with Jisung. “Man could not believe he was failing!”

Chris ignored his story, turning to you all as he stood before Carter’s carriage. “You three, take the free one,” he ordered, his eyes rooted on you. “I will journey home with him.”

“But Chris,” you began, taking a step towards him, “Let me come with you.”

You caught a glimpse of the desire which swirled in his eyes, not long ago, and perhaps that was why he held your arm in his now gloved hand.

“Go,” he only said. “I have a few things to say to him alone.”

After letting you go, nodding at the boys behind you, Chris Bang stepped inside the first carriage, slamming the door shut. The metal wheels screeched as the whole thing began to move, accelerating away.

You watched the carriage fade from view, Jisung and Changbin stepping beside you.

“What happened, ____?” the former asked, the other trying to comfort you with his gaze.

Silence was their only answer, as you turned on your heel, climbing inside your designated ride and watched the stars twinkle from the window.

The two members of the gang really tried their best.

As you all journeyed home without your leader, the pair told their tale of how they took down Carter and his men, Jisung adding exaggerated gasps as Changbin demonstrated each kill he thrust upon his victims. You offered them a few laughs, giving them your attention, but really your mind was somewhere else, specifically a midnight-tainted criminal who nearly brought you your undoing.

You were insane. Insane as you thought of him, insane as you remembered how wonderfully he had you writhing over him, just by his fingers. The mindless pondering alone had your cunt pulsating, and you deserved an award for how unaffected you acted with your friends.

Soon, the carriage slowed to a stop, and you perked up, not realising you had already arrived home.

You waited for the boys to exit before you stepped out of the carriage, the only light on the docks emitting from lamps and the night sky, reflected on the surface of the river. The first carriage was already there when your feet met the concrete floor, and when you turned to the man who reigned in your mind he had his signature expression, an aloof distaste as he walked over to his gang.

“Jisung, Changbin,” he called, and the boys responded. “Lock the carriage door,” he ordered, jerking his chin towards his transport. “We will bring him out in the morning.”

“Chris, should we not throw him in the cellar?” Changbin glared at Carter’s direction. “Bastard might escape.”

He only slid his hands in his pockets, you catching the dried blood on his gloves. “Oh, don’t worry about that,” he said, striking a step towards the building. “He’s not going to disturb us tonight. I can promise you that.”

Jisung cursed low along with you, only watching the man walk back to the bedrooms. Bidding goodnight to your friends, you followed Chris’ trail, opening the door and stepping inside the hallway.

You saw him before his bedroom door, bringing out a rusted key. His eyes slid to you as your feet brought you to your entrance. You looked back, waiting as Chris unlocked his room and began to enter.

He turned back, something dark and twisted still lurking in his eyes.

You waited, so patiently at the words you wished to hear, of him finally ruining you.

Instead, you received something else entirely.

“Goodnight, ____.”

And closed the door behind him.

Your heart dropped.

Fell to the floor, and shattered under the criminal’s bloodied boots.

The light of the hallway flickered as you stood rooted to the doorway, eyes staring at Chris’ door as if looking at it hard enough would get him to change his mind.

What did you know. The man is not led by exterior forces. Only by his own will.

When you gathered up the strength to the slam the door shut, you slumped against the wood, hating yourself for the tears which threatened to break the lines of your eyes. This was pathetic — utterly disgusting that you were about to cry over his decision.

But you could not help it. You were so enraptured by him. Hell, you were ready to throw yourself in the fires of damnation for him, as he whispered filth all the while rutting against you. Why had that suddenly changed?

“Argh!” You screamed, stomping over to the lamp, light now long extinguished. You relit it’s spark, illuminating the room once more, and set it on the stool before recklessly plucking out the pearls in your hair, a few tears daring to trail down your cheeks.

Fuck him. Fuck him for making you so rattled. Fuck him for having that effect on you.

You looked into your mirror and cursing yourself for the disheveled appearance. Again, the consequences for letting yourself fall for him.

“To hell with you Bang Chan,” you cursed.

You were about to untie your dress when your bedroom door was nearly ripped off its hinges.

Flinching, you grabbed the dagger on your dresser, raised to cut down whoever stupid enough to barge in on an assassin at midnight.

You were met with Christopher Bang.

And the disorder he brought with him.

Chaos reigned in his figure; his tousled locks, his star-struck expression, his rolled-up sleeves and his pandemonic eyes, all working together and against each other to create the man you had never seen in your life.

Good God. What had happened to him?

“Chan?” You got out, dagger now brought down. He said not a single word in response as he slammed the door shut, hard enough for the entirety of London to hear.

Instead, he imprisoned you with his stare, almost giving you his chaos. The chaos you had always shared with him since the moment he picked you off the streets.

No, he said not one word — only took the steps needed to march towards you. You could only watch with widening eyes when he grabbed your face in his rugged hands and collided his lips against yours.

You did not even hesitate to comply, hands grabbing onto his shirt, pulling him as close as you possibly could, so afraid that he would disappear from your grip if you dared let go. With the way he moved his mouth along yours, however, already opening up the familiar workings, you had a feeling he was not going to abandon you now.

When he broke away, breathing already erratic, his hands slid down to your neck, thumbs caressing the length of your throat. “I couldn’t,” he started, and he was sprinkling kisses all over your face. “I couldn’t leave.”

“I was scared, Chan,” you confessed, fisting the material harder. “I thought you truly did.”

His eyes focused on you. Within the turmoil, there was a promise. “Never,” he whispered, leaning in. “Never again.”

And suddenly his lips were on you, and the desperation was so rooted he nearly stole the very breath from your lungs. The sheer intensity, the longing implied broke your heart to the point you attached yourself to him, wrapping your arms around him and refusing to ever let him go.

The rather soft kiss began to heat up, as Chris broke the seam of your lips, swirling your tongue in his, already receiving incoherent praise from deep down your throat, making the man smile against his lips as he continued.

His hands slid further down, right to the small of your back, where he began to untie all the little bows he created for you at the dawn of the evening, the little touches of fire singeing you still. It was fascinating how effortlessly he loosened all the laces, fingers sliding through the patterns until one by one they fluttered down, until the dark red dress slackened around your chest.

A small gasp escaped you as Chris, while creating a trail of kisses down your jaw, right down to your neck, grabs the dress from your sides, hitching it down until it falls to the floor. Leaving you practically naked save for the scraps covering your dangerously soiled underwear.

Chris paused from his ravishing, taking a much too long look at your skin, glowing from the lamp light, and before he could stare any longer you brought your arms to your chest, suddenly becoming a little too embarassed to let him see you at your most vulnerable.

The supposedly unfeeling criminal, however, nearly broke into a smile at your flustered nature, and grabbed onto your wrists, opening the lock to your breasts, peaked by his actions, and the thought of what was to come.

The soiled underwear was about to drip at this point.

“You’re exquisite,” was all he said, making you almost burst into tears at the praise. You pressed a long, heart shattering kiss upon his mouth, and he responded perfectly, hands sliding to your naked waist, each drum of his fingers like a tug towards a dangerous edge.

Things began to take a turn, open mouthed kisses being plastered on the skin of your throat as the man pushed you back, further and further until the back of your knees hit the bed, stopping you in his tracks. His grip on your waist directed downwards, planting you on the mattress as his mouth descended to your collarbone, down and down until he licked your peaked nipple in a way that had you moaning obscenely loud. His husky chuckle resonated along your skin, still not pausing his trail until he hit the end of the dip of your cunt, barricaded by the fabric.

The moment he looked up at you, that alone made you nearly undo yourself. By the increasing volume of your breathing, Chris seemed to realise so too.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he got out, watching you whimper at each touch caressing your hips. “Already about to come when I haven’t even done anything?”

“Ch-Chan,” you pleaded, wishing for those damned fingers of his to plunge inside of you. The son of a bitch was taking his time, making you wait knowing it pained you to stay like this. “Chan—”

His name on your tongue had him gritting his teeth, hands on each of your side grabbing onto your lace, and sliding your underwear down, all the way till it fell free from your legs and threw it across the room, forgotten when Chris parted his mouth at the moistened treasure between your legs.

Those roughened hands steeled their grip on your thighs, pulling you closer till you sat right on the edge of the bed, cunt mere inches from his face. You could not even comprehend the insanity of this situation, that the hidden fantasies you dreamed of shamelessly were morphing into reality right before your eyes.

“So, so pretty,” he murmured, blowing a little air on your slick folds, earning himself a sucked in breath from his truly. “So pretty and wet, and all because of me.”

You let out a ragged breath, words of filth sounding so foreign on his tongue. It was not like he didn’t talk like the sailors living near you on the docks, but these dirty words and dirtier intentions, now all directed at you, made you feel so flustered, in a wondrous way you could not possibly describe. All you wanted was for him to keep singing this filth till you blacked out.

Chris, with the force of his hands, spread your thighs a little wider, and without warning broke his tongue from the seam of his lips, planting it upon your slit and moving it slowly over the surface.

That alone made you cry out in ecstasy.

But that was only a test, a taking on of foreign surroundings before truly welcoming himself, and by God, did he welcome himself in as more than a guest, when that tongue slid deeper and performed strokes which had you seeing all the stars in the universe.

What was first slow teasing then became a starved hunt, tongue relishing in the sweet arousal you emitted, lapping it up brazenly as if he had been wanting to do this for a long, long time. Your blubbering grew louder with every lick, fisting the sheets behind you with such ferocity you were sure they’d tear.

And if that wasn’t painstakingly enough, the man spread your legs a little wider, his tattooed hand, two fingers out, sliding straight inside you, making you mewl at the way they tightened they walls they journeyed in. Curling, just like they did earlier in the evening, they took their time finding the certain little spot which had you bringing the house down with your cries.

“Ch-Chan, please, please, I’m going to—AH!” You rasped out, when the said-criminal found the sweet little undoing of yours and stroked your fingers along the sensitive spot, making that bundle of pleasure resonating in your back appear once more, like a low throbbing begging to be released.

His tongue had not given you any breaks, still working ruthlessly along your clit and you cried for him to give you that sweet release, to just let you come but he had not let you be satisfied this easily. No, he wanted you writhing underneath him, wanted the final ruination to be from underneath his trousers, angered as it outlined against his leather.

You craned your head back, screaming out his name because you knew all else had abandoned you. “Chan!” Looking down, his mouth very much occupied with your cunt. Your orgasm was reaching, was on the very edge, and if he kept working on you like this he was on his way to taste the consequences of his actions.

Something about that image made you want it as a reality with a worryingly strong intensity.

“Chan, I’m going to—” you were about to warn but were interrupted by a squeeze of your thigh, done by yours truly as if he knew. And as if he knew, the two fingers began pumping much faster, harmonising along with his tongue, and the two actions at once, fucking you with that rapidity was so pleasurable that, with the first earth-shattering cry of the night, you were driven over the edge, releasing your orgasm straight into the criminal’s face.

You felt the work of his fingers slow down, along with his tongue, that with one, final lick, he retreated from your cunt, fingers still inside you as they comforted your aching core with slow, soothing strokes.

When he looked up at you, though, with your residue mostly upon his mouth, scattered on his cheeks, and basically a bit of everywhere, that sight alone nearly caused you to come all over again.

Perhaps that was his intentions.

Because when he licked his lips clean of your mess, ever so slowly, as if enjoying your orgasm like a man starved, you instantly saw in his eyes that this night was not over yet.

“Already so good, so wonderful,” he mused, slipping his fingers out, both hands now resting on your thighs. “Coming so quick even though I had been saving for the last.”

You knew exactly what he meant, but still had the nerve to ask, “The last?”

He raised a groomed brow, and that gesture was so breathtaking, more so when he raised himself slightly, so he knelt eye-level to you. “Don’t act oblivious, love,” he mused, leaving your thighs to your disappointment, but quickly diminishing when his fingers worked on the buttons of his shirt, slowly popping upon, each patch of skin being revealed like a show of your own. “We both know this isn’t how it’s going to end.”

Shivers crawled down your spine, but you only watched as the man finished undoing his shirt, peeling it off of him and throwing it amongst the other clothing. You nearly let spit trail down your chin at the sheer finery of his muscle alone, sharpened at his arms, his chest all the way down to his v-line, which dipped dangerously low. With no small amount of pride, you also noticed the large, angry outline of Chris’ cock, begging to be set free.

The man caught you blatantly staring, and a shit-eating grin twisted his glistening lips. “You may do the honours if you’re so keen.”

Blushing, you mumbled a shut up, but was captured by Chris’ lips, tasting your own arousal on his tongue, as his grip on you led you further into the bed, while you fumbled on the buttons of his trousers, popping them open one by one when you broke from the kiss, your turn to shower him with more along the veiny expanse of his neck as you pulled his trousers down, tossing them among the pile.

When you saw the slight-stained underwear of his, you felt the familiar throbbing again, so affected by how you affected him. Noticing your apparent pride, he pressed his lips upon you in a searing kiss, peeling off any last scrap of clothing and forgetting that too among the other clothing.

And by God, when Chris Bang’s cock escaped from his underthings your mouth actually watered at the sheer size it bore. Husky laughter resonated in your ears, and you flushed the colour of blood when he caught you staring much too audaciously than he would have imagined.

“Already fantasising about my cock?” He slurred, the tattooed hand curling stray hairs from your sweat-slick, flushed face. The way you scrunched your nose, clearly flustered by his comment, melted his stone cold heart, as he caressed your cheeks with his fingers.

You did not answer him, only whispering his name along his skin, waiting and waiting for the man to drive that force home inside you. “Chan,” you murmured, and the name you kept saying like a religious chant, like it was the only word that mattered, was what brought him to grip his cock, directing it against your entrance, the still slick folds which grew more wet every time the tip caressed the sensitive skin. “Chan, please—”

“Please what?” He demanded, demanded because he needed to hear you precisely want you wanted. The words he practically prayed would be on your tongue the moment he kissed you for the first time this evening.

Obliging him was like second nature. “Please fuck me, Chan,” you breathed out, holding onto his shoulders, knowing you were going to need a hell of a good grip for what was about to arrive. “Please, just ruin me with your cock.”

A malicious smile curled upon his lips. “Good, good girl,” he purred, and began the descend which you dreamed of the very first night you realised you were ridiculously attracted to him.

His cock slid inside you, and with a soul-wrenching whine, was perfectly snug as the journey went on, and on, and on, until you were certain you could not take anymore, despite the man retaining a few inches. He was slow at first, making sure you were not going to be pained by this action. Although your nails dug into the granite muscle of his shoulders, you only egged him on. “M-more,” you only said, and he readily obliged, until you felt him all around you in your body, as if he had filled you up to the brim.

“Ready?” He asked, and when you nodded, he rested his forehead against yours as gently, he began to pull out.

You nearly whined at the lack of inches filling you up, but then he brought his cock back in, creating this hypnotic rhythm which was so unimaginably ethereal you felt yourself float amongst the clouds. Each thrust out and thrust in was a drive in and out of reality, with Chris Bang holding the tether of your survival, pulling you in and out of his mercy.

Gradually, he began to fasten, panting as his drove into you with more force, and when the momentum hardened, you felt your soul leave your body. His cock created wonders for you, having you scream in unimaginable pleasure, and driving your nails into his back was not enough, your lewd moaning not enough given to his sheer skill, his pure simplicity in bringing his cock back and front which had you seeing stars. Hell, Christopher Bang showed you undiscovered universes, leading you across galaxies and unfamiliar cosmos, each thrust in a different vision, and when he lifted your leg a little higher for more access, you feared that you would wake the whole docks with your groaning, for this criminal, this heartless criminal provided you with the whole universe with the simple strokes of his cock inside you, and all you could offer him were screams.

Even your reactions were pure Beethoven to his ears, relishing in your fucked out state as he gave you all he asked, driving you to the edge of the world. You, finally, clashed your lips against his, offering him sloppy, open mouthed kisses all over his face and neck, and that alone had him greeting his teeth, knowing his own release was near. You were going to die if he was not given the same pleasure as you, so you reacted with each of his touches, each of his thrusts, him practically pistoning you upon this bed which very much would break.

“Ch...Chan…” you grated out, eyes blurring, vision completely fucked, “I’m...I-I—”

“I—fuck,” he too got out, for your last love mark painted onto to the curve of his neck nearly had him ruined. “I’m going to come, too, love—”

“Chan!” You whined, because the throbbing was there, and was so close that if the man did not send that last thrust home then it was all for nothing, everything that had ever happened will all be for nothing.

But he listened. The man who did not listen to anyone or anything listened, and pounded his cock so hard in approval that it had you crying out to the cosmos as you finally let go, orgasm spilling out from whatever space the residue could find between his cock. Your own release had Chris groaning louder than he had even done this entire time, praising you unconditionally, until the filth was cut off by a low curse, with his own release barrelling into you, some joining your spilled mess upon the sheets.

Chris let out a shuddering breath, slowly crossing his movement inside you. Carefully, when you stopped digging your nails into his shoulders, he pulled out, reaching for the blanket untouched and bringing it over you and him before collapsing beside you. Both of you breathed as if you had held your oxygen for a thousand years, chests rising unevenly.

A silence hung over you two, heavy yet not uncomfortable, lingering in your bedroom. Chris sat up a little, using your pillows behind him as comfort as he raked his hair back, sweat-slick all over, much like you. You held the blanket right up to your chest, hair in disarray, much like your heart. The poor organ threatened to collapse at the events.

Sneakily, you caught a glance at the greatest criminal in London, staring off at the distance, mouth set in a concentrated line. He looked dashing even in his post-sex state, the lines of his chest still stark against his sweat. You truly had never seen a man this beautiful in your life.

He turned his head to you, catching your staring, and when you tried to look away he captured his chin with his fingers, making you meet his fierce stare. Although dark, the lust had satiated, and instead held passive affection. Well, you hoped it did.

“Why do you still look away?” He demanded in a low, tired voice.

You tried to slide your gaze to the lamp, but was too bewitched by his midnight eyes. “Because you’re beautiful, Chan,” you answered, feeling the blood rush to your face.

He cocked his head, damp curls sticking to his face. “You say that as if you are not,” he countered.

You did not say anything then. Even so, he received your answer.

“____,” he said in a low tone. The grip on your chin loosened, and the hand went to your cheeks, cupping your face. “You are truly flawless. Don’t make me have to make you believe that.”

A small smile hinted at your lips. “And what if I still don’t?”

His answering smirk sent butterflies tumbling once again. After a moment, as if hesitating, he then snaked his arm around you, pulling you closer to him. You were surprised when his one hand fully encircled you, while the other hand, the tattooed hand, rested upon your head, stroking your hair with his slender fingers. You did not pull away, was never going to, only wrapping your arm across his chest.

It was the first time you had ever seen Christopher Bang hug someone in his life.

“Chan?” You asked.

“Hmm?”

“Why did you get that tattoo?”

He paused for a minute, never ceasing his fingers intertwined in your locks. After a small sigh, which you felt beneath your own fingertips, he said, “It is simply something I live by.

“Non ducor duco. No one will lead me, love. Only myself.”

You pondered over the roots of this phrase, of the significance for the man you lay with.

“Good,” you said after a while. “I wouldn’t want anyone leading you either.”

With that, you gave into the soothing movement of Chris’ fingers, working lazily in your hair. And while you dozed off to sleep, the criminal mastermind of the biggest city in the world pondered some more, specifically over his motto.

NON DUCOR DUCO. A phrase which had stayed true for so long no one could ever change it.

But after tonight, as you slowly dozed off under Chris’ caresses, he wondered whether there isn’t one person he wouldn’t mind being led by.

And as he stole a soft glance at the specific person beside him, he knew.

He knew that although he will be led by no man, there is one woman who he would, to his own shock, happily be led for.

So, with that new, and slightly terrifying revelation, Christopher Bang went to sleep, knowing that someone had fucked with him and gotten away.

And he was willingly going to let it happen.

#stray kids imagines #stray kids smut #bang chan smut #bang chan imagines #stray kids dark hours #bang chan #stray kids #stray kids oneshot #kpop imagines #kpop smut #skz imagines #skz smut #chris bang #christopher bang #skz dark hours

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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Doctor Who: Perfect 10? How Fandom Forgets the Dark Side of David Tennant’s Doctor

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As recently as September 2020 David Tennant topped a Radio Times poll of favourite Doctors. He beat Tom Baker in a 2006 Doctor Who Magazine poll, and was voted the best TV character of the 21st Century by the readers of Digital Spy. He was the Doctor during one of Doctor Who‘s critical and commercial peaks, bringing in consistently high ratings and a Christmas day audience of 13.31 million for ‘Voyage of the Damned’, and 12.27 million for his final episode, ‘The End of Time – Part Two’. He is the only other Doctor who challenges Tom Baker in terms of associated iconography, even being part of the Christmas idents on BBC One as his final episodes were broadcast. Put simply, the Tenth Doctor is ‘My Doctor’ for a huge swathe of people and David Tennant in a brown coat will be the image they think of when Doctor Who is mentioned.

In articles to accompany these fan polls, Tennant’s Doctor is described as ‘amiable’ in contrast to his predecessor Christopher Eccleston’s dark take on the character. Ten is ‘down-to-earth’, ‘romantic’, ‘sweeter’, ‘more light-hearted’ and the Doctor you’d most want to invite you on board the TARDIS. That’s interesting in some respects, because the Tenth Doctor is very much a Jekyll and Hyde character. He’s handsome, he’s charismatic, and travelling with him can be addictively fun, but he is also casually cruel, harshly dismissive, and lacking in self-awareness. His ego wants feeding, and once fed, can have destructive results.

That tension in the character isn’t due to bad writing or acting. Quite the contrary. Most Doctors have an element of unpleasantness to their behaviour. Ever since the First Doctor kidnapped Ian and Barbara, the character has been moving away from the entitled snob we met him as, but can never escape it completely.

Six and Twelve were both written to be especially abrasive, then soften as time went on (with Colin Baker having to do this through Big Finish audio plays rather than on telly). A significant difference between Twelve and Ten, though, is that Twelve questions himself more. Ten, to the very end, seems to believe his own hype.

The Tenth Doctor’s duality is apparent from his first full appearance in 2005’s ‘The Christmas Invasion’. Having quoted The Lion King and fearlessly ambled through the Sycorax ship in a dressing gown, he seems the picture of bonhomie, that lighter and amiable character shining through. Then he kills their leader. True, it was in self-defence, but it was lethal force that may not have been necessary. Then he immediately topples the British Prime Minister for a not dissimilar act of aggression. Immediately we see the Tenth Doctor’s potential for violence and moral grey areas. He’s still the same man who considered braining someone with a rock in ‘An Unearthly Child’.

Teamed with Rose Tyler, a companion of similar status to Tennant’s Doctor, they blazed their way through time and space with a level of confidence that bordered on entitlement, and a love that manifested itself negatively on the people surrounding them. The most obvious example in Series 2 is ‘Tooth and Claw’, where Russell T. Davies has them react to horror and carnage in the manner of excited tourists who’ve just seen a celebrity. This aloof detachment results in Queen Victoria establishing the Torchwood institute that will eventually split them apart. We see their blinkers on again in ‘Rise of the Cybermen’, when they take Mickey for granted. Rose and the Doctor skip along the dividing line between romance and hubris.

Then, in a Christmassy romp where the Doctor is grieving the loss of Rose, he commits genocide and Donna Noble sucker punches him with ‘I think you need somebody to stop you’. Well-meaning as this statement is, the Doctor treats it as a reason to reduce his next companion to a function rather than a person. Martha Jones is there to stop the Doctor, as far as he’s concerned. She’s a rebound companion. Martha is in love with him, and though he respects her, she’s also something of a prop.

This is the series in which the Doctor becomes human in order to escape the Family of Blood (adapted from a book in which he becomes human in order to understand his companion’s grief, not realising anyone is after him), and is culpable for all the death that follows in his wake. Martha puts up with a position as a servant and with regular racist abuse on her travels with this man, before finally realising at the end of the series that she needs to get out of the relationship. For a rebound companion, Martha withstands a hell of a lot, mostly caused by the Doctor’s failings.

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Series 4 develops the Doctor further, putting the Tenth’s Doctor’s flaws in the foreground more clearly. Donna is now travelling with him, and simply calls him out on his behaviour more than Rose or Martha did. Nonetheless the Doctor ploughs on, and in ‘Midnight’ we see him reduced to desperate and ugly pleas about how clever he is when he’s put in a situation he can’t talk himself out of.

Rose has also become more Doctor-like while trapped in another reality, and brutally tells Donna that she’s going to have to die in order to return to the original timeline (just as the Doctor tells Donna she’s going to have to lose her memories of travelling with him in order to live her previous life, even as she clearly asks him not to – and how long did the Doctor know he would have to do this for? It’s not like he’s surprised when Donna starts glitching). Tied into this is the Doctor’s belief in his own legend. In ‘The Doctor’s Daughter’ he holds a gun to Cobb’s head, then withdraws it and asks that they start a society based on the morals of his actions. You know, like a well-adjusted person does.

What’s interesting here is that despite presenting himself as ‘a man who never would’, the Doctor is a man who absolutely would. We’ve seen him do it. Even the Tenth Doctor, so keen to live up to the absolute moral ideals he espouses, killed the Sycorax leader and the Krillitanes, drove the Cybermen to die of despair, brought the Family of Blood to a quiet village and then disposed of them personally. But Tennant doesn’t play this as a useful lie, he plays it as something the Doctor absolutely believes in that moment, that he is a man who would not kill even as his daughter lies dead. It’s why his picking up a gun in ‘The End of Time’ has such impact. And it makes some sense that the Tenth Doctor would reject violence following a predecessor who regenerated after refusing to commit another double-genocide.

In the series finale ‘Journey’s End‘, Davros accuses the Doctor of turning his friends into weapons. This is because the Doctor’s friends have used weapons against the Daleks who – and I can’t stress this enough – are about to kill everyone in the entire universe. Fighting back against them seems pretty rational. Also – and again I can’t stress this enough – the Daleks are bad. Like, really bad. You won’t believe just how mindbogglingly bad they are. The Doctor has tried to destroy them several times by this point. Here, there isn’t the complication of double-genocide, and instead the very real threat of absolutely everyone in the universe dying. This accusation, that the Doctor turns people into weapons, should absolutely not land.

And yet, with the Tenth Doctor, it does. This is a huge distinction between him and the First Doctor, who had to persuade pacifists to fight for him in ‘The Daleks’.

In ‘The Sontaran Strategem’ Martha compares the Doctor to fire. It’s so blunt it almost seems not worth saying, but it’s the perfect analogy (especially for a show where fire is a huge part of the very first story). Yes, fire shines in dark places, yes it can be a beacon, but despite it being very much fire’s entire deal, people can forget that it burns. And fire has that mythical connection of being stolen from the gods and brought to humanity. The Time Lord Victorious concept fits the Tenth Doctor so well. Of all the Doctors, he’s the most ready to believe in himself as a semi-mythic figure.

Even when regenerating there’s a balance between hero and legend: the Tenth Doctor does ultimately save Wilfred Mott, but only after pointing out passionately how big a sacrifice he’s making. And then he goes to get his reward by meeting all his friends, only to glare at them from a distance. His last words are ‘I don’t want to go’, which works well as clearly being a poignant moment for the actor as well, but in the context of Doctor Who as a whole it renders Ten anomalous: no one else went this unwillingly. And yet, in interviews Russell T. Davies said it was important to end the story with ‘the Doctor as people have loved him: funny, the bright spark, the hero, the enthusiast’.

It’s fascinating then, that this is the Doctor who has been taken to heart by so many viewers because there’s such an extreme contrast between his good-natured front, his stated beliefs, and his actions. He clearly loves Rose and Donna, but leaves them with a compromised version of happiness. They go on extraordinary journeys only to end up somewhere that leaves them less than who they want to be, with Russell T. Davies being more brutally honest than Steven Moffat, who nearly always goes the romance route. Davies once said to Mark Lawson that he liked writing happy endings ‘because in the real world they don’t exist’, but his endings tend towards the bittersweet: Mickey and Martha end up together but this feels like they’re leftovers from the Doctor and Rose’s relationship. The Tenth Doctor doesn’t, as Nine does, go with a smile, but holding back tears.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

It’s a testament to how well written the Tenth Doctor is that the character has this light and shade, and with David Tennant’s immense likeability he can appeal to a wider audience as a result. It’s not surprise he wins all these polls, but I can’t help but feel that if the Doctor arrived and invited me on board the TARDIS, I’d want it to be anyone but Ten.

The post Doctor Who: Perfect 10? How Fandom Forgets the Dark Side of David Tennant’s Doctor appeared first on Den of Geek.

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kjmsupremacist · 4 years ago

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Felix sweet boy baby angel but Christopher Bang is literally Satan? Idk if you saw but Hyunjin ratted him out on live and said the lyrics for Red Light were toned down. I don’t want to know. I don’t. He was already talking about edging and I don’t want to know. He can keep his Scorpio Venus and his Sag Mars away from me and everyone I love. I would give anything to know his rising if sign. It’s giving Earth but there’s so much air in his chart it’s hard to be sure. 🤖

i am so happy you sent me this ask because i have been looking for an excuse to talk about red lights. I sent leon and margot a seven minute long voice message when i was doing my research for my red lights-inspired fic like that's where i'm at.

First, yes, I saw Hyunjin's comments! that's what chris gets for trying to say hyunjin wrote all the lyrics in the first place. nice try, chris. also, his scorpio venus is SEXY. i won't be taking criticism on this opinion.

Now. Please see under the cut if you want to watch me dissect Red Lights -- both the lyrics and the MV.

so, credit where credit's due--I skimmed this and this reddit posts while I was doing my research.

now. we all know that on the surface, this song is about sex (and specifically bondage and edging—that much is clear). but, ah, how's the saying go? "everything is about sex except for sex, which is about power"? sure.

yeah, it's meant to be sexy. they did that for us and im still not sure if I want to kill them for it or thank them with my life. BUT, as they mentioned in the howl in harmony video, it's primarily a song about obsession.

The first reddit post does a great (albeit kind of aggressive) breakdown of the lyrics, where it becomes really clear that they're talking about the relationship they have with their work and the relationship they have with fans. In essence, the song is about how they want to give their lives and all their time to making more content for fans so that they will continue to receive love from us. The red lights are actually the recording light on a camera (hence the line “set the mic up”).

And so a relationship like the one depicted here is dark and intense, and yes—passionate and driven by love—but ultimately, it consumes itself in the vortex of its own desire, and then peters out into a sort of blank monotony—learned through repetition, a habitual reflex instead of a true reaction.

Then, the second reddit post goes on a deep dive of some of the symbolism seen in the MV—specifically, the use of kink. This is where it gets really fun.

We mostly see Hyunjin in shibari-style bondage. OP posits (and I agree) that he is meant to represent passion without discipline. The shibari ropes are tied messily (and so therefore dangerously) which is perfect for representing how often kink (and other obsessions) can devolve—you plunge in headfirst, but you are directionless except for the insistent tug in your gut that cries for more, more.

Chan, on the other hand, is seen primarily (esp in solo scenes) bound by heavy chains. He represents discipline with no passion. In the Howl in Harmony video, I believe he mentions that after a long day of practice, he'll still find himself in the recording studio, even though he's tired. He does what he has to on autopilot, because he knows he must, because it’s the only thing he feels he can do.

If Hyunjin is mania, then Chan is depression. The chains are GREAT symbolism because this dutiful march towards burnout and beyond is, as the lyrics suggest, stemming from a desire to keep receiving love (from fans)—that if you just work hard enough then no one will ever leave you. You wish to bind the person (or people) you love to you, but in the end the bonds only weigh you down.

So then the part where they’re tied together, back to back, at the end, shows when passion and discipline come into balance. And that’s creation for the love of creation while still maintaining a respect for yourself, the art, and your audience. (or idk. maybe they just thought we'd like to see them tied to one another. and they were right).

It's also fun because while we see Hyunjin and Chan both assume positions of domination and submission, it's clear Chan is meant to be the “dominant force” here (hence discipline). The reason we do see instances of Hyunjin in power (choking Chan, standing over him on the table) is because any somewhat healthy d/s relationship involves first the surrender of power. The dom is only perceived to be in power because the sub first relinquishes it them. So. You know.

I will say I'm not sure what to say about the edging theme (BNKSJDF) besides the obvious—almost giving you what you want, but not quite.

And finally, this is not part of either of those two reddit posts, but I was ENTHRALLED by the use of mirror and mirror-esque imagery throughout the MV and in the choreo. I love mirrors as a symbol so we're going to talk about that, too.

First and most obviously, it may be a bit on the nose. In art, mirrors and reflections are often used to show that there is a deeper meaning than what is clear on the surface. So this might have just been hyunchan going "hey! it's not just about sex!"

but I think there's more to it than that. Mirrors are often used as a vessel of truth—in some Chinese myths, for example, mirrors can repel demons, as they will show a demon’s true form. Or see the Little Mermaid—though Ursula managed to change her outward appearance, she was caught in her lie when another character (sebastian, i think?) saw her reflection in the mirror.

Additionally, one’s reflection used to be thought to contain one’s soul—which is why mirrors were covered in the home of person who had just passed, so they would not be trapped as a ghost in the world of the living.

For this reason, mirrors are often also considered dangerous. Think of Narcissus, for a start, who fell in love with his own reflection and sat at the water's edge, pining, until he fucking died. Or consider the following quote (which I love) from Fernando Pessoa:

“Man shouldn’t be able to see his own face – there’s nothing more sinister. Nature gave him the gift of not being able to see it, and of not being able to stare into his own eyes. Only in the water of rivers and ponds could he look at his face. And the very posture he had to assume was symbolic. He had to bend over, stoop down, to commit the ignominy of beholding himself. The inventor of the mirror poisoned the human heart.”

We use mirrors to watch ourselves watching ourselves (and the Margaret Atwood who lives in our heads cries “male fantasies, male fantasies! You are you own voyeur!”). We perform for the mirror—often what we see in the mirror is not actually how we are seen by others! We think we may find truth there, when in reality it is a distortion. Ties itself up really nicely, I think.

In any case, this really goes well with the theme of obsession in the song—staring in the mirror asking, what do others see? What is wrong about me? What can I do better? The idea of looking in the mirror to seek what others see, both positive and negative, is common throughout. And I think their use of mirrored choreo (esp when it seems like one of them is the reflection!!), as well as mirror placement on the set of the mv, and ESPECIALLY the lovely bit at the end where they both stand staring carefully at their own reflections, all work to drive that theme home.

and i don't even know how to touch on all the color symbolism (when it changes between color and b&w?? the palette being overwhelmingly yellow and red and black???), or the lens filters (warping, blurring, etc), or the way they superimposed pieces of the video on top of other pieces, or the use of that one stark white background—without writing a fucking dissertation (and this is already a ridiculously long post) so i'll just stop here.

This is all to say, maybe what they meant was that the lyrics were a lot more aggressive about these themes and they were asked to tone them down to keep it neutral.

or maybe they're just sexy, sexy motherfuckers and their managers bonked them on the head and sent them to horny jail.

#obviously that mirror quote is a little stupid but at the same time i do think it's so real. like so real.#anyway this is very long but I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS.#this is what i was doing a few afternoons ago.... just compiling this.#just... meta hours with xiami #stray kids #bang chan #hyunjin #red lights #mail #🤖 anon

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seoracle · 4 years ago

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DRIVERS LICENSE; i

Pairing: Bang Chan x Idol! Gender Neutral Reader

Genre: Fake Dating! AU, Angst, Lovers to Enemies(?), Occasional Pining, Comedy, S for potential smut(??)

Summary: Y/N has become an overnight sensation with ‘Drivers License’, Breaking records left and right...But what if the press gets wind of the ill-matched lovers and their company decide it’s the perfect attention ploy?

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: Swearing (a lot near the end), Drinking mention

A/N: this was meant to be a drabble... now it’s becoming a series...i’m sorry

“...and the winner of Inkigayo today is...Y/N with ‘Drivers License, Congratulations!”

You step towards the center of the stage and take the trophy and bouquet from a rookie idol, who flashes a bright smile at you, but you can see the envy in his eyes. You once had that same hunger and ambition that he seems to reek of, it’s a reminder of how far you’ve come.

Taking the mic, you begin to sing a more sultry and edgier vibe than usual, which seems to gather more screams from fans than usual. You remember what Seulgi taught you and gaze at the camera lens with a subtle pout, trying to capture the angst of the song in your gaze.

It feels ridiculous, feigning emotions you no longer feel, singing a song you begged the company not to put out in a corset fitted shirt that’ll leave your ribs sore and reddened. It’s pathetic and cliche, you quite literally sold your soul (well, heart) for fame.

“Yeah, you said forever, now I drive alone past your street…”

Everyone behind you waves at the camera, signalling the show is ending. You leave last, taking several confetti bits for your scrapbook, which is the only thing keeping you from remembering this is all real.

Backstage, Iris and San are waiting in your dressing room, they greet you with proud grins and slaps on the back.

“Well, if it isn’t miss twelve...no, thirteen wins in two weeks.” San praises, enveloping you in a hug.

“Could be thirteen by tomorrow~” Hums Iris in a sing-song tone.

A groan leaves your lips, while slumping into an uncomfortable chair. You tune out their excited plans for your makeup and hair tomorrow, San says something about an end of year Award show.

All you want is to go home to your empty dormitory and sleep.

When you finally arrive to the ‘comfort’ of your ‘studio apartment’ (box room), it isn’t long before you strip down to your pyjamas and aggressively rub off the layers of makeup that seem to cling to every pore and fine line of your face. The cold air from the fan soothes the aching of your body from your strict workout routine. You stay awake until 4am, reading comments from netizens and replying to fans on your fancafe, it was hard not to become obsessed with checking what people thought; whether they loved or loathed you.

[+184 -93] Y/N is talented, but they look devoid of emotion since last week...maybe singing a song so personal isn’t a good idea….what if the person it’s about hears it…..

User FYL**8 was right, it had become draining trying to convey emotions you’d long let go of. Your debut song was fresh and fun, it didn’t garner much attention but at least you hadn’t had to fake emotions and relive your first heartbreak.

Although the memories of the breakup didn’t hurt as much, the happiest ones were the most painful. The feeling of ignorance, thinking he meant forever and believing him completely...it was all so distant yet felt a fingertip away.

That night you slept with a heavy heart, remembering what it felt like when he’d hold you close and right and kiss you on the head to soothe your worries. Why did it have to end? Why like that? You try to drift into a nice sleep after another exhausting day but to no avail, thoughts of him are flooding every thought. Has he heard it? There was no way he hadn’t, he loved to check out every ranking song for inspiration or for another artist to add to his monthly playlist.

Would he get angry? Sad? Laugh at your pathetic feelings? He was right in the end, when it came down to it you only shared your feelings when it was too late.

Stupid Christopher fucking Bang.

It wasn’t often you’d refer to him as Chan, you had met him when he only saw it as another name for himself that he hardly used. Back when his hair had been fluffed up curls that he couldn’t contain and his light freckles weren’t covered by BB Cream. When he didn’t belong to the world and only loved you.

After months of forcing yourself not to, you hastily search “Stray kids Bang Chan + Y/N”, Then “Stray Kids Y/N” and finally “Skz Y/N”. The results are minimal and far inbetween, mostly tweets from fans wishing for a collab and oddly enough one person making edited photos of you and them, which are so convincing you have to remind yourself you hadn’t met them.

Thoughts drift to his friends, the ones who didn’t know Chris was even seeing someone and had been for over a year. They tried to sugarcoat it, say they forgot, it’s hard to keep track when you’re training and all that.

The sinking feeling you felt when Minho asked how long you’d been together, guessing a month at most. When you did reply, ears burning with embarrassment he coughed and muttered “Oh.’, That had stung.

Everything had seemed so perfect, until you opened your eyes and saw it for what it was.

You don’t end up sleeping much, two hours at most, Then it’s time to get ready and head to the Broadcast Studio for today’s event. All you know is it’s a show about giving advice, the reviews aren’t great but you aren’t allowed to turn anything down because fame is a double-edged sword that you can barely grasp as is.

Iris and San are already waiting for you when you get there, within minutes makeup is being patted into your skin and your outfit is laid out on the chair next to you.

“Sleep more, Y/N-ah, I had to use a double coverage concealer to hide your dark circles.” Iris said in a fretful tone.

“I try, it’s hard being famous.” You reply jokingly, flipping your hair the best you can. Iris smacks your hand away and frantically finds her hairspray.

Within twenty minutes you’re dressed and not one hair is out of place, San pulls you aside with an uncharacteristically stern face.

“The company have specific goals for sending you here, they want you to delve into a story of heartbreak to comfort today’s victim, while keeping anonymity and remaining as vague as you can.”

Of course, even a show about helping others is fictional.

You nod solemnly and prepare to go on air, sitting on a cushion next to a popular comedian who doesn’t bother to even look at you. A well-known Streamer is on your other side and you begin polite small talk, which seems to irritate the host.

“We’re on in 3,2….1!” A sharp click follows the director’s queue and the host bursts right into the introduction.

After you’re introduced it’s easy to tune out, you couldn’t give a shit about that stuck-up comedian and the actress to their right. Instead you think of how the fuck you’re supposed to conjure up an emotional performance with little to no time to prepare.

‘My ex-boyfriend hid me for almost two years’ no, not even worthy of a cheap gossip magazine. ‘I thought my boyfriend loved me, turns out he loved his career more’ Maybe...but you sound too needy.

“Today’s guest is Lee Chaeun of Suwon! Tell us your story, please.”

You turn to look at the guest who walks onto the set and sits at the head of the pillow mats. She’s clearly a young girl, her baby face is covered by face-framing layers of shiny black hair and her eyes are already glassy.

“Last year, I began dating my crush after years of admiring him from afar...Everything seemed so perfect until last week….He dumped me by text message saying he needed space and now he’s with someone new..” Chaeun bursts into tears and the host fakes a sympathetic face and passes her a box of tissues.

“Ah, you’re young...you don’t know anything yet. This is a normal phase for teenagers, men realise themselves and break girls down so they become beautiful women. It’s just a case of a little girl not wanting to grow up!” Chimes in the Comedian, who talks about his falsities as if they’re facts.

The audience erupts into laughter and the heartbroken teenager lowers her head in embarrassment. Which only makes you more enraged, Who told that guy he was funny?

“Chaeun has every right to be upset!” You exclaim, cutting through the laugher like a hot knife. “When a relationship ends when everything seems alright for one person, it's cruel. Being blindsided isn’t a joke. It hurts and she deserves closure, and to move on someday to a better person..What happened to her shouldn’t happen to anyone!” You barely register a gentle hand on top of yours, far too surprised by the fact there are tears dripping down your face. Crying wasn’t an option, so you pull yourself together and apologise to Chaeun and the host you cannot stand.

“Y/N, You seemed personally moved by Chaeun’s story, have you experienced a painful breakup?” The host asks curiously.

“You could say that,” You begin with a wry smile. “I was with someone who lived a double life, they were completely different when they were with other people...Things ended when I was still planning for future dates...it made me realise how fake they were.”

The guests all nod and you squeeze Chaeun’s hand, she smiles at you seeming relieved that she isn’t the only one who has felt this kind of pain.

Everything goes smoothly after that, other guests chime in and the actress that seemed snobby is openly discussing her ex vomiting all over her Valentinos. You can’t help but wonder if the company really suggested this, or if it was divine intervention (Choi San, your manager).

You don’t feel so alone anymore, everyone is guaranteed several things, two being love and heartbreak of some kind.

“Thanks to singer Y/N and actress Sojung, Chaeun was able to feel a little better...Thank you for joining us on ‘Help No Counsellor!’, Join us next week when…’

“Choi San, you sneaky bastard.”

He tries to act surprised but a shit-eating grin soon overtakes his acting, Iris shakes her head and zips her makeup bag closed. It isn’t long until you’re all at The Min’s enjoying red bean bread and warm tea. “What does inept even mean? I’m assuming it’s a good thing because Wooyoung kissed me after saying it.” San mentions, his lips curving upwards at the fond memory.

“I’d have to agree with Woo, it fits you perfectly.” You reply, circling around his question while Iris tries not to choke on her food.

Fits of laughter die down when you spot a familiar face, Lee Mijoo.

Her blonde hair flows down her back in loose curls and her soft eyes seem to enchant everyone, admittedly even you for a short time.Behind her is a slightly taller figure dressed in all black and your stomach drops.They don’t seem to notice your presence, so you decide to use this valuable time to hide behind a menu.

San and Iris try to play along best they can, but it is quite distressing that all of this has happened so suddenly, with no prior warning. But he did bring you here, a lot. So it’s amusing to see his date ideas haven't changed.

As he’s walking past you he pauses, and you want to shrivel into a hole and die, He’s clearly recognised you but can’t be 100% sure due to The Min’s menu covering your entire face.

“Y/N?”

Shit. You cannot hide from this.

Slowly taking the menu away and placing it down on the table you smile at him, maybe a little too forced but it’s the best you can do. His hair is blonde now, his curls are long gone but his smile is as genuine as ever.

Stupid Christopher Bang and his stupid ‘I-totally-didn’t-break-your-heart’ attitude.

“Chan, nice to see you. Still obsessed with their double shots?” You humoured, he seemed grateful for that.

“Oh, absolutely...and I see you’re still not saving any bean bread for anyone else.”

You laugh, it’s a bittersweet one at best but nevertheless it’s a laugh.

'Well it’s great to see you again, I’d love to exchange numbers if that’s alright?”

Without thinking you nod and oblige him, much to your friend’s disappointment which is evident by their glares. Mijoo exchanges smiles with everyone, who could hate her? She was funny, kind hearted and beautiful in every aspect.

When they finally leave to their outside seats you breathe a sigh of relief and sink into the chair.Iris strokes your hair and San grabs more snacks to go, the walk home isn’t peaceful. It’s awkward and silent, which only makes your head spin more. When you drop off Iris you know a lecture is coming, San hates doing it but you know he tells you what you need to hear, even if it hurts.

“Look, I’m happy you were able to brush off all the hurt today but earlier on you were crying about….this. Don’t give him the power to hurt you twice.”

“You’re right, thanks Sannie.” You reply, taking his arm and smiling at the warmth of his (Wooyoung’s) fuzzy coat.

Once San leaves and you get inside, it’s a matter of minutes before you hop in the shower and get rid of all the hairspray and mascara that’s been making you itch all day. The warm water soothes away your nerves and the impending frostbite from being outside in the cold for far too long.

Once you feel clean and somewhat scalded you step out onto warm fluffy towels (cheap warm fluffy towels with holes in them) and get situated for bed.

Just as you exit the bathroom your phone rings and you answer immediately, it’s probably Iris wanting you to play a new Among Us mod with her.

“Iris?”

“Uh, no, Chris.”

“Oh.” is your initial reply, why would he call you at midnight?

“Where you asleep? I’m sorry I’ll call back another ti-”

“No!” You interject, much too eagerly. “No...it’s fine. I’m not even in bed yet.”

“Oh” He sounds relieved, much the opposite of you.

“I just wanted to congratulate you...The song, it’s great. What’s it like actually singing one you wrote?”

“Great,” You admit with a smile he can't see, “It feels...genuine. I Couldn't stand the thought of giving the song away.”

“I can see why.” He replies in an unreadable tone.

“Did it make you uncomfortable? Me singing...about-”

“No, why would it?” He cuts in, he sounds slightly agitated.

“Look, Chan, I’m sorry. I should’ve texted you, well I did but you changed your number. But it’s my story too, okay? I needed to heal somehow.”

Minutes pass with no answer, as if he’s trying to think of exactly what to say without getting more irritated or to spare your feelings.

“When did I become Chan?” His voice comes out wavering,and it hurts you.

“That’s what everyone calls you now, you’re not just Chris the trainee anymore.” You reply in a gentle way, trying to ease the building tension.

“But to you, when did I stop being Chris?”

“Probably when you broke my heart,” You deadpan, before adding a ‘kidding’ and bullshit reason.

“You weren’t kidding, but you broke mine too. Don’t make me the bad guy.”

This had taken you aback, you had been in a perfectly happy relationship for almost two years and then he changed his mind, said he wasn’t happy and it wasn’t your fault. When the fuck did you break his heart?

“When exactly did that happen?” You query, “Before or after Mijoo?”

Chan lets out a dry laugh, “Don’t talk about what you don’t understand.”

“Well what does it matter? You never told me shit anyways.” You snapped.

“That’s because you wouldn’t fucking listen. Maybe to you it was all sunshine and roses but I was struggling, I changed and outgrew us. I didn’t want to but you were stuck in dreamland where we’d debut at the same time and live happily ever after. I realised it wasn’t going to happen and set you free so you wouldn’t be embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?” You bark,”Fucking embarrassed of what exaclty? I left that shithole you call your company by choice and worked my way up. I’m not embarrassed, but you should be. You’re a fucking sellout Christopher Bang.”

Before he can reply you end the call and throw your phone at the wall, it would’ve broken only for the forty dollar case the store assistant convinced you to buy. You burst into tears just like you had that night when it all came crashing down. He must’ve loved seeing you in pain, because he keeps doing it even now.

That night, you wish for everything to go back to a time before him and the heartbreak that followed.

It’s early on a Friday when you’re called into a board meeting with the CEO, Director and San, who looks like someone stepped on his clay masterpiece. You still haven’t been told anything and as the minutes pass by you wonder if they found out about you getting drunk at Club Suran several weeks back. What if someone saw San there too? What if–

Suddenly the doors open and in walks JYP’s CEO, followed by several others and finally Chris. He looks as confused as you, but you quickly look away before he spots you. Last night was still fresh in your mind and you didn’t need anymore reminders or conversations with him.

“Dispatch has sent us several photos of you two together, spanning several years.” Your CEO announces, an Executive pulling the photos up on the screen behind her. “Including one from yesterday.”

“That was a coincidence, we broke up a long time ago.” You admit, she seems satisfied with your answer and nods, which makes you remember that damned dating ban you have.

“Usually, we’d shoot down these rumours immediately...but this could be quite beneficial to both Stray Kids and Y/N.” JYP’s CEO adds, “Stock prices have shown a rise for both of your albums, and real time searches are at an all time high.”

“I have a girlfriend.” Chan states, arms folded. “So that’s out of the question if you’re implying we fake a relationship.”

“Look Bang Chan,” Begins one of the Advisors, “It’s all for show, we’ll plan every detail and your girlfriend will keep her mouth shut if she knows what's good for her. Frankly, our sales aren't what they used to be and you need this, if you want complete musical and artistic control.”

Chan takes a while to think, you know this is all he’s wanted. Control over everything he and the boys put out there, with no censorship or edits by anyone else. Your CEO assures you you’ll also benefit from the agreement, including your debt fully cleared and money in your bank account as soon as you sign on the dotted line.

“How long does this last?” You ask, pen in hand.

“Twelve months, then you’re free again.”

Chan looks to you for conformation and you ignore him, signing it and standing up to leave. You only stop to sign more formalities and then you and San head back to your local coffee shop.

“Well, you sure have a funny way of moving on.”

#i'm sorry in advance #however thoughts are welcomed #skz chan #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #skz x y/n #stray kids blurbs #stray kids scenarios #bang chan angst #stray kids imagines #skz blurbs #stray kids chan x reader #bang chan #bang chan imagines #bang chan blurbs #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you

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on-maars · 4 years ago

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Find My Way Home (Back To You)

Alright I wrote a post Eddie Begins episode fic and I really hope you’ll like it :)

Read it on AO3

Eddie sighs and turns around for what might be the tenth time in the past two hours.

He can’t sleep. He can’t sleep without being back there again. He can’t sleep without stopping the nightmares. Not about the war. He’s had his fair share of night terrors about the war, but lately the nightmares have taken another direction. He doesn’t dream of being the target of a thousand snipers anymore. He dreams of that moment. He dreams of being back there again, buried in the ground, thirty feet of wet earth above him, trapped, without any way of getting back to his son, without any way of getting back to his family. It’s suffocating, and Eddie often wakes up soaking wet, his hair sticking to his forehead, his sheet drenched in sweat. Drenched in sweat, and tears. His tears.

He can’t sleep and he tried everything. Every method he can think of. Every method his mother used to teach him when he was scared and alone at night, suffering from insomnia. He tried some breathing exercises his therapist showed him the week before, tried taking a walk around the neighborhood to clear his head and take his mind off things, he tried reading a book and even went through some meditations videos on YouTube that Buck recommended to him a while back. But nothing is working. His mind keeps sending him back to that place. To the well.

Eddie turns around again and lets his eyes fall on his alarm clock as it reads 2:49am. Eddie sighs and presses his hands to his face, apprehending the 24 hours shift waiting for him in the early hours of the morning. Not necessarily because of the fatigue. After all it wouldn’t be the first time Eddie gets through an awfully long shift with the 118 with only a few hours of sleep in his system.

No, he’s only apprehending it because he knows, deep down, that he’s so far from being in the right state of mind to face the difficulties of his job. He feels more restless, more fidgety, less focused than usual. And if there is no doubt in Eddie’s mind that the 118 is going to notice his mood swings. And if they notice, then he’s going to need to explain. Explain the extent of how messed-up he is in the head. Explain how the war still terrorized him sometimes at night. Explain how tight his throat is ever since he’s made it out of that well. And that’s a conversation he’s not ready to face.

Eddie looks up at the ceiling and gropes around in the dark until his right hand finds his phone. He knows scrolling mindlessly the news is only going to keep his brain more awake but he doesn’t find it in him to care anymore. He unlocks his phone and frowns when he notices an unseen message from his sister in his inbox. The message is short, but it catches Eddie’s attention.

“Isn’t he your friend Buck?!”

There is a link just underneath it and when Eddie clicks on it, his breath catches in his throat and his heart starts pounding hard against his chest. It’s a video. A video of that day. A video of the rig, collapsing, and burying him under thirty feet of earth in the process. Only the video doesn’t show only that. It also shows his coworkers’ reaction. It also shows Buck.

Buck

Buck, who collapses on the ground and completely falls to pieces. Buck, who screams his name and starts digging the earth with his bare hands. Buck, who bursts into tears and whose face is contorted with fear, rage and pain. Eddie watches him as he continues calling out his name in agony, he watches him as Bobby needs to physically restrain him to stop him from digging, and Eddie swears he can feel his heart cracked open at the sight.

The scene is devastating, heartbreaking, and the last seconds of the video only shows Buck, sitting on the ground, his head down, tears rolling down his face, as the rain continues pouring down on him.

By the time Eddie finishes watching the video, his hands are shaking and the room is spinning. His whole body is tense, buzzing with a nervous energy and Eddie closes his eyes fiercely but he can’t get the images out of his head. How can he? How can he when he had to sit through and watch his best-friend having a complete breakdown in a video with more than a million views? How can he when until then, he was so far up his own ass not to notice that Buck was hurting too? Not to notice that he wasn't the only one who ended up traumatized by this day?

He sits back straight on his bed, and leans his back against the headboard, running both of his hands through his hair a few times, ignoring how his heart pulses in his head, making it hurt.

He takes his phone in his hand and gets up, stepping out of his room and going down the stairs until he reaches the living-room. Here, he lets himself fall on the couch, rubbing his temples with his fingers, his eyes closed. In vain. It’s no use. It’s no use trying to get his breathing back to normal while the only thing he really wants is to see his best-friend with his own two eyes and make sure he’s okay.

“Can you come over?” He sends. It’s short and vague, but Eddie knows Buck keeps his phone in sound mode at all times just in case this kind of emergencies come up.

But is it an emergency? Eddie asks himself as he brings his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. It’s not. Not really. But Buck’s answer still comes after just a few seconds.

“Be there in 15. You okay? Christopher?”

“We’re okay. Just need to see you.”

Eddie jumps out of the couch and starts pacing back and forth in the living-room, not knowing what to do with himself. He squats down and starts picking up every Lego bricks lying around on the carpet, on the coffee table under the sofa. Christopher was in the middle of building a (more than unstable) house before heading to bed and he seemed so tired from his school day Eddie didn’t have the heart to ask him to tidy. He’s in the middle of retrieving a brick which ended up under the carpet when he hears the distinct sound of someone opening the front door.

He whirls his head around and finds himself face to face with Buck who looks around the living-room in alarm, his eyes wide. His hair is disheveled and his shoes are mismatched and Eddie almost feels bad for waking him up in the middle of the night while they both have a 24 hours shift waiting for them in a few hours. His best-friend’s face softens when his eyes fall on him, and Eddie doesn’t waste any time to close the gap separating them and wrapping his arms around his neck to hold him close.

“Evan Buckley I swear to god you’re going to be the death of me.” He says, not thinking twice before burying his face in the crook of his best-friend’s neck. Buck seems taken aback for a few seconds, but he doesn’t question it and reciprocate the embrace with just as much vigor. “I’m sorry.” Eddie eventually says, grabbing his tee-shirt with his right hand.

“You’re sorry?” Buck repeats, his voiced filled with confusion. “About what?” He adds.

“God I’ve been so far up my own ass these past few days, haven’t I?” Eddie asks, taking a step back and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, following his gaze until he’s sure Buck looks at him in the eye. His best-friend seems reluctant at first, almost as if he already knows where the conversation is going, but then he finally meets his gaze and Eddie’s look is so intense and he’s watching him with so much attention something in his face just breaks. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what, Eds?” Buck asks, but from the way his voice breaks, Eddie knows it’s just a way for him to try and take the conversation elsewhere.

“Buck.” Eddie says, and it’s a warning. We’re having that conversation whether you like it or not.

“Eddie, just- Don’t, alright?” Buck starts. “It’s okay. You’re okay. It’s all that matters.”

“I saw the video.” Eddie says, taking another step backwards until he sits on a kitchen chair, running his right hand through his hair.

“What video?” Buck says, his voice small, but sighs and looks down when Eddie maintains eye-contact. “Took you long enough.” He only adds, leaning against the fridge. “It was literally everywhere on the news. Big headlines too.” He says, letting out a humorless laugh.

“Buck-”

“But again, I’spose it’s fun to see a firefighter completely losing it after his best-friend has been buried thirty feet underground.” Buck cuts in, his voice hollow. “I guess it ‘entertains’ people just fine”

“Buck-” Eddie starts, but his friend is faster.

“As if I want to relive that moment, you know?” Buck goes on and his voice is louder now, more aggressive. “As if one time wasn’t enough.”

“Buck, I-”

“Eddie, you cut the damn line!” He exclaims and Eddie jumps with surprise at how raw and demanding his tone is. “You cut the damn line!” He repeats and a tear rolls down his left cheek. “And you know what the worst part is? The worst part is that I can’t even blame you for it! You wanted to save that kid… I mean, how can I blame you for wanting to save that kid, Eddie? I can’t. I would be a fucking hypocrite if I did, man. Cause I would have done the same thing if the roles were reversed.”

“It doesn’t mean you can’t be mad.” Eddie says, keeping his eyes down, incapable of meeting his best-friend’s gaze. “It doesn’t mean you can’t be angry.” He adds. “Hell, I know I would be.”

“I just- Eddie, did you ever stop for a second to imagine what it was like for me? I was pulling you out Eds. I was pulling you out and then the weight was just- the weight was just gone. You were gone.” He says through gritted teeth and Eddie darts his eyes towards him for just a second, but that’s still enough time for him to see the expression of complete agony and pure heartbreak on his best-friend’s face. Eddie looks away just as fast and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“But that’s not even the worst part, oh no.” Buck goes on and Eddie knows this one is on a roll. He’s determined and he won’t stop until he got everything off his chest. “ Because then this damn rig just collapsed and I- I couldn’t get you out, I- You were… You were buried, Eds. You were buried and I swear to god I would have dug the whole thing with my bare hands if I had to.”

“I know you would’ve.” Eddie only says, staring at Buck, his eyes filled with the tears he’s been trying to hold back for the past fifteen minutes. “I know you would’ve.”

“I didn’t give up on you.” Buck answers, as if he’s trying to justify his actions in a courtroom. “You’ve got to know that, alright?” He repeats. “I didn’t give up on you. Even when people were trying to convince me that there was no way you would have survived that, I didn’t- I didn’t give up on you.”

“Hey, hey, I know.” Eddie instantly reassures him, getting up and closing the gap between them. “I know.” He repeats, cupping Buck’s cheeks with his hands. “You didn’t give up.”

“I didn’t give up.” Buck nods, his lips quivering.

“Buck, do you think- do you think I’m mad at you because you didn’t try hard enough?” Eddie manages to articulate, his fingers playing with the roots of Buck’s hair. “How could you have tried any harder?” Eddie adds, letting out a nervous laugh. “For Christ’s sake Evan, you told me yourself you were ready to dig the whole thing by hands. There’s nothing you could have done. You hear me?”

Buck frantically nods and Eddie sighs, wrapping his right arm around his neck to pull him forward. Buck’s whole body tenses and it’s only when his shoulders start shaking that Eddie realizes his best-friend is full-on sobbing against him, his tears wetting his white tee-shirt. Buck rests his forehead on his shoulder and Eddie simply runs his left hand through his hair while the other traces small patterns on his back, holding him tight. He presses his lips on his hair, closing his eyes fiercely for a few seconds while throwing his head backwards, looking up at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry.” Buck says against him. “Here I am again, making the whole thing about me while you’re the one who’ve been buried underground.”

“Don’t be stupid Buck, I’m the one who should apologize here. I was so focused on my pain and the nightmares that I-”

“Nightmares?” Buck whirls his head up to meet his eyes. “You have nightmares about the well?” He asks, his eyes full of concern, and Eddie lets out an incredulous laugh.

“Yeah but that’s not the point, Buck.” He says, dismissing his concern with a hand’s gesture. “I should have seen you were hurting. I’m sorry.” He adds. “And yes I have nightmares but Buck you need to know you’re the only reason I got out. You and Christopher? I couldn’t have done it without you guys. Wouldn’t have done it. But I promised myself I’ll always find my way back home. So I did.”

Eddie cradles his chin with his left hand, forcing him to look up.

“That… That was sappy as hell, man.” Buck tries and Eddie snorts, placing his hand on his cheek to make him look away.

“Says the one who was ready to dig thirty feet of wet earth with his bare hands.” He says playfully and then Buck does this thing again where he looks down with a shy smile and Eddie’s heart just melts at the sight.

When Buck lifts his gaze again, their lips are only separated by a few inches of space and Eddie’s head is spinning. He stays there, motionless, not knowing whether he should finally gives in to years of pining and unresolved tension. But then, Buck’s eyes dart towards his lips and all his good sense goes up in smoke. Eddie looks at him for permission and when Buck nods, he places his hand on the back of his neck and presses their lips together. It doesn’t last long. It’s brief, and when Eddie takes a step back, Buck’s lips chase his own a second time and he only smiles and complies happily.

This time, the kiss is more heated and Buck’s hands find their way on the back of Eddie’s neck, biting his lower lip to demand access to his mouth. Eddie smiles against his mouth and runs both of his hands through his hair, bringing him closer. This earns him a small whimper from Buck and Eddie only kisses him harder, pressing his best-friend’s body against the fridge and sliding his hand underneath his tee-shirt.

“God I can’t believe we waited three years to do that.” Buck says Eddie huffs out a laugh against his lips.

“Well I mean you were a bit slow on the uptake.” Eddie teases him.

“Oh fuck off.” Buck taps him on the head playfully. “You know I couldn’t just- I had to be sure.”

“I know.” Eddie says, his voice soft.

“I couldn’t do the first move. I had to wait for… I had to wait for you to do it. Even if I knew that you- because I knew. Of course I knew. But-”

“Hey.” Eddie cuts him off by cupping his cheeks with his hands. “I know.” He repeats. “Alright then Evan. Let’s get you to bed.”

“Lead the way, Edmundo.”

“Not my name.” Eddie says with a smile, taking his hand in his to guide him towards the bedroom.

“Sorry. Eduardo.”

“Still not my name, man."

"Diaz?"

"That's it, you’re sleeping on the damn couch, Buckley.” Eddie warns but the smile on his face betrays him.

“Really? You would make me sleep on the couch? The guy who was ready to dig 30 feet of wet earth with his bare han-”

“Oh my god will you shut up?” Eddie whispers loudly, being careful not to wake up Christopher fast asleep in the adjoining room.

“Make me.” Buck says, a hint of amusement in his voice and Eddie?

Well Eddie wastes no time to crash their lips together another time.

#buddie #buddie fic #9-1-1 #Eddie Begins #Evan Buckley #Eddie diaz #911 #buck x eddie

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sweetwatersong · 3 years ago

Text

It starts out with a single stray cat.

The tabby shows up halfway through a q-word shift. Chim isn’t even sure how it gets in, given that the bay doors have been closed all morning, but he has more important questions. Such as:

“How long do you think it’s going to take Fi to notice?”

The lightweight is sleeping in a heap on the floor, one striped wing tucked over her head. She is for all intents and appearances dead to both the world and the fact that the tabby – which looks like it’s been on the wrong end of several fights, in short order – has decided to curl up next to her shoulder. It looks perfectly at home in the firehouse.

“An hour,” Hen offers after due consideration. Chim glances down at Bobby, who has paused to survey the scene and only shakes his head before continuing up the stairs.

“Two,” he counters. They shake on it.

Fi notices an hour and fifteen minutes later when she rolls over in her sleep. The tabby voices its general displeasure at nearly being squashed by five tons of dragon. She startles awake in response, scrambling with uncoordinated legs to get upright, but her bewildered alarm turns to evident displeasure when she hisses at the scrawny beast.

It has the gall to eye her, tattered ears flicking, before sauntering towards the back of the firehouse and promptly vanishing.

Chim unwraps a fresh stick of gum and accepts Hen’s five-dollar bill.

“Odds it shows up again? I’ll put ten on under a week.”

“We’ll see.”

Four days later Fi picks up the tabby by the scruff, grumbling under her breath, and deposits it outside in the pale sunlight.

It’s back within ten minutes.

Fi repeats this process two more times before whirling to Bobby, her eyes shot with orange, and warbling in a way that demands with absolute clarity he fix the problem.

Bobby shuts the back door that hadn’t closed all the way.

It’s back within half an hour.

Fi collapses in despair and lets it perch on her tail, purring contentedly.

Hen admits that the entertainment is well worth the ten dollars.

The next time the A-shift is on duty and a cat appears it is, in fact, cats plural. Two of them slip in through the bay doors open for spring’s weak warmth. Fi is half-awake enough to snap at the air around them as they settle beside her, paws tucked up under their bodies in what Hen calls “relaxed” and Buck calls “the loaf.” They watch her spend ten long minutes trying to prod the furry bastards away before giving up.

“Could it be because she’s warmer than the bricks?” Bobby offers when they speculate about the unusual behavior.

Eddie snaps a pic that he’s guaranteed to be sending to Christopher. “If that were the reason they’d be going to Fin and Ferro too.” Fin, deeply invested in some soap opera Ronaldo adores, is watching the latest episode with him on a laptop. Ferro is lazing around and looking just as amused as the humans at Fi’s dilemma.

“Maybe it’s because she hates them.” Chim catches Hen’s raised eyebrows. “What? Tell me that’s not clear anti-cat behavior.”

“You know, cats aren’t really attracted to people who hate them. It’s actually down to a mismatch between our signals. Cat haters avoid looking at or interacting with them, which in cat language is a sign you’re not going to get aggressive and are safe to be around.” Buck nearly misses catching the bagel he’s tossing from hand to hand when he gestures to emphasize his point. Chim adds a note to his mental list to get hacky sacks. They at least don’t get everything bagel toppings all over the floor.

“Well, whatever the reason, it looks like she’s not having cat pate today.” Hen smiles as the long-haired gray ignores Fi’s latest attempt to dislodge it. She snorts, displeased, and goes boneless with an angry huff.

The cats continue to look particularly pleased with themselves.

Two cats turn into four, then five, then seven, all coming unerringly on days when the F Wing is at the firehouse. By summer the 118 captains have collectively given up on trying to manage the invasion and Fi has given up on deterring them. The crew has not given up on the tooth-rotting sweetness of the situation. (There are many, many pictures of the feline-draped dragon. Notably not on social media, for reasons of health and safety regs as well as the brass being unlikely to appreciate it as much as the crews do.)

It's one of the hotter, stickier days in July, where tempers wear thin and patience wears thinner, that Fi finally snaps.

At last count there were easily ten strays curled up or stretched across the dozing tiger dragon. She erupts out of the pile, scattering cats to the wind, and flares her wings to their full length. Ferro ducks and complains in a rumble. Fi pays him absolutely no attention. The entirety of her focus is on the cats who have mostly landed on their feet and now look at her, disgruntled. The ridges on Fi’s tail clatter against the concrete as she lashes it from side to side but it never comes near one of the cats. Although Chim can’t hear what she’s ranting – no one except the other dragons can – he’s willing to bet it’s in the psychic equivalent of all caps and possibly italics.

The human firefighters freeze. If they’re anything like Chim they’re caught between intervening and wanting to truly believe that despite the impressive display of saw-edged teeth, Fi isn’t going to actually eat the cats.

It’s into this frozen tableau that the tabby, original stray and originator of this trend, appears. It strolls in with complete casualness from the back of the floor, entirely unconcerned with the intimidating display before it. It’s carrying something in its mouth.

Fi stares at it.

The tabby makes its way to her nearest paw and sets down its burden. The tiny shape mews.

Fi stares at the kitten in turn.

The tabby licks the kitten’s head, purring, and trots back to the staff door.

The kitten mews again.

“Hen-“

She shushes him.

Fi’s head swings closer to inspect the kitten.

The tabby comes back in, carrying another bundle of black and white fur. It – she – deposits the second one and heads off again.

“Are we going to do something?” Chim whispers.

Hen shushes him, louder.

The third kitten, it seems, is the last. The tabby sets it with its siblings, now all making tiny kittens sounds, and arches against Fi’s leg with pleasure.

When Fi settles down onto her side, eyes glowing blue, the cats – including their newest additions –return to their rightful places.

“Did you think she was going to eat them? Because I definitely didn’t.”

Hen shoots him a look that says loud and clear that she sees through his shit and rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling.

So, Chim thinks, is Fi.

#this was supposed to be a little drabble and then look what happened #dragons dragons dragons #911 fox #daily writing #my writing #skyscrapers AU

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ohhmyheart5678 · 4 years ago

Text

When in the streets of seoul (4)

*warning* this mentions death, murder, suicide, guns, and other gruesome and dark content if you are sensitive to these kinds of things do not read it

Word count: 1.3k

Pairing: Chan x female reader

Previous / next

****

I was currently being dragged down the hallway. "No! No!" I kicked and screamed and yelled and fought them the whole way until we finally reached a room at the very end of the hallway.

They aggressively pushed me in causing me to fall on the floor with a slapping noise since the floor was pure marble. "sorry, nothing personal it's just what we're ordered to do" says Changbin. They closed the door behind me locking it. Who fucking makes houses with locks on the outside anymore? What even is this shit?

I stay in there for hours but hours seemed like days. I never moved from the spot that I was placed. Soon it got dark , I was sitting in pure darkness. It was pitch black dark I couldn't see anything but blackness, that's how I felt on the inside anyways, like nothing.

I saw a crack of light coming from the doorway. It was really small at first and then it grew. Then the light flickered on and I see Hyunjin's hand still resting on the light switch. "Hey" was all he said giving me a soft smile but all I did was stare blankly at him.

How dare he smile at me at a time like this? "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry about everything that happened and I hope with time you'll learn to forgive us" Hyunjin was still by the door and when I didn't give him a response he took that as his sign to leave.

I definitely was not in the mood for company at the moment. I don't care how good looking they all are, I could give two shits. "Ok well that's all , Chan will be in here shortly to discuss some things with you." He hesitates to wave but decides to give a single wave before turning around. "Do you want me to turn the lights off?" He sweetly questioned, but still no response. "Right that was a stupid question, I'll just um, I'll leave it on for you" he scratched the nape of his neck before leaving and closing the door behind him.

Soon Chris comes into the room sticking his head in then fully entering. "I have absolutely nothing to say to you right now" I spat at him. He was slightly taken back by my words but not offended. " I deserve that" he sits next to me on the ground keeping some distance so I wouldn't feel uncomfortable.

Things were silent for a moment before he spoke up. "I completely understand why you're mad trust me I get it. Things weren't supposed to turn out this way" he reaches over to touch my arm but I quickly pull it away while giving I'm a deadly look.

"We were supposed to just hang out and we spend time together. I actually um planned on asking you out. It wasn't supposed to work today just things went a littl-" I didn't want to hear anything he had to say any more. "I wouldn't have said yes" I didn't even look at him "you- I'm sorry what do you mean?" The Australian boy wasn't getting what I was trying to say.

"You disgust me and for you to think you even had a chance with me just proves just how delusional you really are" my eyes got watery but I refused to let him see me cry, not in front of him. I lied I actually kinda liked Christopher and maybe would've given him a chance, but this ruined all chances he had with me.

"Oh ok, good to know" I could hear the sadness in his voice and I almost cared for a second until I realized that this psycho is a mafia gang leader that killed people, and locked me up in a bedroom. A very nice bedroom in fact the most beautiful bedroom I've ever been in, but still it was against my will.

These boys are the reason my father barely sleeps at night, these boys are the reason no one could stay out past a certain time in Korea anymore, and most of all these boys are the most heartless boys I've ever met. "Ok let's talk business now then" the seriousness renters his voice.

Chris straightens his back and proceeds. "Because you seen way too much you will be held here against your will. You cant go to school but you can go out in public just not places that are in the city you live in, and after you must return back home" He says so matter of fact like . "Chris, just let me go I promise I won't tell anyone just please let me go" my voice cracked from holding back my tears. "Look! You're lucky to even be alive! We would kill people like you that know to much and depose of the body without thinking twice" he raised his voice but when I jumped he realized yelling was not the approach he should take.

"All I'm saying is I'm trying the save you. We did research on you and your family and saw that your dad is not only a detective but he's working on our case. I'm so sorry that this has to happen but I can't let you go." Chris says, his voice much softer than before. "I don't want to hurt you, I would never want to hurt you" "but will you?" I finally looked at him, my eyes tearing up so much that it's almost impossible for me to see.

I could tell that was a question he was not prepared to answer "goodnight" the Australian boy gets up and dusted himself off and walks towards the door. "If you need anything just go to this speaker right here" he points to a speaker next to the bed that had a big red circle on it and numbers 1-13. "Push 1 if need me the room goes me, then oldest to youngest so if you need Hyunjin push 5 I'm sure he wouldn't mind helping you out either." Chris gives me one last look before closing the door.

I can't believe I'm stuck here forever all because I went to school and accidentally made friends with the biggest mafia in Korea. I sobbed, my mind was filled with all kinds of questions but the one thing that came out of my mouth was

"How could you do this?"

Previous / next

#stray kids #stray kids reactions #straykids #jyp stray kids #stray kids edit #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #skz #skz reactions #skz requests #skz mafia #straykids mafia au #stray kings bangchan #stray kids bangchan #bang chan #skz bang chan #bang chan scenario #jyp skz

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wherevermyway · 5 years ago

Text

step out! do what you want (chapter five)

pairings: reader/bang chan, reader/han jisung  side pairings: established changbin/minho, reader/bang chan/han jisung rating: explicit | 18+ warnings: angst, violence, mention of firearms, description of graphic injuries, profanity, more dirty smut (including a threesome again, but this time with double the penetration lol and double the lack of protection) because I am trash. also, jisung is a bratty little shit because of course he is. drug dealer!au, organized crime!au. word count: about 6,500 also posted to my AO3 here! chapter/series navigation

chapter five: do you want to live forever?

recommended tracks: haunt // bed by the 1975, devil in the details by placebo, nevermind by dennis lloyd, cypher part 3: killer by bts rapline, boxer by stray kids, hyung by dumbfoundead, black swan (stranger things mashup) by bts/seokjinnie, call on me by eric prydz; boom by nct dream; roller coaster by tomorrow x together, how do you sleep? by sam smith, obsession by exo, after hours by the weeknd, part time god by the bad dreamers. playlist can be found here!

note: this chapter took forever and a year for me to write. hopefully, it’s up to everyone’s standards after that cliffhanger! (don’t worry, I brought back some good ol’ smut because I’m a skanky hoe.)

disclaimer: any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.

side note: for the love of minho’s cats, don’t mix party drugs or drugs with alcohol.

“I don’t miss from this close.”

The world stopped as you stared down the barrel of Changbin’s pistol. His face was emotionless, staring down at you, waiting for you to say something - specifically, he wanted you to say the right thing.

You’re unable to form a coherent sentence, unintelligible noises come babbling up from your throat, too terrified to even plead for your life. Tears start building up in the corner of your eyes as your body starts to tremble.

Jisung shakes his head, standing in between both of you. He lifts his hands to the air, slowly stepping in between Changbin’s pistol and you. “Changbin-hyung,” he says, his voice shockingly calm. “It’s not her fault. I don’t have definitive proof, but I will risk my life for her on this.”

Changbin’s expression doesn’t change. He rolls his eyes up to meet Jisung’s and moves his arm to aim the pistol at him, touching the gun to his forehead as he cocks it. “You’d bet your life on it?”

“Jisung,” you manage to weakly squeak out. The tears that had been building up start pouring down your cheeks, unable to be stopped. First, you had almost lost Christopher. Now you were about to lose Jisung.

“Absolutely.” Jisung is reserved, stoic in his resolve. “I need you to trust me, Changbin-hyung. Please.”

Changbin scoffs, rolling his head to the side. He disarms the pistol, tucking it back into its holster. He turns back to Jisung, running his tongue over his teeth. Suddenly, he winds up a punch and decks the silver-haired man right in the face, causing him to land on the floor with a thud.

“What the fuck?” Jisung shouts, grabbing his face.

“Don’t you ever do that to one of your superiors again. Your hyungs’ orders are absolute, even if you disagree with them. If you ever interfere like this again, I will break your fucking kneecaps.” Changbin spits out, rubbing his knuckles. “Got it?”

Jisung squints at Changbin in disbelief, but nods his head. “Understood, hyung.”

“Good. As for you,” Changbin looks directly into your eyes, taking a couple of steps closer until he’s at the edge of the bed. He grabs your jaw with a firm grip. “If I find out that you’re working for them, I absolutely will kill you. No questions asked. I don’t care if Jisung or Chan protest. Nobody fucks with my family. Nobody fucks with me.”

His words, laden with venom, cause your blood to run cold. You weakly nod your head, as best as you could with his hand holding your jaw in place. He lets go of your face with an aggressive push. Changbin turns away from both of you.

Jisung sits up, looking at you with a mortified expression. You could feel his sympathy from where you sat, knowing that he was as terrified as you. He’s about to open up his mouth to speak, but Changbin beats him to it.

“Minho found out that your phone was being tracked. Said he added his number to your phone, unlocking it after guessing your passcode a couple of times. It concerned him, so he was able to gain access to your phone and take a look remotely. He just found the tracker while I was at the hospital with Chan.”

The realization that your phone had compromised you had caused your heart to drop to your stomach. It was your fault that all of you were in this mess, that Christopher was holding on to his life in the hospital. Your face falls, and you hold it in your hands. How was this possible?

“I’ve got a burner for you,” Changbin says, tossing a basic phone on the bed in front of you. “There’s nothing fancy about it, but it has our numbers in it in case you need anything.” You weakly nod your head in acceptance.

“What’s happening with Chan-hyung now?” Jisung speaks up, working himself to his feet. He wobbles a bit, then walks to the bed, sitting down next to you. The spot that Changbin punched is starting to bruise up.

Changbin sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He unceremoniously flops on to the foot of the bed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together in front of him. “Chan is fine for now.” You allow yourself a sigh of relief. “However, the bullet damaged his clavicle and he lost about a litre and a half of blood. I’m sure he’ll be released in no time, but he’s going to be out of commission for a while. “

You were relieved that Christopher was going to be okay, but waiting was going to be hell. “What do we do now?” You ask Changbin, hoping that you can make yourself useful.

He swivels his head to look at you and sighs deeply. “Honestly? I’m not totally sure yet. I just need the three of you to stay here until I figure more of this shit out.”

And wait you did. Time passed a snail’s pace while you waited in the small apartment. Felix was there for a few days, but didn’t say much. He was replaced by Seungmin, and he shared some entertaining conversations to pass the time. The next week, Minho was there, and you were relieved to see a face you recognized. He helped everything seem to go a bit smoother with his witty humour.

It had to have been about two, maybe three, weeks since your altercation with Changbin. You had avoided checking the days, since you knew that would just make everything go that much slower.

“Hey, bunny?” You heard Jisung’s voice call for you from the bedroom. He walked into the living room, staring at his phone, as he came to sit next to you and Minho.

“What’s up?”

“It’s Changbin-hyung. He’s coming over and wanted to make sure you were awake.” Jisung sets his phone down on the coffee table, then relaxes back into the couch and sighs. “He didn’t say what it was, he just said it was important and he’d be here in, like, twenty minutes.”

“Huh,” Minho sighs, checking his phone as he leans back into the couch. “He hasn’t even told me. It’s probably something pretty important, then.”

The next twenty minutes dragged on as slowly as humanly possible. You, Jisung, and Minho all sat on the couch in silence, staring off into the wall.

“That’s it,” you hear a calm, soothing voice come from behind the front door. The three of you all snap your heads in that direction, and, as Jisung stands, his phone goes off. “No, you can’t - goddammit,” the voice calls again as the door handle rattles.

Jisung grabs his phone, checks it, then shoves it into his pocket. “It’s locked,” he says, advancing towards the front door. He fumbles with the lock a bit until it clicks and recedes into its cavern. “I listened to you this time, hyung,” Jisung says with a smirk as he opens the door. His face falls as soon as the door opens all the way, shocked at what he’s seeing.

“Since when do you listen?” The voice that drifts through the door is familiar, and it makes your heart drop into the pit of your stomach. A cold sweat comes over you as you stare at the doorway.

It’s Christopher.

Your feet start to move before you even register it. It’s almost like your brain is on autopilot as you beeline your way into his arms.

“Ow,” Christopher groans as you squeeze his ribs, “injured shoulder, injured shoulder.”

“Oh my god,” you hastily let go of Christopher, then take his face into your hands. “It’s you. It’s really you. You’re alive.”

Christopher smiles, then leans down to kiss your lips. “Hey, baby. Don’t worry, I can’t be taken out that easily.” Jisung comes closer and leans his elbow on Christopher’s good shoulder.

“Took you long enough,” the silver-haired man quips. “And here I was worried you were actually gonna die for a minute.” Christopher groans and rolls his eyes at Jisung.

“Come on,” Changbin says, placing his hand on the small of Christopher’s back and ushering him to the couch. “Let the poor guy sit down.”

“Ah, Bin,” Christopher grumbles as he walks with Changbin, “I’ve been resting for two and a half weeks straight. I don’t really need to sit down that badly.”

“I don’t care,” Changbin says, guiding the blond-haired man to the cushion. “I need you at peak condition as soon as I can get you there” He sits down next to Christopher and motions for you and Jisung to sit down. “I have important news.”

Jisung sits on the floor behind the coffee table, letting you have the spot next to Christopher on the couch. Minho leans up against the wall and tucks his hands into his pockets.

“I found the person that’s been tracking you,” Changbin says as he stares into your eyes. “You’re absolutely positive you’re not involved?”

You vigorously shake your head. “Of course not. Why would I want to bring harm to a bunch of guys I barely know?”

“Because,” Changbin says, slicking his hand back through his hair. “You know who the threat is. You know them very well, actually.” Your breath hitches in your throat as you stare Changbin down.

“It’s your friend Minji.” Your eyes fly open and you sit back. “I don’t know if it’s just her, or if it’s something more than her, but she’s involved. You sent a pin of your location to her your first night with Chan, and that’s how they found you both.”

Your head was spinning. There was no way that Minji could ever or would ever want to hurt you. Right? “There’s no way that’s true,” you manage to squeak out, staring at the floor in disbelief. “Minji would never involve herself with something like that.”

“But she did,” Changbin sighs. “Like I said, I don’t know if it’s just her or not. It’s going to take some time to figure everything out, but once I do, I’m taking care of it.”

“Taking care of it?” You perk up cautiously.

Changbin hums, then looks to the floor. There’s an awkward silence as you wait for him to speak up. “She won’t be an issue anymore.” Christopher turns to look at him, then swivels his head around to look at you, eyes wide with shock.

You furrow your brows as you look at Christopher, then to Changbin. Your jaw drops as you realize exactly what he means. “No,” you manage to whimper out, then jump to your feet. “You’re not going to kill Minji, are you?”

Changbin sighs and rolls his eyes. “I already told you,” he says, standing up to be eye-level with you. “Nobody fucks with my family and nobody fucks with me. She’s a threat and needs to be eliminated.”

“How can you even be sure?” You’re practically yelling at Changbin now. There was no way that your friend was really in the middle of all of this.

“I have my sources,” Changbin grunts, folding his arms. “You’re not going to be able to change my mind on this. Besides, how do you think you ended up at the same place as Hyunjin and Chan that night? How do you think both of them got shot within a couple of days? It all adds up. She was using you as a cog in her machine.”

There was no way this was true.

Changbin reaches into the breast pocket of his jacket, then flops a stack of papers on the table. “If you don’t believe me, then look at this. I have copies of her text messages from the week prior to the Itaewon house party, along with some other damning things in there. Why do you think you were caught up in a picture with Chan, but she wasn’t in a picture with Hyunjin? Both of you were at the same party at the same time. Bit suspicious, isn’t it?”

You start to thumb through the papers Changbin provided. Sure enough, the copies of the text messages Minji had sent to an unknown number proved him right. Starting from a couple of nights before you both went to that party, copies of conversations the two of you had before the party, including the messages you had sent each other after you parted, and the message with Christopher’s apartment’s location forwarded to some random number.

It was mind-boggling. You had known Minji for over a year now, so to be betrayed like this was a shock. She was your first and only friend you had from work. How long had she ben planning this?

The papers fell from your hands as you grabbed your face. “This can’t be true. There’s no way,” you whispered, falling to your knees. “Minji would never do this to me.”

“She did, though,” Changbin said with a sigh, folding his arms. “I don’t know if she intended for you to get involved in all of this or not, but here we are. I’ve gotta take care of this.” He reoriented himself, making eye contact with Minho and Jisung. “Can I trust this,” he motioned in a circle in front of you, “to you?”

You see Minho nod from the corner of your eye. Changbin starts to make his way for the door, but you instinctively reach out and grab his pant leg. “Please,” you whisper, unable to look at him, “please don’t do this to her. She doesn’t deserve this.”

Changbin groans heavily, and you swear you can hear him roll his eyes. “You saw the messages. I don’t know how else to convince you that your so-called ‘friend’ is not who she says she is.” He tugs his leg free from your grasp and continues walking to the door. “I’m not risking this, not for the family. Chan and Hyunjin were already injured, and that grievance is too large for me to forgive.”

He opens the door, and closes it with a slam. You swear you heard him apologize, but it easily could have been a figment of your imagination.

“Baby,” Christopher says, softly, reaching his good arm out to grab your shoulder, “I’m sorry. There’s nothing we can do once Changbin sets his mind on something, especially if it’s something to protect the family.”

Your eyes fall on a piece of paper in front of you, and you grab it in your hands, pulling it to your face to look at it. The paper has screenshots of text messages from Minji’s phone number transcribed on it.

Yeah, she’s there now.

Best thing that could have happened, now we know where he is.

No, I don’t care. She’s expendable.

It’s orders from the top. You need to take BC out. It’ll dismantle their whole group.

Why the fuck didn’t you kill him? I just got word that he survived.

I’m going to have one of the guys kill you then clean up your mistake.

The messages from Minji seem surreal. You had no idea that she had this side to her. How much had she been hiding all this time? Did she really believe you were expendable?

Jisung leans down next to you, whispering your name. “It’s okay, bunny,” his voice is soft as he reaches up to rub the tears off of your face. “We’ll get through this.”

Christopher groans on his way to the floor, but he makes his way down right next to you. “Sung is right, baby. This is just a blip in the road. We’ve got you.”

Minho’s phone goes off, and he walks past the three of you. “Looks like Binnie changed his mind and needs my help. I’m going to take off, but Jeongin will be here to watch over in an hour or something.”

You stare at your hands, noticing they don’t even feel like an extension of your body anymore. They’re just there, somehow attached to your body. Nothing even feels real at this point. This entire month has been an absolute shitshow, and nothing could really surprise you at this point.

“What the fuck,” you manage to squeak out after a tense silence. “I thought I knew Minji.”

Jisung pulls you to his arms, tightly gripping your shoulders. “There’s no way you could have predicted this. I bet she didn’t even plan to have you be a part of this at first, that’s just the way it happened.”

In the back of your mind, everything started to fall into place. You very distinctly recall Minji pressing you to come to this stupid house party, even though you weren’t feeling it. “Minji,” you grumbled as you applied your mascara, “I’m not gonna stay for very long. I’m just gonna go in, have a drink or two, then leave. Is that fine?”

“Yes! Yes, babe, that’s great,” Minji said with a smile, winking to you in the mirror as she applied her last layer of lipstick. “Nobody wants to show up to a party alone, and nobody wants to leave a party alone. Maybe we’ll find some cute guys while we’re there?”

When you were at the party and she ducked off within minutes, it didn’t make sense. “Oh, I just saw my ex, I’ll only be gone for a minute,” she said, but she disappeared for the rest of the night. Now, in hindsight, everything made sense. She knew that Hyunjin and Christopher were at the party, and you were lucky enough to capture Christopher’s attention. She may not have intended for it to happen, but it did, and she was probably beside herself with excitement.

You shook your head, frantically running your fingers through your hair as you pulled yourself from the memory. “What the fuck is happening? How could she use me like this?” You broke away from Jisung, turning around to look at both him and Christopher. They just exchange concerned glances with each other and say nothing.

“What the fuck?!” You exclaim with a loud sigh, falling back on to the floor and staring at the ceiling. Your eyes were burning with tears that stung of your betrayal. Minji was your only friend from work, the only friend you really bothered to make and keep since you moved here. To be betrayed by her like this was another level of pain.

“Bunny,” Jisung whispers, grabbing your arm. “It’s going to be okay, maybe not right now, but we’ll get through this.”

“You don’t understand, Jisung,” you yell at him through tears, “Minji was my only close friend. After you and I split, she was the only real friend I had to vent to. To know that my entire friendship with her was a fucking lie?”

Jisung sits back on his heels, biting his lip and turning away from you. He mouths something to Christopher, but you can’t make out whatever he says. You don’t care at this point, honestly, because this whole situation is a nightmare.

“Alright, alright,” Christopher sighs, working his way to be closer to you. “No more of this pity party. It’s not on you to feel bad for her behaviour. She’s the one that fucked you over, now you need to acknowledge it and move on.”

“Chan,” Jisung starts, a bit of shock to his voice, “don’t you think that’s a bit harsh?”

You want to agree with Jisung, but you know that, deep down inside, Christopher is right. You drag your hands over your face and sit upright. “He’s right, though,” you say with a groan. “As much as I don’t want to admit it, he’s right. She fucked it up on her own accord. I can be mad at her for this later.”

“That’s the spirit,” Christopher says, wrapping his good arm around your shoulders, “I’m not saying don’t be angry. Absolutely, let yourself be angry. But we need to figure out what we’re going to do next, alright?”

The three of you chatted for a while, and eventually Jeongin showed up, bringing some takeout from a pasta restaurant just up the street. It was a relatively uneventful dinner, some jokes springing up between the acquainted men, leaving you a bit out of the loop as you sat on and watched.

Your mind couldn’t help but travel to think about if Changbin had found Minji yet. If he found her, was she dead? You could swear that you heard her whispering your name on the wind as it drifted in from the window.

“Hey,” Jisung waved his hand in front of your face, “Are you alive in there?” The voice you were hallucinating wasn’t Minji’s, it was just Jisung, saying your name over and over as he tried to get your attention. “I was worried you had mentally checked out on us. How are you doing?” He reached his arm around you, his hand soothingly rubbing on your back.

“Oh,” you manage to squeak out, “yeah, sorry, I was just distracted.”

“Alright,” Christopher says, looking at Jisung as he stands up. “I have an idea. But I need you to grab her and bring her with, since I’m out of commission.” Christopher ducks off into the bedroom without waiting for Jisung’s response.

“Way ahead of you,” Jisung smiles, turning to Jeongin, “sorry, man, it’s gonna be a busy night without you. You cool?”

The young man with black hair waves his hand in the air dismissively as he pulls out his phone, stretching out onto the couch. “Don’t worry about me,” he says, “I’ll keep myself plenty entertained. Maybe I’ll watch one of those American programmes on TV. Brush up on my English or something.”

You’re about to open your mouth to protest, but Jisung scoops you up in his arms and throws you over his shoulder. “Come on,” he says with a perk in his voice, “we could all use this, just a little break from reality.” He brings you into the bedroom, tossing you on the bed next to Christopher. He closes the door behind him, then flops down on the bed in between both of you.

“Is this what you had in mind?” Jisung perks up, asking Christopher specifically. The blond laughs, bringing his hands behind his head.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” Christopher says with a cocky smile on his face. “I can’t really do much, though,” he whines, “but I don’t mind watching you two entertain each other while I sit back.”

“You heard the man,” Jisung smirks as he rolls over on top of you. “He wants a show, so I guess we gotta give him one.”

“Oi,” Christopher interjects, “I would just like to point out that I never said you had to do anything. But, it would be nice to have a little fun. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve seen you guys and I could really use the stress relief,” his voice trails off as he leans back onto the headboard. “I’m fine with just taking care of it myself, too.”

Jisung crawls up to the spot right next to Christopher. “I want to watch,” he says with a wide grin as he looks at both of you.

“I don’t care,” Christopher sighs before moving to undo his jeans. “I’ve been waiting for this for far too long.” Jisung leans over to Christopher, lightly grabbing his face.

“Don’t worry, hyung,” he says with a giggle, “I’m just teasing. We’ll help you out.” Jisung presses his lips to Christopher, motioning for you to hurry up with his free hand. Christopher pushes back into Jisung, grabbing his hair with his good hand.

You watch the guys wrestle with each other a bit before you wiggle your way up into Christopher’s lap, completely undoing his pants for him. The blond groans with relief into the silver-haired man’s lips, clearly relieved to be free from the restraint of his pants. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this,” the blond mutters, “like, you’re not my type, Jisung, but,”

Jisung bites down on Christopher’s bottom lip, hard enough to make the older man squeal, “Yeah, are you really gonna complain about it right now, though? Because I’d be happy to stop.”

Christopher glares at the younger man, “I’m injured. Can you give me a break?”

“Aww,” Jisung mocks Christopher, jokingly pushing in his cheeks with his fingertips. “Poor boss, thinking that getting shot on the job is such a good idea. Bet that’ll teach you not to get shot next time?”

You balk at Jisung’s words, looking at him with wide eyes. Did he really just say that to his superior? Christopher catches your eye, noticing your shock. “Don’t worry,” he groans, waving his hand dismissively, “Jisung is a brat sometimes. I’ll let him have it for now, but he knows he should watch his tongue. Once I’m recovered, you’re fucked.”

Jisung scoffs. “Yeah, I’d like to see you try, tough guy.” Christopher whips his head back in disbelief, about to say something, but you interrupt both of them, sticking your hands in their faces.

“Can you save whatever this is for later?” You try to plead, but Jisung simply rolls his eyes at you.

“Yeah, I’ll stop whenever Chan-hyung clearly stops enjoying this,” he says with a smirk, looking down at Christopher’s lap, then up to you. Chris groans, gritting his teeth at Jisung’s nickname.

“The nickname, I told you,” he starts, but Jisung brings his finger to Christopher’s lips.

“Shush,” he whispers, and replaces his finger with his lips for a quick, soft kiss. “Come on, it’s your turn to do something, bunny, give him something to finally shut up over.”

Watching your (maybe?) ex-boyfriend tease your (maybe?) current boyfriend was a lot for you to mentally (and physically, in some regards) handle. Christopher turned to you, his eyes half open, and his mouth slightly agape.

“What is it?” You softly whisper, positioning yourself directly on top of Christopher’s lap, placing your hands on either side of his jaw, angling his face to be just under yours.

“Come on,” Christopher whines, grinding his pelvis up into yours, “you know what I want after all this time.”

“It’s only been a couple weeks,” Jisung quips, smirking at you as he leans up against the headboard. “Doesn’t seem like that long to me, no?”

Christopher groans and digs his good hand into your thigh. “Are you both seriously going to make me beg for it?”

You and Jisung eye each other, giving each other a smirk before turning your attention back to Christopher. “We can’t push you too hard, “ you say with a slight whine, grinding your hips down into his, “it would be bad for the healing process.”

Christopher rolls his eyes at you, giving you a completely deadpan look. “Are you fucking joking?”

“Oh!” Jisung gasps with feigned despair. “It could be too much physical activity if you move around too much. We can’t bump your arm around or anything, it would probably cause problems.”

“Oh my god,” Christopher whines, “I’m not gonna move my goddamn arm, I promise. Can one of you please just help me out here? My good arm has been out of service since I went out, and now I have both of you taunting me? Fucking kill me before I have to go through any more of this.”

“Okay,” you simply say, leaning down to give Christopher a deep, needy kiss. “Just promise you won’t move your arm around at all. If one of us does something that makes your arm hurt, you need to tell us, alright?”

Christopher rapidly nods his head, “Yeah, yeah, fine, just please,” he pleads with a whine, grabbing your hip with his good hand, “I want you so badly. I want to be inside you right this second. Please.”

The look that he gives you when he pleads with you makes your soul melt. It must have an effect on Jisung, too, because he makes a pointed effort to adjust himself in his spot. “I wanna watch you unravel Chan, baby,” he whispers with a devious grin. “I love that he wants you so badly.”

Christopher reorients himself against the headboard, releasing your hip from his grip. He grabs Jisung’s shoulder with his left hand, digging his fingernails into the younger man’s skin. “If you keep making comments without actions, I swear to god, I am going to rip your -“

Jisung shakes his hands in his superior’s face. “Sorry, sorry,” he pleads, “what do you want me to do?”

“Here,” you say, pulling Jisung closer to you. “Just let your hands roam around me. I’m sure you’ll elicit a reaction out of me that will pique Christopher’s interest.” Jisung nods his head to the side, agreeing with you, as he gets behind you. He helps you sneak all of your clothes off, and, by the look on Christopher’s face, it seems to be working.

Once Jisung slides your panties off, you open up the front opening to Christopher’s briefs, and waste no time mounting yourself on his cock. It’s a bit uncomfortable, since you didn’t really think ahead and prepare yourself, but you grin and bear it anyway. The look that Christopher gives you makes all of your discomfort melt away.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, letting his head fall back on the headboard. Jisung comes up from behind you, sinking his teeth into your neck and letting his hands grasp your breasts. He isn’t very subtle about it, but he’s pressing his cock up against your back, grinding up against you for some sort of stimulation.

“Looks like that’s exactly what our Chan needed, hmm?” Jisung groans into your ear, “You seem to be enjoying yourself, too, baby, yeah?”

You somehow manage to whine out some semblance of agreement, and it causes both Christopher and Jisung to tense.

Christopher rolls his head up, looking both of you in the eyes. “I have an idea,” he whimpers, “but it’s going to involve effort for both of you.”

It took effort, but within a few minutes, with a lot of lubricant that Jisung somehow managed to find, and stretching, you somehow are able to fit both Jisung and Christopher inside of you at the same time. Jisung puts in most of the physical effort, since it’s hard to find the will to get yourself to move, but it really does feel incredible.

Below you, Christopher seems to be having an otherworldly experience. His eyes are shut tightly, and he’s grabbing onto your waist with a vise grip. Jisung has one of his arms wrapped around you as best as he can, his hand stretching up in the space between your breasts. You’re trying your best not to lean up against Christopher with too much pressure, but you feel like your body is going to give out if either he or Jisung lets go of you.

When Jisung starts moving, that’s when you lose all semblance of self-control. Your voice refuses to be restrained, and you’re sure every neighbour in a twenty kilometre radius can hear you praising every deity that has ever existed. The pressure in your abdomen, albeit a bit uncomfortable, feels miraculous. You’re shouting out Christopher’s and Jisung’s names without even intending to, and the effect it’s having on them is obvious.

“Fuck, I’m not gonna,” Christopher groans deeply, letting up one thrust before he collapses into himself, moaning your name as he begins to paint your insides. “Holy fuck,” he groans again, looking up into your eyes, grabbing your face and guiding you to look at him.

The two of you stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, before you feel Jisung dig into your sides. “Baby,” he whines, “this is so much, I’m gonna come,.” He sinks his teeth into your shoulder so hard, you’re positive you start bleeding, but you don’t care at all. In fact, you welcome it.

You aren’t really sure what you tell Jisung, you just know that you welcome it. He hastily drags one of his hands down to your clit, rotating it just enough to bring you over the edge with him.

You try your best not to collapse on to Christopher as your muscles give out. Thankfully, somehow, Jisung is able to keep a hold of you, pulling you backwards on to him. The three of you take a long moment to catch your breath, before Jisung pulls you off of Christopher and back onto him.

“What,” Jisung breathes out, “the fuck was that? Did we seriously just do that?”

Christopher lets out a small cough, then a throaty laugh. “Holy shit. That seriously happened?”

You don’t really have much to say as you come back to your senses. However, you bolt upright with a look of terror in your eyes. “Oh my god,” you say with a hushed tone, “Jeongin heard us.”

Jisung lets out a cackle. “Ah,” he says, reaching out to pull you back down to his arms, “when I stepped out there earlier, I told him to go take a walk for a little bit, that we’d be fine and he wouldn’t wanna be around for what was about to happen.”

“Crafty bastard,” Christopher retorts from his spot, letting out a couple soft chuckles.

“Hey,” Jisung groans, “you may doubt me, but I have my moments, sometimes.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Christopher groans in response. “Can you grab me a paracetamol or something? My arm is fucking killing me.”

You quickly sit up, instantly regretting it due to the the spinning effect you feel. “I’ve got it,” Jisung says from behind you, rolling off of the foot of the bed, digging around in one of the drawers of the dresser. He pulls out a bottle and tosses it at Christopher.

“Thanks,” the blond says, taking out a couple of small pills and swallowing them with no qualms. “Now get back here, baby,” he says to you, tossing the bottle onto the nightstand next to him, then opening his good arm to you.

“Are you sure you don’t want any water?” You ask him as you shakily pull yourself to his side.

“Don’t worry about me,” he grumbles, rotating his right arm around a bit. “Hey, you too, Jisung, get over here.”

Jisung snickers, snuggling up to your back. “What, you’re feeling soft for your blood brother?”

Christopher rolls his eyes and scoffs. “No. That was just an experience I never thought I’d cross off my list.”

“You love me,” Jisung chuckles, tossing the blanket from the end of the bed over the three of you.

“Shut up,” Christopher retorts, deliberately not offering him an affirmation or a denial.

A couple more weeks end up passing, and both you and Jisung try your hardest to help Christopher heal up his shoulder. He’s stubborn, though, trying to make things as difficult as possible at every turn. There was one time the three of you were fooling around on the couch, and Christopher nearly injured his arm even further, forgetting he couldn’t put any load-bearing weight on it. It was a crisis averted, but still a nuisance.

There were a couple of other minor problems that popped up, but the three of you had managed to laugh it off. It was weird, really, it was like you were dating both of them at the same time, but nobody really cared. Nobody got overly jealous, probably because the three of you were stuck in a small apartment together and had no other sense of release from each other.

It wasn’t a bad thing, though. You all had a strange way of working around each other’s quirks. The three of you could also sleep comfortably together on the bed, with you and Jisung alternating between the middle spot. Jisung and Christopher didn’t really know what exactly they were, but they went along with whatever it was anyways.

Sometimes they were basically dating, and other times they couldn’t stand to be around each other. It was weird when Jisung would walk past Christopher, give him a kiss on the forehead, and then continue to walk by like nothing happened. Neither of them ever really addressed it, which was peculiar, but it was what they did, and you learned to accept it.

Regardless of whatever was happening between the three of you, you made it work, and that was good enough for you. Once you were no longer in danger of being killed, and once Christopher was back to full health, the three of you could start to work towards a new normal.

It had to have been about a month since Christopher was released from the hospital, that was when Changbin came over next. It was a Saturday morning, early and unannounced. Christopher was the one that woke up to the text message from Changbin, letting you know of his presence.

Christopher didn’t have time to wake you up, only to let Changbin, Felix, and Jeongin in. You heard the three of them come through the front door, and Changbin invited himself into your bedroom.

“Get up,” he said with an assertive tone, staring you down from the doorframe. “We’ve found her. We’ve found all of them, and we need to go.”

#skzsmutnetwork #stray kids fic #skz fic #skz smut #stray kids smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #han jisung x reader #han jisung smut #bang chan x han jisung x reader #chan x jisung x reader #filthy fucking smut #step out do what you want #wherevermyway

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yourmidnightlover · 4 years ago

Text

SSA Hotchner: chapter 5 - childhood

TW: case-typical violence, case involving child abuse, description of abuse, panic attack, kiss *let me know if i missed anything*

WC: 6,421

————————————————————————

two weeks had gone by before you had gotten a new case with the team. it had been pretty slow, something you were rather grateful for. but you could guess it was just the calm before the storm.

just being called in so early left everyone on edge as you entered the bau, drudging into the conference room to be briefed on the new case. you sat in the chair beside derek and spencer as you waited for penelope to enter the room.

"alright my friends this case isn't very bright," penelope greeted upon entering the room. "although none of what you do is bright. anyway, there have been three murders along the gulf coast of men. they are manually strangled and then... well, you can check that out on your tablets," she motioned as she took a seat at the table.

"they're thrown away like garbage," you spoke up. "he has a complete lack of remorse for these men."

"the manual strangulation suggests that the unsub is passionate about this kill," spencer added.

"they were only a week apart and the last death was three days ago," derek reminded us.

"which is exactly why we need to leave soon," aaron told the table. "wheels up in 30."

—

you sat on the chair across from the couch that spencer was sitting on. morgan was beside you as emily and jj were in the seats across the table. hotch and rossi sat facing one another.

"so there are ligature marks and bruising which suggests torture post-mortem," rossi stated as he browsed on his tablet, his face grimacing as he scrolled upon a particularly gruesome photo.

"maybe these men remind him of someone from his past that wronged him?" emily guessed, looking towards you for agreement. "or he could feel emasculated by these men."

"the guys he's killing don't scream "tough guy" to me," you shrugged.

"okay so back to the man that wronged him theory..." jj spoke up. "maybe he's warming up to this specific guy?"

"if that's true then he's going to wait until he perfects his kill," derek stated.

"and from the looks of it he still has a long way to go until it's perfect," rossi scoffed.

"we need to look into these victims lives," aaron interrupted. "figure out what overlaps with what. something about these guys makes the unsub want to kill them and we need to figure it out. i want emily, y/n, and spencer to go to the most recent victims house and talk to their wives," you three nodded in agreement. "rossi and morgan go to the morgue to analyze the body further. jj you're with me at the precinct to see what the locals know."

—

you sat in the passenger seat, theories running through your mind about what could have been going on that made them a target for such murder. each of the men had children and wives, a life waiting for them at home. they had good jobs, they were financially stable so they wouldn't have owed anybody money.

"whatcha thinkin over there?" emily asked, peering over at your clearly confused state.

"just how it doesn't make sense that these men were killed," you furrowed your brows. "they had a family, a life to go back to. it just... it's not right."

"that's why we're here," spencer spoke up from the back seat. "to figure out why this is happening and put the killer away."

"i know," you sighed, turning to look out the window once more. "... i know."

"we'll figure it out, y/n," emily placed her hand comfortingly on your thigh. "we always do," she gave you a smile.

"right," you have her a tight-lipped smile in return.

once you arrived at the most recent victim's, christopher taylor's, house, you both noticed how nice the neighborhood was. it was a huge, two story house with an equally large backyard with a pool.

it reminded you a lot of your childhood home - the late nights beside the pool, waiting for your dad to get back home with you brothers, long before dad turned to alcohol. and then the very same house was tainted with violence and screaming, fears and hiding from your own dad.

not now, you thought. i need to focus.

walking up to the door, you rang the doorbell apprehensively, a little nervous to meet the grieving family. after a few seconds, the wife opened the door with a, clearly fake, smile adorned on her face.

"hi," the wife, stephanie, greeted you. "come on in," she stepped aside to allow you three inside.

"thank you, ma'am," you thanked her as you stepped inside. "i'm so sorry for your loss."

"oh um..." she trailed off. "thank you, it means a lot," she guided you all to the living room. "please, uhm - please, have a seat."

you sat between spencer and emily as stephanie sat on a chair adjacent to the couch, facing you all.

"would you like anything to drink? water? tea?" she asked eagerly before a child came running down the stairs, making their way beside their mom. "what're you doing, love bug? mommy has to talk to the police," she said sweetly to the 6-year old child.

"when's daddy coming home?" he asked with a sad tone, but something didn't sit right with you.

"he's not," she sighed as she placed a kiss to his hairline.

"what?" he asked in surprise. "he's not coming home?" his eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened in shock.

"no, he's not, bug," she brushed his hair behind his ears, clearly trying to ground herself and not break down.

"here," emily spoke up. "why don't you go with ms. hotch and dr. reid and show them your room?" emily said excitedly to distract the child.

"yes! i just got a new race car i can show you!" he exclaimed as he jumped down from his mom's lap.

you and spencer gave her a smile as you got up from the couch, following the eager child up the stairs to his, rather large, room.

the room was spotless, not a toy out of place from his shelf as his bed was perfectly made. a little boy's room, especially one this young, would normally be a bit more disorganized. he didn't have any colorful art on his wall, no important pictures adorning his wall either. the personal aspect of his room was lost within the blue and yellow wallpaper, trapping his childhood and joy in the obvious restrictions placed on him by... not his mother.

she was loving and kind to him, she didn't fake her adoration for her child. so it was probably his dad, placing responsibility on him by making him be the "man of the house" at such a young age. but how far down did that responsibility go?

"hey james," you bent down to his level, speaking in a high register voice. "how about that car?"

"dad won't let me play with it because it's a collectible car but it looks really cool on the shelf!" he pointed up on the shelf to a level he wouldn't be able to reach. "super cool, right?"

"so cool, little man!" you exclaimed. "did your dad not let you play with these other cars?" you asked curiously.

"only at a specific time with his permission. he doesn't want me to break anything again, and neither do i..." he trailed off with big eyes, reliving the time he might've once broken an item.

"what happened when you broke something," spencer piped in, bending down to his level to talk in the same voice you had earlier.

"oh, that," he sighed as he sat down in the chair by his desk. "one time i was playing with a car i got for my birthday when he didn't tell me i could and then when i accidentally knocked over a vase in the living room, he wouldn't let me play with them for a whole week! then he started yelling at mommy for letting me make the mess so i told him it was my fault and he spanked me really hard because i was being bad. so now i don't touch my toys unless he says so," the boy shrugged.

"where did your dad spank you, james?" you asked l, apprehensive of the response.

"he spanked me with his belt on my back, but the bruises went away after a while," he shrugged.

you looked over at spencer, giving him a look that you shared. the little boy didn't know he was a victim of abuse. then that feeling filled back up inside of you... the feeling of fear and worry.

no, you thought once more. i have to focus.

"you won't have to worry about that anymore, buddy," you gave him an apathetic smile, rubbing his back gently.

"i miss my dad," he frowned, walking closer into your touch.

"i know buddy," you enveloped him in your arms, brushing through the hair on his scalp to try and calm him down.

because you understood the pain. you didn't know why your dad had been so cruel, but that didn't stop you from missing him after his death. the confusion, the mixed emotions. while you wouldn't have to face the harshness of his hand or the angry tone of his voice, you would never get to ask him why. why he was so angry all the time? why he would always blame his family for a rough case? why he ruined your childhood...

"hey guys," emily knocked on his door. "we can uhh... make our way out now."

"alright," you pulled back from james. "if you need anything, ask your mom to call ms. y/n, alright? she has my number."

"alright ms. y/n," james agreed, wiping the tears from his face.

"i know how confusing you must feel right now, james. but just know how much your mom loves you," you smiled. "and know that you didn't deserve anything your dad did to you. it's not your fault, none of it was."

"thank you," he grinned weakly before you stood up and left the room, not failing to give him a kind smile as you walked out of the room.

when you caught up with spencer and emily, you joined them in the car.

"christopher was abusive," emily said blatantly.

"he beat james and yelled at his mom because james had broken a vase," you informed emily.

"he would constantly abuse his wife, verbally and physically. she tried to deny it before she just admitted outright that he was violent and aggressive," she told you and spencer. "are you gonna be alright on this case?" she looked over at you.

"yea, of course," you chuckled before giving her a look and adding, "why wouldn't i be?"

"right," she nodded curtly. "sorry."

spencer wasn't stupid.

he was a profiler. he could pick up on your odd behavior. the way you comforted james was all too familiar to you, as if someone had comforted you that way as a child. and he heard the way you reassured james about his father's violence. while in the back of his mind all he could focus on was how great you were to the child, imagining you as a mother yourself, possibly to his children - which he knows is extremely premature - he couldn't help but profile how you had acted. but he also wanted you to want to open up to him about it, so he wouldn't bring anything up.

so he acted like he wasn't there.

—

"alright, so we're presenting the profile in a half hour," aaron announced to the team. "we need to emphasize the importance of keeping this under wraps. this unsub is killing for attention, we shouldn't give it to him because that would make him kill even more."

maybe you were anxious. scratch that. you were anxious. how were you supposed to catch a killer ridding the world of abusive fathers? an unsub who was abused himself and wanted to lessen the pain of wives and children? it just didn't make sense to you, which wasn't ideal since you had to catch the killer, no matter what it took.

"y/n?" spencer's voice broke you from your own thoughts, you hummed in response. "you alright? you were pretty out of it there."

"right... sorry," you chuckled. "i'm alright," a pitiful smiled displayed on your lips.

"are you sure?" he placed a gentle hand on your back before sitting in the seat beside you. "if you need to talk about it, now or later, i'm always open."

"thank you, seriously, but i'm alright," you assured him, placing a hand on his forearm.

he opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by morgan knocking on the door, announcing that they were preparing for the profile outside.

you walked out into the pit, helping set the board up with the information you had found out about the victims. you turned around, facing the entire police station, ready to tell them about the killer who was bound to go on a spree.

as your brother began speaking, you got lost in your own thoughts once again. wondering if you would have to kill the unsub. wondering what would happen to all of the others business fathers and families if nobody stopped their torment.

thoughts... memories... emotions flooded your memory. your mind was clouded by the past.

your heart began racing.

your vision blurred.

before you knew it, your feet were carrying you out of the building, trying to get yourself some fresh air. you sat down on a nearby bench and buried your face in your hands, between your knees. once you felt your breathing had evened out, you rose your head from between your knees to take a deep breath. you wiped your face if any remaining tears just in time, because spencer slowly sat down beside you on the bench, a pitiful smile on his face.

"what?" you huffed, placing your head back into your hands.

"you just..." he trailed off. "i know something's wrong, y/n. whether or not you'll admit it, which you need to do. pushing it all down won't help anything."

"i'm fine, spencer!" you shouted. "god, why can't you just accept that i'm fine? i'm alright. i'm totally fine with the fact that we have to imprison a guy who's killing terrible fathers and probably making the world a better place! i'm fine with the fact that the families are better off with those men dead! and most of all, i'm fine with the fact that my dad is dead and i don't have any answers as to why he..." you trailed off, sighing as you calmed down a little bit. "i'm sorry."

"you don't have to be sorry," he smiled, placing a hand on your back. "look... i didn't want to say anything, but i think i know what's wrong."

you lifted your head to see him, "you do?"

"yea, i do," he reached over to wipe the tears you didn't know were still flowing off your cheeks. "you don't have to talk about it yet, or with me at all. but when it gets too bad and you need to speak with somebody just know i'm here."

you didn't really know what to say. you yelled at him and he's offering you support. what would've normally warranted someone getting angry and storming off made him kind and supportive.

"uhm, than-thank you," you leaned into his touch, eyeing his lips as he did yours.

you brought your hands to hold his forearms and cup the back of his neck. you pulled him in closer to your face slowly, both unaware of why you were doing so but feeling the need to. like a moth drawn to a flame, you had to have him. you had to know what his lips felt like against yours, what he tasted like. would he passionate, or gentle? maybe a mixture of both. regardless, you had to know. you had to find out.

and then emily busted through the doors of the station, leaving the two of you to jump to opposite sides of the bench.

"y/n," she greeted you, her brows furrowing when she saw spencer with you. "... and spencer... are you alright-y/n, that is."

"uhm," you cleared your throat, rubbing the back of your neck. "yea, i'm all good," you eyed spencer, who was staring straight at you, surely wondering what would've happened if emily hadn't came out of the building.

you almost kissed spencer. you wanted to kiss spencer. you still want to kiss him.

"spencer here talked me through it," you chuckled, nudging his shoulder slightly to draw his attention back to emily, away from you.

"yup," he gave a tight-lipped smile.

"oh, that's a relief," emily sighed. "well garcia called in the middle of the profile and said she created a possible victim list the unsub might target next based on the geo profile reid created."

"that's great! how long is the list?" you asked eagerly, leaning forward to show your engagement.

"there are 4 possible locations and because the unsub has been decreasing his cool-down period, we should all split up and go to each house to ensure their safety," emily listed off to the two of you. "i'm here to tell you how were splitting up. it'll be you two, morgan and i, jj and hotch and rossi will be by himself. there sending a few swat agents with each of us to ensure safety."

"alright. i'm assuming garcia will send us the address?" spencer asked.

"yup. they should be on your phones now," she confirmed. "we're still going to try and connect leads while separated, this is purely just a caution so we don't have any more victims while we're here."

"of course. that makes sense," you agreed.

"alright, well, you have the keys to an suv?" she asked, making sure you could drive yourselves to the location.

"yup, they're right here," you dig into your pocket and showed her the keys.

"so i'm gonna go see if morgan is ready to go," she announced as she walked back into the station, the two of you following behind to grab your go-bags.

when you arrived at the o'connell's home, you were quieter than anyone had expected. could anyone blame you? you were in the house of an abusive father in order to protect him.

"alright," the mother, julie, began, "i've set up the spare room for the two of you, if you decide to rest, that is. it's right by the front of the house, so if anything happens you would be right there."

"alright, ma'am," you smiled. "thank you."

"i'll be in my room if you need me; jonny is in his room, and my husband will be with me," she announced before walking up the stairs to her room that was adjacent to jonny's.

"i don't think i'll be able to sleep," you whispered to spencer once you had gotten into the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. spencer sat down beside you, placing a gentle hand on your knee.

"okay," he squeezed with the slightest pressure, only enough to ensure you knew he was there.

"maybe that's best. so i'll be fully alert if the unsub gets here while you're asleep," you stared blankly at the floor, your feet dangling off the edge of the bed.

"you'll wake me up if he does come?" spencer asked for the reassurance; you nodded your head 'yes.'

you finally broke your attention from the floor and scooched up to the headboard of the bed, your back against it. you looked over at spencer who was just staring at you confused.

"are you gonna sleep or what?" you smiled before he returned the favor, scooting up to meet you on the bed, only he rested his head on a pillow.

after about two minutes, you felt his arm being thrown over your lap, moving you closer to him before he nuzzled into your stomach. he used his other arm to secure your position with him, sighing into your tummy contently. you brought your hand to his hair and began playing with it mindlessly.

you didn't sleep at all.

you were wide awake while tracing spencer's skin or playing with his hair. nobody came-not even a car drove by. spencer had woken up at one point, only for you to hum him back to sleep after ensuring that everything was alright.

garcia had gotten a list of the possible unsubs, everyone who had abusive parents, anger issues, and lived 5-10 miles around the comfort zone. you studied the files the entire day, not having a single break through. it was very dull.

the next night, however, was a bit more hectic.

you had been awake for over 36 hours, so you had been feeling that tired-high that kept you going. this time, you were reading a book spencer had let you borrow when you heard something at the back door. your phone was in your bag, which was in the living room. luckily, you had your gun beside the bed, like always. you maneuvered around spencer so you could stand up, wanting to be sure there was danger before disturbing him.

you recalled the facts of the case - the profile.

he would enter through the front door, clearly not this time since he had heard of the police presence. he would ensure the child's sleeping before subduing the wife in order to strangle the husband.

which meant you needed to go check on jonny.

you carefully trudged up the stairs, gun in hand as you made your way to his room. the door was cracked open, so you carefully peered inside. the man was hovering over the child, stroking his hair softly.

in order to ensure the child's safety, you backed away from the door so you could attack as he exited. you didn't expect the floor to creak - rather loudly - as you retreated.

you looked up to see the unsub wrangle jonny in his arms before you came through the door, gun ready and raised.

"let him go!" you sternly ordered as you realized who the unsub was.

michael burns.

his father had been so abusive, he not only killed his mother but almost killed him. he was 7 when he saw them get into a heated argument, his father ended up beating his mother to a pulp that night.

"no! i'm saving him!" he shouted back, pointing his gun at jonny's head.

you heard footsteps behind you, leading down the stairs. it was spencer taking the parents out of the house.

"do you really think killing him would be saving him, michael?" you asked in a soft, concerned voice.

"i wish someone had done it for me! it would've saved me all the pain!" he cried out, you felt his pain through his voice.

"i know you think that would've saved you from the pain, but how do you know what's best for jonny?" you asked.

"because i do!" he pushed the gun further into jonny's head, hearing jonny's whines echo even more. "put your gun down before i shoot him!" he ordered.

"okay, okay," you bent down on the floor, placing your gun down before you heard footsteps approach behind you.

"put the gun down!" spencer had ordered from behind you, you turned around to see him in a bullet-proof vest, gun raised directly at michael.

"no! NO!" he angrily chanted back at spencer.

"michael, focus on me," you put your hands out and up in defense. "just let jonny go, alright. we'll make sure his father pays for what he's doing to him and his mother."

"no you won't! it never works!" he held onto jonny tighter.

"i promise you, i promise, that we will make it work. we will make sure that jonny is never hurt again. we'll make sure his father goes to prison for a long time, alright?" you slowly walked closer to him, so he pointed his gun at you instead of the child. "see? that wasn't so hard, right?"

"stop it!" he ordered so you stopped your movements forward.

"it's alright," you softly announced before asking. "me for him, alright? just... just let him go."

"you're lying!"

"no, i'm not. i swear to you i'm not. i understand what you went through, okay? i know what it's like to not understand what you did to deserve the abuse and hurt your father put you through. but killing jonny won't fix anything," you told him, he softened a bit from what you revealed. "i had my brothers by my side when that would happen, so i can't imagine how much worse it was for you, michael. but i know that jonny deserves to live. he deserves to see tomorrow and feel the love he deserves, right?"

he slowly released his grip on the child, jonny ran straight into your arms as spencer grabbed his handcuffs and put them on michael, reading him his miranda rights.

"keep jonny safe. keep michael safe!" michael announced as he was escorted out of the room by spencer.

jonny was crying in your arms, clinging tightly to your shirt as he tried to calm himself down. but he didn't need to calm down. he needed to let it out. he deserved to let it all out. he deserved to cry as much as he wanted. and you couldn't help but cry with him. you tried to hold it all in, to be strong for the child in your arms, but you cracked the slightest bit as you felt him quivering in your arms.

"let it out jonny," you stroked his hair. "you're safe now," you placed a kiss on his hairline. "you're safe."

"thank you ms. y/n," he whispered a few minutes after he stopped crying, allowing you to pick him up and carry him to the back of an ambulance.

you didn't even know where his parents were. and quite frankly, you didn't care. you just needed jonny to be safe.

"it was absolutely no problem," you held his hand as the paramedics checked him out.

he didn't want to leave your side at all. when you went back to the precinct, he sat in your lap on the drive there and while you waited for his grandparents to arrive to pick him up at the police station. he cried when he had to go with them, not wanting to leave you after everything that had happened. so, upon his leaving, you made sure to give his grandparents your number so he could call you when he wanted to.

his grandparents were his mom's parents and were very kind people. you knew they wouldn't hurt him as his mom went through her in-patient victim counseling and his father was in jail.

"i don't wanna go," jonny whispered into your neck.

"i know, but nana and pawpaw are really sweet, right?" he nodded his head. "so if you ever need to talk to me, you can ask them to call and they will. i promise i will always answer," you squeezed him a bit tighter before releasing him from your embrace.

once boarding the plane, it was only five minutes after takeoff that you felt your phone ringing. you excused yourself as you took the call at the back of the plane. everyone noticed your exit.

"you think she'll be alright?" morgan asked spencer, whose gaze was still on where you had walked off.

"she's strong, independent, and resilient," spencer replied.

"that doesn't answer the question, reid," he squinted his eyebrows at the younger man, his attention finally going back to morgan.

"i think... i think she needs to work through her past. and we all have things we need to work through - myself included. i just want her to feel comfortable enough with us to... open up," the brunette doctor sighed, focusing back on his book for a millisecond.

"you like her," morgan smiled, jolting spencer's attention back onto morgan.

"what? why would y- you can't- just... shut up," he smiled, rolling his eyes at the more than accurate accusation.

"alright, pretty ricky," morgan chuckled, raising his hands as you came back to sit beside spencer, mumbling a gentle 'sorry.'

"was that jonny?" spencer asked quietly.

"mhmm," you smiled. "he's settled in at his grandparents house already. he said that they're already super nice to him and let him have dessert before dinner," you laughed quietly, yawning softly halfway through.

"you haven't slept in 47 hours," spencer announced. "try to rest."

"right, i probably should," you smiled before trying to get comfortable in your seat.

"you can lay in my lap if you'd prefer," he offered, lifting the armrest that was separating your seats.

"really?" he nodded his head before you curled your legs behind you in your seat.

you rested your head in his lap, your face nuzzled into his tummy as your arms mindlessly took his torso in your arms, much like he had the past couple of nights.

spencer had begun tracing the skin along your arm and running his hand through your hair as you slept. he smiled when he felt you squeeze him the slightest bit tighter in your sleep.

"pretty boy," morgan laughed at him. "you've got it bad, don't you?"

"again," he started. "shut up. she's sleeping; she hasn't rested in 47 hours."

morgan raised his hands in defense, knowing there was no other way to get himself out of trouble with spencer unless he just shut his mouth.

aaron knew his sister. he knew how she acted when she had a crush. he also knew how she acted when she was afraid of said crush. which means he knew that she had a bit more than a crush on spencer. you had been clinging to him in your sleep but when you were awake you tried to hide your need to do so. needless to say... you've got it bad for spencer. and aaron didn't even care because he thought - no, he knew - spencer was good for you.

"y/n," he whispered, gently nudging your shoulders to wake you. "we're back now."

you opened your eyes to see you were in a bureau-issued car. you wondered how you had gotten there before spencer informed you, "you were so knocked out i just carried you in here, don't worry," he stroked your hair as you sat straight up, rubbing the remnants of sleep from your eyes.

"uhm, thank you," you stretched your back before you got out of the car, grabbing your things and making your way back inside the building, stumbling over your own feet as you do so.

once you were inside and grabbed your keys, aaron was behind you and cleared his throat to announce his presence. you turned around slowly, brows furrowed as you made eye contact with him.

"i don't think you're awake enough to make the drive back to your place," he said in his protective voice.

"are you kidding? what should i do? just stay here tonight?" you scoffed.

"no, reid will take you home," he motioned his head towards spencer, whose attention was just caught with his name being said.

"sir?"

"you're going to take y/n home and make sure she gets inside safely," hotch practically demanded, you sighed.

"sounds good," he did his signature 'white guy smile' before you handed your keys over.

"you get the weekend off!" he called out to the two of you as you walked away.

you nearly fell as you walked to the elevator so spencer had put his arm around you to keep you balanced. you leaned into his touch as he guided you to your car, helping you get in before he went to the driver's side.

"thanks for driving me," you mumbled as he drove.

"you're welcome," he smiled, looking over at your resting state.

your eyes were closed as your head lolled forward in the seat. he slowed the car down before he reached over, pushing your head to the side so you would curl into the seat, preventing you from getting a crick in your neck. you brought your hand to cup his as it lay over your shoulder, bringing it down to your lap and intertwining your fingers. he rubbed circles on the back of your hand as you fell asleep once again.

when you woke up, you were being carried up to your room by spencer. your arms were around his neck and your head rested against his chest - a rather firm chest. you squinted your eyes as they adjusted to the darkness.

"shh," he whispered to you. "i'm just gonna lay you down and head out, alright?"

"mm-mmm," you disagreed.

"no? you don't want to lay down?" he asked as he stopped in the doorway of your room.

"don't go," you pushed your head into his chest, breathing in the scent of him.

"what?" he asked as he continued his trek into your room, moving the sheets down so he could lay you down peacefully.

"stay here - with me," you held onto his hand limply to keep him from going. "please?" your eyes were a little glassy from the lack of sleep you had gotten.

"are you sure you want me to-" you interrupted him as he released your hand so he could take your shoes off for you.

"i don't want to be alone right now. so please just - just stay here," you tried to reason with him, pleading all that you could with as tired as you were.

"okay, i'll stay," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your hairline before walking to the other side of your bed, presumably kicking his shoes off somewhere along the way.

when he finally made his way into the bed, you turned on your side to face him. you brought your hand to cup the side of his face gently, stroking the light stubble that traced along his face.

"when i was around 3, i believe, my dad started drinking," you began speaking to him softly. h brought his hand up to cover the one that was on his face.

"you don't have to tell me yet if you're not ready," he reminded you, squeezing your hand tenderly.

"i know. i'm ready now," you took a deep breath before continuing. "the stress from his job was a bit much - being a lawyer would do that to you," you chuckled. "he drank every day and when he would get back home from a rough case, he started to get aggressive. at first, it was just with his words but then... then it got physical."

spencer saw your eyes water as you continued telling him the history of your childhood. the pain, torment, trouble you went through as a child - a toddler. he couldn't help but realize that that's why hotch is the way he is. that's why he's guarded and stern - protective. he's just been accustomed to it since he was a child. he turned his face to press a gentle kiss to your palm, bringing a faint smile to your face.

"he first hit my mom. one day, i tried to stop him from hitting her," the tear trailed down your cheek. "only he hit me instead," spencer wiped it for you, keeping his hand there. "aaron and sean were always out for football practice or something with school. it was never their fault. i was just... i didn't realize that it was wrong, i suppose. i thought that i had done something wrong, so i'm getting punished. it made sense to me," you shrugged.

"but when aaron and sean were there one night when dad was angry, aaron had come out of his room and pulled dad off of me," you choked on a sob. "that night was a really bad one," you recalled. "but... as time went on, dad's health got worse. eventually, he died; he had a heart attack," you sighed. "and with his life went my answers as to why he did what he did."

there was a moment of silence between you two as if he needed the time to digest what he had been told. only he wasn't digesting it. he was more so admiring you. admiring your strength and persistence.

"some people say that a common trauma response in childhood results in just forgetting that it ever happened," you broke the silence. "i wish i had forgotten. i-i wish i had never remembered the man my father was. part of me feels terrible for saying this but i hate him."

"you aren't terrible for that," now spencer's face had tears that you wiped. "that's a more common response to trauma than forgetting it happened. please just don't say you're horrible for living through what you did. you're not terrible. saying 'you're terrible' is a paradox itself," you sniffled, smiling at his joke. "there she is," he smiled, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, watching as it bounced back into place.

"spencer..." your voice trailed off as your face inched closer to his.

and that curiosity you felt only days earlier of wanting - needing - to feel, and taste him was relinquished. your hand brought his chin closer to yours to connect your lips. it was a tame and light kiss as if he were frightened he might hurt you. it was when you applied more passion and fervent that he reciprocated the eagerness.

when you finally pulled back for air, his hand had been tangled in your hair as yours grasped his chin in an attempt to keep him here.

"wow," he whispered against your lips.

"yea... wow," you chuckled against his skin.

and for one moment you felt at peace with your past. you felt hopeful for your future. possibly the future you might have with spencer, if you'd let yourself think that.

but soon that moment would end and along with it the hopes of a future with spencer. the sun would set and rise as it once had with your mind racing along with the 'what-if's and 'maybe's.

but for now, you had spencer. and peace. and quiet. and sleep.

i don’t know if my current taglist would like to be added to the series taglist, but if you do please let me know!

#ssa hotchner #y/n hotchner #hotch #spencer reid x reader #Spencer Reid series

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shelby-love · 5 years ago

Text

KELLY SEVERIDE

Holy smokes, he really did it.

Requested: yes

Prompts: none

Warnings: none

Authors note: /

"Come 'ere candidate," Herrmann pushed one of the chairs out with his leg. "Have a seat."

The newest candidate on truck 81 looked at Herrmann with pure suspicion in his eyes but he obeyed and took a seat on the free chair nevertheless. The rest of the guys snickered behind them.

"So candidate...you know we have rules here right?" Christopher continued to interrogate the newest member. While the rest of truck knew where this was all going the poor candidate didn't.

"Yea," He said, voice low and unsure. He knew something bad was about to be proposed but he just wanted to fit in. He'll do whatever to fit in.

"You know Y/LN right?" The older man asked him. Of course he knew Y/N Y/LN, she was the most beautiful girl in the whole house. She was kind and funny and always did a great job as the PIC. He admired her but liked her as well. The only problem was that he didn't know if she had a boyfriend or not.

"Of course I know Y/LN. She's the PIC," Cruz didn't try to hide his laughter this time. He found his answer incredibly funny and that made him say PIC in a mocking way once more.

"Basically we want you to take Y/LN out on a date. You can go to Molly's or wherever you prefer." When Herrmann said that it all didn't sound so bad at all. Now he new Y/N was single. "If you get her to go out with you...you're off bathroom duty for 3 weeks."

"Done." The candidate said confidently, almost as if he already asked you on a date and you said yes.

***

You were going through your jump bag, making sure everything was neatly stuffed in there. After that you had to exchange the oxygen tanks. You look at the two big tanks and sigh.

"Need some help?" You sigh in relief at the male voice.

"Please," You look at the newest candidate and smile sheepishly. He beams and leans down to grab the tank.

You don't need to be taken not to notice someone's muscles. His shirt is tight against them but you aren't fazed. Kelly has bigger muscles.

The candidate notices you staring and smiles victoriously. "So Y/LN..."

You snap back. "Mhmmm...what's up?"

"Are you free tonight?" You don't hide your surprise at his question. The young man is now only a few inches away from you. When you try to move backwards you're stopped by the ambulance. "We could go out. You and me."

Your ability to speak suddenly disappears and you damn the day Kelly and you decided to keep your relationship a secret.

Speaking of Kelly, he's sitting right at the squad table in his usual seat with a perfect view of the ambulance. You know how that must look for him. You steal a glance at him. His big shoulders and his whole body is tense, his jaw is clenched and his eyes are narrowed dangerously at you two.

"Look, you and I...we don't really know each other." You try to let him down slowly.

"C'mon Y/N...we can get to know each other." Your eyebrows raise at his casual use of your first name. Everyone calls you by your last name at work.

"Any problems here?" You gaze at your wonderful boyfriend and gape. Kelly looks angry.

"No Lieutenant, Y/N and I were talking about something." The candidate said casually, once again using your first rather than last name. Kelly raised an eyebrow at that and suddenly looked more dangerous than ever.

"You'll continue talking once your done talking to me. Let's go candidate," Kelly's voice ring with authority...and jealousy.

Once the two dissappear inside the house you sit on the floor of the ambo and run your hands through your hair.

Standing next to the truck is the gang of crazy heads who made this all happen. "Holy smokes that kid is gonna die." Herrmann noted in awe.

"He really did it," Otis said and snickered.

"See this is what happens when you make a puppy attack the wolf." Cruz sighed and leaned against the red truck.

"The puppy dies?" Herrmann questions.

"Only if the she-wolf prevents it," At that moment Cruz locks eyes with you and everyone comes to a realization that they're busted.

"I think the she-wolf is gonna kill us chickens." Herrmann said and started praying to survive your rage as you stomped towards them.

***

"What's up Lieutenant?" Back in Kelly's private room he got as a result of being a high rank, the candidate casually spoke to him and that made him even more angrier than he already was.

"You don't talk to Y/N ever again." Kelly locked his gaze with the overly confident candidate. "Not unless I'm with her."

It was like all the good manners Casey installed into the candidate were gone and he was now ready to fight the Lieutenant.

"You can't do that."

"Yes I can. And you know why?" Kelly stood up from his chair and towered over the candidate. "Because Y/N Y/LN is my girl."

That poor kid almost fainted. He flirted with Severide's girlfriend. "It won't happen again Lieutenant."

"It better not," Kelly moved to sit on his chair once again. "Now get out of my sight before I decide to kick you out and transfer you to another house."

The candidate nodded aggressively and turned around to open the door and do as he was told. Only once he opened it he was met by you and he almost had a heart attack. He raised both of his hands in the air and made sure that he in no way touches you as he walks out.

"I just finished with the damage control. Can you believe how many gossipers are in this house?" Your attempts at lightening the mood fail as Kelly just makes himself more comfortable in his chair. "Baby c'mon."

With a dramatic sigh you close the door behind yourself and walk towards him. He keeps his eyes trained on you as he waits for what's to come.

Since there isn't an extra chair in the room you sit on his lap. This action is the most casual thing in your relationship but now it seems so much more intimate that it makes you blush. Your two arms wrap themselves around his neck and instinctively he closes his big muscled arms around your waist as well. Now flushed together you stare each other down until a smile makes its way on Kelly's face.

That's enough for you to plant your lips onto his. The kiss is long and fiercely passionate so you pull away before it goes any further. To make up for it you cover his lips over and over again in a series of sweet kisses. Then you kiss his cheeks and nose as the final peace offering.

"Are we cool?" You ask as your hands cup his strong prominent jaw.

"We will be," Suddenly you're in his arms, legs wrapped around him as he carries you to his bed. "After I'm done with you."

"But what about the others?" You giggle as you watch him pull the blinds down.

"We can be quiet when we want to baby but if I'm honest with you I don't care about anyone else but you." His eyes never leave yours as he talks.

"Then come here hot stuff." You open your arms out for him as an invite. Kelly thankfully doesn't have to be told twice.

#kelly severide x reader #kelly severide fanfiction #kelly severide imagine #kelly severide #chicago fire imagine #chicago fire fanfiction #chicago

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isuckatwritingmyfriends · 5 years ago

Text

The 5 times Eddie doesn't know Buck speaks spanish +1 he finds out. Be gentle,, I used google translate lmao

"Ni siquiera ves lo que me haces, ¿verdad?"

Buck's eyes are startled up from his phone, lifting to meet Eddie's where he was sitting next to him on the couch, hand rubbing soothing circles into his bad leg. Buck tilts his head, confused, and that's where Eddie makes a fatal mistake.

He laughs softly, "You'll ruin your eyes, staring at that thing so intensely."

Buck, still confused, opens his mouth to ask, but the bell rings and Eddie is gently placing his leg down to rush off to the trucks. He has no choice but to follow.

Sitting across from his best friend, Buck tries to think back on every interaction they've had since they met and- holy shit. Eddie doesn't know I speak spanish.

The call was relatively easy, but the shift had been long nonetheless and when they get back to the fire house, Buck's too distracted to remember to ask Eddie about what he said, before he's off to the showers. And why he lied about what it meant, he thinks. He narrows his eyes down at his boots, it's not like it was anything bad. Why lie?

And Buck gets close, so close to threading a very important needle when Eddie clangs his locker shut. "We'll see you for movie night tomorrow?" he asks, almost to the door already. Buck, mind elsewhere, nods distractedly at him. And he's gone, running off to pick up Christopher on time.

Buck tells Maddie. Because of fucking course he doesn't think about the consequences of his actions. She grins at him, and immediately he knows he's made a mistake. "Oh? What do you do to him, Buck?"

He groans and tries to shove his hand in her face. "Stop, it's not like that." She gives him a flat look. He sighs. "Its not that I don't want it to be, you know that, I just don't want to mess it up with my feelings."

"Really though? What if he feels the same?"

"What if he doesn't?" Buck looks down at his plate, pushing his food around with his fork. "I can't risk losing him and Christopher on a what if."

Maddie frowns at him, but doesn't push much harder. "Well, you're going to tell him you speak spanish then?"

Buck shrugs, "I mean, yeah. I just don't get why he'd hide something so simple."

Maddie looks at him, thoroughly unimpressed, but before she has the chance to tell him that he's the smartest idiot she's ever met, his eyes catch the time on his phone. "Oh shit," he grabs his jacket and keys, fumbling around the table to kiss her cheek. "I love you, I'm gonna be late to movie night!"

"Bye, I love-" The door slams and she hears his quick steps fade down the hall. With a small smile, she pulls out her phone. Chimney's gonna love this.

Buck makes it barely on time, maybe speeding a bit through the less busy roads, but no one can prove it. He arrives two minutes before 7, bustling through the door without knocking.

He manages to close the door behind him before he catches an armful of Christopher. "You're here!" he shouts.

Buck grins down at him, lifting him for a squeeze and a twirl. "And I wasn't even late!"

Eddie walks out of the kitchen, smiling, "Just barely. Are your tires smoking?"

Buck sticks his tongue out in response.

Eddie's eye roll is instant, "¿Cómo estoy enamorado de un hombre tan inmaduro?"

Buck fumbles, almost dropping Christopher. He plays it off by setting the kid down, and asking "What'd you pick for a movie?"

Christopher, oblivious to Buck's small heart attack, happily takes his hand and leads him to the living room, rambling about how The Little Mermaid never gets old.

"Hey, how about you help me get the popcorn and drinks, buddy?" Christopher obliges, moving for the kitchen and releasing Buck. Eddie watches him until he's out of earshot, then turns to Buck. "Was that your leg? Is it bothering you any?"

Buck shakes his head, face turning red. "No it's just-" you literally just told me you love me, I think I'm allowed to freak the fuck out!

"It's okay, you go sit down and we'll be out in a sec."

Then Buck is left staring after his best friend, some weird feelings clenching in his chest.

"HE SAID WHAT?!"

Buck slaps a hand over his sister's mouth. "Shut the fuck up! He'll hear you!"

Both pause and lean to look into the living room of Buck's apartment where Eddie and Chimney are aggressively mashing buttons on controllers. Chimeny looks over and smirks. Eddie glances over with a soft smile aimed at them. Buck waves.

He turns back to Maddie, still smiling, but frowns when he sees her face. "Stop it."

"I didn't say anything." She's grinning though, and Buck has been on the receiving end of that grin too many times to be so naive.

"Leave it."

Maddie looks like she's going to burst, so he takes her arm and pulls her over to his front door. "Oh was it so cute when you told him? Was he embarrassed?"

Buck mumbled something under his breath.

"What was that?"

He shot a quick glance back towards the couch, letting him have a moment of mourning for his poor game before turning back. "I didn't tell him."

Maddie's eyes went wide, her mouth opening to presumably start shouting at him, but cuts herself off with a garbled noise. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to compose herself. Buck braces himself. "So you're going to stand there and tell me that he told you, to your face, that he loves you-"

"More implied I think."

She slaps his arm and he winces. "Boy if we were alone, I swear to god!" she whisper-shouts. "Are you trying to ruin your friendship?"

"That's exactly what I'm trying to avoid!"

"How is this avoiding anything but your feelings?"

"Because he doesn't know I understand what he's saying!" Maddie gives him her best were-you-not-just-paying-attention-to-the-whole-ass-conversation-we-just-had look. It's very good. She's had a lot of practice. Buck pinches the bridge of his nose and tries to explain himself better. "He isn't comfortable enough to tell me when he thinks I'll know what he's saying. And it's different, he has a kid to think about. And I respect whatever choice he makes."

Maddie puts her hands on his shoulders. "You need to tell him. The fallout will be much worse if you let it continue." She smiles reassuringly at him, then walks back to their drinks on the counter.

It's after Maddie and Chimney have gone home for the night that Buck and Eddie have a few more drinks and chat. Eddie's talking about the sleepover Chris is at tonight while Buck zones in and out. How does one even begin to explain the thought process that lead him to keeping this secret? Oh god, he thinks, this is gonna be one of those little white lies that snowballs until I have to take it to my grave-

Fingers snap in front of his face, his eyes managing to focus on the smile on Eddie's face as he looks at him. "You okay?"

This is it. This is when you tell him you speak spanish. Buck opens his mouth, "Um actually," he pauses. Eddie looks at him, expectantly. "Uh, yeah, just tired." Damnit.

"We can turn in for the night," he suggests.

Buck nods, "Wanna spend the night? I've got clothes you could use?" NO. Absolutely not. Because you will share a bed and he will be wearing your clothes and you are a serial cuddler. So NO.

Eddie's smile grows, "I'm more concerned about how you hog the blankets."

Buck gasps in mock offense, shoving at him playfully. "I do not!"

Eddie just laughs.

Fuck. I'm so screwed. He just doesn't realize how screwed until they're laying in his bed, Eddie sprawled out on his stomach and Buck on his back, every muscle coiled tight. It's quiet for a while, long enough that Buck thinks he might have drifted off, but he shifts and his voice comes muffled from the pillows. "I can actually hear you thinking. Please sleep."

Buck rolls his eyes. Jokes on you, I'm not thinking, I'm panicking.

Eddie moves again and now he's looking at Buck. "Is it your leg?"

His heart twists in his chest and he shakes his head. "It's nothing. Probably you rolling around so much."

Eddie's quiet, so Buck turns his head to look. "Podría acostumbrarme a esta vista."

Buck's eyes widen. Then he sees a moment of small panic where Eddie thinks 'what if-?' But it's gone as soon as it arrives. "Just enjoying the blankets while I still can."

He huffs, but it's lighter between them and Buck starts to drift off.

When they wake up, Buck finds he has taken another victim. Eddie had rolled onto his back sometime while they were asleep, and had Buck tucked in close, wrapped around him. Buck doesn't immediately panic because it feels too right. But when he wakes up more, he knows he should move before Eddie wakes up.

Buck tries to be subtle, slowly pulling his limbs back to himself, trying not to wake Eddie in the process. Except when he looks up, Eddie is watching him with a small smile. Buck's heart roundhouse kicks his ribcage and he let's out a startled "Oh."

Eddie just laughs, "Eres tan hermoso."

Buck's mouth falls open, but he doesn't say anything as Eddie extricates himself from Buck's grasp and starts for the stairs. "I'll make breakfast."

Once he's out of sight, Buck throws himself back on the mattress, slapping a hand over his eyes. "Fuck me."

He doesn't want to tell Maddie. Partly because she'll lose her shit, but mostly because he knows she's right. He's waited too long already, if Eddie finds out- When. When Eddie finds out. I can't keep this up forever.- he's probably going to be mad.

Buck ends up telling her. Obviously. She has the same reaction he thought she would. "He called you beautiful and said he wants to fall asleep to you?!"

Buck winces and holds the phone away from his ear for a moment. "Uh, basically I guess that was the gist of it."

"THE GIST?!" Buck grimaces, brings one hand up to scrub his face. "And you still didn't tell him?!"

Buck sighs, because he knows, okay? He really does, but he's scared too. "Mads I-"

Her voice is softer. "Buck, I know you're nervous. But you've said it before, you're basically family. Anyone could look at the two of you and Christopher and see how in love you are, see how much you'd do anything for them."

"Yeah but not Eddie." Bucks spins in his chair, he's tired and doesn't know what he's going to do. "If everyone can see how much I love him too, why can't he? Why doesn't he tell me all this? Why does he only say it when he thinks I don't understand?" Maddie sighs, but Buck continues. "I have to assume there's more here than I can see. If he doesn't want me to know, then I don't."

Maddie's quiet for a minute, just the sound of her breathing comes over the phone. Her voice is gentle when she says, "What happens when he finds out?"

Buck kinda just wants to cry. "I don't know, Mads. I don't know."

Buck and Christopher are playing with legos in the living room. Well, Buck is playing, Christopher is actually building something. He's talking about his day at school and that he's excited for the weekend because he gets to see the rest of his family. Buck's listening attentively, asking questions where it matters and nodding along, until he hears a snippet of what Eddie is saying.

The other man is pacing back and forth behind the couch, on the phone with his family in El Paso. They're talking about the barbeque this weekend, presumably what Chris meant when he talked about being excited to see his family. But I'm not supposed to know that.

He's tense when he stops at the farther end of the couch, talking quickly into the phone. "-él debería poder venir, prácticamente está criando a Christopher conmigo." A pause. "No es justo. ¿Has hablado con Abuela?" He's quiet for a few minutes, then, "Christopher ama él. Lo amo él. Él viene, lo quiero allí, y eso es todo."

Eddie hangs up the phone. With his back still to the boys, he lifts his hand to rub his face with a sigh. When he turns around, he meets Buck's gaze. Okay? he mouths. Eddie nods back, and finally smiles. "I'll go grab some snacks, then we can watch some tv?" Buck grins and Christopher celebrates.

It isn't until after they put Christopher to bed and are sitting together on the couch that Eddie tells him about the barbeque.

"I want you to come. I mean," he scratches the back of his neck. "If you want to come, I would like you to."

"Is that what the phone call was about?"

Eddie gives him a long look and Buck thinks, this is when he realizes. But he doesn't, just sighs and says, "Yeah. Some of my cousins are... well, I'll just say difficult. My parents thought it would be best if it was just Christopher and I, but I told them that we want you to go."

Buck is, well, he's- I'm fucked. I love them. Eddie mistakes his silence. "No pressure though," he laughs.

Buck smiles and nods. "Yes. Yeah, I would love to go."

Eddie's smile lights up his face. "Good, cool, that sounds- uh good."

Buck just smiles back.

What Eddie failed to mention when he told Buck about his cousins was that when he said 'difficult' he really meant 'homophobic'. And just as Maddie predicted, it was getting harder to hide that he knew Spanish. Curse her and her intelligence. Luckily, most of the family were happy to see Eddie and Christopher. And, if Buck was feeling less than modest, most of them loved him.

It started out great: playing with the kids until they all tired him out, eating around a huge table filled with family, chatting around. Buck was finding out many blackmail-worthy stories of Eddie when he was a teenager. With each new piece of information, he had to restrain himself from calling the team and telling them everything.

Buck was also finding out that almost everyone in the family thought they were together. Discreetly of course, they let most of it slip in Spanish, so they probably figured he didn't know they were talking about him. Unfortunately for Eddie, he talked about them all the time, and now Buck knew.

After the initial wave of guilt subsided, Buck made a plan. He went to the kitchen to grab Eddie and him another drink. I'm going to tell Eddie when we get back home. Buck was too busy thinking about how to break it to him, when two of the 'difficult' cousins walked into the kitchen behind him. He didn't notice at first, not until they started shit talking in Spanish.

"Es como él no respeta a esta familia." Buck doesn't turn. He's not supposed to understand what they're saying. Calm down. Leave it alone.

"¡Lo sé! ¿No entienden lo asqueroso que es ver eso?" Wow, that was incredibly offensive. He pushes around a few cans, looking for the drinks they had earlier.

"¡Y ahora Christopher está expuesto a eso!" Buck's hand tightens on a glass. Breathe. Don't say anything you'll regret later. It's not your place.

"No me sorprendería que juguete chico de Eddie corrompa al pobre niño."

Buck stands abruptly, smacking his head off the top of the fridge in his haste. His knuckles are white and he has to force himself to turn and smile. "Found it," he tries to make his voice light. With forced casualty, he walks past them to the counter for the bottle opener.

"Es una pena, él podría haber resultado genial." They continued, or more accurately, tried to continue.

Buck spun on them in an instant. "I know it's not my place to say anything to you, but the two of you are cruel and I genuinely don't know how you come from such a kind and supportive family." The women stood there stunned. "What goes on between me and Eddie is none of your business. And Christopher is growing up to be a kind and caring person. If he turns out to be even half the man Eddie is, he'd still be three times better than you." Buck sucked in a breath and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I think it's time you leave." The voice came from behind Buck. He felt his blood run cold when he heard it. He'd know that voice anywhere.

Buck turned to see Eddie standing in the doorway, arms also crossed, expression hard. He watched his cousins walk past him, embarrassment clear in the way they couldn't meet his eyes. He watched until they made it all they way down the hall and back out to the yard.

As soon as Eddie turned back to him, Buck asked, "How much of that did you hear?"

Eddie didn't uncross his arms, expression now cautious and confused. "You know Spanish."

It wasn't a question. Buck nodded anyway. "I know I said things I probably shouldn't have, but when they started talking about Chris I- I don't even know. I just got so mad because you and him are the best people in the world and-"

"What you said is not the problem," Eddie interrupted. Fuck. He was hoping he wouldn't notice. "Why didn't you tell me?" His expression cracked into one of hurt. Buck's heart twisted. "The things I've said- oh my god, Buck, have you known the whole time?!"

A nod.

Eddie ran a hand through his hair, he looked terrified. "Was this a joke to you? See how much I'd say so you could laugh about it later?" Buck tried to intervene, but Eddie seemed to realize more. "Oh my god, I told you I love you. I told my family and- oh my god you were sitting right there!" He slapped his hands to his face. "Everything my family has said, I can't-"

Buck jumped forward, grabbing Eddie's hands in his. "No, no! It wasn't a joke to me! I'd never- I wouldn't- I could never have made this a joke."

Eddie shook his head, but didn't pull his hands away. "Then why?"

Buck ran a hand through his hair, bringing it down to rub his face before grabbing Eddie's hands again. "You have to understand, I tried to tell you. I thought you knew and then the thing you said on the couch made me realize you didn't. Then I told Maddie and she kept telling me to tell you but-" he let out a sigh. "It was just scary, okay? I didn't want to lose what we had, I didn't want to lost Christopher."

"Buck," Eddie's voice was softer. "I literally told you that I love you. How would you making a move ruin anything?"

Buck tried his best unimpressed look. "You only said those things when you thought I didn't understand. I just thought, maybe you needed time. That you'd tell me when you were ready."

"Oh my god. You're an idiot. I'm an idiot. How do we ever get anything done being so stupid?"

Buck laughed quietly. "That's not nice to say when we just had this really emotional moment."

Eddie just rolled his eyes before pulling Buck for a kiss. When he pulled back, he was grinning. "We can't tell the team about this. We'll never know peace."

Buck let his head fall on Eddie's shoulder. "I told Maddie. They definitely already know."

---------

Here are the translations in case y'all were wondering...(if they're not right, blame google, I did my best lol)

Ni siquiera ves lo que me haces, ¿verdad?- (You don't even see what you do to me, do you?)

¿Cómo estoy enamorado de un hombre tan inmaduro?- (How am I in love with such an immature man?)

Podría acostumbrarme a esta vista.- (I could get used to this sight)

Eres tan hermoso.- (You are so handsome)

-él debería poder venir, prácticamente está criando a Christopher conmigo.- (-he should be able to come, he's practically raising Christopher with me.)

No es justo. ¿Has hablado con Abuela?- (That's not fair. Have you talked to Abuela?)

Christopher ama él. Lo amo él. Él viene, lo quiero allí, y eso es todo.- (Christopher loves him. I love him. He comes, I want him there, and that's it.)

Es como él no respeta a esta familia.- (It's like he doesn't respect this family.)

¡Lo sé! ¿No entienden lo asqueroso que es ver eso?- (I know! Don't you understand how gross it is to see that?)

¡Y ahora Christopher está expuesto a eso!- (And now Christopher is exposed to it!)

No me sorprendería que juguete chico de Eddie corrompa al pobre niño.- (I wouldn't be surprised if Eddie's boy toy corrupts the poor boy.)

#911onfox #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #!!! its v long !!!#also #im so so sorry ive been a ghost here #the whole quarantine thing wrecked my already spotty healthy lol #and school is Not Great™ rn #but im trying to write more so enjoy:)#my stuff

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