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hwaightme · 1 year

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This world

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

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

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

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

🏍️ cannot be tagged: @mystar1024

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mars.”

“Mars?”

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

“Mars, care to show me your bike?”

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

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

“What are you smiling for?”

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

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

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

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

“What?” quickly countered with:

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

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

“Aye.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s your favourite bike, Y/N?”

“Why the sudden question?”

“Why answer a question with a question?”

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

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

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

“What do you want me to say?”

“What you are thinking about.”

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

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

“...Hm.”

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

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

“What was it?”

“It?”

“Let’s start with the bike.”

“Is this an interrogation?”

“Just curious, no biggie.”

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

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

“Kawasaki Ninja H2R.”

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

“I played around with that.”

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

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

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

“Now that explains it.”

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

“The tattoo.”

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

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

“What of it? I have many.”

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

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

“Sacrificed the bike?”

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

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

“Hey, are you-”

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

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

“Do you?” cold, you hissed.

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

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

“Do you need any-”

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

“Standard rate.”

“Yep.”

“Everything is sort-”

“May I-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Were you all waiting for me or something?”

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

“What in the-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good, Mars.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You hear that?”

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

“The hum.”

“Hum?”

“Where are we right now?”

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

“We need to leave.”

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

“Now. We need to leave now.”

“Why?”

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

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

“GO!”

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

“Mars!”

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

“Gotcha chief.”

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

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

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

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

“How far?”

“How fast can you go?”

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

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

“Aye.”

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

“Good lu-”

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

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

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

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

“Yes, unfortunately.”

“Well isn’t this a fun time.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Where is their friend?”

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

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

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

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

“Ready to fly?”

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

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

“What the-”

“Three.”

“Two.

“One.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“-Seonghwa.”

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

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

“I’ll think about it.”

“Cheeky.”

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

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

“It’s nothing really, regular st-”

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

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

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

“I am fine, I swear-”

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

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

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

“So you can fix bikes and people?”

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

“It really isn’t that bad.”

“Then why are you in pain?”

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

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

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

“And I can kiss you after?”

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

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

“What about the bike?”

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

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

“Nifty, huh? Blue Bird exclusive.”

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

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

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

“Scooch back.”

“But I can-”

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

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

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

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

“Good news.”

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

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

“Charming.”

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

“We’re fighters though, aren’t we.”

“Fighters need holidays too.”

“Right.”

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

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

“You are in luck.”

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

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

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

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

“I am a woman of many talents.”

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

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

“Yes please.”

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

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

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

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

“You never order it.”

“But I never-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well then, are you mine?”

“In every lifetime I am yours.”

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

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

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

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

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

“More than.”

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

“Hwa…”

“Mmh- yes?”

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

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

“Do you have condoms?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s that, love?”

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

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

“Mhm…”

“Show me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

851 notes · View notes

misguidedasgardian · 8 months

Text

I need to (11)

... Run myself against you

MASTERLIST

I need to… rub myself against you

Summary: Jealousy Jealousy

Pairings: Cregan Stark x Fem!Reader

Warnings: cursing, underage drinking in some countries, alcohol consumption, implied use of other drugs, party peopleeee

Wordcount: 3.8 k

Notes: I’m introducing new players! Muahaha, and again, all is fair in this, characters from GOT or HotD, all in one, all in!, I did not check this, it like 5 am where I live and i didn't have the strength

You wanted to cry

You had been sleep deprived for the last couple of days, you had drinked your weight in coffee, endangering your budget for the semester, and right now, the thin wooden stick model that you were making had just collapsed in your hands by lack of glue.

You loved your career, but it was demanding, and right know you needed to make a model showing three different concepts for an art gallery and you were losing your mind

You couldn’t work at your dorm, so you were in your faculty with other students, you were starving and sleepy, and even though the building was open 24/7 for this cases in particular, it did not have even a expensive machine for you to use

You were losing it

You jumped when your phone rang, it was ten pm, who could be at this hour?

To your surprise, it was Sara

“Where are you?”, she asked as soon as you answered

“At the ADA”, you muttered

“Get your ass here at the boy’s”

“Really?”

“Yeah we have coffee, tea, snacks, and energy drinks”

“Uff great, I’m on my way”, you sighed, relieved

You packed your supplies and grabbed the base for your model, and abandoned the premises after saying your goodbyes to your classmates

You liked them, you had friends, but not as friendly as to spend the night with them yet

The walk to the boy’s apartment was fast, since you were almost speed walking. You weren’t scared that something would happen to you but still your walk was very fast, it was cold at night

You, of course, were received warmly by Cregan when he opened the door, he greeted you with a kiss in the cheek, while you could hear screams in the background

“No!”

“Auw!”

“You got it wrong! The prima nocta was forbidden during the reign of Jaehaerys the conciliator in 60 AC”, you heard a squirting sound and and Jace whined, “I thought you were a feminist Jacerys”

You came into view and realised Sara was holding a spray with an unknown liquid inside of it, and was spraying Jace

“Very funny” whined Jace drying his face with the sleeve of his sweatshirt

“Hello”, you giggled

“Hello love”, She greeted, “is the only way he pays attention”

“Yeah sure”, whined Jace

“It’s only water with a bit of tea”, said Sara

“I’m loving this but please keep it away from my model”, you laughed

“Half the table is all yours”, offered Cregan, putting papers in order

“Great, thanks guys”, you said with smile, “I was about to drop at the ADA”

“I love it when you call it the ADA, sound like a cool government organisation”, mocked Jace

“RIGHT?”, you chuckled back

You had half the dining room table while Cregan had the other half with his notes and notebook, Sara and Jace shared the couch and half the tea table each

They quizzed each other amongst silly and colourful games, that really seemed to help them, while Cregan and you ended up sitting by the same side of the table, he would lean into you to ask you something, or sometimes when he needed to rest his mind he would help you cut or paste small sticks into your model

Hours passed and you had listened to music, you had helped each other, quizzed each other, you took turns to cut small wooden pieces, or reciting Sara’s hIgh Valyrian poetry, or helped Jace with phonetics to remember dates and kings and presidents… or helped Cregan’s with hypothetical in weak spots of his plan

You felt so good with Cregan, so comfortable, and you found yourself wanting to share the bed with him again, and not even have sex but… take a power nap cuddling each other

You felt like a burning need to touch him, he had hugged you a couple of times and you found yourself wanting to be engulfed into his thick, protective arms again

He caught you staring and smiled softly at you.

“If you want to take a nap, or just sleep, you can take my room”, he offered, you looked at your model, you were almost done… but just

“Not yet, but thanks”, you whispered, “are you going to sleep?”

“Not yet”, those couple of nights you spend sleeping together had been so nice, you wanted to be with him, in his company

The idea of being intimate didn’t frighten you anymore, you were looking forwards to it

You wanted to hang out with him, you wanted to be around him, to get to know him better, you wanted to… be alone… with him

But right now, you needed to focus, you got up from your seat and went to get a soothing tea this time and a fruit for good sugar,

As you were waiting for the water to boil, you looked at the coffee/breakfast cabinet, and you amazed to find a brand new can of Ashford coffee

The one that you liked

You knew Jace didn't like it, and apparently, Cregan drank Dornish, so it surprised you that they had it

“I bought it for you”, Cregan joined you in the kitchen holding his empty cup

“Really?”, you asked, he smiled

“The other day when you spent those marvellous days with us”

“They were pretty great”, coming home to your friends and your… love interest, meaning Cregan was your friend but… you wanted him to be more than that… anyways… cooking together, eating together, the domesticity, you loved it, “I almost felt guilty when they fixed the boiler”, you whined

“Right? Anyways, you two spend a lot of time here, so, it’s nice to have your favourite coffee, right?”, you smiled at him

“That is… one of the most considerate things someone has ever done for me”, you admitted, he only smiled, his cheeks tainting with a blush

The water boiler whistled, letting you know the water was ready,breaking you out of your spell

“Tea?”, you offered

“Yeah, this one from Yi-Ti is the coolest”

“Uh, we might agree in this particular hot beverage”, you teased

“Yeah my cinnamon with Dornish I won’t trade”, that northerner accent really got you

“Neither my Ashford with chocolate”, you whispered

“Good, good”, the tension grew big, and you both realised it, and dispersed from the kitchen to continue your work

You sat back again and continued with your model

Until you couldn’t, you were going to fall off the table asleep

Sara and Jace were knocked out on top of each other, and your eyes burnt, and you had the most of your idea embodied in wood sticks, and you had completed your vision board, you dropped out

“They look so comfortable”, you whispered with a shy smile, looking at them both, cuddling sweetly

“Yeah”, Cregan whispered, you looked at him, he looked back at you

“Can I take you up on that offer of your bed?”, you asked, with a tired voice, Cregan was already looking at you

“Always”, he whispered with a shy smile

“Are you…?”, he nodded

And with kinky smiles, you got to his bed, and almost fainted on top of it, not having the time or energy to really do something…

. . .

After the presentation of your model, you slept like two whole days, and Sara did too right by your side on her bed… you might have broken a personal record or something

But as Saturday arrived… you woke up renewed and ready for your first intense party on campus, even though you were halfway done with the semester anyways

And you you were applying mascara and lipstick on the mirror of the the common room’s bathrooms

“We look so hot”. Sara giggled

“I don’t understand why we couldn’t go hang out with the boys”, you muttered, as Baela and Rhaena joined you too

“Because, the magic fades if they see it happening, if better if they see us all ready to party, looking as hot as we are looking right now”

It made sense, you were looking… pretty good, you did your eyes, and your face and your lips… and your hair! Pretty much everything

You were excited

Many things happened at parties

Sexy things…

With people you had attraction with…

“So… who are you hunting tonight ladies?”, teased Sara, remembering the night of the hunt at the beginning of the semester

“Uff Corbyn Corway is looking extra yummy”, teased Rhaena

“Yeah, it's been a while I think I’m gonna give Jon a pass”, said Baela mindlessly

“AT LAST”, celebrated Sara, you laughed

You were getting hyped up

You took a couple of shots with your friends, even though it was a big nono regarding guidelines of campus living

And then, you walked together to the party.

The house wasn’t even on campus, it was outside of it, the legend was that the house was a rental, and the only renters were the members of the football teams, for generations

The school didn’t want anything to do with it, it wasn’t condoned

But you didn’t care, this were the wildest parties and today you felt on fire

You wanted to see Cregan, you wanted to drink, you wanted to dance… with him… you wanted to rub yourself against him at the rhythm of music, you only hoped he wanted it too

The last time you saw him you were sleep deprived and on student mode, but today you wanted to let off some steams and Gods… you really hopes he was in the same party mode as you were

“Ladies! Welcome!”, a big man greeted you at the entrance

“Robb”, called Sara, he had curly red hair and piercing green eyes, and a strange similarity to

“Hey cousin”

“Cousin?”, you asked

“Robb Stark M’Lady”, he greeted with the same accent you liked

“Back off Robb, she is “spoken for”, mocked Sara

“Well, nothing is set in stone”, he said, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, “Hey Theon”, another guy with dark brown hair and blue eyes approached you, he brought a tray with shots in them, “for the ladies”

“Thanks”, you said quickly, and took a shot and drank it all. The girls did the same

“Beautiful girls are always welcome in the house, party or not”, he winked, and you smiled only to be polite

“Let’s go”, murmured Sara

“I didn't know you had a cousin”, you said

“He and Cregan don’t get along”, she said quickly, “he is a junior in Business and there was always been some sort of rivalry”

You already knew about Sara, and her story, she and Cregan where half siblings, she was the daughter of an affair Cregan’s father had and he didn’t even knew about his sister until his parents died in a car accident when he was thirteen

His uncle took care of Cregan, and he in turn took care of his sister.

Apparently, The boys haven't arrived yet, Sara texted Jace but he hadn't answered

The party was already in full swing, music blasting from the living room, so many people that you could barely see how the house actually looked like, you only could realise that it was a three story home, and it did look like those frat houses in the movies, nothing impressive regarding decor, it was clear that only guys lived here.

You went directly to the kitchen, where you got drinks

Beer from a keg

It was lacking bubbles but it was free so you couldn’t complain

Baela, Rhaena and Sara were giggling and checking guys out, and you started to get nervous, bad nervous, there was so many people and the only one you wanted to see was not here yet

Sara was also getting annoyed

That is until, the hosts appeared in the kitchen

“I see the ladies are making themselves comfortable”, said the ring leader apparently, you could see it now, under the horrible cold lights of the kitchen, he had on this certain thing, a similarity to Cregan you couldn’t quite pinpoint, but if you met them separately, like on the street, you would have never guessed they were related

“And where is your man, the one that spoke for you?”, this old lingo was getting old pretty quickly, this guy was clearly into you, and you couldn’t be more

“He will be here soon”, you whispered

“It's your cousin”, teased Baela, that seemed to surprise Robb

“Cregan?”, he said, visibly surprised, he then turned to you, “you are dating my little cousin? He is a lucky man”

“Not yet”, you said back, he raised a perfect eyebrow

“Not yet?”, he said with a mocking smile, “what does that mean?”

“It’s a long story”, you said simply, not wanting to discuss your personal life with a stranger

“Oh, speaking off”, he said, signalling to the entrance, which you could see clearly form the kitchen

A big ground of friends entered, you immediately recognised Ben and Alyssane, and behind them, entered two girls, and then, Jace and Cregan

“Ah fuck”, Sara whined

“What?”, you asked her

“They partied before with Alyssane’s friends from pre-med”, she said

The boys were talking to both girls, and they looked gorgeous, they were gorgeous, they were laughing at things you could clearly not know, since, you weren’t there at the “pre game” with them, and it was clear that they had a good time

Cregan seemed awfully close to this gorgeous redhead, and it was naive of you to think that that a guy as awesome as him was going to be alone for that long

And then, like he sensed you looking at him, he raised his head, and he looked straight at you, at first, he smiled, and then… Robb placed an arm around your shoulders, making you jump in your spot. Cregan frowned, very annoyed, like you had never seen him before

You shook Robb off of you, making his annoying friend Theon laugh mockingly

“Sorry, reflex”, you said nonchalantly, and took the shot Sara was offering you

“Dang it, why did it have to be Miranda?”, whined Sara when she took you to a corner of the kitchen, out of the guy’s sight, and our of Robb’s reach

“What do you mean?”, you asked

“She is…. Argh, the girl I always worry about”, she admitted, you looked down, you were looking forwards to tonight, and now it was just akward

“We could go”, you whispered, she shook her head, drinking the beer she had in her hand

“No way, you have been looking forwards to this party for almost two weeks!”, she whined, “we need to vent”

“I agree”, said Rhaena, bring you both more shots, the fourth ones of the night, and you took it without complaint

Now your body was started to heat up

“Let’s dance!”, demanded Sara, and you only nodded, she grabbed you and directed you straight to the middle of the furnitureless living room, where people were jumping and dancing at the rhythm of the last song from this urban singer

You could tell Sara was angry, perhaps the reason you didn’t go to the boys’ house was because they didn’t even answer for starters.

The shots started to make effect on you, you were angry too, jealous also, but also you blame yourself for taking so long

So instead of making a scene, or just feeling gloomy, you decided to dance and let go, you had been through a lot the past months, and you did need to vent. The twins joined you and you danced together loosing yourselves to the music

You let the music and the alcohol take you somewhere else, where you could let go

But you couldn’t hide for long, soon you had that familiar feeling, the one that told you someone was looking at you.

You immediately found Cregan, looking at you from the arch that separated the living room from the entrance

He was alone, looking at you, beer in hand, his heated gaze almost burn you, and in a second, you felt relieved, but it was short lived, the red head appeared and cling into his arm

You didn’t want to feel like this, this bitter, so you shook your head and looked away.

Of course you didn’t see him pulling away from her, you were already in the other corner of the room

You didn’t want to see it, you couldn’t, you didn’t even go on a date with the guy and he was already hurting, that couldn’t be good, it was too good to be true, wasn’t it?

You were back in the kitchen and you served yourself a plastic cup of beer.

“There you are stranger”, of course Cregan had followed, alone, you turned to face him, and when you didn’t see the girl that had come with him, you visibly relaxed

“Hey”, you greeted

“I saw you dancing out there”, he teased, you smiled

“It’s been so long, I needed that”, you said more calmly, where is…. That girl?”

“I don’t know, I told her I wanted to see you”, he said, “she left”, you shared looks, longing looks

“She was beautiful”, you warned

“Not as beautiful as you”, he said firmly, “they came home with Ben before we were ready to come here to meet you, I didn’t want to…”

“Cousin!”, you could see how Cregan’s face got really annoyed when Robb appeared, and surrounding his shoulders with his arm, “aren’t you going to introduce me to your new girlfriends?”, what he had in handsome he had a jerk… so… quite much

“She is not my girlfriend”, he said calmly, “yet…”, he said, looking back at you

“What is this “yet…” thing?”, he had a thicker accent than Cregan, but he was using it to mock you

“Why do you care?”, Cregan asked back, Rob shook his shoulders

“It looks like you are stringing this poor girl along”, he said simply

“He is not”, you answered back, “and he is right, why do you care?”, you asked back

The kitchen was getting crowded and everyone seemed to be paying attention

“Well, nothing, it seems like you need time to think things through, to have things… clarified, and what better way to do it than a little… seven minutes in heaven?”, he asked out loud, and everyone cheered and clapped, whistled even

“What are we? Fifteen?”, mocked Cregan

“Let’s make it ten then, that should give you time for a quickie”, he said

“This is insane, I'm not gonna lock myself in a closet…”

Robb closed the door of the closet and locked it, you and Cregan exchanged looks and then whine when they turned off the lights, leaving you in total darkness

“Well, this is embarrassing”, you whispered

“Have fun in there, and remember, we can heard everything, but pretend we cannot”, you heard Robb say, and then he walked away

“I’m sorry for him”, Cregan muttered

“Now I know why you didn’t introduced him sooner”, you mocked, he chuckled

“It’s complicated”, he said softly

“It’s fine”

“So… you got a little jealous there?”, he teased

“No…” he couldn't; even see you and he knew you were embarrassed, and not being truthful

“I have to admit… I got jealous too when I saw you with my cousin…”, you savoured the words in your mouth, you liked them

“Cregan…”, you called

“You are not ready, I know…”

“I want to be with you”, you confessed, “I like being around you, you are considerate, generous, so so sweet and mature, when i’m with you, I feel safe and comfortable, and I want to spend more time with you…”

“I feel the same”, even in the dark, he managed to find and grab your hands softly, “I feel like I’ve known you since forever, ever since I first saw you…”

“With barbecue sauce on my face”, you laughed, he chuckled

“I want it to lick it off of you”, his tone dropped an octave, and it made you shiver. You couldn't see his face, but you wanted to, you felt his breath on your forehead, you knew and he knew what the other wanted

You felt him leaning in, you lent upwards, you could feel it, and almost taste him…

And then, Robb opened the door to the closet with a serious look on his face

“Happy?”, asked Cregan, annoyed, showing him your joint hands. He faked a smile

“Very”, he said then, letting you out

Cregan wouldn’t let go of you, he guided you to the first floor and onto the dance floor, your need raised again, you wanted to dance along, to celebrate, to jump in joy as Cregan accommodate you in the middle of the dance floor

“Are you sure you are ready?”, he asked, you were surrounded by people, but strangely, you felt you had more privacy now, not being heard by Robb and his creepy friends

“Yes”, you admitted, “I am, I’m so so ready”, he smiled widely

“Great”, he whispered, “mee too, I want to be with you, I want to watch slashers movies for your comfort, I want you to spend the nights in my home, in my bed…”

“I want that too”, you admitted, “I want to go to your football games, wearing your number, like in those cheesy movies”, he growled smirking

“Oh I’d love that”, he admitted, “you’d look so sexy with my colours and my last name on your shoulders”, you giggled

“Let’s do it”, you said with excitement

“Let’s do it”, he said. He looked down at you with those beautiful eyes of his, and couldn’t hold it any longer

He leaned down, you leaned in, and your lips collided in an explosion of feeling and sensations.

The music blasting, the bodies moving, the smells of cheap beer, bodies moving, and specially, the smell of him, of his cologne, of his essence. It was mind numbing, in the best of ways, his lips moulded to yours like they were made to fit perfectly.

He grabbed you gently, hugging you tightly against him, and you passed your arms by his shoulders, not wanting to let go

You finally separated, he abandoned your lips to pepper kisses all over your face, making you giggle

“You are so delicious, and you look so good tonight”

“Oh good, because I had a single person in mind when I was putting on this old thing”, you teased, he smiled widely

“I need to get you jealous more often”, he teased

“Don’t you dare”, he only smirked, and then he kissed you again.

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@mxtokko @princesssterek @thefandomimagines @iamavailablesstuff @misspascalpunk @sweethoneyblossom1 @ipostwhtifeel @lunamoonbby @ahristata @watercolorskyy @yazzzmints @n4tforlife @littleshadow17 @alexa4040 @speedyballoonpainter @hc-geralt-23 @rayrayredpanda @eralen @yentroucnagol @valeskafics @iloveallmyboys @schadenfreude-and-sarcasm @ttkttt @aleemendoza2425-blog @drwstarkeyy @casualfansoul @urmomsgirlfriend1 @bruher @toms-cherry-trees @happinessinthebeing

#misguidedneed #cregan smut #cregan #cregan x reader #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #cregan x you #cregan x y/n #cregan fanfiction #hbo house of the dragon

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captain-joongz · 3 months

Text

Abraxas; Interlude I

Pairing: mafia boss!Min Yoongi x police officer!reader

Genre: angst, humour and some fluff, investigative, dark themes, slowburn, eventual smut

Chapter summary: Amidst a possible scheme against him and his organisation, Yoongi also has to also deal with the new and quite ambitious police officer. But why does he find himself so reluctant to?

Word count: cca 13.5k

Warnings: Yoongi POV! , discussion of illegal activities, drugs, tailing/stalking, mentions of death and blood, allusions to murder and drug deals

Series masterlist | Previous part | Next part

A/N: it's Yoongi's POV!!! yes i'm on the midnight sun trend hehe. sorry for the slight delay, but here it is in all its glory, hopefully you'll enjoy this chapter too ^^

I threw back the remnants of my whiskey and sighed with the pleasant burn. I wasn’t exactly having the best evening and I entirely blamed Jimin for it. And Tae too, he wasn’t about to get off scot-free. I wasn’t even supposed to be in Dynamite tonight and the incessant buzzing of my phone in my pocket kept reminding me that I was sorely needed in The Rose to deal with a difficult customer.

The longer I stood in the hallway leaning against a wall waiting for Taehyung to show up, the more nervous and pissier I was growing. Someone kept blowing up my phone as if that was going to get me there faster, when I had to take over from Namjoon to deliver these documents and Taehyung was late. I tapped my foot on the floor impatiently and hypnotised the corner leading to back to the club with my eyes. It was just one of those nights.

Ten minutes later I finally lost my patience and made my way back into the main room and beelined straight for the bar.

“Hyung,” Yeonjun greeted me as soon as I got there and automatically reached for my favourite whiskey, “Rough night?” I just hummed, too frustrated by the absolute shitstorm today was to keep up the friendly chatter.

“Some fucker’s tearing apart The Rose because Jimin messed up and Tae’s late,” I grumbled and accepted the glass gratefully. I kicked it back in a single gulp and handed the glass back along with the folder of documents. Yeonjun looked at it confused but accepted it nonetheless.

“Give this to Taehyung once he finally gets here, thanks,” I said and immediately turned to leave. It didn’t sit well with me leaving it here just like that, but Yeonjun was trustworthy, the kid’s proven himself a few times since he started working the bar here, so I at least felt a little consoled by that. And if he did try to fuck me over, I knew who I left it with last, so it would be fucking stupid.

My phone started buzzing again, but this time it was a phone call. Jimin. I gritted my teeth and moved back to the empty hallway to take it.

“Hyung, please, Mr. Cho is going to kill me,” Jimin pleaded immediately, “He’s been asking for you for the past 30 minutes.”

“You were the one that messed up his order, Jimin,” I said irritated, “You should deal with it.” There was a beat of silence which allowed me to hear the distant screaming in the background.

“I know, hyung, I’m sorry, it won’t happen again,” the blond man answered, and he sounded so genuinely remorseful, I didn’t have it in myself to keep scolding him. I let out a sigh and took it a bit easier on him.

“I told you to check the goods,” I chided him a bit more gently, “and to make sure you’re working with reliable sources. You sold him subpar shit for the full price. We can’t have that happening at The Rose.”

“I know, hyung,” Jimin repeated, and I could hear his pout through the phone, “I’m going to deal with Dongwook once I’m done here.” I smiled a little at that. Jimin often fooled people into thinking he’s soft and weak with his angelic looks, but he was a force to be reckoned with once crossed. So many have tried to fuck him over thinking he’s the weakest link only to be very painfully proven wrong by him.

“Take Kookie with you, I think he’s with Namjoon right now,” I told him simply, much less angry than when the conversation started. I checked my watch again. Taehyung was still nowhere to be seen, even though he told me he’d be here almost a half hour ago. Jimin on the other side of the phone just hummed.

“Do you know where Taehyung is?” I asked him, some frustration making it back into my voice, “I’m going to have to teach him what 30 minutes mean.” Jimin started answering but was cut off by aggressive knocking on a door somewhere in his background.

“Oh no,” he just said, “That’s definitely Mr. Cho. When are you going to get here?” I sighed and pinched the root of my nose.

“Put him on the phone,” I told him and leaned fully on the wall to prepare myself for this. There was some shuffling, muffled screaming, then the door opened and suddenly I could hear the man yelling at full volume. Jimin told him something and it made him calm down a little. Then I could hear heavy breathing.

“Mr. Min,” Cho growled into the receiver, “Explain yourself. I paid full buck for this shit, it’s barely consumable. I gave it to my boys and they barely even touched it.”

“Calm down Mr. Cho,” I said calmly, “Jimin made a mistake by not checking it over, but there seems to be some attempt from our suppliers to fuck us over. We’re thoroughly investigating it now, my apologies. If you could wait a few days, I’ll get you your usual. And a guaranteed discount on the next batch.” Technically, I wasn’t even lying. There was an attempt to fuck us over, only they weren’t our usual suppliers, they were some ghouls Jimin was trying out. I warned him to be sure they’re trustworthy and he assured me everything was under control. Sure seems like it…

“Fine,” Mr. Cho finally gritted out, “You’re so fucking lucky your services are otherwise top-tier, or else I’d you have you swimming with the fish.” I fought to supress a scoff. Mr. Cho has always been like this, all bark no balls. He loved to threaten others as if he had some power, but all he had was a hefty inheritance that has thinned considerably through the years he spent getting high in my clubs. Always quick to blow up and throw his name around, but calmed down the moment he spoke to me cause he knew I wouldn’t tolerate his bullshit.

Jimin fucking hated him and hated dealing with him, cause he’d always get yelled at for everything, but it would get resolved the moment I’d get involved even though I said the same thing Jimin did just moments before me. Mr. Cho would always grumble and make vague threats, but ultimately go with it cause he knew if one of us had the power to make people disappear in the river, it was definitely me. That’s why I occasionally took the time to remind him of his place.

“Be careful with your words, Mr. Cho, to some they could be taken as a provocation,” I warned him with a faux friendly tone, “Give the phone back to Jimin.” The order was clear, and Mr. Cho didn’t even argue more, thoroughly settled and not interested in getting into more trouble. There was some shuffling and then Jimin was back on the line.

“Hyung, thank you,” he heaved a sigh of relief as the door slammed shut on his side, “He just left. I don’t fucking understand why he always needs to hear from you when I tell him the same shit. What did you tell him anyway? He deflated like a carnival balloon.” Jimin chuckled a little and I hummed.

“The usual stuff,” I answered vaguely, “I gotta go now. If you hear from Taehyung, tell him he’s dead meat.” With that I hung up and went back to the bar.

Only, I stopped dead in my tracks on the way over. There, sitting on a bar looking incredibly out of place in plain t-shirt and jeans, sipping on a drink and watching the dancefloor with intense displeasure, was a quite familiar face.

Immediately on my return from the station last week I had Jungkook run a background check on the new officer in the force. I was surprised I managed to miss they got a newbie, but now I was as familiar with her as she was with me. What I didn’t expect though, was running into her in one of my clubs. I took a moment to watch her, coming up with a strategy on how to deal with this. Either she’s here undercover or she’s a naughty cop and wants something. And finding out which one would infinitely improve my day.

Mood instantly better at the prospect, I made my way over to her side. Looking back, I had no idea I was about to step into something that changed the course of my entire life.

In terms of first meetings, it was a tense one. Surprisingly, I found her quite easy to read, with her pursed lips in annoyance and fire in her eyes. She had the aura of a new young cop, eager to prove themselves, eager to solve all crime. It made me want to mess with her.

Every fibre of her being just screamed ambition and conviction, and even though I could see her naivety, I sensed the sharp edge that she was carrying inside. I knew, this was a person that has fought for everything, and they would continue to claw their way up until they tore themselves a piece of the world they deserved. In shock I realised I saw a little bit of my younger self in her, which forced a surprised laugh out of me. We both strived for different things, but I recognised the emotion with startling clarity.

Maybe that was what led me to talking more openly than I usually did. But somewhere deep down I needed her to understand. The world isn’t what she wants it to be, especially not in these parts. The sooner she would realise that the easier it would be to swallow.

Really, I shouldn’t even have been surprised when one day Jungkook came into my office with a tablet in hand and a serious look on his face. I immediately turned away from my notebook and leaned to the side, preparing myself for whatever he had to show me.

When the tablet finally did make it in front my face, it was a picture of a black, old and slightly banged up car. The car that we’ve noticed cruising suspiciously around a little too much. Jungkook’s tattooed finger swiped right and the next picture showed a close up of a driver taken probably from some nearby security camera. It was our little friendly neighbourhood police officer.

I smirked to myself. So, it seems she does not in fact know how to step away from things that might prove to be a little too much for someone with her ambition. I hummed to myself a little, not knowing whether I was disapproving or impressed at her continued ignorance despite my warnings.

Jungkook swiped one last time to a document showing the license plate being registered to her name. I laughed and leaned back, making myself comfortable in the chair. Jungkook, on the other hand, sighed and put the tablet away.

“What do you wanna do about that?” he asked seemingly neutral, but I knew the look on his face. It was the kind of disapproval I saw in him often when police force was involved. He believed I should be more careful and not toe the line with the detectives this much. Jungkook already knew I wouldn’t ask for him to deal with it, but that I would let things progress naturally, and he was preparing himself for swallowing the order down even though his opinions differed.

“Jungkookie…” I sighed, “What am I supposed to say when you look at me like that?” I teased him gently, giving him a little smile.

“Hyung, you know how I feel about this,” he explained softly, looking a little more like a kid when he pursed his lips like that. I often felt guilty about pulling him into this shit all those years ago, no matter how much Jimin insisted the kid’s okay with it, that’s why I always treasured those moments when it was just the two of us, when Jungkook would stop being the mad dog protecting a criminal and go back to a youngster playing around with his hyung. I patted his shoulder and tried to look as reassuring as possible.

“It’s fine, Jungkookie,” I assured him, “I’m not gonna get in trouble.” He looked at me like a kid that already knew the Santa wasn’t real and felt insulted his parents still tried to bullshit him every Christmas.

“You’re playing with fire too much,” Jungkook answered petulantly, “You’re making my job infinitely more difficult.” I sighed and stood up. Jungkook had a sudden growth spurt some years ago and now towered over me like a mountain, so I found myself looking up even though I wanted to console him. I gently clasped my hands over both of his shoulders and smiled again.

“It’s going to be okay,” I whispered, “I swear. I know what I’m doing.” He frowned but ultimately said nothing.

“Let her be for some time,” I ended up declaring after a moment of silence, “I want to know what she’s doing. What she wants to know. Then we decide what to do next.” Jungkook tensely nodded and looked out of the window with a grumpy face. I laughed at him a little and patted his head. That set his mood a little better.

“Do you think they’re back to tailing us?” he asked eventually. I had gone back to looking over the email I had been in the middle of answering, so I looked up at the younger man surprised he chose to continue with the subject.

“Hard to say,” I hummed thoughtfully, “I don’t think so. She’s not using the official police car, but hers. I bet she’s on her own.” I wondered what she was trying to do, following me for days. With a slight smile I looked out of the window and zeroed in on her car parked a little ways away from the building, but still within eyesight.

What game are you playing, officer?

In the end Jungkook didn’t let me allow her to stalk us longer than a few days before he started pushing me to deal with it properly. There wasn’t a clear read of what her goal was, which disappointed me a little. I doubt she was in it just to follow me around and watch me run errands, but maybe I was expecting a little more than she actually planned on achieving. I didn’t know why that bummed me out so much and I didn’t want to dwell on it, lest I start sinking into some uncomfortable realisations.

I was aware that part of this sudden sympathy was coming from knowing her personal history, and I couldn’t have that. Not when her story was so similar to my boys, not when it made me soft while dealing with potential danger to everything we worked so hard for.

She was the other side of the coin of kids growing up on the street – you either end up a criminal or the police. Her injustice made her want to solve everything wrong with this world. Our injustice made us realise the perfect way to exploit a broken system. But really, we were both one and the same, born from the same mud and moulded by the same violence.

In some way, it made it even harder for me to understand how she could stand on the side of the law.

But in the end, I did have to deal with it. Except I wouldn’t. Few days later when I was sitting in my office with clear view of her car and Jungkook’s burning eyes throwing daggers my way, I decided it was time to test her a little. Just a little push wouldn’t hurt.

I went out the side door, the one I knew she wasn’t aware of so I could give her a little surprise. And I wasn’t disappointed. Laughing at her frustration was easy, toying with her notebook and watching her nervously eye me was easy, teasing her was easy, and before I knew it, it slipped out.

“Good job. Try a bit harder next time, though.”

The second I said it I knew Jungkook was absolutely going to whoop my ass and Namjoon will wholeheartedly agree that I deserve a good thrashing. But I also had my own game and the burning of her eyes when she internally cursed me out made me want to see where this one was going. I left with a pep in my step even though I felt Jungkook’s disapproving aura.

“Relax, Kookie,” I told him once we were comfortably sat in our car, “We just need to know where exactly she’s going with this.” The man just stared at me blankly before resigning on this.

“Fine, but if I think she’s getting too close, I’ll report her to the police for stalking and harassment,” he growled and sulked the entire rest of the way. I couldn’t even tell him not to do that, so I conceded on it. We both knew what the stakes were.

“We haven’t been visited by our blue friends in a while,” commented Taehyung one normal Saturday and thus cursed it into existence, as not even ten minutes later Jungkook got a call the cops are demanding entrance into Pied Piper.

I groaned and leaned my head on the top of the couch, as the two youngsters started bickering.

“You just had to fucking jinx it,” Jungkook whined and Taehyung laughed at him. “We were all thinking it!” was his defence while popping fruits in his mouth. I tried to just disappear into the sofa. Today I was not in the mood for the police at all.

“God, why now,” I allowed myself to whine out and pout a little, giving them a little rare cute display of displeasure. I was fucking exhausted, it was one hell of a week dealing with the mess Jimin made.

The rats were trying to dodge us and make a run for it, maybe seek help from one of our rival gangs, but I had Jimin and Hobi track them down before the end of the week. As usual, Hoseok worked his magic and found them within two days, but the problem was they already moved onto enemy turf. And if I didn’t want this to turn into a big mess, I had to bargain them out. So I spent the week going back and forth with the Kims. First I tried being nice, explaining to them I will deal with this and it will be easier for all involved if they just move over and let us do our thing, until I ultimately had to subtly threaten them to get the fuck out of my way or we burn our path through their ranks too. I had just enough of snarky interactions for one week.

I swore that once this has been dealt with, I would fucking tear Jimin into two and the man was very well aware of that, so he has been acting cute and sending me little gifts, teasingly telling me he’s “trying to get back into my good graces”. That did put a little smile on my face again, as I did have a huge soft spot for him, and gave me tiny bit of energy to deal with this tonight. I sighed. The sooner this is over the better. I resignedly gestured at Jungkook, and he immediately called back to allow them entry.

“I bet you 200 bucks the other half is trying to mess with the dinner the mayor planned for today in your hotel’s restaurant,” Taehyung said eagerly, moving closer to us to look at us expectantly. I looked towards Jungkook, too tired to play this game and kind of hoping for him to take the lead, but he only shrugged.

“Ugh, I think it might be The Rose,” I said eventually when the silence stretched on for too long, “they may have caught wind of the scene Mr. Cho made there.” We both looked at Jungkook again, but he didn’t say anything and just threw his hands up in an ‘I have no idea’ gesture.

Few minutes later the bouncer entered the balcony and behind him Jang and lo and behold – officer Lee, our righteous stalker, the warrior of broken laws. Immediately, my mood skyrocketed. Now this should be fun.

“Did we crash a funeral or what? What’s with the fits?”

That startled a laugh out of me. What an entrance. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Taehyung leaning forward in interest and immediately knew that these two, if given the chance, are going to be the biggest menaces and pains in my ass.

I’ll be honest, I did want to test her a little. Find out how strong her resolve actually is and how good she is at reading the room. While Jang pissed me off and kept his mouth running, I focused on her body language and facial expressions, which was a beautiful blend of resistance and nervousness. I thoroughly enjoyed the uneasiness with which she was watching everything around her, no doubt remembering our first official meeting. “No one is above the law”? Well, look at you now, officer. Unwittingly I smirked into my glass.

This time, I took my time to ease into the teasing and tested her reaction to little quips here and there. I knew she wouldn’t want me to go talking about the time she spent lurking in front of my office, ever since I confirmed her actions weren’t sanctioned by the department, so I tried an inconspicuous little remark about it.

I wasn’t disappointed.

It took me years to perfect “the stare”. The maknaes especially always made fun of it, but even they couldn’t deny it worked. While yes, part of it was an intimidation technique, but what I truly was interested in was the person’s reaction and, inevitably, when they met my eyes, what I would find reflected in them. Cowards wouldn’t meet my eyes at all, those who tried to put up a fight but ultimately would break under the pressure looked for a moment and then turned away or their eyes flitted around and never stayed on anything for too long. Shifty people who tried to fuck me over also had a specific look to them, I could tell just from a single glance that they were greasy motherfuckers not worth anyone’s while.

What I saw in her eyes when she looked at me head on, was pure fire. For a moment I lamented that she wasn’t on our side, because I would kill to recruit someone like this for us. She was playing it well, and even though I could see her discomfort, there was weight to her stare, and a challenge. From the corner of my eye, I could see Taehyung watching her with rapt interest and even Jungkook seemed to pay more attention. They knew about the trials I sometimes put people through, and would no doubt ask me after the police left what I had seen.

I smiled and relaxed. I could see Taehyung do the same while he leisurely sipped on his margarita. He undeniably already knew. Very well then, for now we would continue playing this game. I even found myself quite eager to see what was in store for us in the next few weeks.

It’s not that the other policemen were bad or lacking, well, some of them were, but particularly Park and Jang, who I’ve seen the most around, they weren’t exactly bad at their job. Just… Park was a little too old-school, he was intelligent and experienced, but left lagging behind the modern world. His eyes spoke of an upright but boring man, a jerk but one that couldn’t care less about some clown sitting in an expensive suit in a club he owned spouting bullshit. That’s why I did quite like the man, I could respect him to some extent, despite everything.

Jang on the other hand, my dislike for him knew no bounds. He was a slimy little shifty fucker, all polite smiles and acting decent, but I’ve dealt with enough scumbags to know not to trust a guy like that. There was something about him that rubbed me the wrong way and made me wary of him; honestly, I was just waiting for him to slip up to deal with him.

When they left, just as I expected, Taehyung leaned towards me and whispered: “So that was quite good.” I hummed and kept my eyes trained on the stairs. Jungkook had left to deal with the situation at the office, where presumably Namjoon had been going through another impromptu interview, so we were the only ones left in the club.

“It was definitely interesting,” I answered finally. This time it was Taehyung that hummed.

“So it’s safe to say we’re not getting rid of her that easily,” he mused out loud in between chomping on strawberries and sipping on a fresh drink. I snorted and looked at him. I gestured at Soobin, who was left here by Jungkook to supervise over me until he either returns or I go home, and he nodded and made his way back to the bar to get me another whiskey.

“No, I think we’ve only just begun.”

I finally checked my phone to see a few messages from Joon and surprisingly even one from Hobi. I scanned through Namjoon’s, which could be summed up to “police showed up, don’t worry I have everything under control”. I wasn’t too sure what Park was trying to achieve by this, but I trusted Namjoon to deal with these things completely. We’ve been by each other’s side for as long as I could remember and we’ve seen it all together, I knew his capabilities and there wasn’t anything the police could do to move him.

Taking the fresh whiskey from Soobin who had just returned, I opened the chat with Hobi. His message was short, simple and perfectly ominous.

Hope, 19:22: got em hyung, me w/ boys gonna deal with it 2nite

I smiled and sipped the cool drink, at long last able to fully relax into the couch and just let the background hum of music lull me into a state of comfortable calm. At least one thing would be handled. Next to me I could hear Taehyung make mindless conversation with Soobin, but at that point I was already half asleep. With a slight smirk on my lips, I took another sip and knew. No one would fuck with me.

“Is it just me or we haven’t seen our little detective in a while?” Tae asked while leisurely lying on a sofa in my office. Seokjin turned to him and then back to me to gauge my reaction. I made sure to keep my face neutral as I returned his stare.

“Last time you said that they showed up like ten minutes later,” I murmured looking out of the window on the snowy streets as if expecting the police van to materialise out of thin air.

“Yeah, well, she hasn’t been around for a hot minute,” Taehyung reiterated, his eyes jumping between his two hyungs and waiting would take the bait and entertain him with a conversation, “There was a week when hyung couldn’t even piss without her knowing about it.”

“Why are you so interested in that?” Seokjin asked neutrally, leaned against a bookshelf on the wall opposite of the sofa, “All I hear from Jungkook is grumbling that Yoongi’s being stupid and it’s a safety concern.” I scoffed and looked back towards the two men.

“It’s hardly that,” I said calmly, “I don’t know what he’s expecting me to do, she’s still the police. She’s breaking the laws, yes, which is hilarious by the way, but I’m not petty enough to go through the whole ordeal of reporting her just for sniffing around our business a little.” Seokjin gave me a look, a look that was so specific to him and exactly what I’d been afraid of, that I just dodged his eyes for my own sanity. I hoped Taehyung would keep his mouth shut because Jin, even though he acted silly a lot of the times, had the clairvoyant gift of perfectly guessing what was going through our heads at any given moment. I quickly spun around and averted his gaze despite the fact that it made me look even more suspicious. I just had to keep him from saying anything while Taehyung was still here, because the younger man could not keep himself from telling all the hyungs and Jungkook everything and I had no intention of being discussed like that.

“When is Hobi getting here?” I decided to change the subject. There was a moment of silence, and I could almost see Jin sending Tae warning glances to not bring it up anymore even though I had my back turned to them.

“He should be here in a few,” Seokjin answered at last and brought over to my table the cup of tea he was making, “It’s supposed to be a calming mix. It might not do much, but it’s better than whiskey.” I thanked him politely and the room slipped into silence again as I sipped it slowly while Jin watched me like a hawk.

Suddenly there was a groan coming from the sofa and Taehyung was clambering to his feet. “I can’t fucking take it anymore, I’m so bored,” he whined and skipped over to my table, “hyungs, let’s do something.” He did the thing when he tried to be cute (he was cute, but I made it my personal goal to never tell him or he’ll take advantage of it), started pouting and grabbed my shoulder lightly.

“Go take a walk then, he needs a moment of rest,” Jin told him resolutely. He clearly decided not to fall for it today, even though he usually indulged the younger man. “After all, that’s why I’m here in the first place.”

Taehyung dropped the cutesy act and teasingly scowled at him before walking back over to the sofa to grab his phone. He just jokingly whined “You can be so mean, hyung” and was gone out the door before anyone could reply anything.

Once the door shut closed, Jin’s full attention suddenly was on me, and I grew a little nervous. He wouldn’t let anything slide and took his role as a doctor and a hyung very seriously, especially since he was the only one who was older than me and thus had a little bit of authority over my stubborn ass. I knew that Jin and Namjoon often consulted each other on how to approach me, Joon would oftentimes notice something and immediately snitch to Jin cause he knew Jin was the only one I allowed to care for me in such a capacity. It wasn’t unusual that Namjoon would raise a concern about my health, and I would tell him it’s nothing, only to have Jin coming to my house later that day, fully informed and prepared to deal with it (and me).

“How’s your migraines been?” Jin decided to play it safe at first, dancing around what he actually wanted to ask.

“Shit,” I replied dryly and squinted my eyes at him. He looked at me with worry and I sighed. “It’s been getting better,” I begrudgingly told him, and he gave me a look a parent gives their annoying child.

“You need to rest more,” Jin started, and I groaned. Once he got into full parent mode and began nagging, nothing could stop him. Poor Kookie had to listen to a 30-minute-long lecture about the risks of smoking every time he only looked in a direction of a cigarette pack, which then almost every time moved on to us for being bad influence on him. Especially Namjoon who was basically glued to a cigarette. I have over the years got out of the habit and now mostly smoked only occasionally, much to Jin’s content.

“I know, I know,” I stopped him and started imitating him, “I need to sleep more and eat better and drink less alcohol, work less and have other hobbies other than hanging out around bars.” Jin gave me an unimpressed look and pursed his lips.

“So sorry for caring for your measly pathetic life, Mr. Bossman,” he retorted sassily and went to sit down on the sofa. Then he pierced me with his eyes again and I knew there was no running from this.

“So what’s all this about?” he asked and I started speaking basically even before he finished. “Nothing.” Jin raised his eyebrow and relaxed into the couch. “Really now?”

“Yes, no matter what Kookie says, I know what I’m doing,” I said resolutely and gave Jin a look that made it clear we would not be speaking on this matter anymore. That softened the man a little and he relented.

“Okay then,” he said softly and smiled at me, “I trust you, Yoongi. I’m just trying to make sure you’re all safe. I would be a fool not to worry about the police.” While I accepted it was a slight dig at my approach to this, I also knew it was the closest I would get to Jin conceding and leaving this subject behind. I smiled at him with all the charm and charisma I could muster, and he just scoffed at me and busied himself with his own mug of tea.

Though I was also a little surprised, just as Taehyung, at the sudden absence of detective Lee. She was everywhere for a whole week and then just suddenly disappeared, but I was anticipating some sort of new plan was abrewing on her part. I supposed it wouldn’t take too long.

“What do you mean they’re messing with the docks?” I growled into the phone and stomped the cigarette butt into the ground. Namjoon next to me tensed up and also put down his cig only to immediately light up a new one. Hobi on the other side of the phone sighed and apologized.

“It seems that when we stormed them last month some little creative critters managed to slip by us,” the man explained over phone, “They’ve been sabotaging in the docks, stealing cargo and ganging up on some workers here and there, but we’ve got them now. Gonna deal with it tonight.” I scoffed, mildly annoyed but not wanting to take it out on him. Still, I couldn’t stop a little petty remark.

“Funny, I think I already heard that from you once,” I said gruffly and looked over the street to where Jungkook’s car just pulled up. Namjoon waved at me, gestured towards the young man and then set out to welcome him and bring him up to my office.

“I know, hyung, I’m sorry for messing up the first time,” Hobi said with genuine remorse, and I felt like I was inside a one huge déjà vu as he sounded the same as Jimin when he apologised for causing this whole ordeal in the first place. I sighed and softened my voice. After all, this was just a bad month, I knew their abilities.

“It’s fine, I’m just annoyed with how persistent they’re becoming,” I explained to him and also slowly moved towards the office entrance, “who would have thought that they would be this hard to deal with?” Hobi laughed and I heard some shuffling noises from his side, slight murmuring and then a bang of a door.

“It’s good we’ve dealt with them now; they were on a good way to becoming unbelievable menaces. Thank god they trusted themselves enough to mess with us this early while still unprepared for the retaliation, or I bet we’d spend weeks slowly eradicating them like annoying pests.” I laughed at Hobi’s words and nodded even though he couldn’t see me.

“Hubris has a funny way of catching up to you,” I mused quietly, Hobi only humming and then suddenly exclaiming loudly.

“Oh! That’s right!” he shouted out suddenly making me flinch a little. “Christ, Hobi,” I grumbled, “You’re going to make me embarrass myself. What’s up?” The man laughed a little and continued.

“Kookie’s on his way with some very interesting footage you’ll want to see,” the man said mysteriously with a happy lilt to his voice, “We found it when checking the security cameras for the little fuckers messing with our cargo.” I hummed, secretly smiling at the younger man’s antics while waiting for the damn elevator to come to the ground floor.

“He just got here, he’s with Namjoon upstairs. I’m on my way up too,” I told him and finally stepped into the elevator.

“Oh, I better go then,” the man laughed, “I have my plate full here anyway.” With that he hung up and I spent the rest of the ride up building anticipation on what Jungkook wanted to show me.

Upon walking into the office, I found Jungkook already showing something to a smirking Namjoon sitting in my chair. I regarded them both with slight suspicion and then wordlessly made my way to stand next to Jungkook. He immediately put the tablet away and I frowned. He was just about to open his mouth to explain to me, but I beat him to it.

“Hobi already told me you found something on the CCTV, so you can just show me,” I told him gruffly and motioned for him to put the tablet back on the table. He did. With a few quick swipes of his tatted fingers, he presented to me a video. I squinted my eyes at a it a little bit cause it was so dark and hard to see, automatically leaning forward towards the tablet.

It was a view from one of the side alleys by the warehouse we’ve been having troubles with. I was well acquainted with this camera, it was so nicely installed it became practically invisible to anyone who already didn’t know it was there, thus over the years it procured us some very useful evidence. For a moment there was no movement, just a dark alleyway in one of the seedier parts of this city, but then a figure appeared out of the shadows. They were dressed in all black and were slowly slinking by the wall with their eyes trained on something in front of them. We watched it for a few seconds and then the figure turned around and left.

I was just about to question Jungkook, when the man swiped and an enhanced picture of the figure filled the screen. I leaned towards it for a moment and then laughed. It was detective Lee. The picture was grainy and dark, it was quite hard to see, but that was unmistakenly the rookie cop sniffing around.

“The warehouses? What is she doing in the docks?” I speculated out loud.

“I don’t know but I don’t like her sniffing around there,” Jungkook said resolutely, “She’s probably looking for evidence.” I hummed thoughtfully.

“Well, she would have to break into the offices and decode the documents, which would be highly illegal and inadmissible in court, so I doubt she would do that,” I retorted and finally pushed Namjoon out of my chair to sit down, “She’s most likely looking for something specific.” Namjoon leaned over the table and gave us a mischievous smile.

“Or someone specific,” he pointed out. We both looked at him and pondered over it. “She could be just getting the hang of our locations,” Jungkook mused, “I think it’s more probable she just wants to be familiar with the places that we own. Or she thinks we’re just doing illegal shit out in the daylight like a bunch of idiots.” I laughed at that, but the first part of the statement was definitely possible.

“We have to wait for a little more,” I told them both, “She’ll reveal her cards soon.” Jungkook gave me a look but said nothing. Namjoon was just watching us with a smile. I knew the younger man was getting antsy because he cared about my safety and this detective was getting closer than the others. But that was also her weakness – to get more info she abandoned the law, so while yes, she was more determined to find out, but also she was making herself more unreliable to the force and in the eyes of the court. It was a slippery slope for her.

The situation would need some supervision, for sure, but in the end we had the upper hand cause we could report her anytime and cost her the position in the force. I hummed again and smirked.

“We’ll deal with this shortly, don’t worry,” I attempted to soothe the man, “Right now we have to focus on the fiasco with these dealers.” At the change of subject both of the men perked up.

“Do you know anything about how Hobi-hyung wants to go about this?” Namjoon asked Jungkook. They were both standing at the opposite sides of my table looking at each other. Kookie deliberated a little before saying: “He didn’t say much, just that they’re doing it tomorrow. He’s pretty pissed they managed to dodge him, so he’s most probably not gonna be very nice.” To that both me and Namjoon laughed.

“Good,” I said, “They’ve been pissing me off too. Who would have known they would be such pests.”

All three of us shared a look. “Fucking cheers to that,” Jungkook said, and we moved on.

The next day I had gotten a single text from Hobi that sounded very similar to what he texted me last time he went after them. The plan was to surprise them during lunch, storm them quick and blindside them. Ideally it would be over before they ever realised something had hit them. And as someone who had seen Hobi in action before, I knew he was absolutely capable of that.

I was just smoking outside with Namjoon, who was making fun of me that I had gotten back into my habit the whole time he was attempting to light my cigarette, when I got another text.

Hope, 14:49: done

I smiled to myself and patted Joon’s shoulder. He gave me a confused look that melted into satisfied realisation when I winked happily.

Me, 14:51: are you absolutely sure? no more surprises?

Hope, 14:52: no more surprises. i’ll be over in twenty

I pocketed my phone again and stubbed out the cig, lightly slapped Joon’s shoulder again and moved to go back inside. The man followed after me without a word or a question, only gave me a celebratory smile when getting off the elevator a floor beneath my office.

I waited gingerly for the man’s arrival, drinks ready for us and words of gratitude on my tongue. Faithful to his word, he got there in twenty minutes on the dot, bursting into my door with a wide smile, no doubt also happy he managed to teach a lesson to some pesky kids messing about with things way beyond their capabilities.

I clasped a hand on his shoulder and smiled at him.

“Don’t worry, I left no loose ends this time,” was the first thing he said, “though I wish I had more time for clean up, but the cops were called. They’re most probably already there.”

“As long as there’s nothing linking us to them, it’s okay,” I reassured him and pulled us both to the sofa. He shook his head at that.

I trusted Hobi, I knew he was damn good at his job. He was always so excellent at making everything that was causing me headaches disappear, and I felt endless gratitude to the man. For a moment we both just sat there in comfortable silence and sipped our drinks.

I took another swig of whiskey and winced. “Jin would kill me if he saw me right now,” I muttered and Hobi laughed. “It’s for celebration, I’m sure he would understand,” the man joked, knowing full well how obsessed the doctor was with making us all live healthily, even when we all knew it was a losing battle. I snickered again and relaxed into the sofa.

“If the cops are there right now, that means they’ll probably show up here by the evening or early tomorrow,” I mused out loud, already too familiar with their strategies. Hobi agreed with me, but I could see that he was thinking about something else.

“What’s up?” I asked gently. Hobi looked at me and hesitated a little. “I might have to go to Japan for a little bit,” he said eventually. I looked at him in surprise.

“Japan? Why?”

The man reached into his back pocket and pulled out a piece of folded paper. One of the corners was painted with a splatter of blood and the paper was all tired and frayed from whatever it went through.

“He was really trying to make sure I wouldn’t read this, so I made extra sure to get it,” Hobi explained, looking at me observantly and carefully continuing, “And for good reason. I’m sure you yourself recognise this.” He handed me the paper and I slowly unfolded it to not do any more damage to it.

I did recognise it and immediately felt a rush of cold rage hit my bloodstream. Before me, there was a formal invitation to meet with the Watanabe family, one of the smaller suppliers from Japan. They weren’t the ones that we were doing the most business with, but we had a mutual trust to keep out of each other’s way, occasionally help each other out and otherwise not cross each other’s paths.

Whether they knew what these little fucks were planning or not, it seems that a connection between them was established. And as such, I couldn’t let it slide. Especially since the dead rat wanted to keep it secret so bad. There must have been something going on.

For the Watanabes it would be beneficial to try and get us out of the way, since we were blocking their way to most of Seoul, but I couldn’t believe they were this fucking stupid.

“That explains a lot,” I said, reverting back to my business self, “and here I was, thinking we were cordial with each other.” Hobi hummed. I looked at him and let him feel the full force of my anger with the behaviour of our supposed allies.

“Let them know just how disappointed I am with them for me, please,” I told him, voice full of ice. This wasn’t a playground, we weren’t kids messing about in the sandbox. We had to act quickly, before someone got the idea that they could cross our path.

The conversation was a little stunted after that, both of us thinking about the implications of an alliance between these two; so once Hobi finished his drink, he moved to leave, finally deciding it’s time to get back to his boys and make sure everything’s going off without a hitch now. He turned around, mouth opening to tell me one last thing, when he opened the door and promptly bumped into someone. I stood up from the chair, worried for a moment, only to grin wide when I realised who it was.

Hobi had managed to catch the nosy detective before she fell, and I had the best view in the house for when she looked up and realised who was it that she slammed into at my office. As every time, her face was an open book there for everyone to read and I saw it go from apologetic to absolute mortification to some sort of astounded glee. I watched her like a hawk while she stared at Hobi and the wheels in my brain were turning full speed. Huh, could it be?

Even when she snapped out of it and Hobi started to tease her, her eyes remained glued to the man with clarity and determination. If I was a jealous man, I may have even gotten a little angry at the display of open interest, I thought to myself jokingly while I watched them amused. So this was her goal, huh? She was after Hoseok. It did make sense, he would be someone the police found interesting, but he also had considerable experience at dodging them.

Once Hobi left and I could see her gearing up to bullshit me to the max, clearly totally out of her depth here, I decided to test my theory a little bit. But I would need help with that. I gave her a little bait and only waited for her to bite. She did. She didn’t even ask how I knew about what was happening in the docks, just started scrambling to explain herself somehow. I pulled out my phone again and texted the one man I knew could accomplish this.

Me, 16:29: how fast can you get here? need a distractor asap

TaeTae, 16:29: be there in 15 hyung <3

I chuckled a little at his fast reply, but quickly got up to move towards the bar. I had to distract her well and leave her distracted enough to slip a little bug on her. I weaved my web, pulled her in different directions, and I lied.

“We had nothing to do with it,” I said, though I had ordered the strike as retribution. But some things she wasn’t prepared to hear upfront, with some honesty I would have to wait until she was too deep to be appalled by the reality.

Taehyung burst into the room just as he always did, in the perfect way to steal all the attention. Her head snapped to the door with panic, and I seized my opportunity. I moved behind my table and fished around in the first drawer for the small device. I checked on Taehyung who was doing his best magician act, though by definition he would be more of my beautiful young assistant tasked with distracting the crowd while I faked the magic trick. It took only a second for my skilled fingers to slip the tracker beneath her phone case and by the moment she looked at me in horror at Taehyung’s behaviour, I was already sitting on the side of the guest chair satisfied with myself and watching the man work.

I couldn’t help the pleased hum when she grabbed her phone and flustered stumbled out of the door.

The moment the door closed behind her Tae looked at me curiously. “What was that about?” he asked full of mischievous keenness. I shrugged and smiled at him mysteriously. “Just trying to prove a theory of mine,” I uttered nonchalantly and thoroughly enjoyed the eager interest of the younger man.

“That was a tracker, wasn’t it?” he asked again, ever so observant. I gave him another grin. His curious eyes never missed anything, they always flitted around wherever he was, taking in people’s actions and expressions, that’s why he was my favourite spy. People didn’t take him much seriously, they didn’t see him as threat and he knew how to take advantage of it perfectly and bring every little dirty secret right to me.

“Hmmm, we’ll speed up the process a little bit and Kookie will hopefully relax now,” I told him. He hummed too and got up to get himself another drink.

“Guess we’ll see.”

Maybe we were having a little too much fun pretending like we didn’t know she was tailing us. How do you school your face while talking when you know that a cop is sitting 10 metres away from you? Though we did agree that we like the upgraded look with the motorcycle, so I guess that’s what she was up to the whole time we didn’t see her following us.

It would be a little better had Hoseok been in the country, but we had to entertain ourselves while he dealt with the traitors. I hadn’t heard from him really for around two or three days, which surprisingly was a good thing. It meant he was too busy solving problems to reply. In the end Jin decided to go with him and I had absolute confidence that they would deal with it no matter what that entailed.

I heard Jungkook lightly complain that she’d gotten craftier and how he often had to drive around to lose her to be able to go about his day peacefully. She did go after Namjoon for a little bit and then promptly gave up, which didn’t surprise me as he only spent time home or in the office, she did try to follow Jungkook, but he never gave her a chance. Tae and Jimin didn’t seem to be her targets in the slightest, much to Taehyung’s displeasure, who grumbled about how he’s also interesting. So she mostly stuck with me. But I was patiently waiting for Hobi to return and see.

The moment Hoseok and Jin stepped foot into the country, I warned him to not show up around for a while. He was very confused, but when I said it’s related to the police, he obliged happily, though we had to meet up to discuss his trip to Japan and its conclusion. One day when her little red dot didn’t move from the station, I called him over.

I had to go to the Magic Shop, which was one of the newer clubs Tae was trying to transform into a popular spot, and Jimin came over too. He was still trying to “sweeten my rage”, in his words, which I no longer felt but didn’t tell him. I’d never admit it, but I quite liked the way he was trying to be so damn cute and play up how much he loves me, though I was pretty sure he knew and that’s why he hasn’t stopped yet. I was just laughing at the two younger men’s antics when Jungkook’s car pulled over to the club and the two newcomers jumped out.

“Hyung!” Jimin shouted out, “You’re finally back!” Hobi laughed and threw himself at the blond, tackling him into an aggressive hug, both of them giggling. Tae couldn’t stay still and joined them, with me and Jungkook watching them fondly with smiles on our faces.

“Okay, okay!” I talked over the commotion and pulled them apart, “Unfortunately I have to steal him away for a bit, you can have him later.” The youngsters pouted at me, but it was all in jokes. But when I looked over at Hobi, he had a guilty expression on his face. I sighed a little and smiled at him.

“Sorry hyung, I actually have to go check on the warehouses in Songhyeon-dong, the boys have been asking for me,” he explained and gave an apologetic smile, “You can come too, though. If you have time.” I pursed my lips and thought about it, but I already knew I couldn’t make it.

“It’s across the whole city, unfortunately it’s not convenient for me today,” I told him. We needed to debrief properly; it would be best if Jin was present too, but the man was hard to come by during the weekdays due to his clinic. Every rich person in whole of Seoul wanted him to attend to them and he usually ran from patient to patient, while Hobi was the number one contact for those who worked in or around the warehouses and thus found himself driving around Seoul just solving shit that went wrong. If he couldn’t wait here to have a conversation, it must have been pretty serious there. He was looking at me stressed, most probably trying to think of a way to make it work for everyone, but I patted his shoulder and smiled reassuringly.

“It’s okay, Hobi,” I assured him, “I’ll visit you tomorrow or the day after. I’ll bring Jin too.” He returned my smile and moved back to Jungkook’s car.

“Wait, Hobi-hyung!” Jimin shouted out again, “I drove here with the silver Porsche, you can take it cause Tae’s gonna drive me back.” The blond-haired man fished around in the pockets for a moment and then threw something small and black towards Hoseok, who caught it without problem with a cheeky wink and a smile.

He was gone in a minute, and I soon followed with Jungkook. In the end Jimin took my car and I asked Kookie to drive me to the office, since he was going to stay there with me and Joon anyway. I kept thinking back to the Japan issue, wondering what the boys found out and what the Watanabes tried to claim. And whether we should prepare to burn some bridges.

The next day, though, started in a somewhat peculiar manner. When I came out in the morning and got into the car, Jungkook was sitting next to Soobin with a sombre expression. I immediately straightened and prepared to hear whatever it was that went wrong in those few short hours I was gone.

“I messed up hyung,” he said sheepishly and handed over his phone. The little tracking red dot wasn’t in its usual spot, by my house or by one of the clubs, not even by the office or the station. It was in Songhyeon-dong. Right across from our warehouses. I laughed and Jungkook looked at me nervously.

“Where’s Hoseok right now?” I asked immediately and the younger man snapped into attention.

“He’s in there right now, got in about 7 o’clock, was talking about some papers that have been waiting for him to approve,” Kookie answered, mind back on business and unpleasant feelings left behind to focus on this fully. I grinned at the man wildly. “Perfect.”

I swiftly pulled out my phone and started writing a simple and quick message.

Me, 8:15: stay in the warehouse, don’t walk out at all

Hope, 8:17: what do you mean hyung? are we in danger?

Me, 8:17: no, don’t worry. our little spy is on you and i’m trying to prove something

“Do you want to go to Dynamite today, or are we expected at the hotel?” Soobin’s voice pulled me away from my phone, back to a nervous Jungkook sitting next to the unsure bodyguard. “The hotel, thank you Soobin,” I answered politely with a mild smile and redirected my attention back to Jungkook.

“Don’t worry Kookie, I’m not mad,” I said with a smile, “This is actually exactly what I wanted, just hoped that I would have more time and control over when she found him. Guess she must have been on us yesterday.” The young man stiffened and looked back to his phone.

“Do you think she’s aware of the tracker? Left it at the station purposely to mess with us?” he asked all business-like, probably already trying to come up with a new plan. “It’s possible,” I hummed, “It’s time to find out.”

Silence took over the car as we made our way through the city. I smiled to myself. Even though it happened a little faster than I was planning, but I was glad she was still going in the direction I had predicted. I look away for a moment and you leave for one of my friends, huh? You definitely work fast.

I laughed again, earning a strange look from the two younger men, but only gave them a mysterious wink. We might be able to deal with this shortly, if everything goes well. The key was to find out what the goal was, then I could control what she found and make sure she’d stay away from what we needed to hide.

“Let’s give her a few days,” I told them and gave them another grin.

Me, 8:25: how would you feel about going to the warehouse every day and just staying there?

Hope, 8:26: ???

Four days later I sat into my car and instructed Soobin to drive to the warehouse with a shit-eating grin. Jungkook had been keeping me updated on her movements and she spent her days either at the station or staking out in the building across the premises.

Hobi, as promised, had been going to the warehouse and just sitting on his ass there, thoroughly complaining through his phone the whole time. I had been trying to calm him down and keep him there, while Joon and Kookie took it upon themselves to tease him all the time with pics and cheeky texts about eating in restaurants and hanging out in clubs together, so he was slowly losing his patience with my plan. I had to move forward quickly for the benefit of us all, even though I did find it awfully funny.

Reaching our destination, I took the time to walk around very self-assuredly for a moment knowing she was watching this angle. When I tired of putting on a show of how free and relaxed I was this day, I finally made my way inside. Through the door you entered straight to the short hall which led to our office, so it was a relatively short and quiet trip.

Hoseok and Jungkook were already sitting inside, Hobi behind the table and the maknae occupying an armchair sitting a little more towards a corner to the left of the door. With the sound of the door opening, their heads snapped towards me and as soon as they saw my smug smirk, Hoseok groaned loudly.

“God, please tell me this is over!” he whined and dramatically draped himself over the surface of the table, “I can’t take another day of this! I’m going to fucking lose my mind here!” Jungkook chuckled at him and retorted with a slight smirk: “You should have treated this as a holiday or something. Watched Netlix and all that stuff.” To that Hobi screamed out loud and grabbed something on his table to throw at the now laughing Kookie. “Yah! You think I have time to burn? I’ve got shit to do!”

I snickered at them and moved inside, Soobin following me in. I gestured at Jungkook. “Did you bring the cup as I asked?” The man nodded at me. I smiled, as relaxed as I haven’t been in a long time, and sat down on a chair by the table. Soobin remained standing by the door so I gestured at him to also sit somewhere, as this would take a while.

“So what’s next in your amazing and genius plan that involves the literal torture of your beloved dongsaeng?” He asked, suddenly pretending to be all business-like and serious, while Jungkook still occasionally giggled in his spot to our left.

“Now we talk for a bit, draw it out a little,” I said smirking meanly, “Then we send in Soobin and wait what he brings back.”

“It’s pretty cold outside, hope she’s dressed for the occasion,” Hobi noted cheekily and relaxed into his chair. I hummed and schooled my expression. I did have to bring up Japan, we haven’t had a chance to talk about it properly yet and I couldn’t visit him sooner cause we were planning what to do about our little spy.

“I don’t think she knows about the tracker,” Jungkook mused out loud, “she keeps bringing it. I don’t think it’s a statement like ‘look where I am’, it wouldn’t make sense to let us know.” Hobi nodded, humming in agreement, and they carried on for a moment, the conversation heading to the clubs as Hoseok asked about how it went while he was gone. I let them speak for a little while, just enjoying the company, until their chattering died off and they both looked at me questioningly.

“We have to talk about Japan,” I said simply, not feeling the need to beat around the bush. Hoseok immediately sobered up and straightened in his chair, while Jungkook looked on curiously, no doubt also dying to know the situation in which we found ourselves in.

“Well, they claimed innocence,” the dark-haired man said sombrely, “I’ve heard bullshit enough time in my life to smell it a mile away, but there wasn’t anything I could really pin on them. I checked the dates of their stay, and it was relatively recently, there wasn’t much correspondence between them, that I found. And we did thrash the dealers’ hiding spots. They must have gotten rid of it. But the head of the Watanabe family is such a slimy motherfucker that I don’t believe a word he said. They surely must have been planning something together.” He shrugged and sat back. “I’m afraid right now we can’t do much about it unless we want to seem like vicious usurpers.” Jungkook leaned forward and looked at us thoughtfully.

“Japan is outside of our turf, if we did something rash without substantial evidence, we could risk losing the support of the Satos,” he contemplated out loud, “God knows what’s going on between them right now.” I hummed and nodded, smiling at the man satisfied. He really did grow up, god. Time flies so fast.

“There seem to be two main issues right now,” I surmised solemnly, “First, the Watanabes are small and cowardly. The reason why they’re where they are is because they just suck up to others and hug their thighs to drain all the benefits from them. If they stirred up trouble with someone, they would no doubt end up eradicated before sundown.” The men looked at me with similar serious expressions. I took a moment to get myself a glass of water and continued talking standing up by the office desk.

“So, what gave them the confidence to get involved with an effort against us?” I mused thoughtfully, “There is a chance that they couldn’t have known that their new friends would immediately go and cross us and get themselves all killed, but I trust Hobi’s instinct. The fucking clown that leads the family now is a sleazy bastard, one with an ego that doesn’t match his wit nor his guts. He loves to gloat and provoke, but only when he knows someone stronger’s got his back.” Hobi nodded. He knew the man well since he had the displeasure of meeting him a few times when we were in Japan and had to attend a few of the same events as he did.

“If he knew he was at risk, he would have met me already grovelling,” Hoseok muttered with distaste, his immense disdain towards the man showing through, “that’s the kind of a pathetic vermin he is.” I agreed with him and carried on.

“So that means he probably feels comfortable timidly opposing us, cause there’s someone that’s got his back,” I concluded, “Someone who’s probably on our side of the puddle, someone who probably hooked him up with the rats we just got rid of. They probably weren’t expecting them to go against us immediately and die, but they don’t feel intimidated by the fact that we suspect something.”

The room sunk into silence as we all pondered about it. I could be looking too much into it, but in this world one never knew. You couldn’t survive here by assuming everyone’s best intentions. Quite the opposite. The little shits feeling confident enough to swindle us, them trying to desperately hide the invitation before they lose the chance to, the Watanabe’s approach to a meeting with Hobi. It wasn’t much to go off of, but it was suspicious enough to keep track of and keep in mind. If there potentially was a beginning of a plot against us, we had to stay alert and monitor the situation before it spun out of control.

“The confidence means their alliance is already pretty sure, then,” Jungkook broke the silence and took turns looking at us both. I gave him a single jerky nod in return. “Probably. Who knows.”

“What’s the second issue?” Hobi suddenly asked. Kookie looked at me questioningly and his face suddenly looked so much younger with his eyes wide, it almost shocked me speechless.

“The Japanese families,” I shook off my surprise and continued, “If we do decide to make take some precautions, we need to properly communicate so with the Satos and get their support. They need to be in full agreement with whatever we choose to do with the Watanabe clan.” Hobi scoffed and turned to me.

“That shouldn’t be too hard. They’re not that influential and going against us means they’re going against the Satos too.”

“Still,” I repeated, “We need to test their alliance to us too.” A realisation hit Jungkook’s face and he nodded enthusiastically. That made me laugh a little at his earnestness. Hobi also smiled, but it was still strained.

“Let’s bide our time for now,” my voice carried through the office resolutely, “Lay low, pretend we’re over this issue and gather our wits. And prepare for potentially dealing with this.”

We nodded at each other. Even if years have passed since our youth and the fire and passion and determination that comes with it, we were still prepared to fight for what was rightfully ours. We climbed our way here through hell and there’s no way we’d let some snotty little brats try to take everything away from us.

“I’ll keep my eyes and ears out,” Kookie stated, phone in hand ready, “They’re bound to come across something juicy.” Hobi murmured his approval and turned his attention back to me.

“Today we should deal with the other issue at hand, or I am actually going to go insane between these four walls,” he complained whinily and I laughed at him. I moved towards the little kitchenette in the right corner from the door and started preparing some coffee. I made a cup for all present and then one extra into the cup Kookie brought with him, which I promptly handed to Soobin.

“My boys scoped it out and she seems to have her hideout on the sixth floor to the left of the staircase,” Hobi instructed the young man, who patiently waited on me to send him off.

“Tell her something that will piss her off,” I said only, grinning wildly. The blond man smirked at me and disappeared out of the room swiftly and silently.

“Now we wait,” I told the room, sitting gingerly back into the chair with my fresh cup of coffee, playing with the spoon like a spoiled little kid waiting for his birthday present. We all stayed silent, too much on our minds to keep mindless convo. Kookie was typing furiously on his phone, a slight scowl sometimes tugging at his features, while Hobi relaxed into the chair and serenely looked off into the distance. I tried to keep the self-satisfied smirk on my face while my mind slipped to more serious issues.

I couldn’t help but be worried about the current situation. Their potential ties to a stronger gang, or maybe even a family, would explain the surprising difficulty with which they went down. I knew I stepped on many toes when I stole half the fucking Seoul right from under their noses, and even more when I proved impossible to dethrone. It didn’t surprise me at all to uncover a supposed scheme like this. Truly, this didn’t even have to necessarily be aimed against me and my gang, but the boys fucked up by involving us in their business. But no matter what, we would emerge victorious from this, that I had no doubt about. Once someone crossed a line, we would make an example of them and teach a lesson to whoever it was that wanted to mess with us.

Over the years in this “business”, I had learnt a lot. One of the things was: what couldn’t be solved with threats, would be solved with blood. And it never failed me before. I looked at Hobi and Kookie again and smiled. We had each other’s backs and I trusted their abilities more than I trusted myself. The truth was that we were more a family than many around us that were actually blood related. That was the second reason of our success.

Soobin returned within 15 minutes, of which he probably spent most time going up and down the stairs. He walked back into the office slightly breathless and a little red, so I gestured for the single cup of coffee left on the mini kitchen counter. He walked over and took a tentative sip, probably finding it the perfect temperature since it’s been waiting for him here and slowly cooling down.

We all found ourselves hanging onto him with our eyes, some excitement coursing through the room at what he was about to divulge to us. Kookie broke first.

“How did she react to you?” he asked eagerly, waiting to confirm his theory about the tracker.

“She was shocked and surprised, and frankly pissed off,” Soobin answered immediately, his deep voice having a calming effect on us, “She didn’t seem to understand how you were able to find her.”

Jungkook exclaimed happily. “Perfect, that means she doesn’t know about the tracker,” he said satisfied. I was about to destroy his whole joy though, so I let him bask in it a little before speaking.

“We’re gonna mess with her a little, make it obvious,” I told the room and Kookie immediately groaned. “Hyung, having her tracked without her knowledge is the safest way to let her be but still have control over the situation. Why would you want to give that up?” I winked at him and pursed my lips teasingly.

“To provoke her. Rile her up, frustrate her, push her to her limits,” I explained, eyes flitting between the three men, “She’ll reveal herself then.” Kookie hummed in understanding, but Hobi squinted his eyes at me somewhat suspicious. I quickly averted his eyes and focused back onto Soobin.

“What else did she say?” I asked him. The man immediately snapped to attention at me addressing him and answered. “That you’re annoying and she hates you.” His voice was neutral, but I could detect some undertones of amusement. I agreed it must have been an amusing sight.

I laughed lightly and finished my coffee in one gulp. The game was on.

Now that Hoseok was free of his prison, he went back to flitting between the docks and ships like a mother bird trying to take care of all of her young. Jin was similarly busy by his practice, so he also missed out on all of the fun. Namjoon kept saying he was above messing with the police, even though I caught him sneaking smirks and grins every now and then, and Kookie was just as disapproving as ever of my tactics. Jimin tried to stay neutral as he hadn’t met her yet, but thoroughly enjoyed our shenanigans.

That left me and Tae on the shit-stirrer team, and we did milk it for as long as we could. Just the ultimate annoyances, hoping to send her into a complete rage over this. She still had the tracker regularly on her, so we were forced to assume she was none the wiser, but the longer it dragged on the more suspicious I was becoming.

Once she started showing up to the office regularly, cheshire grin firmly plastered on her face, tracker still firmly attached to her, I pretty much guessed she must have known. Suddenly I was spending my afternoons making her tea and watching her leisurely stroll about my office, studying every inch of it and grinning from ear to ear. I waited patiently for her next move, and admittedly, I found myself quite excited with this game we were playing with each other. She was a fast learner and had a quick wit, and I did appreciate her readiness to throw all laws aside to try to stick it to a guy that mildly annoyed her once. The anticipation was steadily rising the longer we just danced around and pretended we both knew nothing.

I did start to slip. I watched her move about less, focused more on work. I would always suddenly shake myself out of the work-induced haze to find her still sitting at the sofa curiously eying everything in the office like a little kid first time in an amusement park. But while we were in this strange stale-mate, I didn’t dare refuse her visits. I was truly curious, dying to know her next move, especially since she suddenly became such a showman.

I didn’t immediately realise what was happening when she suddenly stopped showing up. One day she was sitting there, smirking up a storm, and the next there was no trace of her. I found myself walking around my office, inspecting the objects at display and the decorations, trying to catch anything different. I even allowed Jungkook to thoroughly comb through the room to make sure there weren’t any planted bugs or things in the same vein, but the space was clean.

We kept checking on the tracker app, but it became quite obvious immediately she had gotten rid of it, as it was moving in areas that she never went to. So she did know. And she did do something.

It wasn’t until two days later, when Jungkook stormed my house and decided to comb through my clothes with a device detector; and found a corner of my coat beeping curiously. I had to stop him from tearing into it in his haste to find out what she planted on me, and instead took it upon myself to inspect the piece of clothing. I managed to find a small tear and smirked at her craftsmanship. I fished the little gadget out and handed it over to the younger man.

Jin and Hobi were sitting on the couch watching this whole ordeal go down with curious, slightly amused and mildly alarmed faces, but I wasn’t too worried about it. Jungkook was grumbling something next to me, but I paid him no mind. My fingers felt something else slipped into the coat and I was trying to get a hold of it. By its thinness and elusiveness, it must have been a piece of paper.

“It’s a tracker, similar to what we planted on her,” I heard him explaining it to the other men present, but suddenly exclaimed in victory, startling the three men, as I finally managed to pull the mysterious note out. I took a single look at it and burst out laughing.

They snapped their eyes to me and Jungkook immediately rushed to my side as if prepared to defend my life against a piece of paper. I lifted my gaze to look at their confused faces and flipped the paper around for them to see.

fuck you min yoongi :p

Only Hobi seemed to be as amused by it as I was, Jungkook deliberating something silently and Jin watching us all like a hawk, his sharp eyes taking in the interaction with burning interest.

Once I had calmed down and sent Kookie off to the office to get Joon and figure out what to do about the little device, I found myself sitting between the two other oldest of the group, amusement slowly slipping into nervosity. I knew them well enough, I could see the cogs turning in their heads, I could feel they were on the doorstep of a discovery, and I wouldn’t like the conversation that would follow, but I truly didn’t expect Jin to just jump into it head first.

I had leaned towards the table to grab one of the snacks Jin had graciously prepared for us, when he cleared his throat.

“Kookie had been talking to me a lot about how this whole situation is unfolding. Hobi too,” Jin said, seemingly just holding mindless conversation, but I still tensed up. I turned to look at him.

“Yeah?” I turned to the other side to look at Hobi, who avoided my eyes.

“Yeah,” Jin reiterated, his voice gravelly, “So can you fucking explain to me why have you been testing this cop like you did the boys before they joined?”

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artyandink · 1 month

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Light My Fire (Again) | beau arlen

Summary: “I thought I’d swore off love, Jenny.” I smiled, chuckling a bit as I looked down to my feet then back up the skies, taking in the twinkling lights. “God, I really thought I did, and I was doing such a good job at it too. But, well, I just… I couldn’t help it.” I wet my lips slightly, biting the bottom one. “It’s improper, but it’s true.”

SERIES MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

(divider credits go to cafekitsune)

one - green lights and red stains

TWO MONTHS EARLIER:

I was at my desk in Big Sky Country, Montana’s sheriff’s department, papers strewn over the desk in a similar fashion as they were at home. Making small mountains and also making me rather sympathetic for the trees who suffered just to have me keep ‘em all like this on another plank of wood on more sticks of wood. However, I couldn’t bring myself to clean them, not today. As well as that, the acting sheriff had made his speech today, and I knew if he’d talk to me, I wouldn’t make a great impression, not with all this mess.

“Ain’t this a sight?” I looked up to see none other than Sheriff Arlen, standing in front of me, his stance wide set as he peered at my scribblings which varied between neat and scrawling handwriting. I jolted a little, panic striking through me as I began to shuffle my files into a more orderly pile, but he held out his hand to put me at ease. “Nah, don’t worry about it. Truth be told, I’m not the most organised either.”

In response, I stood up laughing a bit as I ran my hand through my hair, the action not as smooth and easygoing as I hoped as my index encountered a knot in my raven hair which I quickly untangled. “Well, I’m afraid this is what you’ll be seein’ every day.” I gestured down in circular motions to the messy piles.

“Then I’m lookin’ forward to it.” He put out his hand with a broad grin, green eyes twinkling along with his startlingly white teeth. He had an air of giddy charm and confidence around him that I couldn’t help but crack a smile to. “Beau Arlen.”

“Isabelle Joyner.” I replied, shaking his hand firmly. His grip was strong, but comforting in a sense.

“Well, darlin’, I’ve heard some good things about you from Jenny Hoyt, or Hoyt, as she wants me to call her.” Beau chuckled at the thought, glancing towards Jenny, who was in conversation with Poppernak. “She’s a real firecracker.”

“That’s Jenny for you.” I smiled, nodding resignedly and also flicking my eyes to her. “She knows me better than anyone; we’ve been best friends for as long as I remember.” Then I spotted the uncertainty in his eyes as he once more looked at Jenny, and I laughed a bit. “She’ll warm up to you. She’s just a bit miffed, y’know, didn’t get put as acting Sheriff.”

“I learnt that the easy way and the hard way.” He snickered slightly, his shoulders shrugging. “Well, it’s a lesson well learnt.”

“Damn straight.” I grinned, putting my hands in my pockets, and we fell silent for a moment before it got a bit uncomfortable. “Anyway, welcome to Big Sky. I’m sure you’ll be great.”

“I goddamn hope so.”

NOW:

“Liv, sweetie?” I called up the stairs, my eyes darting back to the pancake cooking on the stove. It was half past eight in the morning, and I needed to get Olivia, my niece, to her stepfather’s house. Her mother - my sister - had been… lost. In a murder, six years back, but they’d never found who’d done it. In her will, she’d given custody of Olivia to me, that the court had approved. Her stepfather, Markham, was not happy, but there was little he could do.

“Yeah?” Came her sleepy voice from upstairs, making me laugh quietly. She’d grown so much since I got her as a timid nine year old. Now she was sixteen in a week and the most beautiful girl I’d ever see. She was my baby girl at this point, and I couldn’t be prouder.

“I’ve got work, hon, and I’m makin’ pancakes!” I heard a brief pause, then a scramble to get up. I smiled knowingly, returning to the pancake as the thunder of footsteps down the stairs signalled her arrival. Her blonde hair bounced in stunning curls and her brown eyes flashed excitedly, even though they were riddled with sleep. I passed her a plate of pancakes stacked up, shaking the whipped cream. “Mornin’, gumdrop.” I grinned cheerily. “What would you like on your pancakes, hm?”

“Whipped cream, syrup, and raspberries.” She replied instantly, then returned my smile. “And good morning, auntie.” Olivia gave me a bear hug, which I returned gladly, kissing her hair before letting her go with a pat on the back.

“Good choice.” I squirmed the whipped cream in a circle, grabbing the syrup bottle and drizzling it generously before passing her a bowl of freshly washed raspberries so she could knock herself out, also sliding her a fork and knife. “Dig in.”

“Hello, there!” I heard Jenny call, the door opening. Jenny and Cassie walked in with big smiles on their faces, especially so when they found the combination of Olivia and pancakes. “Hope you don’t mind, we just used the spare key under the deco rock.”

“And I’m glad we did, because why weren’t we invited to the party?” Cassie faux-gasped as she gestured to the pancakes.

“Elle, explain yourself.” Jenny chastised, raising an eyebrow at me, but when I passed them each a plate of pancakes, they melted. “Ok, no explanation needed.”

“Yep, we’re all good now, no beef here.” Cassie agreed, dolloping whipped cream on hers before passing the canister to Jenny. “Also, hi, Olivia.”

“Hey, Cassie.” Liv waved with a smile and a mouthful of pancake. “Hi, Jenny.”

“Hey, kiddo.” Jenny grinned, waving before digging into the pancakes.

“Never knew I’d be catering for four today.” I chuckled, turning off the stove and embellishing my own plate of pancakes, making it even more of a sugar rush than it already was.

“Well, now we get to boast to Beau about what we got cooked.” She replied with a cheeky smile. “He’s always returnin’ with clean dishes of what Denise cooked, so I guess we could clap back a little.”

“His favourite deputy cooked us pancakes and not him.” Cassie giggled, making me roll my eyes. These two.

“Shut up. Both of you.” I snickered, trying to remain stern. “If Sheriff Arlen wants pancakes, he can come over and I can make him some pancakes, it’s not exclusive.”

“And here I thought we were special.”

“Aw, hey, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“She did.” Olivia giggled.

“Yeah, she did.” Jenny gave me a look before we all burst out into laughter. We spent a bit of time chatting as we finished our pancakes, telling Olivia the ups and downs of our latest solved case and what movie we wanted for movie night this week. When we were done, I picked up my keys, jangling them.

“Olivia, time to go.” I smiled, but Cassie put her hand on my arm with a smile.

“I’ll drop her off.” She chuckled, holding up her own keys. “I know where Mark lives, and it’s on my way.

“You’re not exactly the most civil with the guy.”

“That’s cause he’s an ass, but I’ll try my best.”

We engaged in a staring contest for five seconds, until I gave in, nodding in defeat. “Fine. But if I get a call from my brother in law-”

“You won’t!” She raised her hands in surrender. “I promise. Now, you and Jenny need to get to work before Beau rings you up.”

“God forbid he does.” I joked.

“C’mon, he hasn’t had the heart to tell you off after you found the hostages a few weeks ago, one of them happening to be his daughter. Another Darlene.” Jenny teased, nudging me playfully.

“You two are really keen on setting us up, hm?” I raised an eyebrow, shaking my head. “You know I’m not that keen on dating. Not after…” I trailed off with a frown. It was a sore memory, one that ended with me waking up at the bar with five empty shot glasses and a bill with far more drinks than I’d usually take.

“After Harry.” She sighed, patting my shoulder. “He wasn’t your fault. After all, he did the deed.”

“He doesn’t know what he lost.” Cassie added sympathetically. “The ass.”

“I wanna kick him in the nuts.” Olivia added, making us all raise an eyebrow.

“That’s fair.”

“And on all of our minds.” Jenny grinned.

“I can’t even be mad.” I sighed, then kissed Olivia’s forehead. “Be good, ok? If I get a good report, I’ll make you an ice cream sundae tonight.” As Cassie and Jenny opened their mouths to speak, I held up a finger. “You guys get one too.”

I walked into the sheriff’s department with Jenny, and the first person we saw was Beau Arlen himself. “Well, ain’t it my favourite deputies?” He sauntered over with that charming grin of his, looking between us. “Hoyt.”

“Beau.” Jenny smiled.

“Sheriff.” I chuckled, running my hand through my hair.

“C’mon, Belle, call me Beau.” Beau chuckled, gesturing to himself. “No formalities here.” The statement made me laugh, but I shook my head, looking down at my feet before back up into those twinkly green eyes.

“I’ll try my best, Sheriff.” I teased with a grin, then took a sharp breath in, looking around. “Any cases today?”

“A missing person’s case.” Beau’s expression changed slightly as he mentioned it. “Little girl named Harriet Brown, she was out playing in the front yard, parents were arguin’, when they come out, girl’s gone.”

“My god.” I whispered, then cleared my throat. “We should get on the case, and quick.” I pouted slightly, sucking in air through my teeth. “Any leads? License plate? Footage? Maybe someone who has a grudge?”

“Closest to a match we have as an enemy is the girl’s stepfather, Will Brown. And by parents arguing, I mean the birth father and mother arguin’.”

“Stepfather, what, lays claim to the kid?” I asked, concerned. I knew what that was like all too well (and by that I mean the outskirts of those feelings), and if that was the case…

“Possibly. He’s the only recent frequent visitor.” Beau frowned at the look on my face, tilting his head a little in curiosity. “You look a lil’ green around the gills there, Deputy. You doin’ ok?”

I shared a look with Jenny, who subtly patted my wrist, signalling me to speak up. I jolted out of my thoughts, nodding and putting on a smile that I felt didn’t quite reach my eyes. “‘Course, Sheriff. I’m always ok.”

“You sure?”

“Deadly.”

Beau looked at me for a bit, trying to gauge my reaction, before nodding resignedly and patting me on the shoulder with a small smile. “A’ight. But if anythin’ comes to mind, do tell.”

“Gotcha.” I nodded, my blue eyes looking into his green ones. After I’d met Beau on his first day as acting sheriff, he’d understood me. He knew I was raising Olivia, albeit had never met her, and related to that with his own little girl. Emily was an angel, and I guess I became more of one after he found me getting along well with someone who was his world. As well as that, after the incident with Buck Barnes, I’d managed to find the hostages, including Darlene and Emily, getting them out.

Ever since then, it’s like he treats me as if I’m God’s gift to him. I was just doin’ my job.

I breathed in, then released a deep on through my mouth. “Let’s hit the house, Jen.”

“You got it, Elle.” Jenny smiled. I picked up my jacket, adjusting the photo of my sister and I on my desk as I put it on with a sad smile.

“I miss ya, Lucy. Truly.”

I was in Beau’s truck, the landscape flying by as we made our way to the Brown’s house. The atmosphere was uncomfortably silent - damn the awkwardness of social interactions sometimes - but somehow Beau made coping with silence look easier than it felt. He wore an easy smile, waffling on about fishing with a charmingly boyish look in his eyes that I’d come to recognise and find adorable.

“While I love talking and yapping about fish to the point your ears fall off, Belle, but, uh, don’t you wanna get that?” I was snapped out of my reverie, finding that my ringtone was playing with the name Dean flashing on my screen over the green circle of light representing the button to accept the call, which I’d gladly do.

“Oh! Yeah, that’s right.” My face lit up as I pressed the ‘accept’ button, bringing the phone to my ear. “Dean, hey!”

‘Isa, hi.’ I heard a cheery voice from the other end. This was Olivia’s birth father, Dean Barlowe, who I preferred in spades to Markham Leeds. I never understood why Lucy and Dean had split up in the first place, since Dean was the best father I’d ask for where Liv is concerned. We hadn’t had contact in months, but this was a pleasant surprise. ‘How’ve you been?’

“Oh, now I feel brilliant.” I laughed, looking out the window. “How about you? It’s been goddamn months, I’ve been dyin’ for a call.”

‘Well, I’m feeling great now too. It’s always nice to talk to you. A familiar face.’

“Yeah, it is, isn’t it?” I nodded with a happy sigh. “Are you holding up ok? After… Lucy? It’s been a while, but it hit you pretty hard too.”

‘Doing better, if that counts.’ I heard a pause on the other end. ‘Hey, do you think Liv would mind if I pop over for a visit in a week’s time?’

“For her birthday, right?”

‘Yeah. Mark wouldn’t be too mad, right?’

“Who gives a damn about Markham, just come over, ok?” I smiled, and I could practically hear his own relieved one on the other end of the line. “Liv’s gonna love the surprise, don’t you worry.”

‘You know exactly what to say to soothe my nerves, don’t you?’

“Hey, it’s nothin’. Just being a dutiful sister in law.” I saw an exit sign that said we were almost at the house, so I decided to wrap it up. “Hey, uh, Dean, I’m about to start working a case, so I’ll chat later.”

‘Ah, right. Thanks, Isa. Bye.’

“Bye.” I cut the call, and found Beau smirking at me, his eyebrow raised slightly. “What?”

“You seem real chummy with this Dean fella.” He snickered knowingly, but I shook my head rapidly.

“No, no, no. He’s my brother in law.”

“Wait, this is the ex-husband of your late sister?” Beau nodded approvingly. “By the way you’re talkin’ to him, he seems like he’s got his name written in your good books with sparkly gold ink. Unlike Mark.”

“Well, Mark’s an ass.”

“Markham is an ass.”

Beau, Jenny and I were flicking through the security tapes of the Brown house the day their little girl Harriet was kidnapped. “Look, there.” I pointed to the screen, where a man was approaching. “It’s our stepfather.”

“Damn straight.” Beau nodded, leaning forward to ID the guy’s face. “Yep, that’s him. And he just scooped the girl up gave her a lollipop and high-tailed it.”

“We need to get this girl back.” Jenny sighed, her expression pensive as she peered at the screen.

“We got an idea on where she could be taken?”

“Possibly his cabin. Witness accounts show that he’s been buyin’ a lot of bedding, more than you’d need.” I frowned, then stood up. “We need to bust this guy and fast.” I didn’t know exactly why, but this was pissing me off. A stepfather, kidnap his own stepdaughter.

“Let’s bust a crooked stepfather.” Jenny got up, and so did we, heading out the door, running to our cars as Jenny texted me the address, which I put into Beau’s GPS. We quickly got in, and Beau floored it.

“You seem rather frustrated on this case, huh, Belle?” He asked, sighing deeply. I shook my head, plastering on a smile that once again did not reach my eyes as I looked back at him.

“No, sir, I’m just concerned for the kid.” I answered not as smoothly as I’d hoped to have done. My voice was slightly shaky, and I knew what he was thinking. Mark had been after custody of Olivia for ages, and was still trying. However, he couldn’t do anything, not when I was named Olivia’s legal guardian and was Lucy’s next of kin.

“It’s about Mark, right?”

I chuckled lowly, nodding. “That obvious?”

“You’re like a mama bear in these cases.” He grinned, then patted my knee. “But now, I need my deputy to have a clear mind. God knows you help me keep mine all clear and sunny skies.”

“Gotcha, Sheriff.” I smiled as we pulled up to the house. “Hear you loud and clear.” I reached under the seat, pulling on my bulletproof vest and strapping it tight. I looked over, seeing that he’d done the same. “Shall we?”

“We shall, darlin’.” We got out at the same time as Jenny, making our way across the front yard before I tried the handle of the door, finding it locked. I nodded to Beau, who reared up and kicked the door open, all of us putting up our guns as we stormed the house. Jenny went to check the kitchen and living room, Beau heading upstairs while I took the basement. I crept down the stairs, treading light in fear of startling Will. I gently tried the door, hearing a little girl whimpering. Then I spotted a middle aged man holding a gun, and a small brunette girl hugged my legs, terrified.

“It’s ok.” I whispered, training my gun on Will Brown. “It’s ok, sweetheart. As for you,” My eyes focused on the man, “Sheriff’s department, put your hands where I can see ‘em-” He fired, and my trigger was pulled in a quick response, aiming for his shoulder while his bullet got me clean in the gut, which was caused by me moving to protect Harriet at the same time. The little girl screamed, while Beau and Jenny started yelling from upstairs. I collapsed against the wall, sliding down as Harriet crawled up to me, looking terrified.

“He hurt you.” She whispered, crying, but I shushed her and brought her head to my shoulder, ignoring the riddling pain in an attempt to soothe this little girl.

“Hey, it’s-” I was overcome by a cough as my hand moved to stem the flow of blood, “it’s ok, sweetheart. Perfectly fine, you’re safe, ok?” I stroked her hair, closing my eyes briefly as the red liquid stained my fingers. My head spun from how damn painful it was, like a thousand daggers piercing one spot on me, driving in slowly. “Just calm down for me, my friends are coming.”

As if on cue, Beau and Jenny rushed in, and once they realised that my attacker and Harriet’s kidnapper was downed, their attention turned to me. Beau instantly knelt in front of me while Jenny checked up on Will, his expression freaked out and pale. “Jesus- Jesus holy Christ, Belle, we’re gonna need a paramedic. Hoyt, call it in, now!” Then he turned back to me, putting his hands over the bullet wound to put pressure. I coughed slightly, hissing, but I kept stroking Harriet’s hair, not wanting her to get too scared.

“Just get her out of here.” I nodded to Harriet. “I’ll hold on, just keep her safe.” My bloodied hand reached out to grip Beau’s bare forearm. “Take her home.”

LMF TAGLIST:

@deans-spinster-witch @nancymcl @hobby27

Preview of Chapter Two

#beau arlen x oc #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x you #beau arlen #beau #big sky #cassie dewell #jenny hoyt #beau arlen fanfic

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asherloki · 8 months

Note

helloooo :)

i was wondering if u could write somthing about anderson disrespecting reader when they join cases with sherlock, but always behind their backs

but then sherlock hears and he starts (trying) to beat him up, and anderson puts up a good fight, however sherlock still wins

he goes home to 221B and reader is shocked asking who hurt him and what he did, but he doesn’t give away anything, and simply tell them not to worry about it. whilst reader is patching up his wounds, john comes back and starts saying how cool, dangerous and reckless beating up anderson for reader was and they’re just flustered and shocked, saying thank you to sherlock (maybe a first kiss scene?)

reader also gives anderson a piece of their mind - not because he disrespected them, because he beat up sherlock :)

tysm and ur work is amazing!!!!

Detective's doll

Bbc Sherlock x reader

Word count:- 840

A/n:- listen guys, just one or two fic will come this month, once October is here I'll be doing Halloween fics! I've shared some prompts do check! Fandoms you know, otherwise check my masterlist.

"you think I can help you with this case?" I enquired to Sherlock not believing he asked my help suddenly for a case. I've been fond of him since I moved in. He can seem cold, unfriendly, some people may describe him as arrogant as well. I was no exception, however living with him taught he's actually pretty lonely. Especially since john watson was married. Sometimes when he's working or sitting with his microscope he looks as pure as a child who just needs a hug. I do want to hug him tight sometimes but he's not very fond of touches innit? So I never dared.

"that's why I asked you, look this case includes information about victorian literature and by seeing your side of the bookshelf " he said pointing to our bookshelf, his side was filled with books about chemistry, science, anatomy and mine was filled with victorian classic novels, mostly, "I think you can help us with this".

"okay then" I must admit I was over the moon. A real life adventure was calling me, how could I not be thrilled.

In evening we went to Scotland yard, I felt excited about being able to help these men. Especially Sherlock, he introduced me to lestrade and informed him that I'll be joining their quest. His agreement confirmed my involvement before I went with him to his office to get some information about the case, I thought Sherlock was following me however I turned around to find out he was going to a different direction, he was walking towards Andersen. Perhaps he had business with him, but one question still lingered, he doesn't quite like Andersen that much.

When I came back with a folder in my hand which contained some information put inside, not in an organised way, I looked around for Sherlock, it seemed like he was gone, and for some reason people or I must say other officers there stared at me. I wondered why, maybe because I don't usually visit their office. Though their furrowed brows told some different story.

After I got to Baker Street I found the flat's door already open,

"Sherlock?" I called, to make sure it was him who opened the door, and not some break in, "is it you in there?" I walked in showing some bravery, trying to make least noise possible to find Sherlock struggling with the first aid box.

"gosh" I went closer to him and I gasped as I found out he had a cut along his cheek bone, and some more wounds accompanying "what the... what happened?"

"nothing" replied the detective, still trying to get the box open. I noticed his knuckles were hurt too as they were all red, it was the reason for his struggle with the first aid box. They were hurting him as he tried to open it.

"fine don't tell me" the only thing I couldn't bring myself to like about him was his habit of keeping things hidden, "do me a favour and sit" I wonder if my eyes reflected all the concern I felt for him. It may have, for he stared at me for a few seconds then obeyed without any objection. I took some medicine in cotton to apply over his cut.

"ow" he pulled away as the medicine on the wound felt like burn.

"I know it might hurt but please.." as I said and he nodded in agreement, it appeared to how much I fancied this moment, me taking care of him, even though he was hurt, and that was the part I disliked. I continued to do my job until John Watson came bursting in,

"oh gosh you're here, you did amazing" he seemed overjoyed and I bet I could see all his 32 teeth the way he smiled.

"let's not talk about it" said Sherlock softly. My confusion rose at this point, does john know what happened?

"no wait" I forbid him to interfere, "what happened john?"

"wait you don't know?" he asked in a way as if I'm the one who should be knowing this before others, although he was well aware how secretive his friend can be.

"how's mary? Is pregnancy bothering her?" Sherlock interrupted again, with his terrible skill of small talk.

"shhh" I hushed him "speak up John".

"Sherlock beat up Andersen" He spoke finally.

"he did what?"

"yes, because..."

"you said enough" Sherlock forbid him again.

"no he hasn't" I said, "because?" I turned to John.

"because Andersen said shit about you" John's words left his mouth and hit me, one because Andersen said something bad about me? but I never were mean to him even for once, why would he do that? and two, Sherlock beat him for that? For me?

"it wasn't just.." Sherlock started to say something, he was lacking excuses so he stuttered until I spoke,

"really?"

"yes, Andersen is beaten up terribly by him" replied john, "and you shouldn't bother about what he said".

That only meant it was very mean, "I'd still like to know"

"dumb doll of the detective" said Sherlock, "that's what he told you, you're dumb, a doll who's is controlled by me"

I gasped at this not knowing what to say.

"an opportunist" followed by a few seconds of quietness, "he said more but..."

It felt terrible, no wonder other words were far more worse that Sherlock couldn't bring himself to speak.

"anyway" John said breaking the silence. "I better go home, Mary might need me."

Waving us he went and left us wondering about the situation. I turned to Sherlock as I was yet to understand all those cuts and wounds he endured, were all to protect my image? To protect me from words? He knew then how sensitive I am under the cover of a strong person, "you fought him for me?"

He nodded in response, followed by the heavy exhale.

"and why?"

"because you don't deserve disrespect, and obviously not from someone like Andersen." he replied.

I don't know why but that moment I didn't care if he likes being touched or not instead I wrapped my arms around his neck and placed my chin on his head, sniffing his hair and realising his shampoo has a decent smell, no wonder his curls were like a soft pillow. It forced me to lean my cheek too with a smile that appeared on my lips, "you didn't have to, but thanks"

"no problem" he said taking my hand, and caressing it, as if it was an assurance, a promise that my palm was safe in his hand.

Next day Sherlock, john and I went to Scotland yard where I found the sight of beaten up Andersen, oh how... terrible honestly. I felt bad how wounded he was but atleast he'll think twice before disrespecting me, or anyone. Sherlock made sure of that.

"you guys go inside, I'll be with you in a minute" I said walking to Andersen, although Sherlock pulled me a little by my wrist to say,

"listen" Sherlock said, "don't put up a fight I did it already"

"I won't" we exchanged smiles and I went to catch Andersen,

"Andersen!" I called.

He looked horrified yet fuming at me he said, "you? what do you want?"

With some strength in my voice I stated, as politely as possible yet stern, "next time if want to say something, make sure it's on my face, but if you dare again, my detective will kill you, I'm his doll afterall, he won't let you play with me like that" then I went a little closer and replied in a hushed voice, "I'm his to love, his to keep, his to adore." This may haven't scared him but infuriated him even more, so I stepped backwards with a smile, now that my threat did it's job and walked away, just one more time I turned around to wave him, a mocking wave to be more clear, "see ya".

#bbc sherlock #sherlock x reader #sherlock x y/n #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock x you #i am sherlocked

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jake-g-lockley · 1 year

Note

I'd like 12 with Reader & Marc Spector if that's ok .(with a slow passionate kiss please 😊)

The Butterfly Effect (Marc Spector x reader)

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist | Want to be Tagged?

Prompt: A picking an eyelash from B’s face, and their hearts are both beating like crazy

A/N: Thank you for this!!! Ahhhhh this prompt is adorable! Saw a butterfly and thought of this hehe, just Marc being head over heels in love. Also there are people who hate Marc?! Marc ‘babygirl coded’ Spector?! Are you fucking for real? I hope whoever hates Marc Spector gets fucking by a giant bright pink dildo with spikes :)

Word Count: 1.8k

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Marc Spector hated the idea of doing anything for people. No one ever did anything for him and he could not help to grow up and feel a little selfish. Nevertheless, the butterfly effect kicked in hard the second Steven signed himself up for volunteering.

“Come on Marc, it’ll be good for us, you know maybe to cancel out all the shit we’ve done for Khonshu?” Steven suggested as he stared at the website.

Marc had reluctantly agreed, as long as Steven didn’t make him go for the sessions. But Marc was curious. He always felt that people who volunteered had hearts of literal gold and he did admire their patience and willingness to go all out for people that needed it. He started co-fronting with Steven to observe these people, to see their purpose. Steven never pointed it out to him directly, only making small conversations to Marc, mainly because he liked the fact that his alter warming up to the idea of volunteering.

Then one day, he saw you. You waltzed into the community hall like a glimmer of hope and Marc thought it was fitting that you were clad in pure white from head to toe, with a white bow in your hair. From the way you smiled, Marc could tell that you never had a bad intention in your pretty head.

He had never seen a smile so genuine, so pure and it involuntarily tugged at his heartstrings. The way you moved and carried yourself with humbleness made him shamelessly stare and he was pretty sure if he had a mirror in front of him, he knew he would look like a big idiot.

“Mate, she's gonna think you’re a weirdo.” Steven whispered from the back of his head.

“But I am…” Marc said almost in a dreamily fashion.

“If you want a chance with her, snap out of it, pendejo.” Jake called out and Marc blinked, pulling himself out of his trance, arranging his face to something more decent.

Suddenly, you were walking over to him and Marc froze in place, his lips pressed shut and his eyes wide, unable to think about his next course of action. You immediately introduce yourself, stretching your hand in front of you for Marc to take and Jake beat Steven to it and took over the body before Marc could make a fool of himself.

“Marc Spector.” Jake took your hand and flipped it over, kissing the back of it, ignoring the tantrum that Marc started to throw at the back of his head.

“Oh!” you exclaimed as your face turned red by the cute gesture. “H-hi, Marc.”

To put it quite plainly, you had noticed the man before you a few volunteer sessions ago and had been curious about him. He always seemed to keep to himself and you swore you caught him whispering to himself a few times. You also thought he was very pretty, with his curly hair and big brown eyes that shined with their own secrets. You had been hyping yourself up for a while now, trying to make yourself talk to him, but you chickened out at the last minute.

“What brings a pretty lady like you here?” Jake continued with his rizz and Marc was seething.

He silently agreed to switch with Marc while you explained how you were one of the main organisers and that you were here to check up on some things. Marc nodded along, loving how your voice matched your whole getup; sweet, soft and melodious.

“So, yea! I thought I’d just come here and introduce myself.” you ended your sentence with a tinkling laugh that almost made Marc Spector fall to his knees, but he persevered and shot you a small smile.

Someone called your name from across the hall and you turned to look at them before offering Marc an apologetic smile.

“That's me. I guess I’ll get going. See you soon, Marc Spector!” you said before hurriedly turning on your heel.

“When will I see you again?” his voice reached your ears before you could go too far, reigning you back to him.

You turned and your hair flew behind you as you smiled at him. Marc was absolutely enraptured. He swore that his head was filled with cotton with the way he can’t seem to comprehend a single bodily function.

“Next Saturday! When we take the kids from the shelter to the butterfly farm!” you instantly say, and Marc nodded before giving you a wave.

“Guess we’re clearing our schedule for Saturday.” Marc said with a small smile as he watched your hair swing as you walked away.

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Marc awoke early on Saturday morning. Jake and Steven watched amusedly as Marc danced around the kitchen trying to get his morning coffee ready. Steven was ready to walk the body straight to the nearby hospital when Marc reached out for the loaf of bread and started making toast while wiggling his butt to a random rhythm.

“Jake, I can’t believe my eyes, he’s making breakfast. FOR HIMSELF!” Steven exclaimed as Marc grinned.

Jake just chuckled and decided that Marc could use the happy and healthy boost of dopamine. Gently, Jake grabbed ahold of Steven in their mind and pulled him to the back, shushing Steven like a mother goose when he started to protest.

Marc finished up breakfast and got dressed as fast as humanly possible after getting out of the shower. He kept checking his hair, combing it back again and again as stray curls dropped to his forehead. He blew at the stubborn curl and dropped the comb, grabbing his car keys.

The first thing Marc saw when he got to the butterfly park was children swarming you as they got down from the bus. You greeted them with a huge smile that nearly made Marc want to swerve his car into a tree but instead he parked and watched you animatedly talk to the children from his side mirror. His fingers reached out the open window and caressed your mirrored image.

“Fuckin’ simp.” snickered one of the two voices in his head and he pulled his hand back and grimaced, unbuckling his seatbelt.

“Marc! You came!” You exclaimed, leaving the kids and skipped towards Marc.

You stopped a little too close to him and Marc gulped and stared at you. You grinned at his puppy eyes and grabbed at his wrist, pulling him to the kids. Your presence made Marc want to start speaking in couplets and rhymes, but he was sure if he did try and open his mouth he would become a blubbering mess, so instead he nodded and smiled at the kids as they introduced themselves.

Marc was absolutely enamoured by the way you would interact with the kids, talking to them and telling them every fact under the sun as you shepherded them through the farm. He soon found out that his eyes were never satisfied no matter how long he looked at you. He was in his own world and that world was made of you, your scent, your laugh and your smile.

He felt as though he was dark darkness and you were a bright golden morning that had waltzed through the door of his heart. He suddenly found himself finding refuge in you, like a lost wandering traveller searching for purpose. He watched as your delicate hands softly caught a butterfly to show a kid. He found himself wanting to hold you as gently as the way you were holding the butterfly, as if you were as fragile as the butterfly itself.

Marc had wandered a little too far behind from being in his own dreams and you noticed, turning and walking back to him as the kids were distracted by one of the tour guides. Marc noticed you walking towards him and panic set in the pit of his stomach.

“Quick! Look at the tree!” yelled Steven.

“Everything alright?” you asked, genuinely concerned with how quiet he was.

“Oh, yea, everything’s great, just looking at this…tree.” Marc said, looking at the tree before him, noticing the flowers that had blossomed around it, giving him an idea.

“Yeah, it's pretty.” you said, tucking your hair behind your ear and blushing at the way Marc was covering up for how he was staring at you all morning.

Marc looked around for any sign of people watching before reaching his hand out and plucking a flower, smoothly tucking it behind your ear.

“Marc!” you hissed but couldn’t help but smile at the gesture.

“It’s pretty, but you’re prettier.” Marc whispered and took a step closer to you.

“T-thanks, you’re pretty too.” the words leave your mouth before you could stop yourself.

Marc wasn’t listening anymore, his eyes were transfixed on a small eyelash that was on your cheek. If only he could focus all his energy to lift his hand, he could brush it away. His eyes dropped to your lips and you noticed it and swallowed the saliva that had been pooling in your mouth.

Your heart felt like it was running a marathon, trying to pump enough blood to your head to let you think. His hand finally lifted itself and his fingers brushed away the eyelash, making you gasp softly. Your cheek was as soft as a rose petal under his calloused fingers and he couldn’t help but cup your cheek as you stepped in between his legs.

“Eyelash…” Marc tried saying over the beat of his own heart that he was pretty sure you could hear.

You had been thinking of Marc all week, seeing him in your dreams and hoping that he felt the same way you felt about him. You smiled at the way a stray curl bobbed up and down at his forehead and the tinge of his beautiful flushed cheeks. He was so close and you wanted him closer as you leaned against his hand that was cupping your cheek.

“Can I?” you knew what Marc was asking and there was no other answer other than yes that could satisfy your anticipation.

He leaned in and softly kissed you, as if he were the air that fluttered around a butterfly’s wing. You couldn’t help but smile into the kiss as he pushed at you slightly, losing himself in you. He tipped his head and you couldn’t help but think about how perfectly his cute nose slotted against you, your hands coming to rest softly against his cheek. His lips slotted softly against yours and he tasted delicious, like coffee and butter.

He pulled away reluctantly and the both of you were greeted with cheers and applause. You gripped onto Marc’s bicep and turned to see the kids and tour guides smiling at the both of you, one of the kids coming forward to offer Marc another flower for you. Marc smiled and kneeled before you, holding out the flower before him.

“Will you go out with me?” he asked shyly and you shook your head slightly, taking the flower from him kissing his forehead.

“Of course I will, Marc Spector.” you whispered and he grinned before standing up and scooping you into his arms for another bruising kiss.

Reblogs are appreciated~~~

Taglist: @minigirl87 @wonderfulboiledcoldpotato @alexxavicry @autismsupermusicalassassin @flordelalunas @marygraceee @lia275 @euphoricosmo @whatsliferightnow @randomnessfangirl @in-between-the-cafes @bodhisattva11 @marc-spectors-wife @nyotamalfoy @steven-grants-world @fandxmslxt69 @sky-robin

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foli-vora · 2 years

Text

run to you: chapter one

marcus pike x f!reader

A/N: what's this? What is this? Hah, surprise! The plan was to save this until I finished 'Glory & Gore' but I physically couldn't stop myself so here we are! Thank you for all the interest in this little universe, and for being so patient while I worked the deets and organised everything! I hope you enjoy the first part x

Summary: Following on from ‘Traitor’ and 'You’re Somebody Else’. An unexpected visitor throws you right back into the life you thought you left behind. Working beside the man that put you behind bars is one thing, pretending like you never loved him is another.

Word count: roughly 3k

Warnings: angst right off the bat, blood, description of injuries, swearing, mentions of previous undercover relationship.

main masterlist | series masterlist

This story will have explicit sexual scenes in the future so 18+ only.

Present.

Bile builds in your throat as you drop to your knees, uncaring as the rough floor scuffs the skin of your knees through the thin material of your dress. You tug desperately at his jacket, rolling him over and clawing at his body until he sprawls over your lap, heavy and unmoving.

“Marcus? Marcus, look at me,” you beg softly, a strangled sob falling from your throat when his eyes eventually flutter open languidly and focus tiredly on yours. “What did you do? God, what did you do?”

His lips part, words building on his tongue, but before they can fall from his mouth he jolts in your arms, heaving and coughing and sputtering. It sounds fucking horrible.

You watch the blood ooze from his lips, creating a stark trail of bright red that melts into his faded stubble and slides down along his jaw. You push at his jacket and feel your heart plummet to the floor at the deep maroon patches outwardly soaking the crisp white shirt from the holes in his torso.

“It’s okay,” you soothe shakily, wiping the blood away from his lips with your thumb and feeling your stomach jolt with the wet sticky feel of it. “It’s okay. Keep looking at me, okay? I’m here. Somebody help me! Marcus, please—hold on, please—”

Six months ago.

It’s not home.

It’s been three months since your release, and you still haven’t managed to quite get the feel there. The apartment is fine, albeit much smaller than what you had before, but at least it’s in a nice building.

Well, anything was better than the cold and cramped cell you had lost a year to.

Now you were left to try and make sense of the pieces left behind after your world was shattered. Mostly everything had been stripped from you. Your apartment – your home – seized and sold off, along with ninety nine percent of your belongings.

It was a startling reality, coming out to nothing but a letter from your attorney saying to collect what had been put aside in a storage locker downtown.

An application had been put through for an apartment in your name, and accepted a few days before your release, so it was ready and waiting by the time you blissfully walked free of the gates.

Some clothes, five boxes, a couch and your bed. That’s it. That’s all you had of your old life. You didn’t even get to say goodbye to any of it.

The art that used to line the walls – gone. The borderline ridiculous amount of houseplants you had grown from seedlings or bought on lazy Sunday mornings at the market – trashed, probably. Your trinkets, and furniture, and memories...

You ache for it, for the life you had before it all went to shit.

It had taken a couple of weeks, but you eventually managed to get a job – a part time thing at the diner close to your building. It wasn’t a lot by any means and the pay was awful, but at least it was something.

You worried about rent, until your kind elderly landlady said the first couple of months had been taken care of, showing a letter from your attorney organising to pay said rent.

Six whole months were taken care of and already paid for in advance and a weight lifted from your shoulders. You didn’t need to panic just yet and slowly, week by week, you somewhat found your feet again, but the ache of what had been lost didn’t fade. You were learning to live with it, though.

It was all behind you, and now you simply wanted to look ahead.

You should’ve known… it’s never that simple.

A firm, brisk knock on your door jolts you from your thoughts as you leisurely flick through a book huddled on your couch, and your brows furrow in confusion as to who it could be.

A neighbour maybe?

You eye the front door, softly setting your book aside and throwing the blanket off your legs before standing and striding over to answer it.

It’s crazy how fast everything fucking crumbles.

It all hits you immediately the instant you pry the door open.

Anger—rage. Heartache. Sorrow.

It floods you in heavy, overwhelming waves and you struggle to keep your head above it all. What the hell is he doing here?

He’s got a lot of fucking nerve. You hate that the sight of him could still make your heart jump in your chest, even after fifteen months. No. It was never him, you remind yourself. He didn’t make your heart jump like that.

Seconds pass as you critically eye his appearance, scanning the freshly shaved skin of his jaw to the crisp dark grey suit and light blue tie. You’re loath to admit it to yourself, but he looks fucking good.

God. What a dick.

“Hi,” Marcus finally says, seemingly unfazed by your scowl and merely tucking his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

You inhale deeply, straightening your shoulders and curling your fingers tightly around the door knob.

“Will I get arrested if I slam this door in your face?”

A twitch of a frown creases his brows, “No –”

“Good.”

It’s loud.

Your windows rattle from the force of it. You don’t care that you probably just disturbed most, if not all, of your neighbours. The once steady beat of your heart has turned thunderous, beating against your chest and making you dizzy from the rush of blood pounding through your system.

Had you not been clear enough? You never wanted to see him again, and now he’s at your front door? How does he even know where you live? The bitter reminder of who, and what, he is hits you, and you start to wonder if you’re under surveillance or something.

Are they watching you?

Suddenly, you start to question everything.

Had they been following you on your morning walks to the coffee shop? The book store? Getting groceries? Do they watch you now, coming and going from your apartment? Do they look through your window?

Your chosen safe space to explore your ideas doesn’t feel as safe, as comfortable anymore.

You eye the large window looking out onto the busy streets now, and the thrifted armchair you had dragged in front of it to enjoy the long stretches of sun that would shine through the glass. Various art materials are scattered around it and lining the window sill, your sketchbook and art journals stacked on the small side table beside the well loved seat… it was your spot.

Your favourite spot.

Had they been watching you while you sat there for hours? Had he been watching?

It’s violating. You feel sick, repulsed by the idea of sitting there or going anywhere near your windows. Goddamnit, when will he stop taking from you?!

“I know I’m the last person you want to see,” he speaks through your door, “and I’m sorry for showing up like this, but we need to talk.”

“I told you to leave me alone, Pike!” You hiss, rushing towards the door and pounding your fist against it to try to channel some rage out of your system. It doesn’t work.

“What the hell did you not understand, huh!? Does your stupid government brain not comprehend simple English?”

“I understand your hostility—” he replies calmly.

You snort harshly, tearing open your door and fixing him with a vicious glare. “My ‘hostility’? Are you fucking kidding me?”

He exhales softly, gazing down the corridor before his eyes fix on you once more. He doesn’t seem put off by your anger. In fact, he looks braced for it. He’s playing the cool and calm agent perfectly.

Are you shaking?

It takes you a moment but, sure enough, you feel a tremble in your hands. Rage simmers, hot and heavy, under your skin and you swear your heart’s about to beat out of your chest. The silence stretches on and you just seem to get madder.

Eventually, he sighs softly. “Can I come in?”

“No.”

“This won’t take long –”

You force a tight, sarcastic smile. “Do you have a warrant, Agent Pike?”

“No. I’m not here to –”

“Then you can contact my attorney and we’ll talk then.”

Fuck you and your stupid badge.

The door starts to swing shut, the temptation to slam it in his face again bubbling beneath the surface. You’re just so fucking angry. The last thing you expected when rolling out of bed this morning was to be greeted with him of all people.

Despite trying your hardest not to, he ever so slowly seeped through your defences to the forefront of your mind, and you found yourself thinking about him almost regularly. It was enough to drive you mad some days, filled with so much harsh resentment and bitterness it oozed into your art.

You’d spent months thinking over your relationship with him – with Alex – while in your cell, picking through every single interaction and moment spent with him, analysing every memory, every word, every touch, until you feared it was starting to get obsessive. You grumbled for days, weeks, on end.

There hadn’t been any warning signs or red flags. He’d been just right, fitting so perfectly into your life you thought the universe had finally decided to cut you a bit of slack and grant a little wish come true. His curiosity over your work had come on slowly, and simply felt so natural that you didn’t even think anything of it.

It’d been the performance of a lifetime. The government should really look at giving out fucking Oscars, or something. He had played his part immaculately if the icy cold ache left in your heart was anything to go by.

The door jolts to a sudden stop.

You blink in vague surprise, a quick scowl forming with the longer his hand stays splayed on the door to keep it from closing.

“Just a minute of your time – that’s all I ask. Please.”

For the love of –

You exhale deeply, your eyes tracing the doorframe of the apartment opposite before you silently step aside, allowing him a small enough space to accept as an invitation in. A minute only. You start to count the seconds.

He gives a quiet murmur of thanks and you ignore it, simply closing the door behind him with your stomach turning to knots. Your arms cross defensively over your chest as he wanders deeper into your apartment, a barely there flicker of curiosity pulling at his features as his eyes roll over your things.

You hate it. You don’t want him here. You don’t want him tainting the life you had, the new life you had created by yourself. You don’t want him in your new space; your new home, free from the memories of what you had shared with him.

No. You had nothing with him. You had something with Alex, but then again… did you? He didn’t exist. He was a lie, a sham. None of it was real. You’d fallen in love with a character thought up in a room full of federal agents wanting to close a case.

The rage returns.

“Out of curiosity,” you mutter, grimacing at the way he eyes your apartment and feeling your eye twitch from the fury pumping through your system, “how many years would I get for assaulting a federal officer?”

He turns at your question, mirroring your stance and crossing his arms across his chest. He oozes authority. He looks like an agent, all stiff-postured in his suit and carefully concealing any and all emotion. He doesn’t give you any reaction to your question.

Instead, he merely does a once over, studying your own posture and deciding you’re of no threat whatsoever.

“I wouldn’t press charges, so none.”

“Oh? You don’t want to lock me up? But I thought you were quite good at that,” you spit. “I’d offer you a drink, but I don’t give a fuck about you and I hope you dehydrate on my shitty rug, you lying piece of shit.”

The words sit in the air and he blinks, his brow quirking slightly at your little outburst. “Feel better?”

You shift in your spot, your tongue swiping along your lower lip. You do actually. Ugh. Bastard.

“What do you want, Marcus?”

“I know this must be very unexpected for you and I can't imagine what you're feeling right now, but I – we – need your help—”

What?

“Get out,” you snap before he can even continue, infuriated by the mere idea that he’d come to you for help after everything.

“No, I’m fucking serious, Pike. Get out. You think I’d help you? After everything you did to me? You fucking broke me, Marcus! You ruined my fucking life!”

A small, logical part of you reminds you that, ultimately, it was your doing in the end. You chose the life you had, choosing to do what you did. There was always going to be a chance it would come crashing down, but that doesn’t alleviate the pain of having the one person you thought truly had your back assisting in bringing it all down around you.

You’re surprised when the slightest flicker of sadness shines through his eyes.

“I know,” he murmurs, head falling into a small nod, “and I am sorry for that. It was never...”

He doesn’t continue, his sentence merely leading into silence as he struggles for words.

It was never what? It was never meant to happen? It was never meant to get as far as it did? It was never meant to end like it did? What?

You look away, not entirely sure you even want to hear him continue. It had happened, and no amount of apologies or excuses would ever make it better.

“I’d like you to leave,” you mutter weakly, hating that tears start to sting the back of your eyes.

It shouldn’t hurt anymore. It’s been so long – why does it still hurt?

Why does it feel like you’re still in the holding cell, desperately clutching your chest in an effort to hold your heart together? It shouldn’t hurt, not like this.

You hurriedly wipe away the single tear that falls, now fully unable to look at him knowing he would’ve seen it.

“Okay,” he murmurs soothingly, taking a small step towards the door. “I know we have no right to ask you this, but there are people getting hurt, and I—”

You huff in pained amusement, “No one cared when I got hurt.”

“This is bigger than you and me,” his voice is quiet and thick with emotion, but when you look at him, he shows nothing on his face.

“Look, if you’re not interested, that’s fine, but please just… just think it over, okay? You could really make a difference in our investigation, and if you do happen to change your mind—”

“Not likely,” you cut in, but he carries on as if he doesn’t hear you.

“—then give me a call.”

You glare at the card he holds out to you, but figure he’ll leave quicker if you take it so you snatch it from his grasp and nod, averting your gaze before it could meet his. You see him hesitate from your peripheral, almost as if he were contemplating saying something more… but nothing comes.

No words fall from his mouth, and instead he merely clears his throat and lets himself out of your apartment quietly. The door closes softly behind him and your fingers immediately tear the small white card in half.

—

It plagues you for days.

You toss and turn at night, unable to calm your mind long enough to get a restful night's sleep. Instead, it’s painfully interrupted, and mostly consists of you staring through your ceiling and bedroom walls until your body can no longer fight the wave of heaviness coming over your eyes.

The pieces of Marcus’ destroyed business card sit on your countertop. You play with them over your morning coffee, sliding the pieces together as if it were a jigsaw puzzle before flicking them apart and attempting to ignore their presence as you went about your usual routine.

You couldn’t bring yourself to throw them away.

The thought of people out there – nameless and faceless and nothing to you personally – getting hurt simply sat wrong in your stomach.

What kind of person would you be if you didn’t at least try to help? You could be bitter over your situation and no one coming to your aid when you needed it, but would you really let that bitterness stretch out onto others? Could you live with yourself knowing you had done nothing when, maybe, you could have made a difference?

It’s those thoughts that propel you to just do it.

You slip the pieces together and dial the numbers printed neatly under his name, ignoring the feeling of tightness wrapping around your lungs as you bring your phone to your ear. It rings three times before he answers, and you spit out the words before you can change your mind.

“I’ll help, and then that’s it, okay? I want no more of this. You leave me alone – all of you— for good. I want to live my life… understood?”

Had you spoken too quickly?

It had all come out so fast in your hurry to get the call over and done with. A part of you still wants to completely forget he ever knocked on your door… too late now.

This could be good, would be good. You’d do your part, you’d help and then you’d be able to sleep peacefully knowing you had done what you could for those getting hurt.

“Understood,” he replies, and that seals the deal.

You’re involved in his investigation now.

“Okay, so… what now?”

tags (will also be continued on reblogs): @maievdenoir, @william-butcher, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80,@danidrabbles, @sergeantbannerbarnes, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @kelseyxyeslek, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld, @h-hxgirl

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike #pedro pascal x reader #the mentalist fic

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valentinetypewriter · 1 month

Text

Knife happy Medjacks

Masterlist

Word count: 723

The maze runner (platonic/unspecified) x Gn reader

I got this idea from this deleted scene

Jeff has to wrangle in Clint and Y/n, who after dealing with builders all day, start to agree that maybe amputation is the way to go

Today had been a particularly rough day for Clint, Jeff and I, the builders had started a new project today and with that brought many of those said builders into the Medjack hut with various injuries. Ranging from cuts, scrapes, bruises and the occasional broken bone. They may have been incredibly strong but the builders didn't seem all too bright sometimes.

We had just sent off one of the builders who managed to break his finger with a hammer when Clint decided to speak up “you know, maybe we really should start amputating them” I put away some supplies before looking over at him. “Well I mean it would certainly start teaching them to be more careful” he let out a quick laugh “it would also make our job a lot easier when they're building” the two of us laughed with each other before Jeff stepped in. “Ok no, we are not amputating them” I let out a sad groan “aww come on Jeff, don't you think they deserve it” Clint was quick to back me up “Y/n’s got a point, plus their stupidity is starting to get on my nerves”.

Jeff seemed to almost consider what we were saying before instantly shaking those thoughts away “NO! Besides, how would we explain amputation just for some cuts and bruises?” Jeff simply rolled his eyes at us as he went back to sorting our supplies. Me and Clint looked over at each other, nodding and silently mouthing agreement's.

Organising all the new equipment took a lot longer than any of us would have liked, it wasn't easy when we had stupid teenage boys coming in every five minutes because they couldn't seem to distinguish nails from their own hands. We had just finished taking care of two guys, who had somehow managed to slice up their arms, working into lunch. The random influx of boys coming in was something that the three of us struggled to keep up with sometimes. The three of us sat around the hut all very exhausted. I sat myself down on a chair in the corner of the room, Clint was sitting on a stool with his head resting against his folded arms on the table next to him, it seemed like he was asleep. Jeff on the other hand had made himself comfortable on one of our operating tables.

“We should probably get some lunch before the others devour everything” Jeff said with a sigh, he seemed to hate his own idea of getting up. I groaned as I stood up from my seat, dragging myself over to Clint, shaking him gently “hey wake up buddy, we need to get some food” Clint rubbed his eyes before slowly pushing himself up from his seat. Though before any of us could even move a step, the doors were pushed open. Clint instantly flopping back into his chair, a tired and annoyed whine coming from him. I grabbed the Gigli saw off the tray of equipment, turning towards the door “what do you want?”

The two boys stopped in the doorway “woah put the bloody saw down, we only brought you some food” the three of us instantly perked up at Newts words. “Yeah we thought we'd bring you some food since you've been taking care of my guys all day” Gally sat down two trays of food on the table Jeff was sitting on while Newt handed the one he was holding to Jeff, who instantly started eating, though I couldn't blame him. I pick up one of the trays and handed it over to Clint before dragging a chair over to the table to start eating myself “well thank you boys, that's really sweet of you” Newt smiled at me as Gally ruffled my hair “don't mention it, figured you guys would need some rest, besides we're done for the day, to many broken hands” Gally shook his head and I wasn't quite sure if it was out of annoyances or disappointment.

“Well Gally and I will leave you three to rest, and don't worry we'll bring you some dinner too” Newt smiled at us before making his way out the door, quickly followed by Gally. A few moments of silence passed as we all ate before Clint spoke up “I still reckon we should start amputating”

#the maze runner #the scorch trials #the death cure #the maze runner x reader #the maze runner x you #tmr x reader #Tmr Clint #Tmr Jeff #tmr newt #gally x reader #newt x reader #short fiction #The maze runner x gn reader #The maze runner x male reader #gn reader

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she-posts-nerdy-stuff · 3 months

Text

Six of Crows fan-written Script

Thanks to everyone who voted in the poll to see if you guys wanted to keep this going!! 🖤

Hi, so in true me style I still haven't got around to organising these posts into scene breakdowns so this is the next part of episode 1 scene 5, I'm hoping that I can get the end of scene 5 out in the next post and then from that point forwards I'll be able to post it scene by scene. I hope that makes sense.

Same reminder as usual: I'm trying to be as true to the books as possible whilst also matching Show!canon but I've also taken the occasional bit of artistic licence as to how I would imagine producing the show myself, for example inserting my personal headcanon about Anya in the opening scene of episode one. Also, I have never written a script before so the formatting is my own made-up method; if it doesn't make sense please let me know and I'll adapt it :)

Side note: Would it be helpful for me to make a masterlist with links to the parts I've already posted?

Recap since it's been a while - Kaz is with Van Eck at the Hoede house and is holding a knife to the merch's throat when Mika walks through the wall, frightening Kaz because he thinks he's hallucinating from a drug Van Eck has given him

EPISODE ONE SCENE FIVE (PART 2)

KAZ: What the hell is this?

VAN ECK: Let me go and I’ll explain

KAZ: You can explain right where you are

VAN ECK: What you’re seeing are the effects of jurda parem

KAZ: Jurda’s just a stimulant. It’s harmless

VAN ECK: Ordinary jurda, yes. Jurda parem is completely different - and most definitely not harmless

KAZ: So you did drug me?

VAN ECK: Not you, mister Brekker. Mika

[KAZ turns and looks at MIKA. The camera moves slowly up the Tidemaker’s figure; his hands are trembling, the dark circles beneath his eyes are pronounced, and his kefta is slightly ill-fitting as though he has lost a lot of weight since it was last altered]

VAN ECK: Jurda parem is a cousin to ordinary jurda - from the same plant. We aren’t sure of the production process, but a sample was sent to the Merchant Council by a scientist named Bo Yul-Bayurr

KAZ: Shu?

VAN ECK: Yes. He wished to defect, so he sent the sample to prove his claims regarding the drug’s extraordinary effects - Please, mister Brekker, this is a most uncomfortable position. If you’d like, I can give you a pistol and we can sit and discuss this in a more civilised fashion

KAZ: A pistol and my cane

[VAN ECK gestures to one of the stadwatch guards by the door, who leaves briefly and returns with KAZ’s cane]

KAZ: Pistol first. Slowly

[The guard unholsters his own gun and hands it to KAZ by the grip. KAZ grabs the gun and cocks it in one swift movement, then releases VAN ECK and throws the letter opener onto the desk before snatching his cane from the guard’s hand. He is immediately more comfortable. VAN ECK paces backwards and KAZ moves slowly towards the window]

VAN ECK: That cane is quite a piece of hardware, Mr Brekker. Is it Fabrikator made?

KAZ: None of your business. Get talking, Van Eck

VAN ECK: When Bo Yul-Bayur sent us the sample of jurda parem, we tested it on three Grisha - one from each order.

KAZ: Happy volunteers?

VAN ECK: Indentures. The first two were a Fabrikator and a Healer indentured to Councilman Hoede,

[KAZ frowns; he recalls hearing the name recently but cannot remember why]

and Mika is a Tidemaker. He’s mine. You’ve seen what he can do using the drug.

KAZ: I don’t know what I’ve seen.

[KAZ looks back at MIKA, and the camera follows his gaze. MIKA is focused intently on VAN ECK as though he is unaware of anything else in the room, his expression one of desperation]

VAN ECK: An ordinary Tidemaker can control currents, summon water or moisture from the air, or a nearby source. They manage the tides in our harbours. But under the influence of parem, a Tidemaker can alter their own state from solid, to liquid, to gas and back again and do the same with other objects - even a wall.

[KAZ frowns. He isn’t convinced, but he has no other explanation for what he’s seen]

KAZ: How?

VAN ECK: It’s hard to say. You’re aware of the amplifiers some Grisha wear?

KAZ: I’ve seen them - animal bones, and such. I hear they’re hard to come by.

VAN ECK: Very. But they only increase a Grisha’s power. Jurda parem alters a Grisha’s perception.

KAZ: So?

VAN ECK: Grisha manipulate matter at its most fundamental metals - they call it the Small Science. Under the influence of parem, those manipulations become faster and far more precise. In theory jurda parem is just a stimulant like its ordinary cousin, but it seems to sharpen and hone a Grisha’s senses. Things become possible that simply shouldn’t be.

KAZ: What does it do to sorry sobs like you and me?

[VAN ECK is marginally offended to be aligned with KAZ]

VAN ECK: It’s lethal. An ordinary mind cannot tolerate parem in even the lowest doses.

KAZ: You said you gave it to three Grisha. What can the others do?

VAN ECK: Here

[He begins to open one of his desk drawers and KAZ raises his pistol slightly]

KAZ: Easy

[VAN ECK opens the drawer with exaggerated slowness and pulls out a lump of gold the size of his palm]

VAC ECK: This started as lead.

KAZ: Like hell it did.

[VAN ECK shrugs]

VAN ECK: I can only tell you what I saw. The Fabrikator took a piece of lead in his hands, and moments later we had this.

KAZ: How do you even know it's real?

VAN ECK: It was the same melting point as gold, the same weight, the same malleability. If it’s not identical to gold in every way the difference has eluded us.

[He holds it out for KAZ to take]

VAN ECK: Have it tested, if you like.

[KAZ inspects the gold for a moment, then slips it into his pocket. He’s decided that even if it's an imitation, it's convincing enough for him to find it a purpose]

KAZ: You could’ve gotten that anywhere.

VAN ECK: I would bring you Hoede’s Fabrikator here to show you himself, but he isn’t well.

[KAZ glances at MIKA again, and the camera once more notes his sickly pallor and the dark circles beneath his eyes]

KAZ: Let’s say this is all real and not cheap coin trick magic. What does it have to do with me?

VAN ECK: Perhaps you heard of the Shu paying off the entirety of their debt to Kerch with a sudden influx of gold? The assassination of the trade ambassador from Novyi Zem? The theft of documents from a military base in Ravka?

[KAZ nods. He is glad to know the secret of the Zemeni Ambassador’s death and remembers JESPER talking about the three Shu ships filled with gold. Although he has heard nothing of the Ravkan documents, he doesn’t want VAN ECK to know that and so acts as if he is more than aware]

VAN ECK: We believe that all of these occurrences are the work of Grisha under the control of the Shu government and under the influence of jurda parem. Mr Brekker, I want you to think for a moment about what I’m telling you: Men who can walk through walls. No vault or fortress will ever be safe again. People who can make gold from lead - or anything else for that matter - who can alter the very material of the world. Financial markets will be thrown into chaos, the world economy would collapse.

KAZZ: Very exciting. What is it you want from me, Van Eck? To steal a shipment? The formula?

VAN ECK: No. I want you to steal the man.

KAZ: Kidnap Bo Yul-Bayur?

VAN ECK: Save him. A month ago we received a message from Yul-Bayur begging for asylum, he was concerned about his government’s plans for jurda parem, and we agreed to help him defect. We set up a rendez-vous, but there was a skirmish at the drop point.

KAZ: With the Shu?

VAN ECK: With Fjerdans.

[KAZ raises an eyebrow - the Fjerdans must have spies deep in Shu Han or Kerch, or both]

VAN ECK: The diplomatic situation is somewhat delicate, and it is essential that our government not be tied to Yul-Bayur in any way.

KAZ: You have to know he’s probably dead. Fjerdans hate Grisha; there’s no way they’d let knowledge of this drug get out.

VAN ECK: Our sources say he’s very much alive and that he’s awaiting trial.

[VAN ECK clears his throat]

VAN ECK: At the Ice Court.

[KAZ stares at him for a moment, then bursts out laughing]

KAZ: Well, it’s been a pleasure being knocked unconscious and taken caprice by you Van Eck - you can assure your hospitality will be repaid when the time is right. Have one of your lackeys show me to the door.

VAN ECK: We’re prepared to offer you five million kruge.

[KAZ pockets the stadwatch officer’s pistol. He is no longer afraid for his life, but he’s furious to have had his time wasted so tremendously]

KAZ: This may come as a surprise to you, Van Eck, but we canal rats value our lives just as much as you do yours.

VAN ECK: Ten million.

KAZ: There’s no point to a fortune I won’t be alive to spend. Where’s my hat? Did your Tidemaker leave it behind in the alley?

[KAZ begins to walk towards the door and the camera follows behind him]

VAN ECK: Twenty.

[KAZ pauses, and slowly lifts his head - an image mimicking that of season one of Shadow and Bone when he heard the offer of one million kruge. He turns slowly to face VAN ECK]

INEJ voiceover, a reminder of what she told him in Scene Three: Greed is your god, Kaz.

KAZ: Twenty million kruge?

KAz voicover from Scene Three: Greed bows to me.

[VAN ECK nods, but he doesn’t look happy about having raised the offer so much higher]

KAZ: I’d need to convince a team to walk into a suicide mission - that doesn’t come cheap.

VAN ECK: Twenty million kruge is hardly cheap.

KAZ: The Ice Court has never been breached.

VAN ECK: That’s why we need you, Mr Brekker. It’s possible Bo Yul-Bayur is already dead, or that he’s given up his secrets to Fjerdans, but we think we have at least a little time to act before jurda parem is put into play.

KAZ: If the Shu have the formula-

VAN ECK: Yul-Bayur claimed he’d managed to keep the specifics secret - we believe they’re limiting from whatever limited supply he left behind.

[KAZ has already started thinking about the job, and who he’ll need on his team - and what he’ll be able to do with the money. He pauses, and frowns]

KAZ: Why me? Why the Dregs? There are more experienced crews out there.

[MIKA has a sudden coughing fit, and VAN ECK helps him into a chai and offers him his handkerchief. He snaps his fingers at one of the guards]

VAN ECK: Some water

[The guard exits]

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elisysd · 11 months

Text

Best Days - Alessia Cara

Masterlist - Previously - Next Chapter

But the hardest pill to swallow is the meantime Are the best days just the ones that we survive?

Charles had been apprehensive about New Year's Eve with Lyanna's family, given the way the introductions had gone the last time he had been here. Yet he had been warmly welcomed and included in the Michel's family traditions, playing cards with Lyanna's grandfather and uncles, a piano session with her aunt, passionate and exciting discussions about the future of motor sport... he felt at home with her family. Welcomed. And it was with emotion that he joined Lyanna on the first-floor balcony of her grandparents' house.

“Thank you for letting me come.” He said to her.

“You’re my family now, I couldn’t see myself spending that important moment without you.”

Midnight was approaching. He put an arm around her shoulders to hold her close, placing a kiss on her forehead and pressing his cheek against it. Lyanna gave a contented sigh before slipping her cold hands under the Monegasque's jacket. They stayed awhile like that, just enjoying each other presence and company. On the ground floor, they could hear the countdown and when 2024 finally arrived and the fireworks began to appear in the sky, Lyanna turned to Charles.

“Well, happy New Year, my love. I hope this year will be filled with success for you and you’ll finally get what you have been running after for so long…”

“You know, I have already everything that I ever wished for. I have you and somehow, it’s enough for me.” He confessed.

He took her face in his hands and placed his lips on hers. Lyanna stood up on tiptoe and put her arms around his neck to deepen the kiss.

“I love you so much, Charles.” She whispered when they finally let go of each other.

Shortly after the New Year, they were due to travel to Rome for the FIA gala. It was an opportunity to honour Max, who had brilliantly won the 2023 season, but also to put Charles in the spotlight, as it was planned to present him with a trophy of honour to welcome him back to the top category of motor sport. Charles agreed willingly on condition that Lyanna was present at his side. He hated this kind of ceremony and even more hated being given a trophy just for getting out of the crash alive.

“I want a trophy because I won the championship, not because they’re pitying me.” He had said.

So it was in a magnificent room in a 5-star hotel in the heart of Rome that they had arrived a few hours earlier. Lyanna was immediately taken aside by the make-up artist and hairdresser, while Charles was requisitioned to fetch the young woman's dress. Charles had been impressed by the speed with which the actress had organised the preparations. A phone call to Sophia and that was it.

“Sophia knows many people; she has her own emergency glam team in every country of the globe. It saved my ass more than once.” She had explained when Charles questioned her.

As for Charles, being personally sponsored by Armani, he didn't really have much choice about his outfit. A black suit and white shirt would do the trick, not forgetting the Ferrari logo embroidered on the left-hand side. As for Lyanna, she had also opted for an Italian brand: Versace. The dress was simple in appearance: draped black with no frills. But when she turned around and Charles saw the young woman's entire bare back and the slit at the bottom of the dress, he thought he'd lost his composure.

“I swear if I had no obligations to be there tonight, I would have pretended to be sick just to keep you in this hotel room. This dress is driving me crazy. You are driving me crazy.”

“Yeah? You like it? I thought that it was a little too much…” said Lyanna completely oblivious to the current state of her boyfriend.

“I like it a little too much, Lya, that’s the thing.”

“It’s a nice dress, for sure? I love it. It’s just the right mix of classy and sexy.”

“You’re killing me, you know that?” he said, grabbing her by the hips and pulling her tight to his chest.

Charles continued to place light kisses on her neck before slipping his hand through the opening in the young woman's dress, drawing a sigh of pleasure from her and bringing a cocky smile to the pilot's lips.

“Lya, love? Do I feel that right? No underwear? Are you really trying to drive me crazy?”

“Have you seen the dress, Charles? I can’t wear anything under it!”

Charles breathed hard into her neck as he closed his eyes, trying to pull himself together.

As the minutes ticked by, they finally left the room, but Charles promised Lyanna that as soon as they got back the young woman would quickly understand how much he loved her dress.

Photographers lined the red carpet and Lyanna was blinded by the lights. It was a strange experience for her, a red carpet where people weren't shouting her name to get her attention, but one where all eyes were on Charles. They posed confidently for the cameras and Lyanna could feel her boyfriend's firm hand on her hip, as if looking for support. After many long minutes, they finally entered the room where a hostess greeted them and led them to their table. Charles was surprised to see them assigned to the same table as Max, Checo and Fernando. He hadn't won anything and knowing that he was sitting with the 2023 podium finishers made him uncomfortable. He felt illegitimate. Seeing Charles' discomfort, Lyanna took his hand and shook it. Charles turned to her and gave her a slight smile as Max and Kelly, his partner, arrived together.

“Charles, it’s good to see you!” greeted him Max as he was shaking Charles’ hand and patting his shoulder.

“Hey. Congrats again, I didn’t have the occasion to tell you that. How does it feel to be third time world champion?”

“Oh you know, it’s weird. It’s not like I had much competition anyway. I hope you’ll get a nice car this season so we can fight. I miss that.”

Then he turned to Lyanna, who was sitting sipping her glass of champagne.

“I don’t think I had the pleasure of meeting your girlfriend, yet?”

“True. Max, this is Lyanna. Lyanna, this is Max.”

“Nice to meet you. It’s always a pleasure to meet Charles’ friends.” She said politely.

“I wouldn’t go as far as saying we’re friends, but let’s say that we have a friendly rivalry.” Corrected her Max as Charles shrugged.

Everyone finally sat down as Max began to tell Charles in detail about the races he had missed. Lyanna tried to keep up with the conversation, asking a few questions from time to time, which resulted in a new explanation from Max that lost Lyanna more than it enlightened her. She eventually lost interest in the conversation and tried to chat with Kelly, but quickly gave up when she realised that she didn't feel like talking to her. She stayed on her phone most of the time, seeming completely disinterested and only joining in the conversation at rare moments. Lyanna couldn't help thinking that she and Max really did make an odd couple. A little later Checo and his wife arrived, followed by Fernando, who was running a little late.

Finally, the ceremony began. Lyanna couldn't help but find it extremely long and had to restrain herself from yawning more than once out of politeness. Charles also seemed to want to be anywhere but here and Max was beginning to fidget in his seat in impatience. Finally, the part about Charles began. Lyanna didn't know what to expect but one thing was certain, it certainly wasn't what was now projected on the big screen. Images of the accident with epic music, the reaction of the commentators in several languages, the reaction of the drivers and the people present. Lyanna suddenly felt ill; she hadn't been prepared to relive the nightmarish minutes that sometimes still haunted her nights. She glanced at Charles, who wasn't doing too well either. He was staring at the floor, his fingers playing with his watch. Lyanna grabbed his hand and squeezed it to try to get his attention. Charles looked at her and smiled shyly. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the video stopped and the room fell into a stunned silence. Nobody really knew how to react.

The presenter returned to the stage as if nothing had happened and called Charles to award him his trophy of honour. With the cameras now focused on him, Charles stood up, adjusted his jacket, and winked at them, before trotting back to the stage. He shook hands with the host and the President of the FIA, who was presenting him with the trophy, and handed him the microphone.

“Charles, it’s good to have you back! How are you doing?”

“I’m great thanks. And it’s nice to be there as well. Thanks for the invite and the trophy.”

“A few words to the audience maybe?”

“I just want to thanks everyone for the kind words I received during my recovery, and I also want to thanks my family and my girlfriend that is there tonight for their unconditional support. I can’t wait to be back on tracks this season and hopefully have great fights wot Max and Red Bull. I’m looking forward to that.”

As Charles spoke these words, the camera focused on Lyanna, who gave an embarrassed smile and a slight wave of her hand. After that, the ceremony quickly came to an end with prize-giving for Max, Checo and Fernando, and soon Charles and Lyanna were on their way back to the hotel. As soon as he was through the door, Charles stripped off his shoes as well as his jacket, and as Lyanna headed for the bathroom, Charles grabbed her hand and pulled her towards him.

“You don’t think that I have forgotten about what I promised you earlier, love?”

“All I can see is that your all talk and no actions mister Leclerc.” She teased him while looking at him deeply in the eyes.

That was just what Charles needed to kiss her hard and lift her onto the bed.

A few days later, Lyanna was on her way to Los Angeles to meet Michael Mann and Adam Driver for a few camera tests and to discuss the project in more detail. She wasn't surprised that everything went well. After all, she had taken the time to study the project carefully and seeing the director's passion and the way he talked about the film was enough to convince her. Filming would start at the end of February and Lyanna would finish around the end of May if all went well. The actress took the opportunity to raise the question of the film's marketing and took the time to make it clear that she did not want her relationship with Charles to be used for the film's publicity, which was accepted. So it was with a light heart and a certain excitement that she boarded her plane for London to sort out the details of her move and say goodbye to Sophia.

When she walked through the door of her flat, she was not shocked to see it empty, Sophia having taken care of packing up her things and sending them off to her new flat in Nice. But all the same, it gave her a twinge of sadness. So many memories, both good and bad, belonged to this place. Soon the owner arrived to check out the apartment and Lyanna felt a tear roll down her cheek as she handed him back the key. Then her legs took her towards Sophia's office, where she was waiting.

“So, how does it feel to leave? How do you feel?” she asked her.

“Weird, to be honest. It’s like closing a big chapter of my life. If you had told me that it would happen six months ago, I would have laughed. But here we are.”

“I’m not saying it often but, I’m proud of you Lya. I'm proud of the progress you've made and of the woman you've become. You grew up a lot. I’m happy for you. Really. And I know that it’s just the beginning for you, so many great things are still ahead of you. It’s a pleasure to work with you.”

“Stop it, you’re going to make me cry. And we’re still working together! I’m just going to annoy you a lot less now that I won’t be around.”

“And as weird as it sounds, I’m going to miss that.”

In the meantime, Charles spent his days in Maranello working on the simulator or talking to the teams about the new season and how they would approach it. As he was making himself a coffee from the machine in the break room, he was approached by Carlos, who asked him if it would be possible for them to talk, to which Charles agreed.

“I have something to tell you.” Carlos announced.

Feeling that the conversation was going to be serious, Charles settled into a chair.

“2024 at Ferrari will be my last season.”

“What? Why? Where are you going?”

“It’s not public yet, but Valtteri is going to retire at the end of the season and they are looking for a driver to replace him. Especially since they want to prepare the merging with Audi. They want me as first driver and it’s an opportunity that I can’t refuse. And we both know that here, I’m not their first choice. If they had to choose between you and me, they would choose you. I need to secure my future in F1 and Audi might be my best shot.”

“Well that comes as a surprise, I’m not going to lie. But I’m happy for you. If they can give you what we couldn’t and you think you’ll be happier there, then I’m happy for you Carlos.”

“Thank you, Charles. Despite everything that happened between us on tracks, I’m glad to be able to call you my friend.”

“You know what? Let’s make this season one will never forget. In honor of what we have both been through with Ferrari, let’s make the most out if it. This our year.”

It wasn't just talk to Charles; it was a promise. And one he intended to keep.

=================

author's note: 2024 is here!!! And let me tell you that's gonna be a hell of year for Charles and Lya and I'm waiting for your predictions about the final chapters because yes, we are entering in the last part of Cruel Summer with only 10 chapters remaining... I'm sad. But let's not cry now, there is still a lot to tell! Let me know your thoughts on this chapter and don't forget to like/comment/reblog. Don't be a ghost reader. 😊💛🌸 taglist:

@zendayabelova @purplephantomwolf @ru-kru @dakotali @blueflorals @aundercover @ruleroftheuniverse @fangirlika @writerscurse @elijahmikaelsonbitch @leclerc13 @karmabyfernando @stargaryenx @pitlanebabe @boiohboii @reengard

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#writing #charles leclerc #fiction #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #cl16 #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x female reader #cl16 x reader #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 x oc #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

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simpxxstan · 6 months

Text

perfect complements (ch. 4)

pairing: professor!seungcheol x professor!f.reader

genre: fluff, enemies to lovers, angst, smut

series summary: four and a half years of working together breeds familiarity, resentment, and everything in between. it's almost like living together.

series word count (till current chapter): 10.4k

chapter word count: 3.1k

rating: 18+

warnings: slight bickering, description of makeout between seungcheol and oc (not with reader) and vague descriptions of fingering. curse words being used.

a/n: i'm sorry for the late update! i've been going through a hard time these few days, but i'm trying to distract myself! this is a filler chapter ig? i'm sorry if it's taking too long for any action between the reader and coups to start, but i really want to build the story up. it's slow burn for a reason hehe thank you so much for reading! <3

taglist for the fic: @minhui896

series masterlist

Seungcheol’s phone pops up with a notification as he makes his way to Dr. Lee’s chambers. He knows you’ve already been here once before, but he has actively avoided the staffroom all day so that he doesn’t get caught in your and Minhee’s crossfire again. It’s best for him to keep his distance when you’re pissed. He knows, no matter what the reason, you’ll end up bursting at him.

“Hello, Prof. Choi. How are you today?”

“Same as usual, I guess. I can’t believe it’s Valentine's Week already.”

Dr. Lee laughs, their laugh slightly whimsical but purposeful. Seungcheol feels oddly comforted by the Counsellor but also a little nervous. He’s being constantly analysed, and it’s not a good feeling. But they know how to get him at ease too.

“Why? Is Valentine’s Week important to you?”

“Aah well. If I don’t tell you, she will. It reminds me of what happened the first February I was here.”

Seungcheol had absolutely no clue what was going on in college. Perhaps being away from the dating market for so long had made him forget all about this. Plus, his mind was all caught up with the conference. It was the first time he was getting to organise something in this college, and as a new Professor, he had to impress everyone. He had the crazy urge to prove himself worthy of the post: many had said he was too young for it, but he was determined to prove them wrong. So when Prof. Y/L/N had offered that the two of you take up the duties this time to organise the department’s Annual Winter Conference, he had readily taken up the opportunity.

Of course, everything was fine with Prof. Y/L/N now. You had explained to him that you were having a shitty day and couldn’t control your emotions, given your periods had been giving you hell, and the very day after that, you had both gone to watch the new play being performed by the University’s Drama Club, together. Along with a lot of laughs and a lot of meaningful conversations, Seungcheol had hoped he had made his first friend in University. The academic atmosphere had daunted him at first, since he was the youngest, but seeing you had made him braver. He had someone by his side to help him, instead of judging him.

It also helped that he found you unimaginably beautiful.

Seungcheol was, by no means, an innocent boy. Yes, he hadn’t dated properly for very long, but he was no playboy either. He liked to keep his commitments minimal, given that most of his 20s had been spent cooped up in the library, drowning in coffee and real analysis theorems. He had enjoyed pursuing academics, but it had effectively stolen his social life from him. His romantic life, too. His love life had ended with his undergraduate course, and since then, he had been happily married to his thesis.

Except, now. Now, things were different. Because you had entered his life. Not just that, Seungcheol had found himself economically and socially stable after several years. He could finally spend time with his family, live in his own rented apartment, take care of his pet dog as he liked, and eat out almost twice a week, and still have enough money to indulge in a new game being released at the end of the month. Meeting you at this perfect time made him want to go all in, and take his chances at love. After all, he was twenty seven now. He wouldn’t make the same mistakes again, would he?

Naturally, he couldn’t give up on the chance to co-convene the conference with you this year. He really respected you- both from a professional point of view, and personally; well, as much as he did know about you. It wasn’t much, you weren’t a great oversharer, but there was one thing that he knew for sure- he enjoyed spending time with you, and he was looking forward to meeting you every day.

“Seungcheol! You’re here. Are we good to go? I think the guest speakers are about to arrive in a few minutes!” You were smiling nervously, but still looked incredibly put together. Your hair was tied up in a bun, revealing your soft cheeks and the new earrings you had donned just for the event. This was the first time he was seeing you wear a dress, and he could feel himself tipping a little more into this mini project of his.

“Y/N, please don’t worry! I’ve got the volunteers briefed, and everything will work like clockwork.”

Unfortunately for Choi Seungcheol, everything did not work like clockwork.

It was the last hour of the conference, the time for the students to gather in a group discussion moderated by the two of you, and discuss your findings, thoughts and questions about the presentations and papers presented by the various guests of the day. With the majority of the workload done, and surrounded by familiar faces, Seungcheol felt much relaxed, and had rolled up his sleeves and settled down into a chair for the first time that day. After running around all day, this informal session felt like a blessing.

You sat down next to him, and all the other students settled down in a scattered, approximate circle. The flow of the conversation began easily, with you smiling and picking up the pace. The students, eager and wide-eyed, kept chattering, and the enthusiasm reminded Seungcheol of himself. The discussion was largely informal, and it felt like a group of likeminded people sitting together, not a hierarchical group of students and professors. It was an atmosphere that made him very happy.

Of course, it also made him very happy that you seemed to be more and more comfortable with him as the day passed by. It manifested in little things, but they were enough to make Choi Seungcheol feel giddy like a schoolboy again. Like how you keenly listened to his comments, and appreciated his thought process. How you contributed to every discussion he initiated, how you ensured he didn’t get left out in the discussions. How you touched his hand once while asking him about something. How you unintentionally (or intentionally?) stared for a second too long at him, and he had caught you in the act.

It was an extremely successful day, he concluded, and he went home feeling the happiest he had been in recent times. He had felt included in the University community, and that was what he had truly wanted for all these days. It felt so relieving.

But all that was going to change the next morning.

He arrived at college in a happy mood, not realising why suddenly there was a galore of roses being carried around the college campus by students. He grabbed his usual Americano from the canteen, before making his way to the staffroom, delightfully greeting every student and professor he met on the way. The campus seemed to be bursting with energy today, but he simply couldn’t realise why. Not that he cared. He was just as energetic today-

“Care to explain this, Prof. Choi?”

You’re standing there, hands on your hips, Wonwoo, the Dean from Social Sciences next to you, and the other professors of the department also in that room. He can’t make out what’s written in the letter that you’re holding up, but as he steps closer, he can see it:

CHEOLLIE AND Y/N SITTING ON A TREE, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!

Below the words, there were small roses drawn and pictures of iconic scenes from the k-drama, ‘Boys Over Flowers’ stuck on the page.

“What’s this?” He asked, still clueless. Wonwoo stepped up, and put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s the first day of Valentine’s Week. Someone left this on Y/N’s desk…”

The dots finally connected in Seungcheol’s head. The students had… shipped them? It was surprising, funny but extremely absurd. He had the urge to laugh it off, but then he stopped himself seeing the furious look on your face. He realised it had offended you in some way, although he saw it as a joke.

“I’m sorry, Y/N… I don’t know-”

“Do you realise how unprofessional this is? How desperate this makes me look?”

“Desperate?”

“Of course they thought a woman would fall in love with the first man they saw entering the campus. It’s disrespectful, Choi Seungcheol, do you not see that?”

“I think it’s not as big as you think. It’s just a joke by the students-”

“Joke? Wonwoo, please explain to him.”

Wonwoo enlarged his eyes, but quickly took the signal and asked Seungcheol to step out with him.

“I swear I didn’t do anything!”

“I know Seugncheol. I’ve known you for long enough to know you’re not dumb to seduce your colleague. But everyone can see your crush on Y/N.”

It was Seungcheol’s turn to finally be shocked. “What? It’s really nothing like that!”

“Okay. Even if I accept what you’re saying… I’m not saying you’re at fault for this. Kids pull this kind of prank all the time. They shipped me and another Professor from the Linguistics department for years, before everyone got to know that she was gay and I was marrying someone else. But I understand why Y/N may feel sensitive about these things. All I’m suggesting is-” he raised his hand to prevent Seungcheol from cutting in, “keep a little bit of distance? Until the rumours die out and she feels comfortable again. We can’t have a hostile environment in the department, can we?”

Seungcheol chuckles at the end of the story.

“Look where we are now.”

He had recounted almost all of the incident with Dr. Lee, albeit not going into too much details about his love interest in Prof. Y/L/N.

“It’s a very interesting story, I must say,” Dr. Lee had a smile of their face as well, seeming quite amused by the narration. “So you liked her?”

“A little. Quickly snubbed out, as you can make out. After these things, I kept my distance, and obviously, whatever inkling of… feelings had emerged… died out. I was back to neutral within a few weeks.”

“And what about your friendship?”

“Friendship?”

“Your relationship. Did it ever go back to normal? As it was before this thing?”

Seungcheol pauses. He’s not quite sure. Perhaps because it’s been so long, and he has largely forgotten? He doesn’t know how exactly the relationship would have been even if the incident hadn’t happened. There would be other things to destroy it, of course, as time had shown.

“I don’t think so. But then, it’s hard to define normal. We were friendly, like new colleagues who instantly don’t hate each other are. But since then, as we worked together for longer, and as my… emotions became absolutely neutral, we discovered irks in each other pretty soon. We never ended up being as friendly as then, again. I don’t think we would’ve been anyway.”

“And if she had liked you back?”

He doesn’t know what to say. He prefers not to think about it, a situation he could envision in only an alternate, distant universe.

“She could never.”

It’s the truth. He knows it’s best not to lie to Dr. Lee.

Valentine’s Week is one of the few weeks in the year when the entire city is bustling. There’s the excitement of new love, hope of requiting crushes, and the thrill of the chase, all punched together. It’s also the beginning of spring, and Kkuma, on such days, really enjoys walking through parks, running in fresh green grass dazzling with dew, and making Seungcheol run after her.

Today, she’s dressed up with tiny pink clips sparkling in her carefully trimmed white hair. Today, Seungcheol isn’t running behind her. He’s instead sitting on the bench, surfing through his phone, as Kkuma runs small laps around him. There’s no chance of her straying away, she’s too dependent on him for survival and she loves being spoilt.

“Oppa?”

Seungcheol looks up from his phone to see Hyerin standing in front of him, dressed in tracks. Running in the park, clearly. “What are you doing here? I didn’t know you came to the park?”

“I came here for Kkuma-ya. You?”

“Can't go to the gym these days. So I’ve switched to running. Mind if I join you?” Seungcheol shifts up on the bench, and Hyerin flops down on it, next to him. “Tired? Take a sip from my Americano-” he brings the coffee to her lips, and she sucks in through the straw. “Aah, too much ice!” He giggles, before taking a sip himself. “I like it this way. You don’t have to drink it.” “Yaah! Oppa!” She snatches it a bit, sips again, and puts it back in Seungcheol’s hands.

“Do you want to get breakfast?”

She smiles, “I thought you’d never ask.”

Breakfast becomes another walk along the sunny streets of Seoul, which turns into grabbing beer before lunch, and after another hearty meal at a street food fair, Seungcheol finally takes Hyerin home. They’d been stalling it for long enough, he thinks, and he definitely does like her a lot. Better to settle down with her than any other random woman his mother decided to set him up on a blind date with.

“Kkuma’s watching us,” Hyerin whispers breathlessly, panting between kisses, as she leans away from Seungcheol’s body to look at the small dog sitting far away from them but still with her eyes fixed on the two of them.

Seungcheol laughs. “See? This is why I told you Kkuma doesn’t like it when I bring over girls.”

“But she’s okay with you bringing over your colleague from work?” Hyerin doesn’t sound jealous, she’s too busy unbuttoning Seungcheol’s shirt. “Kkuma wasn’t at home then. My brother had taken her away for the day.” “Lucky woman, your colleague.” And her mouth is back on his, and they slobber around, making out furiously, even while the sun still shines on them from the open windows. Seungcheol’s hands grab her waist tightly as he lifts her up. He then moves away from couch and slowly makes his way to the bed, not leaving Hyerin’s mouth even once. When he’s finally laid her down on the bed and taken off her pants, the phone in the back pocket of his jeans rings. He’s tempted to ignore it, more interested in Hyerin’s bloodshot eyes staring at him hungrily and the way she’s reacting to his hands stroking over her thighs. But the phone keeps ringing, and the sound is annoying, so he takes out the phone to turn off the volume.

Except he sees the name tag.

It’s you.

“Hello?” Seungcheol can hear Hyerin gasp in frustration, but he can’t help but take the call. He knows you never call him unless it’s an emergency, so this must be serious.

“Prof. Choi? This is Prof. Y/L/N.”

“Yes I know. What is it?”

“Am I disturbing you? Your voice sounds curious and Seungcheol gets pissed at the stalling. “Yes, could you please tell me why you called?” “Sorry about that then, I’ll be quick. It’s just that-” “Yes?” “Hey, why so impatient?” “Prof. Y/L/N, it’s a Sunday. I’m busy, I have a personal life as well. Now could we please get on with this quickly?”

“Prof. Choi, you know about the upcoming seminar in Singapore that our department was taking the UnderGrad students for? For the annual field trip?”

“Yes?”

“And you know how Minhee was going to come along with me for the trip?”

“I do know that.”

“Well, her sister’s getting married that weekend. We just got to know, I swear!”

“We?” Seungcheol feels so lost in this conversation.

“Yeah, well, Minhee and I. We’re actually hanging out together, right now.” “Okay? And why are you suddenly telling me about Minhee’s sister’s wedding?” “Oh, just that. Wonwoo asked me to ask you, if you’d like to come along. Minghao is really busy for that weekend with meetings for his America thing, so I really had no option but to ask you.”

There’s a very loud pause. Seungcheol is facing away from Hyerin, but he can hear her breathing clearly in the silence. She’s real sweet, waiting patiently for him to finish the call, even if he’s left her without any context.

“You can’t go alone?”

“I did tell Wonwoo I’d go alone, I am literally 33. He said no, it’s not nice to send just one professor when they’ve already made arrangements for two.”

“Can’t we send one of the PhD students? They’ll get good exposure too.”

“There are over 30 kids. Not sure how much exposure a PhD student can get from handling kids-”

“Kids who are all in their 20s. This isn’t a kindergarten field trip.”

“I’m just telling you what Wonwoo would say. I know it because I’ve suggested these exact same things to him as well.”

Another pause. Seungcheol can hear Hyerin touch herself, the sounds giving it away. He turns around and sees his suspicions confirmed. It’s an irresistible sight, her eyes closed in focus, and with the afternoon sun falling on her skin, she does look heavenly.

Fuck you for keeping him away from this delight.

He steps closer to Hyerin, and joins her, taking her by surprise. She moans, and he hopes you weren’t able to hear it.

“Listen. I’ll let you know if I can make it. But I don’t think I’ll be free next weekend, so don’t count on me-”

“Wonwoo asked me to tell you that this would be the last step to our ‘therapy’ thing. I may have blackmailed him into agreeing to this, because he forced me to call you up.”

Seungcheol can’t focus on the phone call anymore, not with the pretty sounds Hyerin keeps muffling up, but this perks his attention. Freedom from that bullshit finally. He’d been tired of turning up to the Counsellor’s office and getting analysed by their squinty little eyes. Especially when you both had to attend together. It was getting embarrassing now, as students across the university heard rumours about this therapy thing. It was bad enough that everyone knew how much you two dislike each other. Even worse now that they thought you both needed couples’ therapy to get over your petty fights.

Damn Wonwoo for being a smartass. Seungcheol has known this since childhood but he keeps falling for his moves each time. He can never win against Wonwoo.

“Seungcheol? Are you still there?”

“Okay Prof. Y/L/N.”

“Huh?”

“I said okay. I’m in. For the next weekend. Bye now.” Thank god he has Hyerin falling apart on his touch right now, before his mind twists and falls into a trap, thinking about the potential dangers of what he just agreed to.

“Oppa! I’m- I’m- aaah!” Hyerin’s voice is loud, and he sinks headfirst into her. “I’m here, princess. Oppa’s right here.”

#choi seungcheol #s.coups #s.coups x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fluff #seventeen series #s.coups series #s.coups fluff #s.coups fanfiction #seungcheol fanfiction #seungcheol x y/n #seungcheol series #seungcheol fanfic #seungcheol x reader #seventeen fanfic #perfect complements series #simpxxstan

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